Yeah it's working or I'm working. My head still kills me. I apologize for the obscenities but really, when you wake up in a stupor, the only words that come to your mouth are shit and fuck. And fuckshit. And damnit fuck.

okay, once more into the breach dear friends, once more.

I will say this - I WILL NEVER DO THAT AGAIN.

I HOPE.

oh boy. Ow.

And proper drunk I did get. Wow I'm a mess. MY fucking, fuck, fuckshit, ass, fuck, head hurts, fuck.

And I have work to do. A LOT OF WORK TO DO. OW. Bullshit. Fuck. Damnit fuck shit.

ah fuck.

shit.

fuck.

Aspirin. Yes aspirin. Fuck.

I don't think I'm getting my point across - I'm in pain. Okay, talk to you later.

fuck.

Ow.

The gathering was impressive I have to say. And this from a skeptic of the current state of protests. But really. It felt good to be there. It almost made me believe that things are about to change.

Paul, Terry and Emily pretty much summed up the day. To be honest, this has been an odd day all filled with massive realizations about myself which started at 8:11 in the morning after I woke up from the fifth alarm I set. Here it is.

I live in squalor and I don't mind.

But I realize that this might be why I'm off. My motivation is shit and if I think I'm more tired than I've ever been in my life. You know what, this is to much to get into right now.

I need a drink. I'll be doing the allentown circuit if anyone's out and about. I might just really dedicate myself to getting proper drunk tonight, so I apologize in advance to all.

I do this because I can, and therein lies my issue . . . or at least the start of it . . .

If you needed any more arguments about how much of a tyrant Bush is, read this editorial from Bob Herbert, from the Times.



It's called the Wrong War and 'tis brief . . . as a President's love. At this point, I don't think that even voting him out will make a dent in his plan. The damage is done and hate is in the world. Any hope? I'm looking for it.

I will be there tomorrow, rock in hand. That's most likely the only thing that will open this man's mind.

So let's say that you find a shell, as you go walking on a beach one day. The storm has just passed and the beach is filled, and I mean filled with shells. You love shells, but after you look at them for a while, no matter how unique, you think, well maybe I'm ready for a different shell.

But this time you find one that's incredible, and I mean great. Your pockets are full and you cannot carry anymore, so you have to carry it in your hand. But you also have a coffee in hand, so really, your choice is to either pick up the shell and walk back home to read the New Yorker over banana pancakes and/or avocado, ham, mushroom, and cheese omelettes, or rather continue down the beach looking for more, knowing full well that the shell in your hand (assuming of course that you cannot get rid of the shells in your pocket, as they are for someone else and you don't have the right) will suffer the fate of being moved and dropped when you find one that suits your needs more. It doesn't care, but your guilt is larger than any feelings this thing might have.

So here you are. A beach filled with sea shells, and breakfast waiting for you, getting cold.

Keep looking . . . or go and eat your omelette, shell in hand . . . what do you do?

any takers . . .