Posts
Namely, the one I have with my demon goat of a bicycle.
I mean, naturally, there's pain and suffering with my other relationships, but none are quite so primal as the one I share, daily, with my not-quite-trusted steed, Chupecabra. We've been reconnected after a week and a half apart. Our last time together ended badly, with hurt feelings all around, which in many ways reflects a majority of my romantic entanglements.
However, Chupecabra and I are on the road to reconciliation, and have already taken to the streets of New York City like we never spent any time apart. Outside of the fact I can't push quite so hard - still in recovery mode.
I can't recall if I had done the CT Scan when last I discussed my fate here. Regardless: fractured rib. Good news is that after five and a half years of no longer being a nicotine addict, my lungs have recovered completely. Of course, Chupecabra is on schedule to destroy what remains of my body. Ahh... the price we pay for a moment's pleasure, right?
There's still a blood stain at the base of the Manhattan Bridge, Brooklyn side. I've still got chemicals coursing through my veins, and a lidocaine patch over the rib. This chemical mix has made for some interesting unstable moments, but for the most part, I'm doing well, considering all circumstances.
I'm chalking it up to August 28 - September 28th being my bad month... just slightly off kilter from a regular month. The worst, however, appears to be over. Which means, my faithful three, the comedy is returning, as I once again have a sense of humor about it all.
I mean, ultimately, just because I'm the butt of a joke, doesn't mean the joke isn't funny. This first year out of prison, I both gained and lost a life partner in six months (we obviously had a very different concept of what a life partner is - I was talking human lifespan, she was talking worker ant lifespan), gained and lost a good friend to silence, lost another stalwart companion to graduate school, and gained another from the abyss of the midwest.
Which is to say, my life is in constant flux. A flux that most prisoners would go apeshit over, since nothing in my life has remained stable for this year, outside of my job, my place to live, and my family. It's enough to make a convict cry, I tell you. For the past few weeks, I've felt like I was going to go apeshit myself.
Wait! I'm just kidding! No sob stories here! I'm doing great! No tears, not one! See? The computer didn't short! Everything's okay folx! Nothing to see here! I've recovering! I'm getting better! Don't leave!
Okay. *Whew* almost lost you three.
So, I'm going back to California next weekend. Northern California. Where two of my ex-significant others will be. It'll be my first trip back whereby I don't see either of them. It will be weird in that regard, but good in another - I'm getting a whole lot of work done. I'll be meeting people that will help me secure my place in law school, which in turn helps me secure my future as an advocate to free my people - the prisoners of the drug war.
And that, my fine 3 readers, is no laughing matter.
Now, about that fucking demon goat...
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
The Goat Got Me.
Why haven't I been doing my usual, you all ask?
Heartbreak got you silent? Politics got you flummoxed? Masturbation got you distracted?
Certainly! Actually, no. The goat got me - not just any goat, rather, Chupecabra, the Demon Goat of a bicycle that I had been riding through the faulty streets of New York City.
No more. I'm on a break from that. This rider was bucked a little to hard, and now I have the fire of Hades in my chest, burning me up, preventing me from getting anywhere near the reins (and the horns) of that bastard ride.
Surely your interested is piqued (does anyone use that word anymore?) - what could possibly dissuade a demon goat rider from doing what comes naturally?
-Injury!
So, I went to this Blue Stockings event, dealing with women and incarceration. Should have stayed long, there was a cool speaker there, but I got offended by a bullshit speaker and bounced out. Had dinner with a friend, tried some Lower East Side Tacos. Bullshit speaker, and bullshit tacos. The burrito wasn't shit either. Where's the Mission District when you need it, like every fucking day because a Mission Burrito is truly something to behold (and taste, for that matter).
Have I ever discussed the nirvana that is a Mission Burrito? I sometimes overlook the important things in life, like spanish rice, over black beans, with grilled chicken or steak, sour cream, guacamole and cheddar cheese, with tomatoes and peppers, and spices, all rolled into a hot, steamy yet dry on the outside flour tortilla, wrapped in aluminum foil, and smelling of nothing but goodness and peace.
Where was I? Oh yeah, Demon Goat. Anyways, so leaving the dinner, I'm riding back over the Manhattan Bridge... going down the Brooklyn side bike path... fast - like as in 30mph or so.
Some idiot bicyclist is around the bend at the bottom, riding at like 5 mph, and is swerving through both of the bike lanes...
...of course, I didn't know this at the time. I saw the bicyclist change to the left lane and went to pass on the right...
...only for them to suddenly swerve to the right, leaving me two choices: into them, or into the fence.
Naturally, I tried to shoot the gap between them and the fence, favoring the fence. Hit fence. Chupecabra stopped. I didn't. The impact wasn't remembered too well... I couldn't roll out of it, because the fence was preventing my movements... so it was a plant instead.
Note to people that habitually fall: difference between cold plant and hot roll? Night and Day. Rolls leave me with bruises and minor scrapes. This plant left me with two microfractured ribs, an inflamed lung, Most of the skin missing on my right forearm and elbow, and a gimp knee.
There's still a blood spot on the bike lane, evidence of my impact. The Demon Goat sits in the hallway, snorting in total contempt of me. Somewhere out there, in downtown Brooklyn, is the trail of blood that leads back to my apartment. Chupecabra hadn't been fed in so long, he turned his demon horns on me, and I suffered the consequences.
So far, the medical bills are at $400 and climbing, a costly lesson in this motto I ignored this night:
The best bike defense, is a good bike offense. That, and feed Chupecabra on a regular basis.
Now I'm waiting for CT scans, and wishing I had a mission burrito to make these days in recovery go by with at least a little eternal bliss, yahdig?
Heartbreak got you silent? Politics got you flummoxed? Masturbation got you distracted?
Certainly! Actually, no. The goat got me - not just any goat, rather, Chupecabra, the Demon Goat of a bicycle that I had been riding through the faulty streets of New York City.
No more. I'm on a break from that. This rider was bucked a little to hard, and now I have the fire of Hades in my chest, burning me up, preventing me from getting anywhere near the reins (and the horns) of that bastard ride.
Surely your interested is piqued (does anyone use that word anymore?) - what could possibly dissuade a demon goat rider from doing what comes naturally?
-Injury!
So, I went to this Blue Stockings event, dealing with women and incarceration. Should have stayed long, there was a cool speaker there, but I got offended by a bullshit speaker and bounced out. Had dinner with a friend, tried some Lower East Side Tacos. Bullshit speaker, and bullshit tacos. The burrito wasn't shit either. Where's the Mission District when you need it, like every fucking day because a Mission Burrito is truly something to behold (and taste, for that matter).
Have I ever discussed the nirvana that is a Mission Burrito? I sometimes overlook the important things in life, like spanish rice, over black beans, with grilled chicken or steak, sour cream, guacamole and cheddar cheese, with tomatoes and peppers, and spices, all rolled into a hot, steamy yet dry on the outside flour tortilla, wrapped in aluminum foil, and smelling of nothing but goodness and peace.
Where was I? Oh yeah, Demon Goat. Anyways, so leaving the dinner, I'm riding back over the Manhattan Bridge... going down the Brooklyn side bike path... fast - like as in 30mph or so.
Some idiot bicyclist is around the bend at the bottom, riding at like 5 mph, and is swerving through both of the bike lanes...
...of course, I didn't know this at the time. I saw the bicyclist change to the left lane and went to pass on the right...
...only for them to suddenly swerve to the right, leaving me two choices: into them, or into the fence.
Naturally, I tried to shoot the gap between them and the fence, favoring the fence. Hit fence. Chupecabra stopped. I didn't. The impact wasn't remembered too well... I couldn't roll out of it, because the fence was preventing my movements... so it was a plant instead.
Note to people that habitually fall: difference between cold plant and hot roll? Night and Day. Rolls leave me with bruises and minor scrapes. This plant left me with two microfractured ribs, an inflamed lung, Most of the skin missing on my right forearm and elbow, and a gimp knee.
There's still a blood spot on the bike lane, evidence of my impact. The Demon Goat sits in the hallway, snorting in total contempt of me. Somewhere out there, in downtown Brooklyn, is the trail of blood that leads back to my apartment. Chupecabra hadn't been fed in so long, he turned his demon horns on me, and I suffered the consequences.
So far, the medical bills are at $400 and climbing, a costly lesson in this motto I ignored this night:
The best bike defense, is a good bike offense. That, and feed Chupecabra on a regular basis.
Now I'm waiting for CT scans, and wishing I had a mission burrito to make these days in recovery go by with at least a little eternal bliss, yahdig?
Monday, September 15, 2008
McCain Will End the Empire
Not a lot of comedy recently, but these are times that beg for a certain seriousness that I can supply when the need arises.
True radicals understand the fundamental dilemma in front of us: The U.S. is declining under the party-for-the-rich policies of Dub-Yah. Our decline is so steep that the end of the empire is in sight...
Our military might is stretched thin between two broke-ass, torn-up third world countries. The mighty U.S., that once turned the tide on Nazi Germany, now has a rough time fighting cave dwellers and other Bedouin descendants. I mean, we ought to be fucking embarrassed. Then again, against the Nazis, we actually had some kind of mandate of what we needed to get done, in clear and concise terms. Another term, and another third world country invaded (ahem, Iran), and we're done for, militarily speaking. We're luck the Chinese and North Koreans aren't as bad as we've made them out to be in the past - because if they were, we'd be invaded by now.
Our economy is on the verge of collapse. With no investment in infrastructure, and the gutting of the manufacturing base that started in the Clinton years, then got accelerated in the Dub-Yah years, is almost complete. The U.S. produces very little now outside of food, and high-tech gear that does not have the same universal commercial application then say, the highway system, or a hydroelectric dam. The capital flight into the stock market that accompanied this gutting, followed by flight into the housing market when the "dot.com" collapse happened, were accompanied by losses all around. Where's the capital going to flee to now? It's almost all been squandered, while inflated values make it seem like it still actually exists. That's how trillion dollar surpluses become trillion dollar debts - the money, or more appropriately, the goods and services that the money is supposed to represent, don't exist. The house of cards is collapsing.
Politically, all that's been accomplished in the past seven years is that we've shown the world that we're lousy bullies, with absolutely no idea about the complexity of cross-cultural values, nationalism and international accord, and ultimately that we don't care about our ignorance. This has been exploited, rightfully so, by Latin America, which has enjoyed an amazing amount of autonomy for the past seven years. Used to be a time that is someone like Hugo Chavez came to power, they wound up like Salvadore Allende. Evo Morales would be facedown in a mass grave, alongside a few hundred women and children, courtesy of some goon squad that were trained here in the U.S.'s School of the Americas.
We've become so pathetic that when rattling sabers at Russia, their president essentially laughed at us. This is the same Russia that collapsed in its long economic/military struggle against us from the 50's to the 80's. They used to respect our ability to manipulate the world to our advantage, and our ability to contain them and cause them economic and political hardship. Now, now they dictate the terms upon which we'll act.
People act like Obama is the great hope... and to some extent, he is. He's the one most capable of turning this decline around. Hence the dilemma: do we really want this turned around? I mean, Latin America at this point ought to be routing for McCain - four more years of being left to their own devices, increasing their independence and autonomy. I'm sure the entire world is looking at Obama as a more reasonable person - but they're just worried that they'll become the last or second to last target of the U.S. military, as we further our decline and become more desperate for some kind of pyhrric victory to demonstrate how "awesome" we are.
There is a historical and personal perspective on this that I wish to share. While I didn't snitch, because snitching is the wrong thing to do, I did consider it. Why? Not to get out of trouble, mind you. I thought about it because I know that close to 1/3 of the population uses drugs. Probably a tenth of them deal those drugs. That's about 10 million drug dealers out there. if we all snitched each other out, the prison system would collapse under our collective weight. It seemed like a reasonable thing to do, since no one was pushing in the other direction: if we all went to trial like I did, the justice system would collapse under the weight of those they're already prosecuting.
The point is this: Obama will be a slide back into a reasonable manager of the empire. Which means empire continues. McCain, on the other hand, will continue this train wreck of an administration, and the empire is already so close to the edge that collapse seems imminent.
Does anyone think that the world is honestly better off with the U.S. acting as empire?
True radicals understand the fundamental dilemma in front of us: The U.S. is declining under the party-for-the-rich policies of Dub-Yah. Our decline is so steep that the end of the empire is in sight...
Our military might is stretched thin between two broke-ass, torn-up third world countries. The mighty U.S., that once turned the tide on Nazi Germany, now has a rough time fighting cave dwellers and other Bedouin descendants. I mean, we ought to be fucking embarrassed. Then again, against the Nazis, we actually had some kind of mandate of what we needed to get done, in clear and concise terms. Another term, and another third world country invaded (ahem, Iran), and we're done for, militarily speaking. We're luck the Chinese and North Koreans aren't as bad as we've made them out to be in the past - because if they were, we'd be invaded by now.
Our economy is on the verge of collapse. With no investment in infrastructure, and the gutting of the manufacturing base that started in the Clinton years, then got accelerated in the Dub-Yah years, is almost complete. The U.S. produces very little now outside of food, and high-tech gear that does not have the same universal commercial application then say, the highway system, or a hydroelectric dam. The capital flight into the stock market that accompanied this gutting, followed by flight into the housing market when the "dot.com" collapse happened, were accompanied by losses all around. Where's the capital going to flee to now? It's almost all been squandered, while inflated values make it seem like it still actually exists. That's how trillion dollar surpluses become trillion dollar debts - the money, or more appropriately, the goods and services that the money is supposed to represent, don't exist. The house of cards is collapsing.
Politically, all that's been accomplished in the past seven years is that we've shown the world that we're lousy bullies, with absolutely no idea about the complexity of cross-cultural values, nationalism and international accord, and ultimately that we don't care about our ignorance. This has been exploited, rightfully so, by Latin America, which has enjoyed an amazing amount of autonomy for the past seven years. Used to be a time that is someone like Hugo Chavez came to power, they wound up like Salvadore Allende. Evo Morales would be facedown in a mass grave, alongside a few hundred women and children, courtesy of some goon squad that were trained here in the U.S.'s School of the Americas.
We've become so pathetic that when rattling sabers at Russia, their president essentially laughed at us. This is the same Russia that collapsed in its long economic/military struggle against us from the 50's to the 80's. They used to respect our ability to manipulate the world to our advantage, and our ability to contain them and cause them economic and political hardship. Now, now they dictate the terms upon which we'll act.
People act like Obama is the great hope... and to some extent, he is. He's the one most capable of turning this decline around. Hence the dilemma: do we really want this turned around? I mean, Latin America at this point ought to be routing for McCain - four more years of being left to their own devices, increasing their independence and autonomy. I'm sure the entire world is looking at Obama as a more reasonable person - but they're just worried that they'll become the last or second to last target of the U.S. military, as we further our decline and become more desperate for some kind of pyhrric victory to demonstrate how "awesome" we are.
There is a historical and personal perspective on this that I wish to share. While I didn't snitch, because snitching is the wrong thing to do, I did consider it. Why? Not to get out of trouble, mind you. I thought about it because I know that close to 1/3 of the population uses drugs. Probably a tenth of them deal those drugs. That's about 10 million drug dealers out there. if we all snitched each other out, the prison system would collapse under our collective weight. It seemed like a reasonable thing to do, since no one was pushing in the other direction: if we all went to trial like I did, the justice system would collapse under the weight of those they're already prosecuting.
The point is this: Obama will be a slide back into a reasonable manager of the empire. Which means empire continues. McCain, on the other hand, will continue this train wreck of an administration, and the empire is already so close to the edge that collapse seems imminent.
Does anyone think that the world is honestly better off with the U.S. acting as empire?
Thursday, September 11, 2008
9/11 Has Nothing to do with Freedom
I know, because on 9/11/2001, I was in prison for thoughtcrime.
I'm still flummoxed by the weird statement that we live in the "land of the free."
The people that claim this is the land of the free ignore the fact that this is the land of the most not-free: we have the largest prison population on the planet. That's population wise, percentage wise, doesn't matter, any figure you use, we're at the fucking top. We're not free, we're not even close.
The people I see that claim to be free are whoring themselves to the system that enslaves them. They're chasing the mighty fucking dollar, not realizing that the paper chase is empty and devoid of meaning. I've heard just about every excuse under the sun for chasing that dollar. At the end of the day, though, a majority of time it's because people let stuff own them, and in turn they sell themselves short to own stuff.
The people who struggle - we know we're not free. We know complete freedom isn't possible. But we know we can do better than what we're looking at today. Unfortunately, we tend not to have money, which means in terms of power, we are greatly restricted in this society, which encourages people mentioned in the previous paragraph, and discourages us.
So, President Bush asked us all to remember where we were when this attack on "freedom" occurred. I was in prison for thoughtcrime, when the U.S. government responded to terrorist attacks by upping their attack on our freedoms. In the seven years since then, we've seen our freedoms diminish, alongside our happiness, security, and pretty much every measure of progress you can imagine.
We still have no better analysis of why we were attacked forwarded by the powers that be. The Homeland Security Department insists it's because "They hate our freedom," - quoting the President. If terrorists hate freedom so much, check our prison population, we ought to be the last on the fucking list of targets.
If, on the other hand, they hate us because of how our government acts in the world, then suddenly it seems much clearer.
The 9/11 attacks had nothing to do with Freedom. They had everything to do with how we act in the world. Paying lip service to freedom means nothing: judge actions. We, as a society, have acted freely against almost every other country out there, but have accepted no responsibility. We freely lock up our own people, but accept no responsibility for the conditions that create criminal environments.
And I just might include the above in the next Prisoner Within. Just a heads up, to all three of you.
I'm still flummoxed by the weird statement that we live in the "land of the free."
The people that claim this is the land of the free ignore the fact that this is the land of the most not-free: we have the largest prison population on the planet. That's population wise, percentage wise, doesn't matter, any figure you use, we're at the fucking top. We're not free, we're not even close.
The people I see that claim to be free are whoring themselves to the system that enslaves them. They're chasing the mighty fucking dollar, not realizing that the paper chase is empty and devoid of meaning. I've heard just about every excuse under the sun for chasing that dollar. At the end of the day, though, a majority of time it's because people let stuff own them, and in turn they sell themselves short to own stuff.
The people who struggle - we know we're not free. We know complete freedom isn't possible. But we know we can do better than what we're looking at today. Unfortunately, we tend not to have money, which means in terms of power, we are greatly restricted in this society, which encourages people mentioned in the previous paragraph, and discourages us.
So, President Bush asked us all to remember where we were when this attack on "freedom" occurred. I was in prison for thoughtcrime, when the U.S. government responded to terrorist attacks by upping their attack on our freedoms. In the seven years since then, we've seen our freedoms diminish, alongside our happiness, security, and pretty much every measure of progress you can imagine.
We still have no better analysis of why we were attacked forwarded by the powers that be. The Homeland Security Department insists it's because "They hate our freedom," - quoting the President. If terrorists hate freedom so much, check our prison population, we ought to be the last on the fucking list of targets.
If, on the other hand, they hate us because of how our government acts in the world, then suddenly it seems much clearer.
The 9/11 attacks had nothing to do with Freedom. They had everything to do with how we act in the world. Paying lip service to freedom means nothing: judge actions. We, as a society, have acted freely against almost every other country out there, but have accepted no responsibility. We freely lock up our own people, but accept no responsibility for the conditions that create criminal environments.
And I just might include the above in the next Prisoner Within. Just a heads up, to all three of you.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Came Back From Cali...
...and all I got was another flat tire.
Seriously. I mean, fuck I just stepped off the plane, went to work, and rode the Metro home. Check my tire in the PM, since it'd been almost a week since Chupecabra and I had met our destiny on these mean streets, but all was good. Pressure solid on both tires.
Got up this morning a little sluggish. I don't really get jetlag, but I tell you, from 80 and dry to 80 and humid can fuck with some sleep. I also had a broken heart. Well, more broken than usual. I got issues. Fortunately, I also have a demon goat of a fucking bike, that likes to help me get my issues out in an angry charge through New York traffic.
However, this morning, Chupecabra wanted me in a rage. That same back tire I checked last night, was fucking flat this morning. So fuckit, replaced the tube with a thorn-resistant model, and put in the slime-gel tube protector. Of course, during this process, my tension bolts somehow decided they wanted to go get fucked, so my tire didn't come back on straight. I didn't know til I hit the streets, ready to ride. Shit was rubbing like the inner thighs of a fat man - and I know, being one. At this point, if I had a thermite bomb, I'd use it on the fucking demon goat. Fortunately, all I had were tools from my brother, so I got that ish straightened out.
Rode to work. Got some of these feelings out, but didn't manage to hit anyone, so I was left with a little left over to make me morbid all day long.
One note about heartbreak and morbidity: it can make you barf text. Hence this blog, even though I just got back from vacation. It also happens to explain just about every Depeche Mode song in creation, though I'm quite certain that now I've pissed off two of my three readers.
Where was I? Oh yeah, work. Did I ever mention that I'm an admin geek? Pathetic, really. I mean, how many stupid 80's movies were based on a geek getting their heart broken? Now, two decades later, here I am, imitating the movies of my youth (well, imitating as long as you take out the prison sentence, the copious amount of drugs, three girlfriends and the fact that I've actually lost my virginity, as far as I can recall [see previous comment about drugs, I might have hallucinated those events]).
Maybe I got a lot more than a flat tire, and Chupecabra was trying to bring the point home. Ouch! That almost was a really bad pun! I'm otta here! Next time, no posting without the aid of copious amounts of alcohol!
Seriously. I mean, fuck I just stepped off the plane, went to work, and rode the Metro home. Check my tire in the PM, since it'd been almost a week since Chupecabra and I had met our destiny on these mean streets, but all was good. Pressure solid on both tires.
Got up this morning a little sluggish. I don't really get jetlag, but I tell you, from 80 and dry to 80 and humid can fuck with some sleep. I also had a broken heart. Well, more broken than usual. I got issues. Fortunately, I also have a demon goat of a fucking bike, that likes to help me get my issues out in an angry charge through New York traffic.
However, this morning, Chupecabra wanted me in a rage. That same back tire I checked last night, was fucking flat this morning. So fuckit, replaced the tube with a thorn-resistant model, and put in the slime-gel tube protector. Of course, during this process, my tension bolts somehow decided they wanted to go get fucked, so my tire didn't come back on straight. I didn't know til I hit the streets, ready to ride. Shit was rubbing like the inner thighs of a fat man - and I know, being one. At this point, if I had a thermite bomb, I'd use it on the fucking demon goat. Fortunately, all I had were tools from my brother, so I got that ish straightened out.
Rode to work. Got some of these feelings out, but didn't manage to hit anyone, so I was left with a little left over to make me morbid all day long.
One note about heartbreak and morbidity: it can make you barf text. Hence this blog, even though I just got back from vacation. It also happens to explain just about every Depeche Mode song in creation, though I'm quite certain that now I've pissed off two of my three readers.
Where was I? Oh yeah, work. Did I ever mention that I'm an admin geek? Pathetic, really. I mean, how many stupid 80's movies were based on a geek getting their heart broken? Now, two decades later, here I am, imitating the movies of my youth (well, imitating as long as you take out the prison sentence, the copious amount of drugs, three girlfriends and the fact that I've actually lost my virginity, as far as I can recall [see previous comment about drugs, I might have hallucinated those events]).
Maybe I got a lot more than a flat tire, and Chupecabra was trying to bring the point home. Ouch! That almost was a really bad pun! I'm otta here! Next time, no posting without the aid of copious amounts of alcohol!
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