Sunday, February 05, 2006
Che and I
Che and I have a lot in common. We Love the people. We want Revolution. We Love children. We both smoke cigars. Still, however, I am a much better dancer, and a much worse organizer.
More than anything, I want to change the world. I don't care if I'm remembered in history. I don't care if I never fall in Love again. I don't care if I live another day. I want it all to change. Everything. I want it all done correctly. No more of those stupid bullshit excuses: "It's always been that way." "You can never completely end war." BULL-FUCKING-SHIT! Don't give me that bull-fucking-shit! Are you saying it is OK for the future generations to continue senseless and horrific slaughter of innocents and guilties alike? BULL-FUCKING-SHIT! That's like saying: "I can't stop beating my kids. Abuse is all they've every known. You can't expect their system to do well without me beating the fuck out of them. I mean, you don't want to shock their system. Maybe I won't beat them as hard the next time. We'll wean them off the beatings. Yeah! That's what we'll do. Not being abusive could be just as abusive and abuse itself." BULL-FUCKING-SHIT! Stop it. Stop it now. I won't let you wean yourself off of war. I wan't you to completely fucking stop it. Period.
Last night I went to a family dance being called by my housemate, Heidi. It's always fun for me to watch these events. It is always a good feeling to help my housemate with these things. She is awesome. Her folk dance troupe is awesome. She tries to change the world through international folk dance. She teaches the children to think outside of themselves through dance. I try to be a wall flower during these things. Heidi, for some reason, doesn't appreciate my shy type of behavior around these types of social occasions, and will bring much attention my way in order to get me out of my chair and joining in the celebration.
On the ride in to KBOO on the 45 bus, a young woman came up to me and introduced herself. "Aren't you a KBOO volunteer?" she asked. "Yes," I said. Turns out she does some of the BOO calendar and works on the news. Her name is Latoya, and she is also learning to be a reporter. She is in a bicycle mechanics program and is going to be doing reporting on bike stuff around Portland. Suddenly, I know the Revolution is a real possibility.
We're everywhere...and yes...we are coming for you children...BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!
It's a beautiful sunny day, and I have in my possession a cigar that was created in 1990. It will be smoked, probably along the Eastside walkway soon.
More than anything, I want to change the world. I don't care if I'm remembered in history. I don't care if I never fall in Love again. I don't care if I live another day. I want it all to change. Everything. I want it all done correctly. No more of those stupid bullshit excuses: "It's always been that way." "You can never completely end war." BULL-FUCKING-SHIT! Don't give me that bull-fucking-shit! Are you saying it is OK for the future generations to continue senseless and horrific slaughter of innocents and guilties alike? BULL-FUCKING-SHIT! That's like saying: "I can't stop beating my kids. Abuse is all they've every known. You can't expect their system to do well without me beating the fuck out of them. I mean, you don't want to shock their system. Maybe I won't beat them as hard the next time. We'll wean them off the beatings. Yeah! That's what we'll do. Not being abusive could be just as abusive and abuse itself." BULL-FUCKING-SHIT! Stop it. Stop it now. I won't let you wean yourself off of war. I wan't you to completely fucking stop it. Period.
Last night I went to a family dance being called by my housemate, Heidi. It's always fun for me to watch these events. It is always a good feeling to help my housemate with these things. She is awesome. Her folk dance troupe is awesome. She tries to change the world through international folk dance. She teaches the children to think outside of themselves through dance. I try to be a wall flower during these things. Heidi, for some reason, doesn't appreciate my shy type of behavior around these types of social occasions, and will bring much attention my way in order to get me out of my chair and joining in the celebration.
On the ride in to KBOO on the 45 bus, a young woman came up to me and introduced herself. "Aren't you a KBOO volunteer?" she asked. "Yes," I said. Turns out she does some of the BOO calendar and works on the news. Her name is Latoya, and she is also learning to be a reporter. She is in a bicycle mechanics program and is going to be doing reporting on bike stuff around Portland. Suddenly, I know the Revolution is a real possibility.
We're everywhere...and yes...we are coming for you children...BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!
It's a beautiful sunny day, and I have in my possession a cigar that was created in 1990. It will be smoked, probably along the Eastside walkway soon.
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