Now 2
7/29/07?
It is unclear to me why I must go out of my way to attack the Mafia. That is, outside of the continuous pain I encounter from various entities I ingest. OK I’m administering this blog, this Network of do gooders. So far it’s an unpaid position. In fact I’ve given up home internet access that could have been paid from revenue. I’ve written how Time Warner and AT&T are not worth the money or the hassle.
The library helps sevnetus.
Here’s the new address to send your pennies, millions and billions:
(Do you hear me Sheldon Adelson)
sevnetus
13829 Cedar Rd. #306
S. Euclid, OH 44118
Same zip. Otherwise we lost the apartment number 7. Same network receiving the same gifts of the Holy Spirit.
Maybe it’s because no one else will do it. I’m hear to tell you that that commercial with the fool singing opera and cutting photo booth photos has got to go. At least this Iraq war has got to go. We cannot spread this system of government that allows the Black Hand organizations to assault people like me at will.
No War.
Make Love, Not War.
Furthermore, these United States have another thing coming. If something big and bad happens, maybe it’s military people.
“My mother is mine.”
7/31/07
I’m returned from the bus stop, not to go swimming tonight, though I could use the exercise. On hindsight this looks like some of my crappier writing, but maybe I can save and post.
I’ve had a lot of pain and this bothers me. Enough to call off the Iraq war. Enough to call out the Church for its unhealthy symbiotic relationship with the Mob, even though I know I can’t take what they’re dishing out. I’ve got 16 years of education, a prayer group, and fairly recent Sacraments on my side. I don’t know for sure Who it is.
There’s other social commentary this blog is good for. Maybe a poem soon. This is important. The Doors tune goes, “When you’re strange, women seem wicked.” Well I’m not, but women seem unavailable to me politically speaking, maybe because I’m poor, politically speaking. But also because they’ve been conditioned by the Mob to be prude, Lesbian, mean, hookers, independent of partnership, or paranoid. Of course there are those of committed relationships like marriage
I can understand this, and if I get embarrassed by comment, maybe I’ll edit, retract, or heaven forbid, apologize. I should Blog more, like comment and spread the word. Good Luck and Have Fun.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Friday, July 27, 2007
9
Nine
7/21/07
A nine is a type of gun. Today’s poem had the execution of a deer with a blade as better than a gutshot bleedout and I wonder. Same dude I could have asked if he thought Iraq U.S. guys blown apart were heroes.
7/24/07
Nine is similar to a German word for No. Is the Pope… Is the Pope saying no to Vatican II? Is the Pope saying yes to throwing the Mafia out and using Latin as magic to combat the forces of evil? I wonder.
Nine is similar to Nin, the name of Anais, who was Henry Miller’s friend. I’ve just listened to a tape of her reading in ’72 at the NINEty Second Street Y (from her diary.) It reminded me that I liked Miller for more than just the sexy parts, these both writers are expansive, is the only word I can come up with now.
Nine is similar to Nin, the first name of a poet lady who fulfils promise. I heard her read, and her blog reminds me that we all need to do better than puppy dogs. And this is me trying to make friends as deemed…
Nine is unlike 5’6”, 215, a bleach blonde bomber with a streak of mean. This is my Roller Derby Queen. It’s the music anyway from Jim Croce, who I remember died in a plane crash, and where I was at the time I heard. My skates were black leather with yellow outdoor wheels and laces. I lost them in a move.
Did I mention I’m in pain?
Nine is the first part of the number 9:42, that comes up in the I Phone commercial. It came up in another poem that haunts me. Maybe you want to see what the number means to you.
7/21/07
A nine is a type of gun. Today’s poem had the execution of a deer with a blade as better than a gutshot bleedout and I wonder. Same dude I could have asked if he thought Iraq U.S. guys blown apart were heroes.
7/24/07
Nine is similar to a German word for No. Is the Pope… Is the Pope saying no to Vatican II? Is the Pope saying yes to throwing the Mafia out and using Latin as magic to combat the forces of evil? I wonder.
Nine is similar to Nin, the name of Anais, who was Henry Miller’s friend. I’ve just listened to a tape of her reading in ’72 at the NINEty Second Street Y (from her diary.) It reminded me that I liked Miller for more than just the sexy parts, these both writers are expansive, is the only word I can come up with now.
Nine is similar to Nin, the first name of a poet lady who fulfils promise. I heard her read, and her blog reminds me that we all need to do better than puppy dogs. And this is me trying to make friends as deemed…
Nine is unlike 5’6”, 215, a bleach blonde bomber with a streak of mean. This is my Roller Derby Queen. It’s the music anyway from Jim Croce, who I remember died in a plane crash, and where I was at the time I heard. My skates were black leather with yellow outdoor wheels and laces. I lost them in a move.
Did I mention I’m in pain?
Nine is the first part of the number 9:42, that comes up in the I Phone commercial. It came up in another poem that haunts me. Maybe you want to see what the number means to you.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Blog Post to End...
Blog Post to End …
7/14/07
Time Warner sent me a bill for another month. AT&T wants to sell me for Internet access, after it took me three months to get credit for the last imaginary deal they billed me for. Patti Smith sang “They’re throwing rocks at the tanks…” Today it’s like that in Israel, right or wrong, and Time Warner can expect, well I don’t know, I should stay out of trouble. They did write, “A collection fee of up to 25.00 will be added to your account for any payment collected at your door by a Time Warner Cable representative.”
These people are not going to be part of the network for good against evil. Another thing ATT used to do was sell internet access, and I’d tell them, “Help me, my phone is undependable, it gets scratchy, static like, and goes out no dial tone for a day at a time.” They should have known what the problem was from my explanation, and they were wrong about “resistance” and could only say maybe I’d owe $71.00.
So the plan was to try to live without the expense of home internet access. Some of these news sources are so conservative, it’s like brainwashing, and I can do without it.
I’ve moved. Now is a miracle. That’s the good news. Thanks for asking, but the pain is not better, it’s like I’m being tortured every day or every day, and no I don’t want it to continue. Today is my birthday, and I’m not really on speaking terms with my father, who is a psychological predator.
I’m in pain now and I’m going to break for swimming if I can. It’s Saturday and the ‘brary closes, but by tomorrow I’ve got to use my flash drive and post this, because Time Warner is trying to screw me as three of their customer service people have not helped me. Then maybe I’ll comment other writers’ blogs. Thanks.
7/15-16/07
I have to write more. I am in pain now. I cannot let the pain slow down my writing. I’ve been blowing off the JCC because I get poisoned there and I have not been able to do anything with the lifeguards or members. I have to write more, otherwise maybe I’m more like a bum. The Cable people are asking for trouble. I could not ask the Catholic woman-with-a-ten-year-old-son out for breakfast because I was up all night in pain. It’s amazing I made it to the art festival at all. Chipotle (may be a good place to eat.)
7/14/07
Time Warner sent me a bill for another month. AT&T wants to sell me for Internet access, after it took me three months to get credit for the last imaginary deal they billed me for. Patti Smith sang “They’re throwing rocks at the tanks…” Today it’s like that in Israel, right or wrong, and Time Warner can expect, well I don’t know, I should stay out of trouble. They did write, “A collection fee of up to 25.00 will be added to your account for any payment collected at your door by a Time Warner Cable representative.”
These people are not going to be part of the network for good against evil. Another thing ATT used to do was sell internet access, and I’d tell them, “Help me, my phone is undependable, it gets scratchy, static like, and goes out no dial tone for a day at a time.” They should have known what the problem was from my explanation, and they were wrong about “resistance” and could only say maybe I’d owe $71.00.
So the plan was to try to live without the expense of home internet access. Some of these news sources are so conservative, it’s like brainwashing, and I can do without it.
I’ve moved. Now is a miracle. That’s the good news. Thanks for asking, but the pain is not better, it’s like I’m being tortured every day or every day, and no I don’t want it to continue. Today is my birthday, and I’m not really on speaking terms with my father, who is a psychological predator.
I’m in pain now and I’m going to break for swimming if I can. It’s Saturday and the ‘brary closes, but by tomorrow I’ve got to use my flash drive and post this, because Time Warner is trying to screw me as three of their customer service people have not helped me. Then maybe I’ll comment other writers’ blogs. Thanks.
7/15-16/07
I have to write more. I am in pain now. I cannot let the pain slow down my writing. I’ve been blowing off the JCC because I get poisoned there and I have not been able to do anything with the lifeguards or members. I have to write more, otherwise maybe I’m more like a bum. The Cable people are asking for trouble. I could not ask the Catholic woman-with-a-ten-year-old-son out for breakfast because I was up all night in pain. It’s amazing I made it to the art festival at all. Chipotle (may be a good place to eat.)
Friday, June 8, 2007
Double Horn Honk
Double Horn Honk
What is being done to my left testicle is criminal. The pain is meant to do psychological damage to me. I mean damage beyond the ability to shake off the pain. Beyond the ability to say, “I had some pain in the past, it’s better now, so it doesn’t matter much.” I’m talking long lasting damage from torture. I’m talking fear of disfunctionality in the physical organ, the ability to provide testosterone. Emasculation. Does the phrase, “Dead meat” mean anything to you? For no good reason, these SOB’s are messing with me. This is when I could be running a worldwide network of powerful people. Instead, the question is should I go back to the BLACK night manager who followed me around the store and say, “Here, what you sold me is poison.”
The decision was that this is a daytime thing, that to deal against evil s/b done by the light of day. The double horn honk came as I left Giant Eagle with my double eggs and double gallon sale milk. Daytime I should wear my, “I am a Witness” T shirt that I garbage picked yesterday. I want to comment on other blogs and bring traffic here. Does this sound ridiculous? No.
What is being done to my left testicle is criminal. The pain is meant to do psychological damage to me. I mean damage beyond the ability to shake off the pain. Beyond the ability to say, “I had some pain in the past, it’s better now, so it doesn’t matter much.” I’m talking long lasting damage from torture. I’m talking fear of disfunctionality in the physical organ, the ability to provide testosterone. Emasculation. Does the phrase, “Dead meat” mean anything to you? For no good reason, these SOB’s are messing with me. This is when I could be running a worldwide network of powerful people. Instead, the question is should I go back to the BLACK night manager who followed me around the store and say, “Here, what you sold me is poison.”
The decision was that this is a daytime thing, that to deal against evil s/b done by the light of day. The double horn honk came as I left Giant Eagle with my double eggs and double gallon sale milk. Daytime I should wear my, “I am a Witness” T shirt that I garbage picked yesterday. I want to comment on other blogs and bring traffic here. Does this sound ridiculous? No.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Pane
6/2/07
Pane
Garbage time.
That meant that there was not to be a fair rendering of the facts.
Pane like window pane like WTTW, Chicago’s Window To The World, their public TV station.
Pane like a poetic reference as to what is going on with my testicles, pain. Real funny huh – not.
I trust what I write to be better Press than the public stations, though these are better than CBS, ABC, NBC, and FOX. I cannot read the far left like the Communists, The Nation, and Common Dreams. I scan the Huffington Post. This Blog is the big time. It is reporting, it is analysis. And if you are paying attention it is more.
Chicago’s got my pen pal, and it had Michael Jordan. Now we’ve got LeBron James and five days to celebrate that the Cavs, with Joe Tait and Zydrunis Ilgauskas are playing the NBA finals.
Pane also reminds me of a foreign word for bread, like money, like sperm. I’m in trouble, because Evil is stepping up to claim their prize. We will see their reward, and right now it looks like the bad guys win.
You know the Catholic priests have a Gay problem, and I wrote about their rare hooker problem. I prayed for a good outcome for the vendetta lady, and now my life is worth shit because I’m in so much pain and my urologist is good for nothing. He’s not going to like Universal Health Care or Socialized Medicine. These people have another thing coming.
That may be it, or was going to be. But since I’m claiming press, and I am anonymous, the number one 12 step program sucks. I could not drink their coffee, it was literally poison. I did not give them their dollar per meeting therefore, and instead of helping me deal with life on life’s terms, I was treated to rambling ignorant self indulgent black time wasters. I was verbally insulted by these same. And the romantic interplay that did not go on earns them the label of “Gay A.”
Fuck you shits who made the movie The Quiet. You gave the incest father the death penalty. Make Love not War. You are sick. The movie was sick. Edie Falco has a beautiful body and she got the approval to make this confusing movie.
I was going to phone this new poet lady, but because of my pain I could not carry this tune that my life was worth living. Hence, she gets a pass. Maybe tomorrow.
I should comment to my number one blogger lady. She dumped boyfriend dude. She gets the benefit of any doubt, and I look forward to her future adventures.
I, I, I bought this pork because I was angry and last time the sausage made me feel better. Here’s to poet ladies everywhere.
I follow PBS news, Charlie Rose, Tim Russert, and the McLaughlin group. It’s not original and it has been depressing. I’ve got my finger in the wind, and another in the dyke. Peace.
Pane
Garbage time.
That meant that there was not to be a fair rendering of the facts.
Pane like window pane like WTTW, Chicago’s Window To The World, their public TV station.
Pane like a poetic reference as to what is going on with my testicles, pain. Real funny huh – not.
I trust what I write to be better Press than the public stations, though these are better than CBS, ABC, NBC, and FOX. I cannot read the far left like the Communists, The Nation, and Common Dreams. I scan the Huffington Post. This Blog is the big time. It is reporting, it is analysis. And if you are paying attention it is more.
Chicago’s got my pen pal, and it had Michael Jordan. Now we’ve got LeBron James and five days to celebrate that the Cavs, with Joe Tait and Zydrunis Ilgauskas are playing the NBA finals.
Pane also reminds me of a foreign word for bread, like money, like sperm. I’m in trouble, because Evil is stepping up to claim their prize. We will see their reward, and right now it looks like the bad guys win.
You know the Catholic priests have a Gay problem, and I wrote about their rare hooker problem. I prayed for a good outcome for the vendetta lady, and now my life is worth shit because I’m in so much pain and my urologist is good for nothing. He’s not going to like Universal Health Care or Socialized Medicine. These people have another thing coming.
That may be it, or was going to be. But since I’m claiming press, and I am anonymous, the number one 12 step program sucks. I could not drink their coffee, it was literally poison. I did not give them their dollar per meeting therefore, and instead of helping me deal with life on life’s terms, I was treated to rambling ignorant self indulgent black time wasters. I was verbally insulted by these same. And the romantic interplay that did not go on earns them the label of “Gay A.”
Fuck you shits who made the movie The Quiet. You gave the incest father the death penalty. Make Love not War. You are sick. The movie was sick. Edie Falco has a beautiful body and she got the approval to make this confusing movie.
I was going to phone this new poet lady, but because of my pain I could not carry this tune that my life was worth living. Hence, she gets a pass. Maybe tomorrow.
I should comment to my number one blogger lady. She dumped boyfriend dude. She gets the benefit of any doubt, and I look forward to her future adventures.
I, I, I bought this pork because I was angry and last time the sausage made me feel better. Here’s to poet ladies everywhere.
I follow PBS news, Charlie Rose, Tim Russert, and the McLaughlin group. It’s not original and it has been depressing. I’ve got my finger in the wind, and another in the dyke. Peace.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
FOLLOW-UP
5/28/07
Follow-up
5/29/07
I’m going to morph this post. There’s so much to say, but it’s daylight and I’m going to go work out if I can. I’m in pain. You see every day is torment and or/torture for me in these here United States of America.
I think it's the MAFIA
“See what they gave you?” the black bus driver said to me today, ostensibly about the blank transfer he returned to me. “C” for cancer, for castration, “C” for Kill, that’s how I read it. You know I hoped it was the Neo-nazi’s, for it’s been easy for me to say “Never again,” about the Jewish Holocaust. I’m saying I’m part Jewish because “Jewish is as Jewish does,” and I’m doing too much to list here now. My family life has been genocide for me – no wife, no kids. No girlfriend, and I’m pissed off.
He left her, by the way. The black who impregnated my ex’s daughter twice. He left her. Friday here in Cleveland Hts., a nword stood over a white cop’s body, firing into kill him. I heard we never had a murder here, now this. I don’t think the blacks are going to like the sectarian violence here. Also, it was a black woman sugar sweet as they hurt me at Wendy’s Sunday.
Catholic’s have been good for shit, for me. I sent those hundred emails for help and got nothing.
The vendetta lady? I go to prayer group and pray for her cancer. I told her about my grade school. Now two drug addict hooker ladies extorted $19,000 checks plus against the pastor and the church is boarded up.
I shit you not. Pray for me. At my mother’s grave yesterday, my father said, “She loved me – I don’t know about you.” I told my counselor today it’s like a space walk tether to Catholics. These people are good for nothing. I like Naked Hope Dangling – it’s what I read.
5/30/07
Update:
At the JCC tonight there was some coughing, and I swore at the source and told them to take care of that. There I swam.
To get there, I rode the bus. To the black man wearing the A’s cap in front of me I accidentally said, “You’re going to be shot dead in the street.” I wasn’t thinking, or was merely thinking aloud and did not wish to confront him, but it came out because I was in angry pain. I think he heard me.
I am in pain now.
I was in pain then. To the woman with the I pod I said, “You look nice. You have nice fingernails. I hope to see you…” Here my voice trailed off as she removed her headphones. I had meant to say “…see you again.” I said, “Have a nice life.” And I meant it in a nice way, and she seemed happy with the attention.”
When I grow up I’m going to write a romance script where the guy gets the girl. On a bus where strangers meet. This woman tonight had looks worth living and dying for, and I let her go. Yesterday was hours looking at the Monet exhibit, and the ritzy people at the museum, and this woman today was beautiful.
Regrets, I have a few. Maybe I can write a nature poem about the fawn I almost ran into with my bicycle tonight. I didn’t know a dear that small could gracefully scamper. I regret that these two poetry ladies have not returned my email.
The address I recommend is nakedhope.blogspot.com. She published my comment. I believe in her blog. And may get off my but and blogroll it for free. By now, Mr. Network manager (Me) s/b managing the apparatus to defeat evil and solve LARGE economic problems. Instead I’m complaining of pain below the belt where my evil enemies have focused their attack. I resolve to be a worthy writer.
I have not forgotten that my call for help fell on deaf ears. It’s OK if this all male school asks for money – but if I ask, they haven’t seen It’s a Wonderful Life. I have believed in them, and gone to church until… That’s another story for another day, and I do have another story to tell.
Follow-up
5/29/07
I’m going to morph this post. There’s so much to say, but it’s daylight and I’m going to go work out if I can. I’m in pain. You see every day is torment and or/torture for me in these here United States of America.
I think it's the MAFIA
“See what they gave you?” the black bus driver said to me today, ostensibly about the blank transfer he returned to me. “C” for cancer, for castration, “C” for Kill, that’s how I read it. You know I hoped it was the Neo-nazi’s, for it’s been easy for me to say “Never again,” about the Jewish Holocaust. I’m saying I’m part Jewish because “Jewish is as Jewish does,” and I’m doing too much to list here now. My family life has been genocide for me – no wife, no kids. No girlfriend, and I’m pissed off.
He left her, by the way. The black who impregnated my ex’s daughter twice. He left her. Friday here in Cleveland Hts., a nword stood over a white cop’s body, firing into kill him. I heard we never had a murder here, now this. I don’t think the blacks are going to like the sectarian violence here. Also, it was a black woman sugar sweet as they hurt me at Wendy’s Sunday.
Catholic’s have been good for shit, for me. I sent those hundred emails for help and got nothing.
The vendetta lady? I go to prayer group and pray for her cancer. I told her about my grade school. Now two drug addict hooker ladies extorted $19,000 checks plus against the pastor and the church is boarded up.
I shit you not. Pray for me. At my mother’s grave yesterday, my father said, “She loved me – I don’t know about you.” I told my counselor today it’s like a space walk tether to Catholics. These people are good for nothing. I like Naked Hope Dangling – it’s what I read.
5/30/07
Update:
At the JCC tonight there was some coughing, and I swore at the source and told them to take care of that. There I swam.
To get there, I rode the bus. To the black man wearing the A’s cap in front of me I accidentally said, “You’re going to be shot dead in the street.” I wasn’t thinking, or was merely thinking aloud and did not wish to confront him, but it came out because I was in angry pain. I think he heard me.
I am in pain now.
I was in pain then. To the woman with the I pod I said, “You look nice. You have nice fingernails. I hope to see you…” Here my voice trailed off as she removed her headphones. I had meant to say “…see you again.” I said, “Have a nice life.” And I meant it in a nice way, and she seemed happy with the attention.”
When I grow up I’m going to write a romance script where the guy gets the girl. On a bus where strangers meet. This woman tonight had looks worth living and dying for, and I let her go. Yesterday was hours looking at the Monet exhibit, and the ritzy people at the museum, and this woman today was beautiful.
Regrets, I have a few. Maybe I can write a nature poem about the fawn I almost ran into with my bicycle tonight. I didn’t know a dear that small could gracefully scamper. I regret that these two poetry ladies have not returned my email.
The address I recommend is nakedhope.blogspot.com. She published my comment. I believe in her blog. And may get off my but and blogroll it for free. By now, Mr. Network manager (Me) s/b managing the apparatus to defeat evil and solve LARGE economic problems. Instead I’m complaining of pain below the belt where my evil enemies have focused their attack. I resolve to be a worthy writer.
I have not forgotten that my call for help fell on deaf ears. It’s OK if this all male school asks for money – but if I ask, they haven’t seen It’s a Wonderful Life. I have believed in them, and gone to church until… That’s another story for another day, and I do have another story to tell.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Obligatory
5/27/07
Obligatory
Well I’m in pain and it feels like A number 1 torture medication below the belt. I wanted to publish something to change the topic from the language of hate, that I’m not expert at. I sent out two emails that got ignored, and this hurt my feelings. One of them had me briefly mention a group of people I’m having trouble with, and I worry though I can’t imagine repercussions from my mildness. The other went to a beautiful lady… who apparently isn’t buying my good nature.
It’s been brought to my attention that the internet here is good for freedom of expression. I agree. Where else can you get this kind of stuff, like what I write here? Well I’m up for a while because of this pain. The sensitive area has me bouncing off the walls, and emotionally it puts me through a ringer. I don’t trust this writing. I am suffering. It could be the Mob. It could be the CIA. It could be none of the above.
It could be because I started with my red hat to the JCC. I did not get there before close because of atrocious bus service. I told my bike mechanic that my front light had probably been ripped off (from the front of a bus bike rack.) A glue and clamp weld job held up on my bike frame, as I partially explained to this #2 mechanic. I pulled out the business card of my #1 mechanic, but did not cross two streets to phone him, when this other guy had the lights I like. #1 rebuilt my front wheel when other shops would not. I want to give him business if I can, but not today, I did not.
It could be because I gave my $20 bill cash to Rite Aid. I got change back and gave a $10 bill and a $5 to the mechanic, because has seemed to prefer exact change in the past, as opposed to this $20 bill is good for the underground economy thing. Perhaps we should be a little more Left than spending $20 at Rite Aid – I don’t know.
Perhaps it was because I said “Not tonight” to the Blockbuster manager who asked “Nothing for you tonight?” I said, “Not tonight,” and nothing about the forty emails they’ve sent me that my Visa has expired, and that my queue is empty (because I don’t want to pay their prices for mail service videos.) I had checked out movies for an hour, and used their pisshole too. This restroom was complete with paper clip flush chain. The beautiful blonde in her red prom dress and her black basketball looking dude of a date were probably sent in to frost me, as one of my favorite ex-girl friends now has not one, but two black grandchildren. This is probably a favored means of punishment by the Mafia – black children. This hurts me, my ex, and her daughter.
If you don’t believe me, take a look around.
And maybe by now you don’t like me because you cannot handle the truth.
It is now afternoon and I got some rest. I have arisen with pain. Before I slept I wrote these notes: “Healthcare and gas prices. Precious few bloggers who put up with my comments, as a way to publicize this good guy network.” This was tired lazy attempts to say politicians don’t speak enough about healthcare and gasoline prices. Also, I’ve not done much to publicize this good guy network blog, except comment on a few writers’ blogs. I respect these people. I don’t want to piss them off. But what also happened yesterday was this: On a short bike ride I heard a black woman’s voice yell out “Fag!” and at the time I assumed it was at me. I still think this, and that she maybe did not like my red plastic souvenir baseball hat (that also functions as a bicycle helmet.)
What am I to do with this information? I say publish while I can. I may have to pull this down or edit later. I can blog like crazy, commenting on others blogs if I care to go that avenue. I am in pain. Look if I want to be controversial, I should do a better job of defending my positions. Even if I’m doing the business of fighting evil. But time is short, and if I was going to make one point it is this:
It is the perceived apparent poisoning that goes on around my apartment. I should have taken the landlady’s offer to change the locks. Now I have to move anyway, and because of this complicated issue. Maybe they didn’t like my Imus piece – I’ve got to pick my battles.
Love,
Sevnetus
Send money.
Obligatory
Well I’m in pain and it feels like A number 1 torture medication below the belt. I wanted to publish something to change the topic from the language of hate, that I’m not expert at. I sent out two emails that got ignored, and this hurt my feelings. One of them had me briefly mention a group of people I’m having trouble with, and I worry though I can’t imagine repercussions from my mildness. The other went to a beautiful lady… who apparently isn’t buying my good nature.
It’s been brought to my attention that the internet here is good for freedom of expression. I agree. Where else can you get this kind of stuff, like what I write here? Well I’m up for a while because of this pain. The sensitive area has me bouncing off the walls, and emotionally it puts me through a ringer. I don’t trust this writing. I am suffering. It could be the Mob. It could be the CIA. It could be none of the above.
It could be because I started with my red hat to the JCC. I did not get there before close because of atrocious bus service. I told my bike mechanic that my front light had probably been ripped off (from the front of a bus bike rack.) A glue and clamp weld job held up on my bike frame, as I partially explained to this #2 mechanic. I pulled out the business card of my #1 mechanic, but did not cross two streets to phone him, when this other guy had the lights I like. #1 rebuilt my front wheel when other shops would not. I want to give him business if I can, but not today, I did not.
It could be because I gave my $20 bill cash to Rite Aid. I got change back and gave a $10 bill and a $5 to the mechanic, because has seemed to prefer exact change in the past, as opposed to this $20 bill is good for the underground economy thing. Perhaps we should be a little more Left than spending $20 at Rite Aid – I don’t know.
Perhaps it was because I said “Not tonight” to the Blockbuster manager who asked “Nothing for you tonight?” I said, “Not tonight,” and nothing about the forty emails they’ve sent me that my Visa has expired, and that my queue is empty (because I don’t want to pay their prices for mail service videos.) I had checked out movies for an hour, and used their pisshole too. This restroom was complete with paper clip flush chain. The beautiful blonde in her red prom dress and her black basketball looking dude of a date were probably sent in to frost me, as one of my favorite ex-girl friends now has not one, but two black grandchildren. This is probably a favored means of punishment by the Mafia – black children. This hurts me, my ex, and her daughter.
If you don’t believe me, take a look around.
And maybe by now you don’t like me because you cannot handle the truth.
It is now afternoon and I got some rest. I have arisen with pain. Before I slept I wrote these notes: “Healthcare and gas prices. Precious few bloggers who put up with my comments, as a way to publicize this good guy network.” This was tired lazy attempts to say politicians don’t speak enough about healthcare and gasoline prices. Also, I’ve not done much to publicize this good guy network blog, except comment on a few writers’ blogs. I respect these people. I don’t want to piss them off. But what also happened yesterday was this: On a short bike ride I heard a black woman’s voice yell out “Fag!” and at the time I assumed it was at me. I still think this, and that she maybe did not like my red plastic souvenir baseball hat (that also functions as a bicycle helmet.)
What am I to do with this information? I say publish while I can. I may have to pull this down or edit later. I can blog like crazy, commenting on others blogs if I care to go that avenue. I am in pain. Look if I want to be controversial, I should do a better job of defending my positions. Even if I’m doing the business of fighting evil. But time is short, and if I was going to make one point it is this:
It is the perceived apparent poisoning that goes on around my apartment. I should have taken the landlady’s offer to change the locks. Now I have to move anyway, and because of this complicated issue. Maybe they didn’t like my Imus piece – I’ve got to pick my battles.
Love,
Sevnetus
Send money.
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