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Delicious salad:
Diced red, yellow and green bell peppers
Diced Sweet onion
Diced Tomatoes (Romas preferably)
Diced Cucumbers
Kalamata Olive Oil
Goat Cheese
A little mint, oregano, garlic salt, black pepper
Mix it all up and eat !
It is super yummy..........

...

The last question was asked for the first time, half in jest, on May 21, 2061, at a time when humanity first stepped into the light. The question came about as a result of a five dollar bet over highballs, and it happened this way:

Alexander Adell and Bertram Lupov were two of the faithful attendants of Multivac. As well as any human beings could, they knew what lay behind the cold, clicking, flashing face -- miles and miles of face -- of that giant computer. They had at least a vague notion of the general plan of relays and circuits that had long since grown past the point where any single human could possibly have a firm grasp of the whole.

Multivac was self-adjusting and self-correcting. It had to be, for nothing human could adjust and correct it quickly enough or even adequately enough -- so Adell and Lupov attended the monstrous giant only lightly and superficially, yet as well as any men could. They fed it data, adjusted questions to its needs and translated the answers that were issued. Certainly they, and all others like them, were fully entitled to share In the glory that was Multivac's.

For decades, Multivac had helped design the ships and plot the trajectories that enabled man to reach the Moon, Mars, and Venus, but past that, Earth's poor resources could not support the ships. Too much energy was needed for the long trips. Earth exploited its coal and uranium with increasing efficiency, but there was only so much of both.

But slowly Multivac learned enough to answer deeper questions more fundamentally, and on May 14, 2061, what had been theory, became fact.

The energy of the sun was stored, converted, and utilized directly on a planet-wide scale. All Earth turned off its burning coal, its fissioning uranium, and flipped the switch that connected all of it to a small station, one mile in diameter, circling the Earth at half the distance of the Moon. All Earth ran by invisible beams of sunpower.

Seven days had not sufficed to dim the glory of it and Adell and Lupov finally managed to escape from the public function, and to meet in quiet where no one would think of looking for them, in the deserted underground chambers, where portions of the mighty buried body of Multivac showed. Unattended, idling, sorting data with contented lazy clickings, Multivac, too, had earned its vacation and the boys appreciated that. They had no intention, originally, of disturbing it.

They had brought a bottle with them, and their only concern at the moment was to relax in the company of each other and the bottle.

"It's amazing when you think of it," said Adell. His broad face had lines of weariness in it, and he stirred his drink slowly with a glass rod, watching the cubes of ice slur clumsily about. "All the energy we can possibly ever use for free. Enough energy, if we wanted to draw on it, to melt all Earth into a big drop of impure liquid iron, and still never miss the energy so used. All the energy we could ever use, forever and forever and forever."

Lupov cocked his head sideways. He had a trick of doing that when he wanted to be contrary, and he wanted to be contrary now, partly because he had had to carry the ice and glassware. "Not forever," he said.

"Oh, hell, just about forever. Till the sun runs down, Bert."

"That's not forever."

"All right, then. Billions and billions of years. Twenty billion, maybe. Are you satisfied?"

Lupov put his fingers through his thinning hair as though to reassure himself that some was still left and sipped gently at his own drink. "Twenty billion years isn't forever."

"Will, it will last our time, won't it?"

"So would the coal and uranium."

"All right, but now we can hook up each individual spaceship to the Solar Station, and it can go to Pluto and back a million times without ever worrying about fuel. You can't do THAT on coal and uranium. Ask Multivac, if you don't believe me."

"I don't have to ask Multivac. I know that."

"Then stop running down what Multivac's done for us," said Adell, blazing up. "It did all right."

"Who says it didn't? What I say is that a sun won't last forever. That's all I'm saying. We're safe for twenty billion years, but then what?" Lupov pointed a slightly shaky finger at the other. "And don't say we'll switch to another sun."

There was silence for a while. Adell put his glass to his lips only occasionally, and Lupov's eyes slowly closed. They rested.

Then Lupov's eyes snapped open. "You're thinking we'll switch to another sun when ours is done, aren't you?"

"I'm not thinking."

"Sure you are. You're weak on logic, that's the trouble with you. You're like the guy in the story who was caught in a sudden shower and Who ran to a grove of trees and got under one. He wasn't worried, you see, because he figured when one tree got wet through, he would just get under another one."

"I get it," said Adell. "Don't shout. When the sun is done, the other stars will be gone, too."

"Darn right they will," muttered Lupov. "It all had a beginning in the original cosmic explosion, whatever that was, and it'll all have an end when all the stars run down. Some run down faster than others. Hell, the giants won't last a hundred million years. The sun will last twenty billion years and maybe the dwarfs will last a hundred billion for all the good they are. But just give us a trillion years and everything will be dark. Entropy has to increase to maximum, that's all."

"I know all about entropy," said Adell, standing on his dignity.

"The hell you do."

"I know as much as you do."

"Then you know everything's got to run down someday."

"All right. Who says they won't?"

"You did, you poor sap. You said we had all the energy we needed, forever. You said 'forever.'"

"It was Adell's turn to be contrary. "Maybe we can build things up again someday," he said.

"Never."

"Why not? Someday."

"Never."

"Ask Multivac."

"You ask Multivac. I dare you. Five dollars says it can't be done."

Adell was just drunk enough to try, just sober enough to be able to phrase the necessary symbols and operations into a question which, in words, might have corresponded to this: Will mankind one day without the net expenditure of energy be able to restore the sun to its full youthfulness even after it had died of old age?

Or maybe it could be put more simply like this: How can the net amount of entropy of the universe be massively decreased?

Multivac fell dead and silent. The slow flashing of lights ceased, the distant sounds of clicking relays ended.

Then, just as the frightened technicians felt they could hold their breath no longer, there was a sudden springing to life of the teletype attached to that portion of Multivac. Five words were printed: INSUFFICIENT DATA FOR MEANINGFUL ANSWER.

"No bet," whispered Lupov. They left hurriedly.

By next morning, the two, plagued with throbbing head and cottony mouth, had forgotten about the incident.

[read full story]

To know it is to need it. To be entranced by the seductive power and the free miles to take you anywhere. Unconditional feel good. With desire so strong your scalp tingles caress your body with warm chills. Intensity that makes your eyes feel pleasure. Lush fire beaming so powerful from the depth of your core you can taste it. So overwhelming your heart tickles.

A force.

It makes signing your will over feel like a steal.

How can the pain be appreciated with out the pleasure? It breaks from your core

Sport Sunglasses
Snowboard Goggles
Motorcycle Goggles

I hate that everything is so foreign now. I don't give a fuck about what anyone thinks. People judge. 'It was just a dog', FUCK YOU!

In your eyes, I'm weak. You can go fuck yourselves. I was fortunate enough to have such a purely innocent and perfectly good friend to grace my life, regardless of species. I could never explain the impact that that dude had on my life.

I realize now how completely alone I am now. I used to believe that I was ok without friends and companionship. Now I realize how untrue that was. Just a dog? Fuck You! He was a blessing to me. He made me genuinely smile and laugh out loud. Even when I had a spike in my arm he would come up to me, while injecting, and rub his head against me.

I want to join him. I want to learn such goodness. I want to apologize.

I have nothing to hold me back from the fucking ridiculous and sometimes violent things I want to do. I have no purpose.

I should simply be grateful to be blessed with such goodness. Such loyalty. Such friendship.

Many don't experience this.

I miss my friend and I feel so lost and unpredictable now.

I have no reason to not pursue the self-hatred I feel. He gave me purpose and now I have nothing to believe in.

I fear I may not recover from this. It hurts and I cry often now that he's gone.

I feel weak, cowardly and alone now that he's not here and I can't take it. I just fucking miss him so fucking much.

I stick needles in myself, I drink, I smoke, I just don't give a fuck.

I want the privilege of dying. He earned his place with the gods. Me? Not at all. I am a weak motherfucker who runs from life and its responsibilities.

All I know is that I miss you, Shaman. I NEVER had such a friend before. Those in my life now who claim to be friends have no fucking idea what friendship is.

Fuck! I miss you my friend. Soon, hopefully... I will earn the right to die as well.

7-8 days, 60 miles solo; 10,000 foot elevation gain, peak 2 summits.

forecast temp 90s in the day, 20s at night. thunderstorms forecast

7000cc macpac
trekking poles
ice axe
crampons
2 tarps 6x8'
50' jute
20' fishing line
2 small lead sinkers
5 fish hooks (there are glacier fed streams with trout)
30degree sleeping bag
bivy
matches

1/2 lb dates
1/2 # almonds
6 packets tuna
12 cliff bars
1 # beef jerky
1/2 # manchego cheese
1/2 # salami
1/2 # granola
6 pieces flat bread
1/2 powdered soy milk
1/2 dry gatorade

1 pouch Peruvian coca leaves and lime -- for altitude, fatigue, vitamin source, energy, and to improve my mood
6 caffeine pills - I am addicted to caffeine and need to pills to ward off the migraine that sudden withdrawal will initiate.
12 vitamin C pills
6 multi vitamins

book and some molecular biology aritcles to read
sketch book
pencil, pen
1 digital camera
garmin gps?
map that I drew
headlight
2 AAA batteries
8 AA batteries

water sterilyzer
1 gallon water
8 oz sunblockk spf 50
broad brimmed hat
balaclava
parka shell
wool snow pants
wool long underwear
1 pair briefs
1 silk undershirt
wool shirt
wool gloves
khaki desert pants
khaki desert shirt
socks 1 pair heavy wool, 1 pair light wook, 1 pair cotton
sandals
boots

I will take photos. I don't thnk I need that much food...

What am I forgetting?

Sun Glasses

So long

Today is Saturday, August 7, 2010 and it is now 901AM here in the South Bronx, New York City, USA.

Recap: Talking about Western men bullshitting online with gullible Filipinas and a specific case in my village.

This entry: As I was saying, it goes both ways. Sometimes a transexual will post a photo, and develop an online relationship. Ladyboys as they are called in Thailand though now that phrase has made its way to the Philippines.

I love watching shows like the kind shown on National Geographic Channel? It's great that we have it in Manila, wish we could get it on Mindanao cable as well but...

On 1 show they were talking about "weird shit" and they were saying, in that deep faux King's English they like to use: "In Indonesia there are males, there are females, but unlike the rest of the world Indonesia also has 2 more genders..." I spit out my soup on that one. What kind of fucking nonsense are they on about?

According to them the Hindus on Bali have 2 additional genders. Seeing as how I have spent a significant amount of time there my "bullshit meter" redlined. However, sometimes we can be someplace our whole lives and not understand the small currents around us, so who can say?

In the Philippines, online, the more usual scenario is some woman claiming she is single when in reality she has a husband and 5 kids. Hahahaha, look at me? I got played like that IN PERSON (with Jackie) so imagine online? The thing though? Jackie was, as far as I can make out, sincere, just didn't want to let me know that part of her because she correctly surmised that I would have never have looked at her had I known she was still in her relationship with a baby several months old. With the internet though the women almost always do it for money.

The Western man thinks, well 200 US Dollars a month isn't much, send it to her and better her life, etc, but she is picking up that money and buying her husband shit.

I was gonna open a private detective type thing, investigating women for internet casanovas, and in fact some smart expats already run a couple of companies like that but in the end I make enough money, travel too much as it is, so why bother? A part of me would find it exciting to wreck some lives while doing some good for the men being played.

Then I began reading these mens' stories and sadly, I felt they needed to be robbed as stupid as they were. You have enough money to support some woman you have never met but can't get your white ass on a plane and see her in the flesh? Though, in fairness, even that is no guarantee as to her character, etc. It is not as if her husband of BF will come to the airport with her.

My mind goes back to a case I often think about, Guillermo Sobero, a Peruvian/American from Corona, California. 38, on his 2nd marriage, and 3 kids from 2 months to 4 years old, he falls for some Filipina online.

The girl, Fe, worked in a gift shoppe at a resort called "Dos Palmas" at Honda Bay on the island of Palawan. Guillermo left his waterproofing business for a vacation, told his wife that he had to attend a seminar in Las Vegas, related to his work. He had a nice trip to Asia and ended up during that week proposing to 18 year old Fe.

For 2 years they kept it going online and he even told his wife it was over, though he didn't say why. In August of 2001 he flew to Palawan again, this time getting a room with Fe.

On Sunday, August 27th they were awakened by someone kicking in their door. Abu Sayyaf, a terrorist organisation had come calling. Making them get dressed, they made them walk out on the dock to a waiting cigarette boat, the super fast smuggling boats...

3 days later, having transferred to a fishing trawler they ended up on Basilan Island, a province of Mindanao. Guillermo was addicted to methadone and valium (diazepam) and began going into double withdrawal.

On Basilan the army was chasing them so they took cover in a hospital in Lamitan. Before the Abu Sayyaf and hostages escaped before dawn Guillermo was shot in the foot. So now here he is in fucked up condition from methadone and valium withdrawal and to boot, he has a bullet in his foot. Imagine?

Within 4 days they cut off his head, and the following week little Fe agreed to marry one of the terrorists, "marriage" consisting of her saying, "I am your wife" since the man was a Muslim. Life is funny.

Indeed, it was that whole episode, in which other female hostages became "brides" as well that almost caused me to kill 3 soldiers at a checkpoint on National Hiway 1 village south of us. It was late at night, they weren't in full uniform and Rizza was next to me. Imagine IF I had killed 3 soldiers for her? For what? Life IS funny for sure.

Anyway,so much bullshit online, I could never get into that online dating crap. There was a time though, when I came for my HCV (Hep-C) treatment, when a cousin asked me how he could meet a Filipina. I told him to get his lazy Jewish ass on a plane. He pressured me and after awhile I decided to get him off of my back by looking for a penpal to keep him occupied. Since Rizza and I were breaking up I didn't want to introduce him to a girl I actually knew, which would have meant someone in the village. I found him some penpal thing, can't even remember how. He was 21 so I guess it was his speed, I never followed up with him though.

Me? I don't know what I will do in that area myself, meaning women. I haven't touched Jackie since learning the truth. She swears she is so in love with me but then she swore many things, none of which turned out to be true. On the other hand, she has been consistent since moving to Quezon City.

I suppose all things considered, I have time to work that out but I am definitely not trying to complicate things by finding yet another woman...though...if I ever find that girl from the "Give It" video, by Out of Body Special (a Filipino funk fusion band), or that girl who worked the Wire Counter at Canadien[sic] Bank on Monviong Blvd.in Pnohm Pehn...or that teenaged girl at the bus terminal in Monkayo in ComVal Province...hahahahahhahahahahahahahhahahah...go figure.

I tried getting a new doctor in Quezon City, to write for me? I discovered yet another reason to hate Americans but will save all that for the next entry.

I seem to be FINALLY learning the simple lessons that others seem to have nailed down pat.

There's a saying 'Nothing changes if nothing changes.' Damn, man, this is true. Ya see, I want the benefits of hard labor without applying any effort. This shit don't work like that.

I realize that I need to work on change. When I apply just a little effort to change/improve my life/perspective I receive the benefits.

Example: Today is the second day in a row that I have jogged. Granted, I only run a half mile at a time but it feels GOOD. Why? Because I'm actually doing something to improve myself as opposed to simply wanting to improve myself.

This jogging thing is another example of how most changes in life are slow and gradual processes. I won't see the physical results of my efforts immediately but, in time, I'll have that elusive ideal body that I seek.

From a recovery perspective, the 'work' I'm doing (taking chances with new people, speaking honestly in front of a group, opening up to another male regardless of potential judgment) is starting to show results.

Change is uncomfortable for me (sometimes terrifying) but I do things differently regardless because I KNOW it will benefit me long term.

I just need to continue to apply effort towards change for my long term benefits without expecting instant results.

These are some pretty cool lessons I'm learning about myself.

I kind of dig it.

Same date as my previous entry, 456AM, same locale.

Recap: I talked about a form of "Gaydar," as well as some other inconsequential nonsense.

This entry: One thing that strikes me, that sticks out in my mind so much from my time in Mindanao, was a day that took place in the summer of 2007. The island like the rest of the Southern Philippines is starved for infrastructure. This spring they blamed El Nino for the lack of electricity. For the weatherly challenged among you, El Nino (I have no idea how to place the accent "~" over the 2nd "N" on a computer keyboard) describes a phenomenon that produces less precipitation than usual.

The thing is, contrary to what descriptions of the Philippines say, there has always been a "Dry Season" that takes place at that time of year. This year, regardless, water levels dropped and because that fair island is dependant upon hydroelectricity, there were what they call, "Rotating Brownouts," actually total "Blackouts" but schedualed a day in advance: "Tomorrow from 4PM until 12AM Butuan will be having a Brownout."

To me? The schedualing makes all the difference. We are huge consumers of electricity. Aside from several mills I have a sideline, a small factory making fertiliser, machinery takes electricity, you get the point.

Worse than that, it means no air conditioner, no PC, no DVDs. At times like those I go crazy. When I was still with Rizza her sister Marian (now almost 11) would fan me and sing tonal Chinese songs as I napped (usually nodded) on my sofa. For some reason they are teaching them Cantonese songs in San Francisco College, her school, go figure.

In 2007 though, the lack of electricity was due to terrorism. 1 of the 1st principles in Oppositional Warfare is to neutralise the infrastructure of land you are operating in. I won't bore you with the "why's,"etc., only to say that Insurgency, operates on different principles. Yet, when one is telling a utility to pay X amount of money or we will blow up your pylons it really does add up to terrorism for its effect on the consumer (electricity is a neccessity even in a place where most homes don't have it, think of people depending upon dialysis or respirators). The utility though faces sheer criminality. Anything that works on the island is paying out the ass.

Also affected were telecommunications companies,like "Philcom," a cable,internet and cellular provider. On the summer day in question we had electricity, but no TV, cable or internet. What to do?

I took Rizza in the Sportage, the SUV we use for driving around town, and went to the internet cafe across from our main bank. In the cafe school girls and those slightly older, who didn't know me (we had just moved to the village ) would go apeshit.

The memoury that I am getting at involved one such girl. As I got online, in fact, it was Bluelight, I heard them talking in Bisaya but couldn't make out much of what they were saying, the cafe was mad loud and I was trying to read a thread I was posting in.

Afterwards, Rizza came to me and I asked what they were talking about. She told me, "The girl? She asked what site I met you on." I said, "Site? What does she mean?" Rizza explained that this girl had thought that Rizza and I had met on a website! I was floored.

I guess I am a bit innocent in some ways because I had never really thought about all those 75 year old men and nubile 20 year old virgins they ended up marrying.

In Israel we have a good many Filipinas as well as Thai women because of Guestworker Programmes but you don't see too many Jewish men marrying them (banging is a different case, unfortunately). There are no old Jewish men bringing home 19 or 20 year old Filipina wives.

So this was my introduction to the sordid world of "Online Dating."

I was talking about it with Mom and Dad at dinner and they told me about "Uncle Pete." I had heard the name while in Israel.

One of Mom's childhood friends was a woman named Mylene. An only child, she cared for her parents until both died and then, a virgin at 35 (not unusual in the Philippines), she joined a convent and became a Novice, a "Nun in Training."

Always living a sheltered life she felt unfufilled, decided she wanted a family of her own to fill that void. What to do? She went online and met an American man named "Pete."

Pete was about 60, but told her he was in the CIA, and working on assignment in Iraq. I only learned of this bullshit when he came to Mindanao, which I have to admit is a lot more than most men do (most never show up).

When he came she asked Mom if they could stay in our compound because she was afraid that an American man wouldn't accept the local standard of living. Mom and Dad, being who they are, accepted and the loving couple spent a week in our compound.

During that week he promised this woman, in front of Mom and Dad, that he would buy a helicopter so he and the woman could travel easier (hahahahah). The really sad thing is that most rural Filipinos, even with money, are so sincere that they accept whatever a person says as truth, until they see otherwise.

Then he told them he's a CIA agent (before the woman merely said it), then he became a Mercenary in Iraq (story changed). A 60 year old Mercenary...

I kept telling Mom and Dad that he is full of shit, don't let him come near anything of ours, and don't talk to him again because some white man talking about the CIA could get us all killed.

In the end his week was up, he left with a promise to return 2 months later to marry the woman.He never returned. On his 1 week visit he took her virginity, made a fool of her to the whole town, then, it turns out that he was trying to fuck another friend of Mom's.

In the end he wouldn't come online to talk (after leaving).To make a long story short, the lady ended up dying, truly heart broken with nothing to show for her life while that cocksucker went on to romance that other woman. I wanted to "talk" to him in person but of course he never showed his face again.

It turns out though that the "playing" takes place on the other end as well. Men fall in love online, lose their life savings and worse but there it is, the lovely character count so I will have to talk about it in my nest entry.

I need to vent some more. Here's another long rant. I put it in NSFW (not safe for work) tags. Click "show" to open.

Today is Saturday, August 7, 2010 and it is now 107AM here in the South Bronx,New York City, USA.

Recap: Finally finished the relation of my 1st conviction, while in the IDF (Israeli Defense Forces).

This entry: Still here in New York. This time around I am staying with an old friend of mine, on the Grand Concourse. I have a bedroom to myself, in a 6th floor walkup, overlooking a courtyard where people are always partying. Me? I couldn't care less, my mind is 19,000 km away, in the Philippines.

It's funny really. The other day, when I was sitting on that bench at the Farmers' Market (I talked about in my 2nd to last entry), I spotted 2 Filpinas. The "Filipino" is a fictional character. You have Tagalogs, Illokanos, Kapampangans, Aeta and of course dozens of other very distinct tribes all coming under that all-encompassing label.

The Philippines is separated from Indonesia, Malaysia and Brunei by some colonialists' pencils. In other words, you can find Tausugs, like Jackie's ex, in the Philippines, but also in Malaysia and native to both lands. Ergo, when I look at a face, or faces and am able to discern nationality and/or ethnicity I am always amazed.

Gays have "Gaydar," the innate ability to meet a stranger and almost immediately appraise their sexual orientation. Jews, despite their wide range of physical appearances can usually perform this same feat. I suppose it is based on subliminal cues, hints that aren't noticeable on the surface but which reach out to us none the less.

So I saw what looked to be, a couple. I looked at the female, I smiled, and I said, "Pinay," the Filipino term for "Filipina." She looked at me for a split second and then broke out in a huge smile and acknowledged that I had gotten it right. She and her companion began talking with me. Naturally she asked how I had known, and I replied that I live in the Philippines.

Her question then, was where in the Philippines do I live. I told her Mindanao, she asked what part, and I told her, "Agusan del Sur." She corrected my pronounciation. Then it turns out that she had never been south of Cebu City and even then only 1 time so I was a bit irked. A woman who doesn't speak Bisaya, who has never been to Bisaya lands (OK, Cebu 1 time) sees the need to correct me?

The rest of the conversation, about 45 minutes long, was pleasant but for the 1st 15 minutes or so it ran pretty much like a quizz to see if in fact I really knew anything about the country. As is usually the case I knew much more than she did and so it kind of blew her mind.

Her companion, as it turns out, was a woman, "Maryanne." I remember in university how very few, if any males and females are 100% of a single gender. It is really a sliding scale and up to a point we begin looking like members of the opposite sex.

Knowing that it is unheard of to receive hormone treatments in the Philippines, I surmised that even though she was now in the US, she had always been "mannish."

It is kind of weird. Filipinos have an affectation for all things European. They love long noses, even the stereotypical "beaks" that Semites have. Myself? I have a European nose, I do not look like a "stereotypical Jew," whatever THAT might be.

To mimic this appearance there are travelling quacks who sell injections of silicone that are placed in the bridge of the nose. Uncle Allan, the leader of the faction we are feuding with, had this procedure done as did his wife. About 2 months later the silicone began to shift so that his nose, for quite a long time, appeared to resemble to "Elephant Man."

The weirdest thing? They have a procedure for the penis as well! SE Asian men have the smallest penises on earth, in terms of average. They top out at 4 inches.To get around this sad fact of life they get what they call, "Bolas."

The word is a Spanish word and simply means, "Balls." Now, when I 1st heard about this I thought they were talking about some sort of testicular implant, like a fiberglass ball that cancer patients and accident victims sometimes get. Uhuh, nope. This is a small plastic bead surgically implanted under the skin of the penis, in the area known as the "corona," the ringed area below the head of the penis.

They get 2 or 3 small plastic beads and the effect is like a surfaced condom, or even dildo. I suppose when you are batting with 4 inches anything helps but the fuck if I will EVER let some do-it-yourself-doctor operate on my dick!

Filipinas have told me, "A woman whose man does this? That woman can NEVER leave him." In other words, his sexual prowess is so wicked that she is strung out on his bumpy 4 inch dick. OK, got it, thanks for the news.

Asia, as I have said, is a crazy place. In any event I will have to get to my "title" in the following entry.

Today is Saturday, August 7, 2010 and it is now 1235AM here in the South Bronx, New York City,USA.

Recap: I was talking about the South Bronx a bit.

This entry: Back to my 1st arrest, bringing red hashish into Israel, from Lebanon, in a Merkava 1 tank, while attached to AMAN (IDF Intel), Shouf Phalangist Section,Central Sector...

Inside the Border Administration Building they had put me inside a huge holding cell, and since this was 1984 it was chock full of narcotics offenders such as myself. Most were junkies, as heroin in Lebanon was costing 3 US Dollars for a 1/2 gramme piece in a paper fold.

Of course, when addicted to heroin you need a dosage at least every 8 hours of you begin physical withdrawal. The stink was unbearable and I was used to combat...when a man is killed he will shit all over himself until his system is almost empty. The stink in that cell though, with its ancient plumbing and men packed like sardines was beyond sickening, or at least I thought it was, since I was wet behind the ears (the things I have seen since make it look like a 3 Star Hotel).

In the IDF we don't have a "JAG," like Western militaries (JAG being the Military Legal apparattus). Our equivalent is "MAG," and so someone from the MAG came to interview me that night. Until they interview you your interrogation can only consist of absolute particulars, name, unit, military ID #, etc.,etc. After they evaluate you and make their recommendation for prosecution, or dismissal, you are given actual interrogation.

In my first contact though I had admitted that the hash was mine, and so they didn't go hard on me. In today's IDF it is very different. In my day your CO (Commanding Officer) could beat you, you got beaten in training and you can best believe that in Full Interrogation a lot of unfun things can happen to you.

The result of my full admission was that within 48 hours I was shipped to IDF Camp 394, popularly known as "Prison #4." At the time we had 2 prisons, 4 and 6. 6 was for Command Seargents and above, Prison 4 was for all others, such as myself, I had actually been promoted to Sgt by then but only on paper, so I was a Corporal, a rank that doesn't even exist anymore in the IDF.

Prison #4 was a huge place, I say "was" because although it still exists it is almost a totally different facility inside and out.

My first home was Absorption, where I was given a cell in solitary, thoroughly checked for any physical conditions (at the time mental illnesses weren't classified within Military Prisons), and was classified per unit. There were 4 "Companies."Military Prison of course functions entirely along military lines. I was assigned to "Company Dalet," or "Company D."

I was happy because "D COY" was a detachment of minimal security, and though I was in pre-trial detention, my placement in that company was seen as an indicator that I wouldn't be serving that much time.

On my 5th day I was transferred to D COY and was given a bunk in a cell built for 2 but housing 8, all narcotics offenders such as myself.

Now, in the IDF, since the 1967 War the minimum age for service has been 18, BUT we are not now nor have we ever been party to any Convention related to age. Our actual Manpower Figures are based on a minimal age of 14.5. I began my service just as I turned 16 for a couple of reasons.

First and foremost I had been educated in the Merkaz HaRav (Centre of the Master) school system. Merkaz was the school founded by Israel's 1st Chief Ashekanz Rabbi, Rav Kook the Elder. I will not bore you with all the nuts and bolts, sufficient to say that it was a Hard Right Wing school, with a very through military indoctrination. I began my full time military training before I turned 12 and by the time I was 15, I was already better trained than IDF Infantrymen/Paratroopers.

Then factor in, as I discussed previously (Prison#1), the war had killed the equivalent (per capita vis a vis the US) of 200,000 Israeli soldiers. It wasn't a huge choice for me. Our IDF liason (liason for our training programme) asked for willing bodies, I was more than willing, voila. In truth I have never regretted my choice but the point is that as a 17 year old in a military prison things COULD have turned out very badly for me, VERY VERY badly. The nature of my charges coupled with my brief but bloody combat experience earned me the respect of my cell mates and soon after, my Company mates as well.

The hardest part for me was that when I was ajudicated (sentenced), which took place in my 2nd month, the IDF immediately knocked off all but minmum rating neccessary to re-ntegrate to my original Battalion. In short, the need for soldiers allowed me not to be booted from the IDF, to retain my rating as an Infantryman/Paratrooper but did nothing to save me from losing my Intel position. Frankly I didn't give a shit except for how it might affect me down the road, in terms of promotions and such.

I ended up being sentenced to 180 days, with 42 days credit in pre-trial detention. I ended up serving 118 days in total and was immediately sent north again, to kill and kill again.

Speedin over the freeway you see the outline of a city that everybody tries to forget....Most folks will never know the simple struggles that happen here every day. Never taste the breath of salt tears and blood , stunned silence and slammed doors as they will their feet to go faster over the stairs, the tiles, the concrete stoop and out onto the street, glass windowpanes still vibrating from the screams inside. To have that be your every and always life.
Stop...go back...to a place where the every day relations take on a mythical energy under a pink stained sky , polluted by the lights of the living breathing over population that spills out the seams of this inner city dream, sweaty bodies pressed into tiny rooms, table cloth curtains and dry wood floors creaking under the weight of five generations of welfare. The night time play ground of a unforgivable feen. I stand tall, proud, my silouette a tight straight middle finger pointed at the sky, I have sinned, I have lied, I have pawned my soul out, cent by cent. And I dont repent. Fuck the world, inked on the brown, caramel, and pale milk skin of a thousand inmates and boys on the corners the world over, is my personal battle cry, and the image of curly cue letters, script against tan silk, leaves me fortified. Laugh now, cry later, the secret is die young, to never make it to later so you never have to pay. The hollow bombed out shell of a civilization sprawls over the stretch of tangled come up the block and go around the corner. shuttered, boarded up windows are un seeing eyes, the wind whips little wax paper shells around the pavement, useless, discarded, all the meat been pulled out and devoured. The carcass of the city aint nothin but liquor stores, check cashing, high interest pay day loans, stretched over the skeleton of fractured bones,and its all that is left but we take what we can get. Doorways and hallways, broken elevators and busted locks, sagging front porches and window grates, inside is hiding so many of coulda-been Brenda's babys, just waiting for their futures to get sucked up, stolen from them and dissappear before they even knew they had a chance. Garbage stacked in alley ways, the hidden corners where the junkies play, with the prize in their eyes as they scatter away. to pull themselves under with a push on the plunger. Outside cold brick walls , stories tall, its always open for bizness, but narc cars wait, lurking with the lights off, the real predators in this concrete jungle. Red lights glow in the dark, nextels bleep and echo down the street and the only sound is my own two feet as i stalk the block . just another faceless , aimless ghost in the night. Everybody got a story, mine aint no less, no more, than yours....We all stay busy with our private wars. As the moon rises over the silk city every life contained in its decayed , frayed structure blends together into one long sad song , a little broke down ditty. And still I love it, the energy, the electric rush that rockets thru my being, the feeling, that thru the dirt and the grime that Im purer, realer, that my heart is beating seven times stronger, on a different plane than just simply a high, the air cut with adrenaline, I feel so alive....I hate this place , handcuffs eight miles wide, but i never love life more than when Im inside. As the taste rises in my throat , I want to spit it out and swallow it deeper, the warm crash of the chemical reaction hitting my brain, get me strung out on it , jonesin for another one, dopamine flood. Swallow the feeling, choke on my blood...

night breaks and the wind howls around the corners, thru your bones, gets into your soul and a deep vibration comes up inside , the scream of the city as it comes alive. 8 square miles of dope bags and dimes. measure the size with how many tears we cried, how many hurts we forgot and let die, quicksand blocks and streets paved with lies. The truths we suppressed, thousands of times, I wish you could hear me Im screaming inside, and the thought that I am, means I cant say goodbye....If the empty air in my throat could make a sound, the sky would be tore in half, the wail of five hundred thousand sirens, the pain of every time my heart dropped and I saw those lights blind my eyes and wanted to drop into the ground and yell WHY! The aggression that bubbles up from inside my stomach and puts a red veil over my eyes, chokes me with hot tears and enough rage to tear your face from your skull, your heart from your flesh and fling my self against the pavement and DIE...The reality that hits like a blow to the solar plexus, knock the wind out til you can only stare wide eyed and furious that you did it again, the understanding as every bone in my body gives up at once and I just want to fall....the sound of sheer emptyness, of nothing at all. If you could hear me, you would hear the fierce , crazed animal roar, as one more time I stick the needle in, blinded by hate, and draw blood, again and again, a flood at the crook of my arm and i just let it drip, and flow, and snake down my skin , I need this to feel real. If you could hear me, you could hear the lakes, rivers, oceans of tears, of mothers who just want to believe, who been prayin since the day they noticed blood on babys sleeve. the sorrow of losing themselves while they grieve for their seed. The roar of an army of merciless screams of women whose lifes turned out far from their dreams....If you could only hear me, maybe you could see. That its bigger than that, its bigger than me. Its every disssapointment I ever felt in my life, its everything i ever seen that made me want to cry, and fall down, bury it deep inside my self and wish i never been alive, its every hurt, every loss, everything that ever made me feel at all, and its me , its my life, and its all wrapped up inside this little brick of wax paper bags, the map of purple bruises and red bumps on my skin, and i boiled it down into one and I push it deep in. And it aint just me, its the caged beast inside every feen, scratching, furious, tearing at the wall of rib cage and flesh, scrambling, frantic, spinning , straight crazy with claustrophobia, and the fear elevates to blood lust, rage, as we prepare to hammer one more nail into our coffin, its the voice that begs us to stop or just to TRY, and we ignore it, and change it, just call it butterflies inside, who dont get excited before they step on the ride? You could hear the guttural, broken sound of our hearts last protest, stuck there in the chest, in the belly, trapped and broken and pumping with the blood of a dying mans last stand, that one last gasp, the brokenness that is far beyond able to get fixed, it pulses with the urgent need to be free, and its caught there , somewhere, down in the middle of me, and as we load up the pipe, the cooker, the set, it knows that it lost and gives into regret. with one final howl it lets go and breaks down .And the scream of that creature, that struggle , that fight, is all that is left of our old self and life....If you could hear me, you could taste the hellish symphony of the sounds of hate and shame, the private, burning absolute rage that eats up my self worth and reduce me to ashes. the force that drives me to kill myself 40 units at a time. The pure lust of the rush as it eats me alive.

I wish you could hear me, But Ill never cry, not as long as Im under this spell...Ill survive. As I fall away piece by piece, in my personal hell, a tear will never let you tell. but maybe, if you knew how to look deeper, you could read between the lines....The only way youd ever know is the pain in my eyes...

This week has been great! I visited a couple of mates for several days and we had a lovely time. It was so nice getting away for a few day, being by the beach with two great people.

This court/ police stuff is such a mess, I don't know what to do.

For now I need to work on getting a job, sitting that exam which I missed and coursework I never did so I can go to my 2nd year at uni.

I've applied to loads of places but go no response. The only job offers I got where escorting and dirty phone lines.. fuck that! I'm going to try and sell my blood to medical studies and take part in some too. I've been phoning up charity shops so if I can't get a paying job, I can at least have a voluntary one which will at least chuck me back into the world, give me some recent experience and keep me busy. I would love to work abroad as a ski rep, have been looking into it but should probably wait tilll after uni, then I can work a whole season.

to do list-
eat healthier, excerise more, revise for resits, do c/w, sort out a car, get a job or anything to make some money, sort out a budget for what I have got.

Many would assert that using drugs is ultimately pointless. And yes, I agree to an extent, but then again recreational sex is quite pointless as well. I've come to conclude that a common purpose of both is that they give a taste of happiness--maybe even greatly enhanced happiness relative to one's norm for those who are well off genetically. Our lives are tragically short and, at our current stage of development, we cannot sustain states of extreme elation for very long. For this reason alone, I find reasonable drug-use well justified. If I can't have it, can I at least borrow it, fondle with it, examine it--if only for a day or two? (three you're getting yourself into trouble!)

Better to live a (few) days as a lion than forever as a sheep.

Heart rate murmuring trouble typing. Maybe I got the mix right, maybe I'm sorry and peace be with you. Sorry we were never real friends it,s mmy fault I did it on purpose.

fits as a printout on standard A4 type printer paper (8"x4"). fold it up and keep it in your wallet / bag / etc just incase you run across any of these :] click picture to download the full quality png file:

Okay after that binge on saturday i have come to a few realizations. My brain simply can't take the abuse alcohol slings at it like it could when i was 21 and neither can my body. I feel edgy as fucked, depressed and on the edge of tears. My mood has been going up and down like a yo yo since i woke up sunday. I also came to the realization that i could have been easily killed coming home as i damn near fell out in front of a car on atleast 2 occasions. Only because i ran into a few people who knew me on the way home who where kind enough to drop me off at the house i might have very well have ended up in the ditch or worse.

I also need to stop nick this in the bud right now as it could get out of hand pretty easy. Im not one for self delusion and i have been a alcoholic since the age of 18 so i don't need to go back there again. Blackouts still have that nightmarish quality to them that they always had but thank fuck i didnt do anything this time that could get me in trouble.

Only time will tell if i make it or not. Hell i stayed sober before for years without a drop so why can't i do it now?

So, I got another email from this "dude". He goes on to say that he thinks I am cute, that he knows me and that he wants to have a 3some with terry and I. Well obviously he doesn't know me if he for one cant spell my name right, for two thinks I am into that shit -- to each their own but not into that, laughably thinking that terry is into that shit, and lastly the person is definately not in the loop of knowings or even comes on any of my writing / journaling sites to see that i am no longer with terry.

I was so disgusted by "his" email that I went looking for "his" IP and found it, then went looking to see where it originated. Normally it just gives the ISP and approximately where they are from -- the city only usually. This time though I struck gold. It was an IP for a major company in Toronto, so it listed the company's name.

This "dude" works for Toronto Community Housing, lives in Scarborough, and apparently has a profile online that discribes himself as 210Lbs, blonde hair and brown eyes. Yeah, i think not.

I don't know anyone that works for TCH, I don't know anyone that fits that physical discription, and nor would I willingly know this pervert.

I reported it to TCH and since then I haven't heard anything from him. I guess he got the message. haha.

We'll see thoguh.... 8)


Forgot to add that he obviously doesn't know me if he's thinking that I still live in Toronto because I told ALL my friends and people that I know that I wanted to know that I was moving to a new city. So I had to laugh at that too.

I hate when people send me weird emails. I got an email from someone that shall remain nameless for now until I know what the fuck is up.
Sends me an email saying "Can I ask you a personal question?" and other stupid retarded stuff. Then they never bloody well ask. I really don't give a fuck to begin with but I saw that in my email and was like -- what the fuck?!

Well, I am in my new city now. Its wonderful here and I am enjoying myself besides this throat infection. No more Toronto, hello new city.

This new city shall remain nameless for now, and is FAR from Toronto.

I will be getting my new house within the next couple weeks / months and I can't wait to get into it. I love everything right now but having your own home is 100x fab-u-lushious. 3bdrm, 1bath, full house with basement, washer & dryer hook ups. Friends all around, my brother about a 20 minute drive away.

I'm getting better now with the loss of my father. Its not consuming my every thought at the moment BUT I haven't been alone very much in the past 4 days. We shall see when I am on my own with the kiddo.

I am fighting each day to stay away from drinking and smoking, last time I eventually fell off that "wagon" but I am hoping this time that I can be stronger.

Life is a curious thing. We shall see how it goes from here. %)