Here's the story .

There's an art exhibit which features a suicide bomber in Stockholm, Sweden. Israel's envoy to Sweden goes to the exhibit, sees the installation, and attempts to take it down (though he manages to only unplug a spotlight and throw it in impotent rage). He defended his actions, claiming that diplomacy only goes so far. As a matter of course, top Israeli cabinet members of the Sharon government voiced their approval of the act.
Freedom of expression should be an unquestioned right. The art piece didn't hurt anyone, maybe it makes you look at a perspective that is offensive to you, but that doesn't mean it should be censored. I really think this all goes too far. You can only cry anti-semite so much before nobody cares anymore. Especially when at the same time you are building a wall around the lesser people you don't want near your towns and making premeditated sweeps through their homes, indiscriminately terrorizing them with tanks, bulldozers, and machine guns. Does anyone claim that Israel is even threatened anymore? They have a gigantic army, the largest as a percentage of population, and advanced military technology, supplied by their number one friend and ally, the US. Their constant cries of anti-semitism fly in the face of their own aggression and bullying. They say that a child who is abused at an early age has a greater chance of becoming an abuser later in life. I think Israel needs to learn that lesson and start acting like an adult country.

Emergency tactics have been executed. Preliminanry diagnostics assess an enemy capable of unrestrained beserker-type actions. Decisions are predicated upon such information revealing hertofore unknown risks. Avoidable? perhaps... Dangerous? under most circumstances retribution, in some form or another, is inevitable.

They are gone, evacuated. The process has terminated, but for a malingering malaise perfuming our halls. Has malfeasance been quelled, for now at least? Of the future we can only hope, clinging to faded memories, both experienced and inate. Remember! Nightmares fade, but dreams, they linger on.

who wudda thunk it?...http://www.chron.com/cs/CDA/ssistory.mpl/business/2358294

Fucking Bush!

We've (didn't you know, you're a part too) decided that our next ambition regarding space should be to set foot once again, this time permanently, on the moon, and for the first time on Mars. How exciting. Being a science buff or whatever this excites me slightly, though not significantly becasue I can't imagine many surprises await us there. Funny thing was yesterday I listened to the radio on my way somewhere, as the NPR staff and guests debated the pros and cons of Bush's new mission. They discussed the motives for the announcement (namely reelection), the actual scientific ramifications (is there life on mars?), and the real reasons (military, duh, wtf?). This of course is scary, the very real militarization of space. Frightening. I am not so frightened because I have read many very bright people talk about how far we are from this becoming a reality, rather it will just absorb money without results for the foreseeable future. Whatev. The thing I wanted to mention was that on the NPR they discussed where the money would come from; Bush hasn't allocated any extra money for this shift in paradigms, meaning NASA must fund it from currently allocated resources. They talked about what would be cut and what not. Hubble was brought up. In case you aren't aware, the Hubble telescope is responsible for verifying many of the newest and most encompassing of astrophysic experiments. In CNN's words, "The bus-size telescope...has been sending home spectacular images of the universe for over a decade and [has] forced the rewriting of astronomy textbooks..." Impressive, huh? Well on NPR they decided that defunding of Hubble just wasn't an option. Apparently they didn't consult the source very carefully. Today we have . Yes, Hubble is to be decommisioned. Oh well, who needs reality to be deciphered anyway, let's just go to mars! Whoopie! <Asshole>

I've been struggling with a dillema for a while now. It involves who I am, what I want to be, and my personal responsibility. I think I am coming closer to a decision. I am not responsible for the world. I am only responsible for myself. The decisions of others may have an affect on me as my decisions may affect them, yet I don't believe in judgement. The only judge in my life is myself, and perhaps those few individuals deciding whether to hang on to me or let go. What am I getting at? Only the most important decision to make: to escape or not to.
I am ready to leave. To start anew, in place, ideas, and livelihood. I choose to live my life outside of the mainstream. Both taking and giving as little as possible. I don't want to be dependent on it, while I want to keep apart from its foulness. Together with those who share my ideas. I am tired of feeling depressed, anxious, and nihilistic. I want to feel like I am making a difference in the lives of those I care about instead of feeling like I am perpetuationg endless violence against those against whom I have no grudge. To be free of the system and rigamorole, able to create something new, making things, actual things with my hand and mind. So I go, taking those who wish to travel aboard the ark to nowhere special, only removed. If only we could commandeer a shuttle to take us far away, I would be first in line, me and my animals. We will, however, take the chance on earth to make of ourselves something better than what exeists. I can't do it any longer if I have to care about every false move my government makes in my name. Shall I let them rob me of my happiness. Pure anarchy is as far from altruism as from possession. If my society doesn't give me what I need than I have no duty to give what it needs from me. I will secede to my own private ranch, paying property tax and no more. Me and the goats. With their handlers of course. To live a dream other than the American. To me it's become a nightmare. I just want to sleep in peace.

The only woman candidate has dropped out of the race for the democratic nomination for president; she also represents 50% of the people of color vying for the post .
Carole Mosley-Braun will be missed. She would have brought change. She is endorsing Dean now, maybe he will bring change. Not as much though. I wish she had endorsed Kucinich, who I believe, shared more of her ideals. I'm sure though that she realizes, as do I, that he stands about zero chance of gaining the nomination. Isn't democracy grand?

Big Brother by Stevie Wonder. Tells it like it is. Click on my pic to hear a little bit. Thank you Sara for introducing it to me.
"Your name is big brother. My name is secluded. I live in the gettho. You just come to visit 'round election time."

A question for the ages. Where even to begin? Like everything else in my life my defintion of love has changed as I have. The first love that you're ever aware of is that amongst your family. You love your family members, your parents, siblings, and the rest of the assorted relatives. This love is the unconditional kind, for the most part not even questioned. I love my mom and dad and my brother and sister, and will forever, despite circumstances (maybe I'm lucky here because many don't have that kind of lasting family environment). Love becomes more complicated as soon as you start actively looking for someone(s) to share your life with. What is it that you look for? There are looks of course, you want someone nice to look at. There are things you have in common. There is sex. And then there is sex. Sometimes I hate sex. It's one of the most fun things you can do with someone(s), it can bring you closer, but... Sex is not the end all. I look at it this way. At most, I will spend maybe 1% of my life in bed with someone(s). The rest of the time we won't be having sex. Why are we supposed to think of sex as the most important part of love? I think of the moments I remember with loved ones, and what I remember is not the sex (okay, maybe those special few awesome times are in there too) but the times we spent talking in the park, the times we spent dancing our brains out, the times when I'm so down and they're the only thing holding me afloat. Those are what I remember and what really matter. You can bump uglies with anyone and have it turn out nice. How many people can you spend the other 99% of your life with? I hope and pray that the people who love me don't do it because I'm a good fuck. I hope they love me for everything else I bring. For my cooking, my singing, my intelligence, my craziness. I hope they remember climbing mountains and taking pictures more than any great hour long sessions in bed. It all goes back to our culture. We are taught that we find the special person and then we become close through intimacy (maybe this is the first step in breaking from the initial familial love). Sex sells. Love not so much. It's easy to market a sex-crazed culture, much less so a market that values warmth and coziness. So, like most other things in my life, I try to see beyond the hype. What is sex? Why is it supposed to matter so much? My answer is that it probably doesn't. Not in the face of what true love is at least. I think if you cut my dangly thing off I might even experience depths of love that my sex-crazed hormone-driven psyche can't even understand (not that I'm tempted in that direction). Okay, my lovers call, time to get freaky.

My friend Sara is here from San Diego with her 4 year old. It is just about his first exerience with snow. Yesterday we went sledding at Chestnut Ridge. It was Thursday so there weren't too many people. It was great fun, I was somehow so enthused that I actually ran up the hill, crazy. Today we are going to Olean to build snowmen and whatever else you do with a 4 year old in the snow. It should be fun. Then we come back for catfish. Yummy!

Whether I am going to start reading again. I can't decide. It's kind of defeatist because I want to do something. Of my own creation instead of absorbing the work of others. I keep feeling smarter, or more creative, or developed in a particular manner. It needs some release. Something to make it more than a tiny portion of me trapped forever in my mind. When I make thoughts appear in other media they become more real to me, more substantial and believable. I can't retain every detail of my own thoughts; I need to make the specifics have a life of their own without my capacital boundaries. So probably anyways I will start to read something otherworldy. I am so lazy. Schade.