Blogs

Last Minute Lasagna
Layer 1 - Tomato sauce, ricotta, mozzarella and grated Parmesan
Layer 2 - same as above plus spinach, parsley, onions and corn

Salad
Nothing special with balsamic dressing and garnished with shredded carrots

Curry potato salad
Potato, celery, the rest of the mayo, vinegar, salt, pepper, and a lot of curry

Dessert
Apple cake with crispy apple topping

There was allegedly another lasagna with ground beef but I had no hand in making that one.

And I'll be in leftover heaven for the next 5 days.

I don't know how the computer made it with me, but I'm not of this world anymore. I'm here with the "we." They won't tell me what their names are, but they wait for me every time we trip. Lurking in the shadows, watching me, but they only interact with me when I'm here. I don't know where here is... it looks so much like my own reality, but...

Is this what the inside of my head looks like? Is there always elevator music playing? We aren't sure anymore. I saw the tunnel in the sky today. They beckoned me, waiting on every side of me to take me away. Luckily for me it's still light out.

I'm going to go back tonight, but it will be through a different portal this time. No more boredom on my part, that's for sure. I'll trust the "we" and see what happens.

I'll report back again, but only if the computer decides to join me again.

How am I typing this?

-----------------------


Anyway, here. Have fun.

Has anyone ever encountered the "we" before? The otherworldly presence you can't describe and never have names? I encounter this every single time I do salvia.

The events of today have left me sorta down in the dumps.

I tell you, it's not easy being Travis Evans LeBlanc. I know what you think of me. A suave sophisticated continental type. An international playboy. A bon vivant, if you will.

But my reputation as a hedonistic whoremongering libertine are greatly exagerated. While it is true that I occasionally like to lose myself in a haze of sensual distractions, these things tire me when taken to excess. What I truely long for in life is nothing more than a little peace and tranquility.

But every time I try to have a nice quite evening at home by myself, something always comes up. Next thing I know, I'm in the middle of some action-packed adventure full of danger, excitement with a touch of romance thrown in to please the 18-45 female demographic.

Such as it was today. All was quiet through my stately manor on the LeBlanc Ancesteral Vinyard. I was sitting by the fireplace, smoking my pipe and reading poems by Pierre de Ronsard. Sir Dudley Puppington McDog III, my trusty Jack Russel terrier was curled up dutifully at my feet.

It was getting late. Almost time for me to go to sleep lest I be late for my early morning fencing lesson with Madame Giselle Charvet. But just before I was ready to cash in my chips and head for bed, my undocumented Puerto Rican pool boy and man-servant Miguel came in to inform me that Master Chiang was on the phone and wished to speak to me.

Master Chiang is my mentor and martial arts instructor. For many years he has instructed me in the deadly craft of Dragon Of Infinite Suns kung fu.

Even though I was tired, something told me that this call would be important. I knew that he had been being harrassed by a local crime boss and was behind on paying his protection racket. Many times I offered to use the influence of LeBlanc Corp to rectify this problem but he was too proud to accept my help, much less the help of a heartless international conglomerate.

Once on the phone, Master Chiang said he needed to speak to me in person and immediately. So I fled downstairs, hopped into my sleek 1985 Renault LeCar raced off to his dojo located in the heart of Bordeaux's Chinatown.
But while I was en route, things were underway that would have a profound impact on my life.
Master Chiang was sweeping the floor of his dojo, humming a tune from his childhood, without a care in the world.

Suddenly, the front door burst open a 15 young Japanese men from the nefarious Red Tiger Clan strode in. Cocky attitudes, sporting stylish clothes and shit-eating grins.

The leader stepped forward. "You've been late on your last three payments, old man! Black Claw says you either pay us everything today or we're gonna trash your dojo!"

"Please!" begged Master Chiang "I will have your money for you next week! Just give me more time!"

"Too late, old man!" yelled the leader "You need to learn that Black Claw and the Red Tiger Clan are not to be messed with! Let's get 'em!!!"
Sensing that his attempts to avoid violence had failed, Master Chiang immidiately snapped into his defensive "Dragon Stance" position as the gang charged towards him.

Master Chiang fought valiantly dispatching the early attackers with single precise punches and lightning fast kicks. The gang's feeble Japanese karate was no match for Master Chiang's Dragon Of Infinite Suns kung fu.

If Master Chiang was 10 or even 5 years younger, he would have won with ease. But he was now older, slower and more fragile and the Red Tiger Clan eventually overwhelmed him with their superior numbers.

I arrived outside the dojo just in time to see the Red Tiger members leaving on foot, some of their injured having to be carried. I ran inside to see the dojo in a dishevelled disarray. I screamed at the top of my lungs "Master Chiang! Master Chiang where are you!"

I followed the sounds of muffled moaning and groaning until Master Chiang's bloodied and bruised body laying in agony on the floor. I knelt down on the floor next to him.

"Master Chiang! Who did this to you!"

"Travis..." He coughed up bits of blood before continuing "There is something very important I need to tell you!"

"You can tell me later. First we need to get you an ambulance!"

His eyes grew cold "I'm afraid it is too late for that..."

"Don't talk like that, Master Chiang! You're gonna pull through this!"

"Travis!" his face with a renewed sense of urgency "Stop being foolish. I don't have much time left."

"OK, Master Chiang. What is it that you to tell me?"

"After I am gone..." he began. I still hated hearing him talk like that. At this point I still held out hope for him pulling though. "After I am gone," he repeated "you, Travis, must take over the school of Dragon of Infinite Suns kung fu!"

I was shocked to hear this. "What? Me?"

"Travis, you were always my most promising and talented student. You worked hard and were always respected by my other students."

"But they would never accept a Western as head of this school!" I was looking for any reason to not have to take upon me this great burden of responsibility. "Why not Lu Chi? Or or Xiao Shan?"

"Lu Chi lacks discipline. And Xiao Shan is too hungry for power. It is not our way. He must learn patience. Only you, Travis, can pass on the secrets of Dragon Of Infinite Suns to the next generation."

"Very well, Master Chiang. You've been like a father to me all my life. Your son, Liu, has been like a brother. I will take on this responsibility."

"Good..." he coughed up some more blood before continuing, "but there is one more thing I must ask of you...."

"What is it, Master Chiang?"

"Travis, you must not avenge my death! It will only bring about more suffering!"

We sat in silence for a moment as I pondered this.
"Master, I have always followed your teachings to the letter. But now you ask me not to avenge you and that is one command I can not obey."

"But Travis, you are not yet ready to face the Black Claw!"

"I appreciate all that you have taught me. You taught me to only used my kung fu in self defense and even then, only after all peaceful solutions had been exhausted. And over time, I saw the wisdom in this. But you also taught me that the strong have an obligation to protect the weak. The Red Tiger Clan has been pushing the people of Chinatown far too long and I plan to put a stop to it for good!"

Master Chiang just smiled weakly before uttering his final words "You were always an impetuous one, my boy" before his life-force left him and he drifted into eternal sleep.

"Master Chiang!" I yelled while shaking his lifeless body. "MASTER CHIANG!!! MASTER CHIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!"

All rage swelled up through me and I shook my hands at the heavens. "BLACK CLAW, MAKE PEACE WITH YOUR GOD, FOR I AM COMING FOR YOU!"

I've spent the last 24 hours prowling the streets of Bordeaux Chinatown looking for any and all members of the Red Tiger Clan and doing some serious face breakage.

Black Claw, I'm coming for you!!!

I am not going to contact you again. Not because I dont want to talk, as I do, but because the time has past for us to talk.

When I walked back in to the lounge room and realised you had left, I broke apart. I relapsed. I am glad I had some gear that I had not even thought about having before this happened as I think it was either that or scream and cry at how dumb I have been over you.

I am sorry. Thankyou for everything you have done that was good over the last 6 months.

But I did not deserve being left like this. I am finding it hard to cope with this. But Ill get there.

The story goes something like this.

During the darkest days of the second world war, Great Britain spent an entire year fighting the Germans and Italians by herself. With the majority of her armies scattered all over the globe, Britain was desperate for more troops to defend the homeland.

So the British government put a call out to the general public asking for volunteers. Preferably anyone with any military experience. It wouldn't be frontline combat stuff. Just things like operating anti-aircraft guns and manning coastal defenses in the unlikely event of a German invasion.

Well, among the people who responded to this call were a group of elderly veterans who had fought in the Anglo-Boer War in the late 1890's. That would have made them around 60 to 70ish years old.

So these geezers were taken to a training ground and shown the latest artillery cannons. The operation of cannons had not changed much in the last 40 years. You load the shell in, close the hatch, fire the cannon, open the hatch again, unload the empty shell and point in a new one. Wash, rinse, repeat.

When the officers felt they had the hang of it, they backed off and let the old dudes get back up to speed. But while watching the geezers practice, they noticed a peculiar routine.

Every time the old dudes fired the cannon, they would immediately run back 15 feet. And they did this over and over. Fire the cannon. Run back. Fire the cannon. Run back.

The officers watched this for a while and tried to figure out what the hell the geezers were doing. To no avail.

So the officers found an elderly general on base and brought him to the training ground to see if he could make heads or tails of it. The general watched the old men firing the cannon and then running back. After a couple minutes, he figured it out.

"Ah," said the general, "They're running back to grab the horses."

You see, before the advent of the automobile, all heavy equipment had to be transported to the battlefield by horse. Whenever a cannon was fired, the loud bang would freak the horses out and they would try to run away.
Therefore, every time the cannon was fired it was necessary for the men to run back, grab the horses and calm them down before firing another shot.

But after 40 years, trucks had replaced the horses on the battlefield. But the old men's training was so ingrained in them that after almost half a century, they were still running back to grab the horses that were long gone.

I've always liked that story. I'm not sure whether it ever actually happened but it is a powerful metaphore nonetheless.

I think of my past relationships especially the one with the missus. I see now that by the end, we were just like the old men in that story. The love was long gone but we were still going through the motions as if it was still there.

We were truely toiling in futility.

And yet I can think of other examples. One time I moved into a dump for no other reason than because it was close to my work. I eventually changed jobs but never thought to move out somewhere else. Even though its original purpose of that place was no longer valid.

Lately, I've been taking inventory of my life. Work, home, drugs, friendships, and etc. I'm asking myself if the original purpose of embarking on each is still relevant.

Or if I'm just chasing after horses who are no longer there.

ok, so i'm going to play around with the blogs feature. something productive to do, right?

Every day when the sun sets I eat a large meal and smoke skunk until I am on this strange, nervous, speedy, almost psychedelic high.

Usually I accompany this with beer or red wine, sometimes whiskey and soda. Often all three.

In this house, one person wakes the other six at 7am any given day for a morning spliff. There's always lights on and life in a few rooms until 3am at least.

People come and stay for days. Half strangers, most of them. One of my flatmates came home and found six people drinking in his bedroom this week. Cue much heavy slavic swearing as he threw them to the street immediately.

I live, party and work here, past five months I really only leave the house to leave the country or to drive recklessly in my car, which I manage to do for at least a few hours a day.

I'm struggling to find a point. But that is the kernel of the story, it seems.

Thursday night was quite a doozy...

I had a dinner party at the princely LeBlanc family estate and the cream of European aristicratic society was in attendence. There was Lord and Lady Effingham, the Duke of Asbury, my intellectual sparring partner Sir Gordon Charles, Gerry Adams, Charles Bonaparte, Corsican mafioso Allesandro Montella, Christopher Hitchens, Laetitia Casta, Aribert Heim, and a dozen others.

After a feast of crêpes and frog legs, we moved to my parlor room for wine and opium. As things were winding down, I decided to liven things up by dazzling them takes of my most recent African safari adventure.

"So I followed the natives back to their village, feeling safe in the belief that they had accepted me as one of their own. But upon arriving, I quickly discovered that I was not to be the guest of honor for their dinner. Rather, they intended for me to be the main course!"

"Good heavens, Travis!" cried Lord Asbury, "Do you mean to tell us that they were cannibals?"
"Indeed I do. And they believe that eating the flesh of a white man will give them great powers."
My audience gasped in near unison before I continued.

"I saw a large boiling pot in the middle of the village. And as they pushed me towards it, I noticed on the ground the half-eaten remains of Kumal, my guide and interpreter that vanished in the night a week before."

One woman in the room fainted. Lady Effingham covered her eyes and exclaimed "Oh, it is all too ghastly!" So vivid was my description and colorful my language, that the women felt as though the savages of my story were in the very same room with us.

"I do apologize" I said, attempting to restore calm "But I did warn you that parts of this story were not suitable for those of delicate feminine sensibilities."

"My goodness, Travis," said Sir Gordon Charles, eager for me to continue my tale. "You must have been scared out of your wits!"

"Well, I had been in some tight spots before but I must confess that this one presented quite a challenge. There I was. Hundreds of miles from civilization and surrounded by 30 blood-thirsty savages. Each one with a lustful craving for my flesh. I knew it was going to require something extraordinary to get out of this predicament in one piece."

"You had your revolver, did you not?" Lord Effingham queried.

"Yes but I had used the last of my ammunition during the hippo stampede that killed the rest of the expedition."

"So tell us, Travis" Gerry Adams, quiet until this time, demanded "How did you manage to escape?"

"Not tonight. Next time." I said, "It's getting quite late..."

There was a roar of disaproval through out the room and even the frightened ladies would not be satisfied until I finished the tale. Eventually I relelnted and continued.

"Okay, do you remember that tiger I befriended the day before? Well, as they were prodding me with their spears and urging me towards the boiling pot, who should I see out of the corner of my eye?"

"No..." the group spoke in low mix of surprise and astonishment.

"But yes!" I declared "It was none other than the very same tiger out with his family on a hunting expedition of their own!"

"What fortune!" Lord Effingham cried.

"Yes and right before I was about to put my first leg into the boiling pot, I yelled his name-"

At that very moment, my undocumented Puerto Rican poolboy and man-servant Miguel Valentino burst into the room in a complete panic. He was stark naked, his arms were handcuffed behind his back and he was wearing a ball gag.

"Miguel, what have you gotten yourself into this time!"

I unfastened the ball gag and he spoke "Twavith! Twavith! Someone has broken into the vineyard and mixed up the colors on all the marshmellows. Now there are pink diamonds, purple clovers, and red horseshoes!"

Who would do such a thing? Well, just last night, I found out. The answer would shock you.

I'm feeling bored, listless. I took a couple of antihistamine tablets to sleep so hopefully I should get a couple of hours and then wake up feeling better. I'm tentatively considering a long period of sobriety for this next term at uni... Went without drinking a drop when I was in Sweden recently and it felt pretty good, so it could be an idea. Drinking is overrated...

I had a good time yesterday though. and I got a New Years Eve kiss! I went to a friend's place, there were about 10 of us there so it was nice and intimate, and one of the guys who lives there is a gorgeous friend of a close friend, this guy I've had the hots for for a while. We kissed for a bit, it was surprisingly passionate, then went out again to socialise. I guess sex was on the cards but I got sleepy and bored of sitting around listening to a heated drunken conversation about Judaism, went to bed to lie down for a bit, and passed out. I wonder if he came looking for me... Well, I was a bit too tired for anything else anyway, and this way there's a little bit more tension for the next time we meet... Would have been nice to cuddle a little though.

I'm having the dreaded hangover cringes. Even though I know logically that I didn't say or do anything that was too silly, it's like my mind is enthusiastically searching for little bits of things that I can give myself shit about. It's so annoying! I just want to go to sleep and wake up and be normal again, maybe do an EFT sesh or something. Blah alcohol.

Happy New Year!!!

"Anosognosia" is when someone is unaware they have a disease or a problem with their body. "No doctor, I am not blind" or "my left hand is not paralyzed" and they can't figure it out even when they try to clap or something. It usually happens as a result of a stroke, but even blunt force brain trauma can cause it.

"What about your left hand?" you then ask. "Can you touch your nose with your left hand?"

"Sure I can." The patient's paralyzed left hand does not move.

"Are you touching it now?"

"Yes, of course I am." His hand still has not moved.

"Can you actually see yourself touching your nose with your left hand?" you ask.

"Of course I can," he says in irritation. "It's right in front of my face."

You decide to ask just one more question. "Can you clap your hands for me, please?"

The patient looks at you in some puzzlement, but resignedly lifts his right hand and waves it in front of him, as if clapping it against an imaginary left hand. His real left hand lies where it is, completely paralyzed. (adapted from Ramachandran 1998, p. 128-129, where a virtually identical conversation occurs)

Click to expand...

What is really cool is that the person who is fucked up will automatically, and without conscious thought, make up some sort of crazy excuse about why they aren't suffering from whatever problem they have. It is like our brain has automatic systems which will force the world to appear logical and continuous to us, even if it means fabricating complete bullshit.

Now where it gets really crazy, is in some cases stimulating the person's brain, even in a really simple way like by squirting cold water in their ear, causes the anosognosia to disappear, and the brain rewrites all the memories to make things make sense again.

After [injecting the water], I asked again, "How are you feeling?"
"My ear's cold."
"What about your arms? Can you use your arms?"
"No," she replied, "my left arm is paralyzed."
That was the first time she had used that word in the three weeks since her stroke.
"Mrs. Macken, how long have you been paralyzed?"
She said, "Oh, continuously, all these days."

Click to expand...

Then, twelve hours later after the woman settled down the question was repeated:

"Do you remember Dr. Ramachandran?"
"Oh, yes, he was that Indian doctor."
"And what did he do?"
"He took some ice-cold water and he put it into my left ear and it hurt."
..."What did he ask you?"
"He asked me if I could use both my arms."
"And what did you tell him?"
"I told him I was fine."

Click to expand...

Anosognosia is the coolest brain malfunction because it exposes how our brain deals with things that don't make sense- and it has the more 'matrix' type implications than anything I've ever heard of. Our brain is so crazy about 'making sense' and continuity that it'll basically whip up a whole book of lies to keep from feeling like its broken. And we can't tell when or if it's doing it.

It's funny how among my generation that narcissism and insecurity so often go hand and hand. It's the Gen X disease.
I've suffered from malignant narcissism at least since age 12. I make a habit of regularrly declaring my genius to anyone who will listen and quite a few who had no intention of listening but do so to humor me.
But some days, I start to think that perhaps I ain't so special. After all, I have quite a difficult time reconciling my alleged genius with my rather undistinguished position in life and my relative lack of genius-affirming accomplishments.
It is then that I begin to worry that I am mental ill. Perhaps I am deranged and delusional...

Then I this a message like this on facebook:
"Have you ever written anything for publication? I think it would be fascinating. You should donate your brain to scientific research when you die. Always thought you were a genius. In your own special way."
Who wrote that? Well, I don't know. Apparently it was someone I went to high school with. The name rang a bell but I don't remember much else about them. Whoever it is, I have not talked to them in 14 years.

I'm depressed now. I had got to a point that I was ready to accept that I am deranged kook and work on my mental health issues..
Now I just feel I'm wasting my life.

so i guess im taking a semester off. bah tuition due dates...if i hadn't of moved and had so much maddness parading about my head i would have been more on top of things.

i even went to drawing II thinking, yea drawing two, lets draw some fantastic shit! but my name wasnt called on roll. bah, at least i know what to bring next semester...

im single and it's strange, but i like it. i thought i'd be more upset for longer but i'm good already. i've been working at my g-parent's greenhouse for a bit now and already hate it. it's a good job, pays very well, working with plants is awesome...but the family thing is ridiculous. my nanny (g-ma) is all about hard work 24/7. she's the strongest old woman i've ever seen...she wakes up at 5 and doesnt quit working until it's dark. the business is at their home. they own about 7 greenhouses on their land...all filled with hundresd of plants. i'll call in sick and she'll drive up to my mom's to make sure im sick and be completely open about that's what she's doing. even then she says work makes you feel better and acts like im just being a baby. my papa just sits inside all day drinking from his keggerator (a keg / refrigerator) and making smart ass comments when i go inside for something...he's actually really funny until he's sloshed at about 5 or 6, then he's just fuckin mean.
but i cant quit because nanny made me promise to be there for her this year. at least until the summer is over.

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris.
Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.
~Catullus


I do not feel afraid, usually, when I am not doing anything in particular, not planning on doing anything in particular, and so on and so forth. And yet...And yet...

I do nothing and I make nothing and I say nothing and I think nothing.

The woman to my left with the earmuffs on, dressed casually in a sweatshirt and jeans her cheeks rosy from the cold or from the sun, I don't know which, or the difference. The same. Possibly she just took a warm shower. Possibly it's simply her usual complexion. SHE is what I want to be.

"Excuse me," I say to the woman who, upon analyzing her appearance a little more while trying to get her attention, I realize isn't a woman at all but a philatelist, of no more than two twelves and not a very good one at that.

And then, "Miss!"

But she's gone. No more. Another person not a person I was lucky enough to love, if even for a moment no longer than a breath and still, I feel a loss.

"What do you dream about..." I might have asked her if given the chance "...when you sleep?"

Or "What is it that makes you smile? And on such a terrible day."

And though i'm left standing on a cracked square of carelessly poured concrete in front of a salon that used to be a bakery that used to be a studio that used to be a bank, wondering what happened to my love or if she ever really existed anyways, or if she never did and never will and never ever sever clever...something in me finds it necessary to move on. mooo...move. don't.

"Do you have any spare change?" I ask the man shaking the coins around in his coffee cup, repeating some phrase I don't bother to listen to. And so I fill it up with useful wealth.

"This is how you inject this stuff into your bloodstream," I teach him, when he is just a little boy. "And this is how you build a couch fort."

The shoemaker on 3rd street sells diamonds made from shmiamonds out the back door of his shop. The trash men know where all the portals are to hidden universes and drink licorice from a boot.

"I can't have any children," I tell the boy as a man as a bum as a coffee drinker. "My womb is not a tomb."

And on days like this, when I have all the answers, I know what my best course of action is, should be, should be is.

"Cantankerous!" I yell to the man as a stop sign as a thief, before he runs screaming into the night. "It means you and I are always friends. It means you and I love hate! Plastic! What kind of potato can't seem to make a break dance?!"

I'm still on methadone. I didn't manage to come to 0. I think I've come to the point I can't live without any discomfort without a steady dose of methadone just to make me feel normal.

Buying methadone from people from methadone programs is expensive if you do that all the time. Maybe someone can handle it but I don't work regularly anymore and what I get is not enough to cover the costs.

So, I decided to go to the program and talk to the supervisor. I will lay off the situation I'm in and maybe I'll get on the program without going to hospital. I can't go to hospital now because of school, I'm in my final year and I've got final exams without passing which I won't be able to study. I don't want to postpone finishing this part of my education as I feel really bad in this school and I want to leave it as soon as possible.

It's really terrible here when you need public help. And the detox in hospital is very unpleasant, methadone dose is way under needed and people are dying from cravings there. Besides, it is to switch people from heroin/morphine to methadone. I'm already switched. I've been on methadone for 2 months already.

I hope they can put me on some low dose. I can live with 50ml a day without feeling any discomfort and people are put on 100ml a day so that's a big difference. I meet all requirements. I'm of age, I'm almost 19, I've been addicted for more than 3 years, I'm deep in this shit for 3,5 years.

I'm planning to go there next week. My mum doesn't want me to go on methadone permanently but she can't understand how hard it is for me to feel normal without daily help of some low (relatively of course!) dose of methadone. So I don't even have any support from relatives.

Anyway, I will brace myself up and give it a try.

I am highly frustrated by driving right now.

For many years, I drove the way I wanted to. I would get into the fast lane as soon as possible and drive fast. I would usually avoid a lot of lane changing, but if there was open space in front of me in the lane I was in, I would accelerate until I was around 30 MPH over the limit. The only reason I stopped there was because I feared getting thrown into jail and having my car confiscated if I went any faster.

I paid a hefty price for this manner of driving. The tickets, which were often enormous, and the increased insurance premiums probably cost me close to 20,000 dollars. But I didn’t care. I figured it was a tax I paid for getting where I was going quickly and driving the way I feel highways were meant to be driven on.

Well, they FINALLY GOT ME. They finally hassled me to the point where I have no choice but to follow the rules and obey the speed limits. There was nothing special about this last ticket I got. It was no different from the previous 25 speeding tickets. But, financially, I can no longer afford to pay these fines. I can no longer afford the outrageous insurance premiums. And, if I get one more ticket, no matter how small, I will lose my license for the first time ever. And I do not want that.

So, everyone rejoice, one less maniac on the road, right? Your kids are safer now, right?

WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!

See, the thing is, when I drove the way I used to, my eyes were GLUED to the road. I devoted 100% of my mental energy to driving; using my above average eyesight, instincts, and reaction time to make sure that no collision occurred. And you know what? NONE EVER DID. My supposedly dangerous or reckless (as some judges have called it) driving style NEVER RESULTED IN A CRASH OR INJURY.

This is because I concentrated on my DRIVING and on the ROAD. I wouldn’t really engage in conversation. I don’t even like driving with other people in the car. I was focused on what a DRIVER is supposed to be focused on: THE ROAD.

And now?

Now that I have to follow the rules, I am a road hazard. I am CONSTANTLY shifting my gaze from the road to catch the CONSTANTLY changing speed limits. Yeah, that’s right, they constantly change from 55 to 65 to 55 for NO REASON, except to catch drivers who did not notice the new sign and are now going to have to pay a fine for maintaining what was deemed a safe speed a mere 5 minutes ago on the SAME DAMN ROAD!

Furthermore, I am constantly checking my speedometer just to make sure I haven’t accidentally crept up to a speed high enough to get pulled over. Cruise control? No thank you, I like to have my foot on my gas when I drive. I don’t see how cruise control is safe. When people use it, they are concentrating less on their driving. They are further detached from a boring activity that ALREADY lends itself to inattentiveness, boredom, fatigue, and highway hypnosis.

Also, when I have cruise on, I slowly start to creep up to the car in front of me who is going 6 MPH slower than I am. Now what? If I pass him, it will take forever because our speeds are not that different, so I will be in his blind spot or he will; be in mine for along time. That is not safe. But if I accelerate temporarily to pass him, I risk a ticket.

I thought the whole point of cruise control was to not risk a ticket.

Also, my steering wheel blocks the speedometer from my view. There is nothing I can do about this. If I move the wheel up at all, the airbag will be in position to hit me right in the head if it were to engage. So, whenever I check my speedometer, I have to duck way down and angle my neck in order to read it. This is really annoying and also unsafe.

Furthermore, whenever a cop car is spotted, I must do that to check my speedometer, which is really bad because all the other assholes on the road seem to think that when a cop car is seen they must SUDDENLY and ABRUBTLY reduce their speed to 15 BELOW the limit! What is wrong with these people? I have gotten 25 tickets and ZERO of them were for 1 – 112 MPH over the limit. ZERO! They don’t bother. Drivers do not need to go slower than ten over, but if they must, can they at least go the speed limit?

So, we have people slamming on their brakes, abruptly slowing down, and drivers not watching the road because they are checking to see if they are in compliance with a stupid law. That doesn’t sound safe to me.

Furthermore, when these cops catch someone, what do they do? They enter the FAST LANE of the highway from a stopped position, and then accelerate rapidly to well above the speed limit, swerving around cars, until they catch the guy, then they and the speeder pull off the highway and sit alongside it as trucks and cars go flying by at 70 MPH 8 feet away. THAT IS NOT FUCKING SAFE! THAT IS DANGEROUS!

What a crock of bullshit. And then some asshole judge who I am forced to listen to has the audacity to tell me I am a threat to the SAFETY of his children? Well, your honor, here is what I say to that: FUCK you, fuck the driving laws, and fuck your high and mighty arrogance.

Speed limits and speeding tickets are not about safety, they are about MONEY. It always is. They make a fortune off these tickets. My last one was $295.00. That is a lot of money.

IF they REALLY thought speeding was such a big danger, THEY WOULD TAKE STEPS TO ENSURE THAT NO ONE DID IT! If speeding tickets were TWO THOUSAND DOLLARS, how many people do you think would speed!????

They could pretty much END all speeding by simply raising the fines to a level that no one would be willing to risk paying. BUT THEY DON’T. Because they know that speeding actually isn’t that dangerous. My home state’s driving manual EVEN SAYS SO, it says that speeding isn’t really a cause of very many accidents.

No, what causes accidents are tailgating, swerving in and out of lanes, cutting people off, and other similarly dangerous things. AND HOW MANY TICKETS do cops write for those offenses? NEXT TO NONE!

No, they make the speed limits ABSURDLY low because they know traffic will naturally exceed those limits and they can then write tickets. See, if they did what I am suggesting and raised the fines to $2000.00, THEY WOULDN’T catch anyone speeding! And no speeders = no speeding tickets = NO REVENUE!

So, your honor, the next time you want to give me a phony lecture about safety while sitting there on your high horse in your black robe sitting behind that fancy desk, SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS, because you and I both know that you are full of shit!

On a side note, the following people also draw my ire:

People who use their brakes as they approach a green light. HELLO!?? The light is GREEN! The speed limit doesn’t change in an intersection! Why are you applying the brakes!??? Are you trying to cause an accident?

People who ride their brakes through a left turn. What are you doing? Didn’t anyone teach you how to drive?

People who take FOREVER to make a right or left turn. What are you doing!? The longer you take to complete a turn, the greater your chances of getting hit by someone who you did not see before when you started the turn.

People who create a moving roadblock by driving alongside another car in a different lane at exactly the same speed. If you are driving the same speed as the car next to you, WHY MUST YOU WASTE A LANE DOING SO? Get in front of or behind him and do it!

And saving the worst for last:

People who merge onto a highway going HALF THE SPEED LIMIT! What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you really think it is safe to drive 30 MPH when other cars are going 70 MPH? Does that seem safe to you!???? YOU ARE A ROAD HAZARD! I have seen so many near collisions because of this. Cars have to abruptly brake or swerve to avoid these idiotic intrusions into the flow of traffic because they are not expecting people to be driving cars at the speed of a bicycle!

Or, the slow merger cannot enter the highway because of his slowness, so he STOPS on the entrance ramp to the highway, nearly getting rear ended by the guy behind him who is trying to attain highway speed so he can merge safely.

The driving manuals are very clear on this: The entrance ramp to a highway is called an ACCELERATION STRIP! Its purpose is to allow you to ATTAIN HIGHWAY SPEED so you can merge safely!

Just in case this is not abundantly clear, would you consider it safe to drive 70 MPH on a road where other cars are going 30 MPH? Probably not, right? Well why then would someone drive 30 MPH onto a highway where people are going 70 MPH? IT’S the same fucking thing! AAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!!!!

End rant.

"Lady Thailand, no good. You handsome man, lady Thailand not want. You nice man, lady Thailand not want. You have munny? Lady Thailand WANTS! Only munny, lady Thailand wants." -- Anonymous Moto Driver.

I watched "Wife Vs. Secretary" and I had the same thoughts watching it that I've had watching other MGM films.
Namely:
- "Myrna Loy is the most charming talentless actress to ever grace the screen."
- "Good God, Jean Harlow is over-rated. Would someone please explain to me what the big deal about her is supposed to be".
- "Oh look! Jimmy Stewart is playing a shmuck again!"
- "Clark Gable is wasted at MGM. They should have traded him to Warner Brothers for Bette Davis (another right actor/wrong studio). Too bad the studio system didn't work like that."

Aside from their entertainment value, I find these old movies interesting for the historical/sociological value. Due to censorship from the production code, they may not be the best way to understand how people really lived in 1937. They do offer a glimpse into what the values of the time were. And watching Wife Vs Secretary I realized, brother, times done changed.

In particular...

If you watch a current romantic comedy, it will invariably involve some plucky underdog guy. He will be competing with some rich asshole for the affections of some girl. She's usually captain of the cheerleading team or some hag he's had a crush on since 2nd grade.
Of course, you expect the girl to choose the plucky underdog over the rich asshole. To the modern audience, this would be the more romantic ending because she's choosing "love" materialism and social expectation.
Well, in American movies made before WWII, it is always the opposite. The girl always chooses the richer of the two suitors.
How does this work? Well most of the time, the two suitors in question will both be wealthy. One will happen to be charming and handsome. The other an all-around heel.
Occasionally, the will be a plucky underdog vying for the woman's affections but this guy will either only be there for comic relief or played by Jimmy Stewart. Either way, he never gets the girl.
The reason why this was the case is quite simple. Prior to WWII, women did not have very many possibilties for economic advance. And by "not very many", I mean they had none. A woman could teacher, a maid, a waitress, a cashier or a stenographer. That's about it.
So marrying into higher economic class was pretty much the only way for a woman to improve her lot in life. Given that, rejecting a rich suitor for a plucky underdog would not have been seen as a very satisfying ending. It would not have been seen as romantic. Just foolish.
But then WWII came around. All the men went overseas. The women went to the munitions factories. Blah blah blah. War ended. Dudes came home. Women didn't want to go back to the kitchen. Blah blah blah.
So the 1950's roll around and women get more economic opportunities. As a result of this, the sex lives of countless plucky underdogs improves dramatically.
Well, at least in the movies they do. Whether women choose "true love" over wealth anymore now than in 1937 can be debated. Like I said, movies are not a good reflection of how people actually live. They are just a good reflection of people's ideals and values.
I think Wife Vs. Secretary should be remade as I am certain that today's focus groups would demand Jimmy Stewart be banging Jean Harlow by the end credits. They must!

Things done change.

But you know what hasn't changed? Movies that involve MFF love triangles still demand that the dude choose the less affluent of the two women. Today, as in 1937, hometown sweethearts still triumph over wealthy socialites.
At least in the movies they do.

From the desk of a self absorbed Jewish Nationalist and Scabble Champion...Today is still Thursday, Janurary 14th, 2009 and it is now 6:25 PM here in Philippines.

OK, getting back into it.

Golf Courses are even dangerous places to be in this part of the world. there was the recent case that I alluded to in my previous entry, where a local low level politician was playing the links when happened to come upon a Korean businessman who had just missed a crucial shot.

Sadly, for the Korean, he chose to "Vent" buy saying somthing akin to "Damned Philippines, even the golf courses are crooked." The politico promptly turned around and wrapped his club around the man's neck, nearly killing him.

Now, in most countires around the world such behavior would not only get you bounced from office but ruin any hopes for any kind of meaningful career.

In the Philippines however, he did not even get bounced from the Club!!! His actions have cast as a National Hero and an epitome of the Filipino Man!

From the looks of Mindanao I have to say the description of the "Perfect Philippine Man" seems to be a perfect description for Mr. 9-Iron.

2 months later in Antipolo City here, at the Valley Golf and Country Club a father and his two children were having a fun day hitting the ball as they say. The daughter, in her 20s had stepped away for a moment but as Dad and his 14 year old son set up their shots a golf cart sped by them, kicking up mud, and slamming on the brakes at the next hole.

Apparently this breaks some major rule of Golf Etiquette and the father, Delfin De la Paz took umbrage. Locating the nearest Referee, he lodged a complaint. Meanwhile, the men from the speeding cart, who just happened to be from one of the area's most powerful Muslim Clans, the Pangandaman Family, walked over to hear what was being said.

Taking offence from De la Paz one of the Pamgandamans attacked De la Paz, and when De la Paz's son stepped in to protect Dad it escalated into a real melee, including afore mentioned daughter.

Since Pamgandaman broke Club Etiquette/Rules, and since one form his party iniated a pyhsical attack it should be a cut and dry issue, yes? NO. Not in the Philippines.

They not only made the De la Paz family leave which shamed them (in SE Asia it is a terrible thing to do), but then barred them from ever returning and then refused to refund the steep membership fees on top of it while Pamgandaman and company still enjoy full usage of the club.


Because of the power structure this would have been a done deal but for one thing: The daughter is an avid Blogger! She went with this case of inustice and it has since become a national scandal. I guess the fact that she and her family will now be exterminated did not occur to her but cest la vie.

Blogs are a great tool on many levels.

Business wise we are slowing down because of the time of year and extra heavy Monsoon but I am keeping active. Still at my Kratom Wholesale sideline. Thinking of starting 2 new ventures as well, and maybe a third. I will be forming a partnrtship with Dad to raise goats for export to Muslims nations like UAE and Brunei, who are badly in need of good goat meat.

Prices are right now and I have thinking of it since 2007.

Another sideline will be for difficult to find vegetables here in the Philippines aimed more for the upscale market and city resturants. I offered Dtergent that when and if I do, I will send her some, and will also for my hero Crystal as well...EVEN IF Rizza will go ballistic hahahahahaha.


My last idea is to raise Carabao for sale, water buffalo. Virtually all farmers here use them to plow, etc. Not many have any machinery. I can use some of under utlised wetlands for that venture.

Have a few other plans as well. Kind of sad that SWIM did not raise any Poppy this year but with the Monsoon as it is, it was the right choice. Hopefully next year.

Over and out for now...

Thursday Janurary 15th, 2009 and it is now 4:28AM here in the Philippines.

Well, time for another song..This one is mad! Leann Rimes (yes, believe it or not but wait!) with Kaskade remixing her new single, "What I cannot Change":

www.youtube.com/watch?v=H0bU36A0bjY



This week we have had massive rains from the Monsoon but the flooding is not getting worse, up around Illigan and Cagayan del Oro people are dying from it but we are safer in our little valley.

Another ferry accident, this one in Borneo to our south, only 250 dead which is a minor mishap as far as ferries go here. It was heading from Sulawesi on Borneo to another part of the island and was 30 kilometers off the coast when it capsized and sank rather quickly.

7 survivors in 3 lifeboats so at least some were saved.

Rizza and I have been talking again about Ferry Safety, since we use them at least one time a month. For a while now I have been getting around to getting her a good life vest, but I procastinate too damn much! It is not like I can just head downtown like in NYC, here it is really difficult to find anything like that. Ordering things is hell.

We have a Postal System but in Mindanao it is really just on paper. A Letter mailed domestically will usually take (literally) 6 months to get from point A to point B. Internationally chances are that it will be robbed in hopes of finding money.

Here on Mindanao we have FedEx, but through a local contractor called Airfreight 2000. They have a little storefront in Butuan 90 kilometers north of us, up on the north coast. They will deliver but it takes 2 weeks for a 72 hour delivery and sometimes it will never come. So, next on my shopping list when I travel out of the country is a few lifevests.

I also need to find a personal weapon that will not show up on the scanners in the Ports because she needs something to protect herself. If the ship is going down, and she is in her vest, and I am not there to protect her I can guarantee you she will die. They will rip her arms off to get that vest.

On an island, one of 7,107 in this nation you would naturally assume many if not all are great swimmers. Fact is, even fishermen usually do not know how. The only ethnicity that can in any percentage is the Bajoa, the Sea Gypsies.

They swim for coins as ships come into port. You will see 3 year olds paddling little outriger dugout canoes, naked, hands out and begging - and when you toss a coin worth about 1/4 US Penny they will dive into 40 feet to find it. This is how they help support their families but I NEVER give them a damn thing. It only encourages them to do very dangerous things.

I used to believe Bajoa saw nothing wrong with begging, so was much less committed to not giving but have since learned that the tribe is embarrased about it but has little choice.


Like the ComVal Lumad. These are Manobo and Tiboli tribes Peoples who live in the mountains around me, and every Xmas season they make their way down into the lowlands to beg. It is so sad. Now, in Davao, for the past 3 years they have had the disgusting habit of humming Xmas songs they do not understand, doing little jigs and clasping their hands as if praying for 1/4th of 1 US Dollar.

The Davao City Govt. has begun housing them in gymnasiums and schools during that season but it only seems to encourage them to do this. The city gives them 1 kilo of mealy rice, some bottled water, and plastic trinkets and the Tribals love it! That is enough to make me cry to be honest.

Then, as they go around Davao City knocking on doors and doing their drunken dances people make fun of them. The Tribals are so innocent that most of them think lowlanders are sharing joy with them. It makes me mad enough to kill but let me switch to a different subject...

I am ordering 6 new AKs but Dad is worried that should we come out sometime, somehow on the wrong side of the Govt. we will be pegged as rebels. I assured him that I am doing so through official channles, not to worry but he is nervous.



If you count all compound houses, 1st cousins, aunties and uncles we have a decent armoury like most land holders. It is a way of life here. I am thinking of funding my own CAFGU, the private ones, but it might peg me for the NPA as "Enemy of the People," and I do not want to provoke direct confrontation. NPA respect us, our family has never exploited, relatively speaking, and in this we are fortunate.

We are the oldest family here, we settled this valley in the 19th Century, and the NPA know that. Still, what if they change their attitudes?

What if the Muslims move on us? They have been releasing threats on Gaza and I am well known as 1 of 2 Israelis here, the other having left 2 weeks ago when Gaza began. Embassy told me I am on my own since I refused the copter ride out. Fuck them. This is my family, and I will live or die with them, and to be honest in a way it shocks me because I never thought it possible to love anything more than my People (Jews). I feel more Bisaya than Jewish I guess, funny as it seems.

When I asked the Embassy to ferry my shit in Diplomatic Pouches last time they told me to fuck off. Used to have all my shit sent in, meds, pistols, and now they say things are too sensitive in this country.It IS true that there violent riots in Manila in front of our embassy, albeit on a small scale, a couple of hundred leftists and Muslims.

So now I am here but at least Rizza is safer on Cebu, one less headache.

Huge problem since the summer now, crime. They are robbing buses daily now, firing guns and making everyone put their heads between knees. I used to take busses now and then, to Davao, or to Butuan, but that has stopped of course.

They just robbed a friend of ours. We live in one of the richest gold deposits on the planet, I once talked of when Dad would gold mine. Used to be ferried in and out by copter, etc. So this one poor farmer had 250 grams which is a fortune even in America, and he brought it all to this mill. As it is being milled, 2 gunmen come in and take it all. Imagine? Truly tragic because that is his entire adult life in one clean swoop.

I am not sad that it is a tiny bit less mercury into the environment, etc but for the man's personal misfortune I AM saddened alot.

Grace Ong, a Chinoy (Chinese Filipina) and a good friend of Mom's had her business robbed but only lost 4000 Pesos (about 90 US now), which here is a steep amount. Anyway, she will be OK but it is the point. It is increasing heavily, with the Bank owner who is missing and presumed dead.

I regularly do 1,000,000 Pesos Transactions (more or less 20,000 US) at 3 of our banks in the village and have told Mom I want us to move to other banks, in the cities. She says it is too inconveinent, etc because of the many hours travel and I told her I would rather do it than have us killed over this shit.

Which reminds me one of those 3 banks in the village was also robbed a month ago. Here all banks have guards with pump shot guns all around them, this is true Wild West country but a pump is nothing to an Ingram or Mac, right? Anyway, most of the guards are in cahoots with the robbers so...

Probably not a good thing but they have started using mobile courtrooms, in old school busses. There are people detained 18 years, literally with no trial for stealing 4 eggs and sick shit like that is common.

Just this week in Sarangani Province here, one mobile bus court freed a murderer for an 8 year wait to trial, setencing him to time served but gave a man in jail for 17 years over 1 water buffalo 1 more year for a total of 18...A decade more for a cow!? This is the country I live in! People wonder why we are home to the longest running revolution in Asia!

Kill or rape a kid and get 8 years, steal my fucking cow, treat her like a queen and you will get 18! 10 grams of poppy seeds gets you lethal injection. I LOVE IT.

Actually, the Death Penalty which was enacted in 2002 specifically to deal with drugs, was struck down this past summer but they are now arguing in the Senate to put back into use, killing old farmers who had the misfortune to have deed to some jungle land that has 4 plants growing NATURALLY on it! This is the Philippines!

UNLESS you are rich! Then you walk, no problem. Indeed, the Death Penalty debate is being hashed out again because of such a Rich Case. Sons of a local politico were running a hasish ring out of Baguio, a favourite tourist destination in the mountains on Luzon, the island that holds Manila.

Baguio is a favourite of Westerners, many actually live there, because of its temperate, non-tropical climate (47 F yesterday!). Pine Trees are far more common than plams, it can get as cold as 40 F which is great!

It sits in the mountains known as the "Cordilleras" which is a hot bed of rebellion, althoug only moderately so compared to just about all of Mindanao. Those mountains are also the place where most cannabis is grown in the country, with my island of Mindanao being a close second. Difference though, Luzon cannabis is for domestic consumption, especially tourists and tends to be lesser quality.

Down here we grow for livelihood and it is all red bud. 1000 pound loads are common here, where as one kilo there in Luzon is shocking. However, in Baguio, catering to foreigners' tastes they make hashish. Never had the pleasure of ever even seeing it so I cannot comment on the quality.

Some rich kids were selling hashish in Manila, from Bagiuo and when caught they offered 20 Million Pesos to avoid the Death Penalty Case, sadly for them they had the one cop in the country who did not want to get rich.

The case is now a national scandal that is only growing in intensity, the "Alabang Boys Case."

Also making waves is an incident that started on a golf course, don't they always? That one in my next entry.


I will continue...

I want:

A sweet beachfront house with cool architect.

A nice car to drive and a REALLY nice car to ride %)

A husband who loves me and respects my decision not to have kids. (they just make me nervous)

A great career to support my expensive tastes.

to visit the moon and stare in awe at the earth from afar.

To save someone's life.

Learn how to cook with out having to read the instructions every five min.

Own a great dane.

Visit Amsterdam, Ibiza, Ireland, & South Dekota

Have a conversation with the president of the United States.

Finish an album.

Get a tatoo.

Invent something useful.

Buy my parents a log cabin in the Mountains.

See the grand canyon (check!)

write a book.

I can't remember the last time we had a cold spell in Manila. We had a fiendishly hot summer this year (and it had been escalating for the past several years! ). It was so hot my plastic CD cases in the car would shrivel up in the noonday heat, and we had to have the aircon perpetually on high or suffer something close to heat stroke. (Electricity bills skyrocket tremendously during the summer months...bad).

Now it's sooo cold (well, to us tropical denizens anyway!) and I LOVE IT. I love this cooler weather. I love sleeping with the windows open , feeling the cool air, sometimes not even needing the fan. (Everybody here has an electric fan in each room ) According to an acquaintance's priest friend who just came from freezing Sagada (in the north part of my country) "The melting ice north of the Philippines is flowing our way . Manila may feel it this month until February." w00t!

While we're all loving this coolness, I can't help thinking about summer...I hope it won't be the complete opposite of the weather now! (there I go again...thinking of the worst that can happen weatherwise!) Please God, dont let our summer be unbearable because of this unexpected blessing.

(Probably hot to you Westerners...but you have to realize, this is the closest we have to winter! )

I registered for 2 classes today:

1) Intro to Sociology
2) Intro to Human Services

Cool! I feel REALLY good about this. It turns out that I already have 32 credits but not all apply to an Associates Degree.

All that I have to do is stay clean and focus.

Classes start in a couple weeks and I'll be going every day at the same time of day. This was intentional since I think its important to have a steady daily routine.

Cool, cool, cool!

Also, 'M' was watching Oprah (I know, I know!) and apparently calcium and magnesium prior to bed will help with my restless leg syndrome. So... I'm going to take my vitamins in the morning and prior to bedtime.

We'll see what happens %)