That's totally the house I'm talking about. We used to sit on the Bird Ave. side porch all the time. I could never figure out if anyone lived there or not, or if whoever owned it just tried to make it look that way so no one would fuck with it. This was like 96-98, does anyone know anything about it? The Darwin Martin house gets so much press, I don't even know what this one's called....

Okay, so after a tip from dcoffee (thanks, I just read it today) I will attempt to download a pic. Also, attempt to change my user pic. Okay, take two:

okay, i'll figure out the picture thing later....

Well it's been an interesting week:

Friday night I went out with some friends to a drag queen show (hysterical) for a co-workers birthday. That was fun. Went home wasted (always a sure sign of a fine evening)...

Woke up the next morning to my neighbor ringing my doorbell.... apparently someone had hit & run my car as it was innocently parked in front of my house - motherfuckers...

I totally CSI'd the whole scene - I know exactly how it went down... so needless to say, I now have red tape where my taillight used to be, and a shitload body damage surrounding... lovely, as if it wasn't a total ghetto-mobile before.

So then I get over being pissed about that, and Tuesday go to leave work, walk up to the upper back parking lot only to find my passenger side window smashed in - nothing taken except my favorite sweater (I even only have the freaking hyundai factory tape deck in there, for god's sake)....

so now I'm totally pissed off....

alas, enter the restored faith, please....

my friend Corie (behind my back, because she knows I'm way too proud) sent out an email asking people to contribute to the cost of a new window. Within 20 minutes she had $150 - 20 minutes!!! (Roger, my boss, handed her a fresh crisp $100). Now it's almost the end of the day, and I bet I've got close to $300! -

Sometimes people are just awesome - I'll definately remember this the next time I start to bitch about the people I work with.....

also, here's an obligatory picture of Elijah....

with far too much patience.
Ajay, I
clicked your link, and apparently you weren't the only who noticed the difference. Apparently, they've had enough complaints about the looting/finding language that they took one of the pictures off - any guess as to which one? Well let's just say we still get to see black people looting....
Seriously, this whole New Orleans thing is sickening.... a time bomb releasing steam very slowly - it's only a matter of time before the whole thing goes up... it's so sad to see...
After this last election, I felt very un-American. Then with the Tsunami, that at least gave us (as the world popultion) something to feel and do together, you know? like be in shock, and mourn, and try to help. Made me feel a little bit proud when our country (public, private, corporate, you name it) poured out millions of dollars and sent people over to help and all that - gives one a bit of the old warm and fuzzies...
And now this whole situation in our own country - it's just awful: here 's a link ((I hope - I don't actually know how to link)



On a better note, happy birthdays to Terry and Mike - hope you partied enough for me too! Love you guys, by-bye!

Oh my gosh, I just read your food poisoning story. I'm literally here right now in the office rolling at my desk. The picture in my head of you just stopping your car and falling out of your car which just rolls away (in my head, anyway) and collapsing into Burger King. Aw, you crack me up!

Love and miss Paul, Terry and Matt. Had a great time in Bflo and the party. Great to meet new people and friends! Later!

Hola y'all.
I remember discovering that, what seems like a really long time ago, when I walked the streets of buffalo and it was my home. What's the street called, right by McKinley high school - I think it's Fordam - if you go down that about half-way you'll be at the spot McKinley was shot. It was at a building called the Temple of Music, and that, and many other of Delaware Parks more esteemed looking buildings, were built for I think the Pan American Exposition in 1901 (wow, I just looked it up to be sure, and I was right - that's a surprise - good to know some of my brain cells still work). Interesting that you would bring that up!
As always, I miss my three boys...

Okay, so I started to put this in the profile section under "about you" and rambled enough for it to turn into something completely different....

First of all, I think you should be able to type in more letters in the boxes. People can't tell you who are from these things, but they would've found out a lot by reading my mental side-comments or jokes about some of the questions, which I tried to type in but was limited in characters..... sounds like censorship to me Paul - it's like, we'll let you answer, but not explain. Ha ha.
That doesn't really tell you about mw, but neither do the questions, hmm?
Buffalo by growth, san diego by, I guess, fate? My actual birth age is 27, but really sometimes I am stubborn like a 16 year old, but most of the time, I feel like I'm more 35 or forty. Sometimes I look at dumb-ass 40 and 50 year-olds, and I feel rather like a 100-year old sage on the hill.... such is the balance. I have a 5-year old son, who is awesome.
I miss new york, and buffalo, in ways I never thought I would. That just goes to show that no matter what, there's no place like home, and there's no one in the world that can know you like family.... like, let's say I knew this guy for 25 years, now. The first time I met him I was four. He was a catholic republican italian boy, my first memory of him was having my skirt looked up while at a birthday party. In wholesome years, we watched, and sang along with, Mary Tyler Moore. The next thing I knew, ten, well, maybe twelve years later, he comes to my house in faux-fur bellbottoms the size of, I don't know, hakama pants, with an 8-sizes to small bright yellow t-shirt, and a 3-foot long plastic wallet chain, on his way to a rave (one of the changes I still don't get - such is life!). I thought to myself, where did my little brother go, with the plaid shirts and ties, and the little elephant pin? He taught me how to go out and do things, even if you didn't' know what to do, or you didn't know how, or even if people said that idea was crazy. Now, he's gay, atheist, technologically enslaved to a point that it worries me for his soul (gosh you're almost a hermit, if you count time at the computer-master, even if you are out of the house), even 3000 miles away, and will do any drug you put in front of him. Unless he's around a cat, such that no physical attibutes work well enough...with no nose, you can't snort, with no lungs, you can't smoke, with a brain primed for hypochondria, you live in paranoia. I tell you, it started with the "brain tumor" in 10th grade. Before that, the hypochondria was limited only to allergies, I can tell you accurately. Oh, he's also now pretty close to being a left-ist anarchist than a republican for sure - definately one of the changes I would agree with! Through all these fundamental things, attributes, which we like to think make us the person we are: faith, political views, sexual orientation, whether you'd rather hike or type, these are the things that I think we like to feel pride in, when it comes to thinking and feeling about who we are and what we do (although you certainly can never categorize people fully or accurately, whether it's your own self, or some one you don't know - perspective, it's a mind fuck, no?) My point is, in my best friend, my little (but older) brother, smarter than me (but less wise in the way of like, people and life), all these things have done an absolute 180 in that same profile from 24 years ago for my best friend, mi mejor amigo. There are few people I know in the world that are truly always the same. Some argue that who you are is who you are, and that's it, and although periferal things may change (where you live, who you hang with, etc) you're always the same. But I think in this way, we can categorize it in to two groups, those who are conscience of themselves, and other peoples's opinion of them, and those who don't. I definately belong to the first category and probably in an extreme (no coincidence, this type of personality "trait", is what leads me to being a "changling", a phrase I relate with, and feel that I am. I think I was 23 or 24 years old before I actually realized that it didn't matter a fucking damn what any one else thought of you, it only really matters what you think of you. I've always known that's how you should feel, and think, but I never really got it. Well, I could write a whole novel about my "issues". My point is to illustrate the contrast, in the person who is my best friend. I know a few people like this, and I am at times a little envious, particularly when I was younger and more insecure; these are those who no matter what, stay completely naive, and in fact, self-sheltered and totally unbeknownst, to the world around them. And I think because of this, they don't really ever change. Except for whatever the few things are that they are focused on. And in the few people I know like this, their focus on these things that make up their world, they are absolutely focussed, genius, understading and interactive with. Anything else, it might as well not even exist, for all they can see. Might as well not even exist, think about that. My best friend is this way, so is my son. These are the people that truly are always the same, regardless of when or what situation. When my parents, or Elijah's dad, or other friends, ask about the welfare and goings on of my best friend, I always feel the same response. Well, you know ________, he's always the same. I envy them, although I do see a lot of things a lot differently through different situations and experiences, than they do. I see a lot of things that these people missed. And I'm sure, if this person was into cars, (which he's not, but it's an easy example) and we walked around town, he would come away having remembered probably 100 different models, maybe the years, would've noticed any that had body work, the ones that are classic, etc. Like walking around a construction site with a carpenter, I would just see a bunch of framing. Much more intracate than that, in reality. Ah, the balance of life. But the observations that I might come away with would be totally different. I might notice language of the signs about town, or seeing couples can see which ones are happy or unhappy, and why. People, reactions, etc. That's what I see.
But regardless of these very fundamental differences between my best friend and I, he truly is my best friend. I read his journal, and to be entirely honest, I understand about 3% of it. It's like reading something in a different language, because I don't understand computers. All these people he mentions, are in a context related to something computer.... now, I'm not saying that these interactions and relationships or any less valid than having something "in person", as it were. But to me it is, and to him it's probably more real, because of the language he speaks. Such differences. He is the one person, seriously, in my whole life, even besides my parents, and I'm one of those that have a very honest and communicative relationship with my parents, my best friend is the one and only who always understands me automatically without my needing to explain a word, who's never judged me regardless of the dumb-ass things that I do, and the vibe between us is always the same: acceptance and love.
Many of you, if you've read this, know who I am talking about. And I think you would agree. I do worry, though, Paul, that you will be in another 20 years, someone whose only friends are robots that you've created, the only contact you have with the outside world (outside your head, I mean) is through your computer. I just love you.
My ode to you.

God, the disdain I feel for Americans.

I've always been one to feel shy waving any flag, and instead bring up the negative about America. But I'll tell you what, this past four years, seeing the last election go so wrong, and now this war business and halliburton and the school of the americas alumni and all that.... My patriotism was awakened through all this, because I finally felt something to get pissed about. Paul and I have had this conversation so many times, that we've had it so good, how can they (the elders) expect us to give a damn about a thing when we get to play on our computers and watch our survivor (sorry, paul, there not too much different, not that I watch survivor, as I digress), why the fuck should we care what's going on in the world, even so a different state or maybe the next county over. Well, then 9/11, and the fear factor involved with which W got just about all america to side with him in Iraq (ok, I could go off for 20 minutes here, but I won't). I saw something going on in type my country type that I couldn't understand, something that poked at the part inside me that said "wait a minute, this isn't what america is to me... freedom, truth? any of that? I don't see it, this isn't how it should be". I feel more anger for this foolish american idiot mentality than I do the terrorists. After all, we pretty much invented terrorism, don't you think? who can really blame them... Think of all the people over all the years in countries all over the world that have grown up to the sight of smoke and blood, the sound of bombs and mortar shells, and our pretty flag rolling past them.... hm, yet they hate us because of cable TV? Hmm, no... But now after all this, when we as americans had a chance to check ourselves and say, wait a minute, what kind of road are we on here, man...
I assumed that the "regime" wins because the people who are out there that think like me don't vote enough... Well, here we are, record turn outs and look at that.... more than half you fuckers out there are totally not in sync with what I call my "american" ideals, and yeah, even morals, if I can even use the term american morals without heaving anymore.
Instant karma's gonna get us...
Damn you morons...
Wednesday morning I cried, not because Kerry's not our president, I never liked him all that much anyway, but because it's absolutely true that I am no longer an american. It'd be like someone telling me I didn't belong in Buffalo anymore (which I prolly don't, fucking southern californian that I am), but it would still blow my fucking mind. That's how I feel today. I just can't even believe it's true.....Yet I know it is.
Here's a quote from our fine-tarred and feathered president:

(wow, I'll probably get on some CIA watchlist for threatening to tar and feather our president. That's right, while you're watching, I'm talking about that red-neck motherfucker from Texas, GW. Is that the FBI knocking even now as I type?)


For the second straight day, he pledged to reach out to those who opposed his re-election.
"The campaign over, Americans are expecting a bipartisan effort and results. I will reach out to every one who shares our goals," he said.

Um, Sorry, George, I don't share your goals of world domination and oil for all. Clearly he's done reaching out to me, oh, wait, he never did.

Sickened is how I feel.



On a lighter note, I thought paul might be excited about this:



TOKYO (AFP) - Giving a new meaning to the term grassroots music, Pioneer Corp. said it had developed a next-generation disc made of corn to let the eco-conscious consumer dispose of data in the soil.

The Japanese electronics maker said the Blu-ray optical disc, which can be written once and stores 25 gigabytes of data, is 87 percent natural polymer derived from corn and biod
egrades.

"If the starch polymer is incinerated, it will not emit dioxins and any other harmful chemicals," the company said.

While the disc can theoretically be eaten, it is coated by a 0.1-millimeter (0.004-inch) thick layer of resin and is too hard for even the strongest teeth.

Pioneer has yet to decide when to market the disc.

Earlier this year Sony Corp (NYSE:SNE - news) (news - web sites). and another Japanese company Toppan Printing said they had developed a paper disc that can be destroyed with scissors for fool-proof data security.

Who can turn the world on with her smile?
Who can take a nothing day and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile?
Well, it's you girl and you should know it
With each glance and every little movement you show it
Love is all around why don't you taste it
You could have a chance why don't you take it
You're gonna make it after all

Here are what appear to be the known facts, laid out recently in considerable detail and documentation by retired pilot and Air National Guard First Lt. Robert A. Rogers, and in a 2003 book, “The Lies of George W. Bush,” by David Corn.

1. George W. Bush graduated from Yale in 1968 when the war in Vietnam was at its most deadly and the military draft was in effect. Like many of his social class and age, he sought to enter the National Guard, which made Vietnam service unlikely, and fulfill his military obligation. Competition for slots was intense; there was a long waiting list. Bush took the Air Force officer and pilot qualification tests on Jan. 17, 1968, and scored the lowest allowed passing grade on the pilot aptitude portion.

2. He, nevertheless, was sworn in on May 27, 1968, for a six-year commitment. After a few weeks of basic training, Bush received an appointment as a second lieutenant – a rank usually reserved for those completing four years of ROTC or 18 months active duty service. Bush then went to flight school and trained on the F-102 interceptor fighter jet. Fighter pilots were in great demand in Vietnam at the time, but Bush wound up serving as a “weekend warrior” in Houston, where his father’s congressional district was centered.

A Houston Chronicle story published in 1994, quoted in Corn’s book, has Bush saying: “I was not prepared to shoot my eardrum out with a shotgun in order to get a deferment. Nor was I willing to go to Canada. So I chose to better myself by learning how to fly airplanes.”

3. Sometime after May 1971, young Lt. Bush stopped participating regularly in Guard activities. According to Texas Air National Guard records, he had fewer than the required flight duty days and was short of the minimum service owed the Guard. Records indicate that Bush never flew after May 1972, despite his expensive training and even though he still owed the National Guard two more years.

4. On May 24, 1972, Bush asked to be transferred to an inactive reserve unit in Alabama, where he also would be working on a Republican senate candidate’s campaign. The request was denied. For months, Bush apparently put in no time at all in Guard service. In August 1972, Bush was grounded -- suspended from flying duties -- for failing to submit to an annual physical exam. (Why wouldn't he take this exam from a doctor?)

5. During his 2000 presidential campaign, Bush’s staff said he recalled doing duty in Alabama and then returning to Houston for still more duty. But the commander of the Montgomery, AL, unit where Bush said he served told the Boston Globe that he had no recollection of Bush – son of a congressman – ever reporting, nor are there records, as there should be, supporting Bush’s claim. Asked at a press conference in Alabama on June 23, 2000 what duties he had performed as a Guardsman in that state, Bush said he could not recall, “but I was there.”

6. In May, June and July, 1973, Bush suddenly started participating in Guard activities back in Houston again – pulling 36 days at Ellington Air Base in that short period. On Oct. 1, 1973, eight months short of his six-year service obligation and scheduled discharge, Bush apparently was discharged with honors from the Texas Air National Guard (eight months short of his six-year commitment). He then went to Harvard Business School.

Documents supporting these reports, released under Freedom of Information Act requests, appear along with Rogers’ article on the web at .

In the absence of full disclosure by the President or his supporters, only the President and perhaps a few family or other close associates know the whole truth. And they’re not talking.

Bush was apparently absent without official leave from his assigned military service for as little as seven months (New York Times) or as much as 17 months (Boston Globe) during a time when 500,000 American troops were figh
ti
ng

the Vietnam War. The Army defines a “deserter” -- also known as a DFR, for “dropped from rolls” – as one who is AWOL 31 days or more: www-ari.army.mil/pdf/s51.pdf.