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Its a horrible thing watching a country die, watching it rot from the inside.

Maybe I'm nostalgic, but in truth I wouldn't want to go back to my youth. I like who I am now, I never want know so little, to be that confused again.

But I miss the open doors that were there. I miss the circles (how ever small they were) were I belonged. I miss a hundred strange, small unbranded shops. Tucked away in corners, with strange things and strange smells.

I miss wanting to BE where I was, I miss wanting to be where I am. We do not fit here anymore, and what the lowest common denominator wants is so far below what we need.

Its even harder understanding and having no voice, or an audience with no ears. Were dying here, we've lost so much and are losing more every day. Most of us just turn over and go back to sleep.

I'm pounding on the glass, watching people die on the other side, but the only screams I can hear are my own.

More than anything I am afraid of getting too tired to do anything more, of letting go, getting spoon fed, and rolling over and going back to sleep myself. Of dying inside, and of never sharing what the past really meant to me, with everyone, who so desperately need it.

There is no room here for my dreams.

Busy, busy day....


Made a sweet website for my upstairs neighbor for college project, got finally back in the game. Will host my own web publishing/design/blog features when I'm done with her's.




CLeaned a LOT, played with oyster like crazy,


and now I'm on ICQ an SKYPE, so hit me up! COTB I'm lookin' at your darling face


Be the change you want to see in the world.


GHANDI

Bury itself deep in my facile soul,
Prevailing, claiming me.
Discovering my underbelly, my Achilles Heel.
Merely one more?
Dishonest – to oneself.
All that really matters is that swirl, the blow, fulfilling the promise.
For the day you took our very first hit, you sold everything away. You are no longer you.
A shadow, of one that existed before.
You become somebody whom you never believed existed.
Where are you now?
Your recollection fails you, cannot recall.
The shadows will haunt you, like a crystalline knife.
Cuts into your soul, leaving you numb.
At first you will consider it rightfully gone.
Then – you will yearn for it. Your splendour, and poise.
If you outrun it, fragments of you return, bit by bit.
I cannot liberate.
Breathe, for I in no way did.


Not the best I have done but all I could find on the hard drive, wanted to share something..

I am still using. This seems hopeless.

Today is Friday, Feb. 13th, 2009 and it is now 11:24 PM here in the Philippines.

Music wise I have been simply listening to streamed (online) Vocal Trance on my favourite Microsoft Media station, DJFM, the 56 K Vocal Trance Station. Great Chill Out as well.

Still reading the same book, the fictional piece I discussed a post or two ago.

I have talked about my dogs a bit, and indeed in Gallery I have my favourite dog "Jumbo" (Baby Jumbo) as a pup. I have talked about my female, "Jambie" as well.

When we got her, as I have discussed, she was too terrified to leave my house, hiding behind the telly in the sala (living room to Yanks). Well she came quite a long way in that she was able to now run with the main pack in the compound, even to the point of running 2 klicks up my road to National Hiway! It was on National Hiway 2 days past that she was struck by a rice truck and killed.

I was sitting on the verandah, trying to finish some "Fried Snapper" that I had made, when my sister-in-law Marian, aged 10, came crying through the gate. "Kuya (Big Brother), Jambie was hit by truck (sic), he (sic) dead Kuya!" I speak Bisaya but we try to have all the kids talk English to teach them idiomatically as opposed to the text book nonsense they learn in school.

I was shocked. I loved Jambie. I cannot honestly say whether or not I have ever loved a human, but I loved that fucking dog. I took her in when she was beaten, afraid to move, and now she was running around the village! She had just given her 2nd litter 2 days before she died. Only 3 pups but we are bottle feeding them, trying to keep them going. 2 of her earlier litter are on the compound still. At least I have them.

I had truly hoped to breed her with Jumbo, she loved him! It is true. Wolves breed for life, unlike domesticated dogs. However , so called "Native Dogs" here are an indigenous breed realted to the Dingo, so they have other tendencies. Jambie would not look at another dog. Unfortunately for her, Chuckie, the Alpha on the compound wanted a piece and took her twice, thus the 2 litters.

All things must end.

News wise, the story on alot of peoples' lips here for the past 2 months has been the issue of "Child Combatants." Those nations who have ratified the treaty on the issue agree not to field soldiers younger than age 15.

In December the army raided a camp of the MILF's 102nd Command, under Kummander (sic) Bravo. The 102nd is one of 3 that are engaged in the MILF War right now while the other groups are supposedly sitting it out (not actually true of course).

When they raided the camp, they found a wounded youth said to be aged 16. The government tried to use it for all its worth, "Look, the MILF uses CHILDREN!" Of course a 16 year old is not a Child Combatant. Indeed, I was 16 when I went to war officially so I know the issue well. Israel by the way has never ratified the treaty but tries to only use men aged 17.5 and older whenever possible.

Anyway, the MILF soldier was taken into custody and paraded all over the media. Then it turns out, he was only 12 which does cast it in a much different light both legally and morally as far as I am concerned.

On 2/10 he was released to his family in Cotabato City, and is suppsoed to be undergoing rehabilitation to reenter society, etc.

The MILF makes no secret that it has male children of all ages on its Camps, but says it is not using them in battle, only to provide homes for Refugee orphans or those stranded from family. With literally 500,000 Refugees here, it is very real issue that needs to be taken into account. However, the 12 year old was armed when taken , and they are drilling with 8 year olds so it is disturbing.

Illongo and Bisaya paramilitaries might use 14 year olds to drill, but I have never heard one case within the last decade, of any going to war.

The NPA also says it is abiding by not using anyone younger than 18, and states as much in its handbills now . They are very progressive, even going so far as to applaud same sex marriages for close to 10 years already. In a country like this you have no idea how progressive that really is.

Since the govt. offencive 2 weeks ago we have not had any NPA Ops around these parts, although they are still operating on the other side of the mountains in both Surigao and Compostela (ComVal).

The MILF has been battling the army in Midsayap in Cotabato, with the army's 40th infantry Battalion (IB) using its usual 105 MM Howitzers and MG-520 gunships (copters) in and around the neighbouring village of Datu Piang over the provincial line in Maguindanao Province. No firm reports on the dead with both sides claiming victory in the 11 day old engagement.

Meanwhile, Kummander Bravo is having issues again with 10 men from his 102nd Command surrendering to the Army. The MILF is saying that the men were not even in the MILF, let alone the 102nd, but were instead soldiers in an MILF allied paramilitary that serves as the private army of a former mayor of Dilibayan in Lanao del Sur. The men have supposedly already surrendered twice before for the money it gives, so who can say what is really happening one way or the other over there.

On 2/5 in Barangay Tapikan in Shariff Aguak in Maguindanao the army used its 105s to shore up the Ilaga battling the MILF there. No words on deaths.

On 2/6, in Barangay San Isdro, Tagoloan I in Lanao del Norte, the Ilaga joined the official govt. paramilitary (CAFGU) and the army to engage a Moro (Muslim) paramilitary force that had been trying to destroy the Bisaya village there. At least 30 dead, in uniform and many more civlians.

Since 2/2 the army has been implementing its "Oplan Bantay Laya Part II" against the NPA's Front 72 on the Davao del Sur and N. Cotabato Provincial lines. It has scored some success, although the NPA's saying the 57th Infantry is full of shit, as always.

An intersting story took palce a couple fo days ago just down the road from me. A Belgian who is married to a Filipina, went haywire while drunk and grabbed the privates of some female hotel employee in Surigao City, which here could get him lynched. He is only 32 which is very strange because I have never heard of him, which makes me think he is claiming to live here only to get bail which of course he got (money talks here). He also "insulted" male staffers, which could also cost a life but they say he is ok and out on bail. If he is smart, he will take a boat to Indonesia post haste.

Well, all for now..

Be Still and Know


Full of valium and fine crystal leaves of cannabis (sally's her name) and kahlua coffee, feel like writing. Got up at ten and cleaned EVERYTHING and set up my new 200gb external harddrive and been downloading films/music like crazy.


New Squarepusher's is hands down my favorite, also the discography of The Number 12 Looks like you. Great composition for math metal, Also bright eyes is sweet too.


I love you guys at BL and I hope to talk more with you through aim, lysergiscott is the handle, don't be a stranger.

Edited ~spork

It is President's Day, or the observation of it anyway, so I'm home instead of at work. And it is something of a tradition of mine to post journal entries on federal holidays. So, what seems like a rather long hiatus, I'm back, at least for now.

My brother came over last night and neglected to mention to us that he joined the National Guard. I've known for two weeks because my dad told me, but my brother doesn't know that and he hasn't said a word. He knows I will disagree. We talked about this at length when he pursued his last (much better) military opportunity and then he quit. Before that, in high school, he quit ROTC. Obviously, something about it isn't right for him. But, faced with the real world alternatives, he becomes an idiot, a recruiter's dream, a sucker for talk of how much they want HIM and how much money he'll make, guaranteed. He sees it as the sure bet, much easier than planning his life out on his own. Ha! He is going to be an armored scout, which is quite possibly the dumbest path he could've chosen to pursue. Unless he actually wants to a lose a limb or two and be severely burned over most of his body. The easy way. 8) He's already talking (not to me, of course) about buying a new car and a motorcyle. How comically stereotypical of him. Yeah, so, I'm just going with incredulous because it feels better than sad.

Blah... I was going to write about something good, but now I don't even feel up to it. I am, though, proud of myself for not letting it get to me at all last night. I am human and I did once or twice consider laying into him or smacking him upside the head, but I abstained from letting it impact the night at all. Nothing good could come from it and I'm sure I wouldn't feel any better today.

EDIT: Didn't realize comments are moderated unless I uncheck the box.

Its definately a social anxiety problem. I am pretty sure effexor is shit for that, but bumping up the dose even more does take time to kick in, but the increase in seroquel is instant. My anxiety in the mornings is lessened but increase in lethargy.

I had my appt with my shrink yesterday. I will continue to see him and my psychologist every week. He costs $287 per visit. I get $150 back.

Ive been off work for almost a month. During my flip out, I made some massive decisions that were my only option at the time. I was going back to Melbourne to party, taking drugs- meth and G, drinking, but when it came time to go, I was so sick I could not fly. I holed up at a hotel near the airport for the night. My friend Pais, who is almost 5 months pregnant rang and I told her where I was and she came and stayed with me. I told her how sick I was and how bad I felt about relapsing and told her how lonely I was.

She encouraged me to dump the louie I had in the loo.

I could barely see, my eyes were swollen shut.

We ordered room service and watched movies.

I resigned from my job and looked into rehab, again, found the one lifeline had said was the best for meth users in Australia.

Next day I rand my shrink and told him what happened. He said to see my gp and get eyes fixed first then he would place me in a psych unit.

This made me happy. I thought it was my only real chance of getting off this shit.

Flew back to Brisbane. Saw my gp, she was hesitant to do anything but give me antibiotics for my eyes and I could not see my shrink till the following week.

I rang the rehab centre and she said it would not be the place for me as I had detoxed myself, had spent almost 3 months off it on my own and main problems were social phobia and agoraphobia. This place had almost a couple hundred people all working closely together, mainly men, and I would be frightened.

Theres a couple other places for women, mainly for women with kids and some that are privately owned and expensive.

Thing is, I don't want to do drugs. I don't want meth. I have no cravings.

I havent felt like it at all, just as a coping mechanism twice during bad experiences with an ex, who I no longer give a shit about.

Im still scared to leave my home, dont know why. Maybe Im a freak or something.


In the meantime I am lucky to have met and spent time with my partner Ben.

I don't want this new relationship to be my saviour and I don't think it is at all, I wanted to be clean beforehand and was.

I think he came into my life at a God given time, but hes always been a presence since we started contacting each other.

I dont feel lonely. This love has opened me up also to other friends I work with too, I see the good in people.

I think if I continue to be clean and positive I'll be fine.

Ben and Pepe. My family

Who is drinking it up tomorrow for Valentines day? I wanted to get right junked out..but I decided I want to actually orgasim when I fuck my gfs brains out tomorrow. I guess im just going to buy some cheap ass beer. Many of my friends like to buy expensive beers like Alexander kieths..I love that beer but it costs to much. Same with Heiniken.
I dont really like the taste of beer at all so I might as well buy cheap beer cuz it all tastes like shit to me.
Im going to buy myself a 6pack of Old Millawauke tall cans. 5.5%..hmm

I know my spelling of each type of beer was wrong..

Kind of building on the last post...

I was good friends with Paul's ex-girlfriend before I became good friends with him.

She stopped talking to me when I started spending a lot of time with him, especially cause we were doing drugs.

To be honest though, it wasn't just me that wasn't making time. We (the girl and I) weren't hanging out all that much cause she worked a lot and had a baby that she always had to be home with (understandably so, I'm just stating why we couldn't hang out even if we wanted to).


Well, she messaged me on Facebook today, saying she was sorry for the way things ended but she had been worried about the way things were going for me and didn't know how to respond. She also said she missed me and would love to get back in touch with me.

Made me start crying!

I don't have many friends and I really do think about her a lot, so I can't wait to get back in touch.

and the snow has been coming down for hours now without much activity outside, no plows to disturb it's pure, pristine, unadulterated white beauty. A car here and there but for the most part it seems everyone is safe at home in this neighborhood and has been all night. The only footprints I see when I turn around are my own and as I look down the road nothing has managed to disrupt the coat of white crystals blanketing the sidewalk, the lawns, driveways, walkways. Every few minutes the sound of an automobile in the distance on a main road somewhere breaks through the silence and as the wind picks up somebodies outdoor windchimes clank clank jangle and it sounds appropriately serene. As I trudge on further the air bites at the tip of my nose and somebodies automatic light flicks on from their front porch as I pass, illuminating the snow and reflecting onto me, glaring at me like some sort of pre-interrogation spotlight being shoved in my face by an omnipotent all knowing god not powerful enough to actually intervene any more than it's pitiful attempt at a scare tactic. Good god/bad god. A dog barks as I pass the next house and I keep walking with my head down. I pick up my pace and do my best jog through the eight or so inches of snow all around my ankles as the anxiousness sets in. Not so much nervousness as excitement and anticipation.

As I reach my destination I pat my black goose down coat to make sure the burgundy Burlwood Buck Akonua limited edition 9 and 3/4 inch knife is still in it's leather sheath and still in my inside pocket and it is. Her snow covered car, a 1991 navy blue Mercury Grand Marquis, inherited when her father died, is the only one in the driveway and the only light on comes from a television flickering in her bedroom upstairs through the closed blinds. Standing on the porch now I wonder if she is asleep but as I open the storm door and lift my leg to kick the door in with one swift blow I grip my limited edition burgundy handled Burlwood Buck Akonua deer hunting knife and turn around to look at the virgin snow, my footprints already starting to fill in, as I picture what her blood will look like sprayed all over the pure whiteness of it all.

HE FINALLY ADMITTED IT!


(Names changed to protect)


Paul was the first person I smoked weed with. I asked if he could get me shrooms, but he couldn't but could get E. I was doing E with Paul every other day for 3 months. Paul was a junkie and had been for 5 years. After months of driving down to the tips with him and giving him A LOT of money for his habit, Paul got me to try it. I became a junkie.


Paul's BFF, Ron, was a junkie too. He got his straight laced 40 y/o gf to become a junkie. She paid for their habits before her 5 kids or bills. They are going to lose her house soon because of it. Paul always comments how he wishes Lacey had never met Ron because he ruined her with dope.

Now, I don't BLAME Paul for me being a junkie in a resentful way, but it did make me mad when he would say that about Ron and Lacey because I felt like he didn't realize that without him, I wouldn't have ever come near smack and my life wouldn't be the crap that it is (a lot of which he did directly contribute to by borrowing lots of money and not paying it back in a timely matter or at all).

Well, last night he admitted it.

He was dropping off bags and told me to tell him what I thought because he thought they were better than our other guy's but had smoked some rock with his friend Joe right before hand so he wasn't positive.

I'd been asking him to try rock even before I did dope with him and he always denied me because he actually got on the dope to get out of his crack addiction which he despised.

His response?


"For the last time--I am not giving you rock. I got you into dope and that was bad enough. I'm not going to be the one to give you crack."


*sigh*

This is what I have been waiting over a year for.

(Again, let me reiterate that I don't blame him, blame him, and if he hadn't always been saying that stuff about Ron and Lacey that directly applied to us as well, I wouldn't even care, so please no--"No one forced drugs up your nose!")

I'm still on methadone. I managed to stay at the detox for only 2 days. I hate to be closed and not be let to see anyone close even if it's a couple of days.

It was still night when I woke up and couldn't fall asleep anymore. And every night looked the same, it was only getting worse. The doctor cut my clonazepam dose just like that. And I was anxious all day, then I couldn't fall asleep. Only methadone made me feel good enough to get some sleep. Besides one of my roommate there constantly pissed me off by saying how fucked up I am after the dose they give me and how I fall asleep all the time. Fuck him. He was on a way higher dose of methadone there and he looked like an asshole who has just shot heroin. Funny how he couldn't look in the mirror and see how he looks like. I didn't nod out. I was falling asleep because I couldn't sleep at night. It was that simple. So I decided that was it and I can't bear it anymore.

I had 4 days more to stay there, then I would get a place on the methadone program in my city for a couple of months. So I'm kind of mad at myself I couldn't stay there for 4 days more and not care about those fucking junkies. So I left the detox and phoned a guy from the program so he sells me some methadone because I was starting to withdrawal.

Now I have problems with tapering off at home. There are always things that irritate a person when he's free and can see the world. So the dose outside needs to be higher for sure than it is when they lock you.

I try to control myself but I taper down the dose too fast. I know that but I wanted to be clean when I get back to school after winter break. I think I won't be. I have a bad feeling it's going to end even worse and I will get back to my heroin addiction.

I can't buy morphine from the guy I used to buy because he doesn't have time to deal so he sells it cheaper to a few people and they deal in the city. But these stupid junkies must have forgotten when we were good friends and when I call, they say I need to pay like the others so my response was 'fuck off'. It just doesn't pay off to pay double when I used to pay much less.

I really don't know what to do. The hospital also didn't give me back my clonazepam. So it's easy to imagine how I freaked out on a much less dose for the last days. I'm going for the scripts to my doctor tomorrow and I will get back on track when I will have enough pills and I will be able to maintain my previous dose. I can't bear with two addiction at the same time. It's insane. I might have get an epilepsy attack because of these stupid people at the detox. I was shaking all the time because I had to cut my dose for some time.

I really don't know what to do. I will sure score some dope but I don't want to continue it. Just for the sake of old times when I had my beautiful and smart girlfriend that left me and passed away. I don't know how she could. She knew she could count on me. Now I can't find peace anywhere. No drug can bring me peace she brought. In June it's going to be 2 years since she died. And it's Valentine's Day soon. I will probably spend it with my mum at home. Maybe I'll score then. She was supposed to leave for this weekend so I could invite my friends for like two nights. It wouldn't be that bad then.

I got my car back last week after a lot of expense and waiting around at the lot with a truck driver I was paying by the hour. It's done now.

My sister and her husband were in London for last weekend and on Saturday we met up in Soho for drinks and had dinner.

I noticed my sister was on soft drinks and she always said she was going to have five kids, so I guess she's pregnant again and I am willing to lay money on a third girl

I'm not working anymore. Well, I have not needed to for six months anyhow - but I make more money in an hour of blackjack a few times a week than I could in months working, so I figure why not see where this leads.

I don't tell people what I do though. Not in real life, at any rate. I just say I'm a student or a waiter or not working. None of them are strictly untrue either.

I don't have a valentine. I mean, if I were a wanker there could be one or two, but I would just fuck them around because it would be meaningless.

So a few of us shall leave the house half an hour before closing time on Saturday to find all the jilted women of London and give them sweaty comfort-fucks

I'm pretty drunk and a bit stoned and it's almost 3am. And my keyboard has a wave in it. Time to stop.

I have a packrat family. It has gotten much better over the last few years (especially for my siblings and myself) but my parents are a bit, uh, off the deep end

Check out the books my dad is GIVING away (selling some!) because he just simply has way too many. And that's not even all of them, he has 16 more boxes to sift through.

OMG!!! That's just a fraction of the books my family collectively owns ...thank God I've only bought the ones I really, really like and enjoy and treasure and don't really hoard ones I would never read, or just because I'm a compulsive buyer. I've given away all the magazines I used to hoard (think...thousands upon thousands) and have only kept a very, very few.

He's actually glad to get rid of these, he said he has been imprisoned by thousands of books for the last few decades! LOL!

one of my really good friends recently moved to seattle and is crashing with me and farhad till he gets a job. which i was really excited for but now its all getting on my nerves. i pretty much demanded that he and farhad leave tonight so i could have some peace and quiet and focus on my homework. it was that or i was going to get a hotel room for the weekend.

i get really, really cranky when i do not have time to myself. i need time to gather my thoughts and sort thru them with no distractions. and its really tiring spending all your waking moments around other people who are wanting stuff from you.

i like to be alone at times and can't stand when people are being all clingy and looking to me as their only source for things. its draining to not only keep myself amused but be the thing that keeps my friends sane/happy too.

i'm rather selfish in my views, my wants come before theirs and i want to be unsocial more than they want other stuff. i know this makes me a horrid roommate and prolly an annoying friend. i am really thankful that my friends still like me.

i also realize this entry is rather disjointed, but i wanted to type out some random things for the sake of writing. i could have written tons more about what inspired each thought but airing too much dirty laundry on here would be a very bad thing (in part because both people mentioned in this post might read it)

I have i great psychiatrist who I am seeing every week and also starting dvt with my psychologist this week.

Joined a mental health support group but wont name it for privacy reasons.

Main problems are not drug related with me. They were masked by then and complicated by them. Not had much cravings but then again have had great company of my boyfriend lately. He is very good to talk with and expresses his emotions easily.

So going to boot camp is unlikely. I am worried about the status of my job

And have to find a 2 bed home for us.
I love my home but love Ben so much more. He and I are a good team.

Back on it. Don't care. Useless as fuck anyway. Can't do it, never will, nobody gives a fuck anyway.

Especially me.

This whole being awake for more than 24 hours, doing amphetamines, cramming for exams and papers due, getting paranoid, cutting myself, and feeling like I'm just too stupid for school... it gets old. I don't think I can do college anymore. I think I'm going to have to drop out or, well, I don't know what I'm going to do. I might not be too stupid but the amount of work is too much, too soon. I mean I don't know how other people do it, I don't know how medical school students do it. I'm not that fast or that brilliant in the academic sense. I'm not retarded, I am just kind of slow, enough to make me fail in this system. I just can't stay positive about this. I'm just going to have to disappoint my whole family and all my friends who want me to succeed. But maybe I just can't succeed!

so im totally fucking excited!

i'm planning a trip to oakland, california to see a good friend of mine. when i get there we're going to drive towards santa cruz and hit all the cool spots on the way. like redwood forest and half moon bay. i'm mostly excited about alcatraz. a night tour would be so fucking spahooky.

i do believe i'll go. it'll be kick ass heading for the west. never been further than tennesse. im going to get loaded on the plane just because i can. last time i was under age, i still look under age. but now i can whip out my id like a hidden spade. *mental note* think of clever thing to say when whipping spade id.

and theres mother fucking anemones and starfish just floating their asses (well sitting i should say) in fucking tides pools!! i must go to where they are!!! i must pick them up!!! i must smuggle one home and bring it to my mother and say, look mother! a starfish and anemone...for you!!!

looks like i didnt make the tuition deadline for a reason (smug look on face).

Today is Tuesday Feb. 10th, 2009 and it is now 12:37 AM here in the Philippines.

Continuation...

So the war came, and I stayed at my Yeshiva, and became active in the Kahane Movement within Israel. It was a time of great awakening in my country. We were founded by extreme leftists, harcore Socialists and Communists.

One man who was the diametric opposite and yet an ardent Zionist was Vladimir Jabotinsky who went by his Jewish first name, "Ze'ev."

"Jewish Names" are our religious names, the names we use in religious functions. The Ashkenazim believe naming a baby after a living person will bring death to one or both of the people (adult and the baby) so they name after dead relatives. Other Jews have no such qualms and you even have Sephardim naming sons after fathers which is horrific to most Ashkenazim.

Since my mum was Ashkenazi, I was Religiously named after 2 long dead ancestors, Uncles "Yosafe (Yosef)" and "Amel." My religious name is Yosafe Mendel and my Religious surname is "Ben Yankel Yehoodah," meaning "Son of my fathers Religious names. "Yosafe Mendel Ben Yankel Yahoodah."

Vladimir "Ze'ev" Jabotinsky was an Eastern European Jew who believed that Socialism was not the cure to Jewish ills, and who believed Jews needed to concentrate more on self defence than on farming, which was the opposite of what Socialists, et al were pushing at the time.

Jabotinsky founded a youth movement in Eastern Europe, "Betar," which was the launching pad for a whole generation of Jewish Nationslists. Menachem Begin, a PM of Israel and one of the men who blew up the King David Hotel in Jerusalem, was a Betar leader for all of Poland and even did time in the Soviet Gulag for his activities before being freed in WWII to fight with the Free Polish Army.

Anyway, Jabotinsky was a freind of Rav Kahane's father, and often stayed at their Brooklyn home whenever his activities led him to the US. This shped Kahane's early years.

I started going to weekly meetings, and then every 2 days I was going to meetings plus serving guard duty at my school, anf of course training all day with my paramilitary unti.

The IDF ended up bogged down after hitting the Beirut suburbs and falling back out of the city as the US and a multi-national force landed to take up "Peace Keeping " duties there.

So, the "fast " war ended up lasting of course, until my 16th birthday which saw me on a bus up to the border at Rosh HaNikra, on the Israeli coast on the cliffs at the Lebanese border. I was in town for 4 days and then caught a tank ride asross. I ended up taking almost a week once in-country to make my way over to my first posting, on Mt. Hermon which is a mountain on the borders of Israel, Lebanon and Syria.

It was 1983, and Fatah Land had been reduced to a tiny swatch thatw as centered on the LEbanese side at the base of Mt. Hermon, so the base I was deployed to was in the thick of it. Despite this, my durties wer elimited for a couple of months, to Perimeter Duty.

The base had chainlink and razor wire, a sand track, another, outer fence, and then another sand track, and then mine fields down the mountain. Every shift had to run an APC (an
M113) with an Engineering implement on the back, like a little paver, to roll the sand flat so that any footprints might be easily seen.

In front of the M113 an Engineering unit had to demine the track to rid it of any IEDs or possible mines that might have been laid.

I was to ride with my head out of the hatch of the M113, with my Galil, and serve as part of the fire team that rode as Security for the Sand Track unit.

"Gailis" are an Israeli rifle, no longer really used. Based on the AK, with receivers made by a Finnish company that had liscenced the AK, and with the rest having been made by the Israeli military complex. We had alot of M16s, but they tend to jam up in dirty environments, so that anytime an IDF soldier carrying an M16 killed an enemy they always hoped they would nsag an AK and after a while our 08s (COs) were ignoring the fudging of the regulations so that they could have an effective fire team.

AKs will almost never jam from dirt, not even the ultra-fine silicate that you see in our part of the world. Desert countries, have a talcum power like dirt and sand, nothing like beack sand. Even if you clean your M16 every shift it will jam and one thing you do not want is your piece jamming in a firefight. It has happened to me a few times and it is one of the worst things that can ever happen.

Galils were decent pieces, but expensive to make as opposed to the price we were paying for the
M16 hand-me-downs from Big Brother/Uncle Sam.

I got into my first firefight while doing Perimeter. We would be sniped at regularly, so much so that we ended up no longer riding with the hatch up, but using the fire holes on the M113s. Still, from time to time the PLO would apparently get bored and we would get a small squad trying to probe our Defences. It was one of those forays that saw me in a short firefight.

I had 3 of them over the course of about 4 months, and then we ended up taking out the PLO fort on the bottom of the mountain . We could have bombed it into oblivion but there were often uneasy times where we lived and let live, for whatever reason. One argument was that it was much simpler with them at the bottom of the mountain then deep in the countryside where we could not maintain such a close vigil on them.

Still, there came a time when we had to move past them regularly and having them fully armed down there was not going to float. They bombed it into dust, and we mopped up and then the following month we began heading up into Beka'a.

"Beka'a" is a flat valley, in far eastern Lebanon, bordering Syria. It is also a prime drug producing region where poppies and cannabis are grown in abundance. #2 heroin was the staple of the local economy, and some of the best hasish in the world comes out of the little valley.

It is also prime Syrian and even Iranian country. Iran's "Revolutionary Guards" maintain 2 bases there to the present day, and were the group who founded Hezbollah but that is a while yet, in the future of my entries.

At that time they had not yet opened their first base, but Syria was large there. They had SAM batteries up and down the valley. We would move in cooridnated pushes with Armour, and with the IAF above us, taking out these installations.

One day, nearing Ba'alabek in Beka'a, when I was 17, we were engaged by 3 PLO RPG teams. They used to have 3 man teams, usually young teens, younger than me! And they could pin us down and make it hell for the tanks. I ended up getting snagged by a ricocheting bullet fragment that came in under my forward jaw, up through both jawbones, shattering 2.5 of my upper front teeth and settling in my sinus cavities.

I remember my head snaping back and then I blacked out. I came to as they had me on a stretcher, bagged already with saline and more morphine. See, we used to have 2 syrettes, which are disposable preloaded syringes, full of morphine sulphate. I guess someone had injected me already, and by the time I came to they were pushing me into a copter, with 2 IV bags, one of which was a steady morphine drip but I do not remember much of it.

The first time I did "Drugs" was at 8 days of age. Jewish boys get circumcised at that age. 8 days means that you will probablly live a while, so they either get you drunk by taking cloth, dipping it in sweet grape wine , squeezing it out tightly, and then letting you such the cloth, or they instead do the same with poppy tea.I was given tea like most in my Clan.

From 8 days until age 17 I had done nothing, save for a little cannabis in NYC while hanging out instead of going to school, which of course was what got me sent to Israel!

The copter ride was a blank but I do remember coming to again on the gurney in Hadassah Hospital inside Israel. I was there for 3 days, ptched up and given 30 days R and R, and ensconced at a abse outside of Jerusalem.

After 1 week I was ordered to do guard duty in Jerusalem, sorting out the Christian Pilgrims. It was there that I met my father in law.

I will continue...

Today is Monday, Feb. 9th, 2009 and it is now 11:31 PM here in the Philippines.

Continuation...

First, get to the music. Been out of my head with a new track by the great Dutch Trance DJ Paul Van Dyk, a real phenom who began cutting discs when he was 15. In his early 20s now, this song is maddening. The Tyler Michaud Remix of the song, and Dyk has Lo-Fi Sugar doing vocals:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=nlCB62n0Cok

Now with that out of the way, reading wise I have been rereading (perhaps the 8th time) "The Palestinian HAMAS (sic): Vision, Violence, and Coexistence"by Shaul Mishal and Avraham Sela, the English version by Columbia University Press (2000). I love the book because it is very objective history of the organisation, and includes an excellent English translation of their Charter. For anyone half interested (granted not many) Avalon Project's website (Yale University programme) also has a great English translation as well. For anyone wanting to learn about the Mid-East it truly is a must read (Charter).

Back to me...

So at 13 I was a man. We believe, traditionally that if a man is not married by 16 he will have a very unlucky life, 18 is the maximum and if you are 18 you are thought to have problems, etc.

Traditionally your family, your Clan, or with Ashkenazim (European Jews) whose Clan Structure was lost over time, your Kollel (social unit serving same function as Clan although not all blood related, much like the Arab Clans ("Palestinians" anyway), will make the arrangements.

They approach a girl's family directly, or they use a mediator, a matchmaker what we call in Hebrew, a "Shadchan." These matchmakers are all women, and they are always carrying around albums of prospective males and females, including Clan lineages, pedigrees and such.

Different Jewish groups have different customs as far as how they select mates but almost always the overriding concern is the groom's religious scholarship with intelligence being the actual thing being discerned. We are one of, if not THE oldest continuous civlisations on this planet. We were settled in what is now Israel and surrounding lands more than 4000 years ago so we are at least 4000 years old. For that entire length of time we seem to have married for intelligence.

The result? Einstein, Oppenhiemer, Freud, Marx, on and on and on and on. My IQ, which I am well aware of thanks to the IDF is 147 although I have tested as high as 160 but since "averages" are what matters in this regard 147 it is. Whoopee Doo, as my late father would say, "That and a quarter will get you a cup of coffee."

By my 14th birthday my family asked members of our Clan (Dwek) who were in Israel to contract my marriage. They began looking but I was a poor prospect because although I have average Jewish intelligence, I was in a paramilitary and being trained for a grunt position in the actual military, IDF.

We have a religious law that says a married man cannot go to war, he must divorce his wife before heading into battle because in our culture and religion, a death must be witnessed by 2 males over the age of maturity, 13. In battle you can actually vapourise and without the required witnesses it is not a valid death and any widow would be left without a marriage. At such a young age, they could not find any women that would allow herself to be divorced so young, etc.

Our Rabbis have given Rulings to circumvent the "divorce" requirement but the military is still not seen as a desirable occupation for a marriage prospect. Ergo, I was not matched until 17 but that is a while yet.

As they looked, at age 13 I began training full time. Until 2 years ago the you could end schooling at age 11 in Israel, due to Arabs who only value (most anyway) religious schooling. Unlike Jews their religion is very simplified. They have Qur'an, Shar'ia but only specialists study it, Hadit again studied only by specialists and so on. In Judaisim we study EVERYTHING and do it by memoury and we believe in studying until we die.

So my formal religious education ended at age 13,although I continued studying when I could, and at age 14 they gave me what we call "G'boosh" which a 3 day trial with psych, social, and physical tests to discern what position I might serve best at in the army. I desired more than anything to be a fighter pilot but of course I was not chosen, I was taught to kill, and taught if need be to be killed.

When I was 14 our country went to war again, "Operation Peace for Galilee," the 1st Lebanon War.

The PLO had been in Lebanon since the PLO was formally founded, in 64, and had turned all of S. Lebanon north from our border to the Alawi River into what was popularly known as "Fatah Land."

The word "Fatah" is Arabic and means "Victory," and was the most influential faction within the PLO which was just an umbrella organisation. Fatah was led by Yasser Arafat who ended up, by the very early 70s, leading the entire PLO although he had been the public face since its inception.

The PLO would terrorise the mostly Shi'a Lebanese villagers, so much so that when we liberated that swatch of Lebanon the villagers used to heap garlands of flower and throw candy to us. Can you imagine? From being their heroes in 82 to being their arch nemisis in 2006?

Everyone thought it would be another short Israeli war but it lasted until 85 and from 85 to 2000 we had what is known in English as the "Lebanese Occupation" but which was essentially a more bloody and protracted war than the actual 3 year war than ended in 85. This was my youth.

I will continue shortly...

Sean came over and stayed. I can't say I felt cared for the whole time. I don't know. He won't kiss me unless I try to get it from him He did cuddle at come point, when he didn't have a beer in his hand.

He says that he hasn't drank all week and he doesn't have a problem. Ok. I can't change something that he doesn't want to change.

I asked him why he has been so distant. Why he doesn't text..he says he likes to have me do it first. I don't know, maybe he likes to feel needed too but where does that leave me. I told him that I've been told that I have relationship paranoia...he laughed and said "Oh really, ya think?" But now he is getting to the point that he doesn't trust me as much as he should for reasons I don't want to share.

There seem to be so many messes to clean up. I need to find a job, but I don't know what that will mean for us. He needs a new one because he hates the ones he is at. He doesn't sleep well either which I think hurts his mood. I don't think hes all that happy. He needs to get his OWI taken care of. He seems to think that I will take a phone call and one meeting and it will be fixed. Idk if he is trying or what the case is.

We hung out and he only had 4 beers with food. But then again we didn't fight...but there are a lot of issues floating around and I'm doing all I can to help. I guess I believe that through helping others I can help myself.

He has given up on the food thing although I ususally try. I just couldn't do it last night. He simply wants me to double check my text messages because of auto text messing them up so he can understand me. What kind of request is that?

Somtimes he just seems so hopeless, so indifferent, about everything. Fixing things, going somewhere, us.

If the tramadol isn't here by Monday I'm going to be pissed. I'll hang out in my room high until school...I'll sit in class high, give a presentation high...ok maybe on that one. I mean my prof. isn't stupid. I just don't care. Maybe school will suck less ya know.

Notes:
See if meds work
Get 2 Dr appts
Get meds
Check SIDA and MUSCO
Pick up Earl May app
Turn in apps
Turn in last ditch app
Catch up on all my back homework
Talk to Dr. about flatline and then dip to depression? Paranoia?