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June 28, 2013

"I have lots of older siblings, and as they started to leave the house, I went from cooking once a week to twice, three times, and so on. After a while, it was just like making the bed." - Hugh Jackman

"Your parents leave you too soon and your kids and spouse come along late, but your siblings know you when you are in your most inchoate form." - Jeffrey Kluger

"It's one of the worst-kept secrets of family life that all parents have a preferred son or daughter, and the rules for acknowledging it are the same everywhere: The favored kids recognize their status and keep quiet about it - the better to preserve the good thing they've got going and to keep their siblings off their back." - Jeffrey Kluger

"Mysteries and thrillers are not the same things, though they are literary siblings. Roughly put, I would say the distinction is that mysteries emphasize motive and psychology whereas thrillers rely more heavily on action and plot." - Jon Meacham

"My parents were both Spanish-speakers and they used to speak to me and my siblings in Spanish and we'd answer them in English." - America Ferrera

Aloha!

Happy Friday!

Shall we dance?

Thank you, yes.

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Travesty: (burlesque, ridiculous imitation)

That presentation was a travesty of the original.

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Take it away Mr. Bill Maher. Break a leg. Good luck. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Gabriel

Okay… the work week isn’t over yet.

Let’s roll up our sleeves…

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I can’t get her beautiful face out of my mind’s eye.

No, I don’t have a romantic or sexual crush on her only respect and pure trust in her smell.

I’ve known her smell ever since I was fifteen and that never leaves one’s DNA.

The memory of all those who’ve come before us and whom we respect and trust from afar is something that never leaves us and it’s quite special. I can honestly say that I love her like an older sister even though she has no idea that I’ve heard about her politico gutter-punk leadership for about eighteen plus some years.

This is a dignified woman that I trust implicitly even though she’s ignored me like a little kid all these years and we’ve never so much as said one single word to one another.

She’s a pillar of strength, beauty and fierce culture to me.

I had always loved her like an older sibling even though to this day she still has no clue as to who I am. She has no clue that I exist or that we were schoolmates.

After all these years she still doesn’t recognize my face so I pretend not to be acquainted in any way possible. I do everything in my power for us to never meet each others’ eye even though I still have the same inclination to stare at her as I did when I was fifteen. Some things never change.

If she were so much as to look in my direction I overt my gaze downward and pretend not to take any notice of her. I’m Costa Rican. What can I say? A lot more but I don’t.

The last time I looked upon her I had covered her with a sleeping bag and watched over her well into the early morning hours…until sunrise, listened to her breathe to make sure that she didn’t choke on her own vomit. To this day she still has no idea that I kept watch over her that second week in June of 1995. (No, I don’t need a medal.) That June she’d just recently graduated and I was ever so proud of her accomplishments.

As she lay on a dirty white kitchen floor in a dingy gutter-punk flat just behind the Wedge in Uptown on Franklyn Avenue I sat right outside the kitchen door on the top wooden step and watched the night sky go by while my schoolmates got wasted.

I ignored them and they ignored me but we all got on quite famously and they knew that I wanted to be social without having to interact too much or have to say too much. From time to time my schoolmates would come-in and check on her and me and then they’d go back inside the flat and rock ‘n’ roll gutter-punk style. No, I was never a gutter-punk and we debated ferociously. We hated each other so much that what else is there but to love.

I listened to her shallow breathing because I cared whether she lived or died that night.

At one point she’d told me to “Go fuck yourself.” Thank you, no. I wanted to tell her “You go fuck yourself.” But she was already in hell and I wouldn’t have meant it so I held my tongue. I ignored her roar because she puked large chunks of…into her gorgeous mangled long hair and studded vest.

At one point, when she blacked-out, without ever touching her, I studied her hair, for a short moment, while I could, and realized that she had broken bits of leaves in it. She was as unique an animal as those that I had studied in the jungles. She came with teeth, claws and fangs. I liked her anyway even though she held the power to be intellectually abusive and a social bully.

She didn’t scare me but I respected that she was standoffish and insulting when she meant to be. I’d studied her from afar and learned that she was true to her nature and that’s why I respected her.

She’d always been an important figure in my life. No, I’ve never told anyone how much she’d meant to me until this very hour that I put ink to paper.

I became the very woman that I am because of her.

No, I won’t pour out my heart across the page.

I’d feel, too, silly in doing so.

You’ve got no idea how deeply stoic I am. More so than the Scandinavians because the Costa Ricans have got them beat in that department.

The first time I ever stopped and really watched her, she stood by a large dug out hole into a cement floor during an interior renovation to a building. She stood surrounded by television sets that outlined the day’s menu, construction bulbs and a sledgehammer. How queer it all seemed to me.

People stood on a second floor balcony looking on at her as she played her harmonica. I stood by the dugout hole and tried to get as close as I could without having her pounce on me for getting too close. When in the jungle…

I didn’t know what to make of the setting, the place, the people and her but I liked it. We played musical chairs to win the title of the “Bagel King and Queen.” She was the master of ceremonies.

Once, I tried asking her one cultural question but she blatantly ignored me and I never spoke to her again. I’m a proud Bostonian and I don’t make the same mistakes twice.

Every time that she was around us I could slightly let down my guard because I knew that we were safe in her presence. She’s a panther.

Even though we’re equals we’re not the same and we don’t hold any pretence about that. She’s powerful and so am I.

Best regards and with love;

Gabriel

Correction; the Periscope folks don’t cross Washington Avenue to go to the cafeteria on their lunch hour. They cross South 10^th Avenue. Thank you.

I’m sorry to hear that “Crash & Sue’s” has filed for bankruptcy. Pity.

I love the new Target commercials. I can’t look away. They’re much friendlier.

June 27, 2013

“If you study the writings of the mystics, you will always find things in them that appear to be paradoxes, as in Zen, particularly.” - Alan Watts

“The only Zen you can find on the tops of mountains is the Zen you bring up there.” - Robert M. Pirsig

“I think any spiritual experience that's worthwhile is not about ego and it will humble you in some way. And also, a Zen monk once said to me, 'If you're not laughing, then you're not getting it.'” - David O. Russell

“Surfing soothes me, it's always been a kind of Zen experience for me. The ocean is so magnificent, peaceful, and awesome. The rest of the world disappears for me when I'm on a wave.” - Paul Walker

“I use a Bruce Lee technique: 'The way of no way.' He had the idea that he would learn everything, so that whoever he had to fight, he could improvise anything. The best way of starting a gig is just to not think of anything - to clear your mind, not in an empty Zen state, but more just to go on and see where you go.” - Eddie Izzard

Aloha!

Happy Thursday!

Shall we dance?

Thank you, yes.

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Terse: (concise, free of superfluous words, brief)

A terse report was submitted to the proper authorities.

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I love Minnesota for so many reasons… I do.

I was adopted to Minnesota in 1987 when the Twins won the World Series.

We were married by the coolest judge down at City Hall on April 16, 2009.

We adopt our first bambino on Monday, July 1st, 2013. (No, I’m not a hypocrite.)

We hope to race our children here without too much racism, prejudice or discrimination.

Once at the age of thirteen I had a near-drowning experience amongst the strong Minnesota undertow Lake Superior waves upon the shores of... I was dragged out by the tough currents, pulled under, thrown and whipped around without barely able to gasp for one single good breath of air.

I said my Mayan prayers and thought, ‘This is the end.’

Until suddenly I felt the strong hands of my older Ipswich Lifeguard cousin, who, caught a hold of my left forearm and pulled me out of the roaring waves. I have him to thank for saving my young life. I shan’t forget it.

No, I don’t love living in Minnesota at the moment. As a matter of fact I detest it.

Nevertheless, I love how the pre-dusk light turns a defused orange with bright hue outlines upon the sun and leftover streaks of warmth.

I love living in Minnesota because my adopted family and In-Laws reside here.

I love that the Robbinsdale police officers stopped and purchased lemonade from a little girl’s lemonade stand. I love that! Our Robbinsdale police force is not only well informed, polite, intelligent and kind but they also care about what happens to our neighborhoods, streets and city. Thank you. (We loved the picture of you guys at the lemonade stand.)

I like the intelligence of the Robbinsdale Mayor.

I love that the Science Museum has a Maya exhibit. Thank you. It doesn’t go unnoticed. I’ll make it before January 4th, 2014. I’ll reserve all judgment and emotion and take in the sights like a good little tourist. Ha!

I love living in Minnesota because I get to see wildlife every single day.

The little red cardinal birds have become my favorite types of birds.

I love the trees and flowers.

I love the lakes.

I love the rhubarb.

I love the Mulberry and Willow trees in our backyard.

I love living in Minnesota because the alphabetical street signs make sense.

There are so many things to love: Like fresh air, people, who, for the most part mind their own business.

I love living in Minnesota because the politics mean something for the overall safety of its people. I like that the politicians seem to care about what happens to our communities because they reside amongst their constituents and understand the culture.

I love this place, this city, this state because I met seven of my best friends here (none are from the Arts High School).

I love this town because I feel the excitement of change and progress in the air.

I love this town because we believe in inexpensive, seasonal and locally grown organics.

I love this town because the street garbage is manageable although it could be better in North Minneapolis since I drive Broadway Avenue to get over to the other side of the city at the edge of Northeast, Minneapolis.

I love the street art, creative stickers, yarn-art, and political activism.

I love that people are physically beautiful to look at.

I love that people have amazing skin and I can’t help but stare at perfectly good looking strangers and be amazed by their radiant skin.

I love that I’ve structured and produced some of my best work here in Minneapolis.

I'm grateful that I was able to perform at the Walker Arts Center at the age of nineteen.

I love that I got to meet and personally speak to Senator Paul Wellstone before he passed away.

I love our Minnesota Twins as much as I love the Boston Red Sox.

I love the losing Vikings.

I love the Timberwolves (basketball team.)

I love the Minnesota Lynx (basketball team.)

I love our safe, clean and professional bank downtown, Minneapolis.

I love the parked; downtown, Minneapolis food trucks although the food is unnecessarily pricy.

I love seeing our former colleagues do the nightly news on Twin Cities television.

I love and trust our newspaper royalty in this city.

I trust in North Memorial Hospital, their doctors and staff because they saved my life on November of 2011.

I love the sidewalks that I’ve fallen off of my skateboard and gotten a nasty case of the road-rashes on my elbows.

I love because I believe in this city otherwise I wouldn’t be so bothered by the racism, prejudice, discrimination and social injustice.

I love therefore I am.

I can’t explain to you what it means for us to live here. This is a gorgeous town with a bad attitude that requires some adjustment otherwise it’s difficult to trust in businesses and their owners, staff and volunteers.

We work hard and we deliver great quality productions because this is where we reside, pay taxes and most likely we’ll send our children to public school education amongst your young.

I believe in our neighbors even though we communicate radically different and even if I were bleeding to death upon the sidewalk in front of our home I’d rather die then ask them for help. Ha!

I believe in our democracy, our economy and our hardworking people.

I believe…

I want to fall head over heels in love with this town… but…I can’t stomach the…

Sincerely,

Gabriel

P.S. Thank you; to the eleven states from around the Midwest helping-out the Twin Cities’ residents clean up after this damaging one-hundred million dollar storm. Thank you to the firefighters. We appreciate it. No Act of Random Kindness goes unnoticed in this city.

*) My new heroine: Wendy Davis: We, The People appreciate it. Thank you!!! Your efforts don’t go unnoticed. We’re so proud of your straightforward efforts and dignified courage. What a lovely woman. She made me believe in our everlasting ‘Beacon of Hope,’ once more.

June 26, 2013

“Every American, regardless of their background, has the right to live free of unwarranted government intrusion. Repealing the worst provisions of the Patriot Act will reign in this gross abuse of power and restore to everyone our basic Constitutional rights.” - Pete Stark

“Our political and constitutional rights, so called, are but the natural and inherent rights of man, asserted, carried out, and secured by modes of human contrivance.” - Gerrit Smith

“We would be false to our trust if we allowed the time it takes to give effect to constitutional rights to be used as the very reason for taking away those rights.” - Frank Murphy

“In this film George presents issues that are important, essential and vital, whoever you are, about constitutional rights and the bedrock of a democracy. I am drawn to those kinds of stories because they inspire me - they are responsible to a populace and responsible to man.” - David Strathairn

Aloha!

Happy Wednesday!

Shall we dance?

Thank you, yes.

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Tether: (to tie by rope or chain, confine)

Each cowboy attempted to tether the outraged animal but none succeeded.

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What a whirlwind week!

Congratulations on prop 8!

We have much work ahead of us, but tonight we raise a glass in your honor!

Hip! Hip! Hooray!

Hip! Hip! Hooray!

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Wow! This America of ours sure is unstable.

Now, about Voting Rights: Recommended reading for you.

Online source:

AMENDMENT XIV

Passed by Congress June 13, 1866. Ratified July 9, 1868.

Note: Article I, section 2, of the Constitution was modified by section 2 of the 14th amendment.

Section 1.

All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside. No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.

Section 2.

Representatives shall be apportioned among the several States according to their respective numbers, counting the whole number of persons in each State, excluding Indians not taxed. But when the right to vote at any election for the choice of electors for President and Vice-President of the United States, Representatives in Congress, the Executive and Judicial officers of a State, or the members of the Legislature thereof, is denied to any of the male inhabitants of such State, being twenty-one years of age,* and citizens of the United States, or in any way abridged, except for participation in rebellion, or other crime, the basis of representation therein shall be reduced in the proportion which the number of such male citizens shall bear to the whole number of male citizens twenty-one years of age in such State.

Section 3.

No person shall be a Senator or Representative in Congress, or elector of President and Vice-President, or hold any office, civil or military, under the United States, or under any State, who, having previously taken an oath, as a member of Congress, or as an officer of the United States, or as a member of any State legislature, or as an executive or judicial officer of any State, to support the Constitution of the United States, shall have engaged in insurrection or rebellion against the same, or given aid or comfort to the enemies thereof. But Congress may by a vote of two-thirds of each House, remove such disability.

Section 4.

The validity of the public debt of the United States, authorized by law, including debts incurred for payment of pensions and bounties for services in suppressing insurrection or rebellion, shall not be questioned. But neither the United States nor any State shall assume or pay any debt or obligation incurred in aid of insurrection or rebellion against the United States, or any claim for the loss or emancipation of any slave; but all such debts, obligations and claims shall be held illegal and void.

Section 5.

The Congress shall have the power to enforce, by appropriate legislation, the provisions of this article.

*Changed by section 1 of the 26th amendment.

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AMENDMENT XV

Passed by Congress February 26, 1869. Ratified February 3, 1870.

Section 1.

The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of race, color, or previous condition of servitude

Section 2.

The Congress shall have the power to enforce this article by appropriate legislation.

Online source:

"Voting Rights Act of 1965."

AN ACT To enforce the fifteenth amendment to the Constitution of the United States, and for other purposes.

Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled, That this Act shall be known as the "Voting Rights Act of 1965."

SEC. 2. No voting qualification or prerequisite to voting, or standard, practice, or procedure shall be imposed or applied by any State or political subdivision to deny or abridge the right of any citizen of the United States to vote on account of race or color.

SEC. 3. (a) Whenever the Attorney General institutes a proceeding under any statute to enforce the guarantees of the fifteenth amendment in any State or political subdivision the court shall authorize the appointment of Federal examiners by the United States Civil Service Commission in accordance with section 6 to serve for such period of time and for such political subdivisions as the court shall determine is appropriate to enforce the guarantees of the fifteenth amendment (1) as part of any interlocutory order if the court determines that the appointment of such examiners is necessary to enforce such guarantees or (2) as part of any final judgment if the court finds that violations of the fifteenth amendment justifying equitable relief have occurred in such State or subdivision: Provided, That the court need not authorize the appointment of examiners if any incidents of denial or abridgement of the right to vote on account of race or color (1) have been few in number and have been promptly and effectively corrected by State or local action, (2) the continuing effect of such incidents has been eliminated, and (3) there is no reasonable probability of their recurrence in the future.

(b) If in a proceeding instituted by the Attorney General under any statute to enforce the guarantees of the fifteenth amendment in any State or political subdivision the court finds that a test or device has been used for the purpose or with the effect of denying or abridging the right of any citizen of the United States to vote on account of race or color, it shall suspend the use of tests and devices in such State or political subdivisions as the court shall determine is appropriate and for such period as it deems necessary.

(c) If in any proceeding instituted by the Attorney General under any statute to enforce the guarantees of the fifteenth amendment in any State or political subdivision the court finds that violations of the fifteenth amendment justifying equitable relief have occurred within the territory of such State or political subdivision, the court, in addition to such relief as it may grant, shall retain jurisdiction for such period as it may deem appropriate and during such period no voting qualification or prerequisite to voting, or standard, practice, or procedure with respect to voting different from that in force or effect at the time the proceeding was commenced shall be enforced unless and until the court finds that such qualification, prerequisite, standard, practice, or procedure does not have the purpose and will not have the effect of denying or abridging the right to vote on account of race or color: Provided, That such qualification, prerequisite, standard, practice, or procedure may be enforced if the qualification, prerequisite, standard, practice, or procedure has been submitted by the chief legal officer or other appropriate official of such State or subdivision to the Attorney General and the Attorney General has not interposed an objection within sixty days after such submission, except that neither the court's finding nor the Attorney General's failure to object shall bar a subsequent action to enjoin enforcement of such qualification, prerequisite, standard, practice, or procedure.

SEC. 4. (a) To assure that the right of citizens of the United States to vote is not denied or abridged on account of race or color, no citizen shall be denied the right to vote in any Federal, State, or local election because of his failure to comply with any test or device in any State with respect to which the determinations have been made under subsection (b) or in any political subdivision with respect to which such determinations have been made as a separate unit, unless the United States District Court for the District of Columbia in an action for a declaratory judgment brought by such State or subdivision against the United States has determined that no such test or device has been used during the five years preceding the filing of the action for the purpose or with the effect of denying or abridging the right to vote on account of race or color: Provided, That no such declaratory judgment shall issue with respect to any plaintiff for a period of five years after the entry of a final judgment of any court of the United States, other than the denial of a declaratory judgment under this section, whether entered prior to or after the enactment of this Act, determining that denials or abridgments of the right to vote on account of race or color through the use of such tests or devices have occurred anywhere in the territory of such plaintiff. An action pursuant to this subsection shall be heard and determined by a court of three judges in accordance with the provisions of section 2284 of title 28 of the United States Code and any appeal shall lie to the Supreme Court. The court shall retain jurisdiction of any action pursuant to this subsection for five years after judgment and shall reopen the action upon motion of the Attorney General alleging that a test or device has been used for the purpose or with the effect of denying or abridging the right to vote on account of race or color.

If the Attorney General determines that he has no reason to believe that any such test or device has been used during the five years preceding the filing of the action for the purpose or with the effect of denying or abridging the right to vote on account of race or color, he shall consent to the entry of such judgment

(b) The provisions of subsection (a) shall apply in any State or in any political subdivision of a state which (1) the Attorney General determines maintained on November 1, 1964, any test or device, and with respect to which (2) the Director of the Census determines that less than 50 percentum of the persons of voting age residing therein were registered on November 1, 1964, or that less than 50 percentum of such persons voted in the presidential election of November 1964.

A determination or certification of the Attorney General or of the Director of the Census under this section or under section 6 or section 13 shall not be reviewable in any court and shall be effective upon publication in the Federal Register.

(c) The phrase "test or device" shall mean any requirement that a person as a prerequisite for voting or registration for voting (1) demonstrate the ability to read, write, understand, or interpret any matter, (2) demonstrate any educational achievement or his knowledge of any particular subject, (3) possess good moral character, or (4) prove his qualifications by the voucher of registered voters or members of any other class.

(d) For purposes of this section no State or political subdivision shall be determined to have engaged in the use of tests or devices for the purpose or with the effect of denying or abridging the right to vote on account of race or color if (1) incidents of such use have been few in number and have been promptly and effectively corrected by State or local action, (2) the continuing effect of such incidents has been eliminated, and (3) there is no reasonable probability of their recurrence in the future.

(e) (1) Congress hereby declares that to secure the rights under the fourteenth amendment of persons educated in American-flag schools in which the predominant classroom language was other than English, it is necessary to prohibit the States from conditioning the right to vote of such persons on ability to read, write, understand, or interpret any matter in the English language.

(2) No person who demonstrates that he has successfully completed the sixth primary grade in a public school in, or a private school accredited by, any State or territory, the District of Columbia, or the Commonwealth of Puerto Rico in which the predominant classroom language was other than English, shall be denied the right to vote in any Federal, State, or local election because of his inability to read, write, understand, or interpret any matter in the English language, except that, in States in which State law provides that a different level of education is presumptive of literacy, he shall demonstrate that he has successfully completed an equivalent level of education in a public school in, or a private school accredited by, any State or territory, the District of Columbia, or the Commonwealth of Puerto Rico in which the predominant classroom language was other than English.

SEC. 5. Whenever a State or political subdivision with respect to which the prohibitions set forth in section 4(a) are in effect shall enact or seek to administer any voting qualification or prerequisite to voting, or standard, practice, or procedure with respect to voting different from that in force or effect on November 1, 1964, such State or subdivision may institute an action in the United States District Court for the District of Columbia for a declaratory judgment that such qualification, prerequisite, standard, practice, or procedure does not have the purpose and will not have the effect of denying or abridging the right to vote on account of race or color, and unless and until the court enters such judgment no person shall be denied the right to vote for failure to comply with such qualification, prerequisite, standard, practice, or procedure: Provided, That such qualification, prerequisite, standard, practice, or procedure may be enforced without such proceeding if the qualification, prerequisite, standard, practice, or procedure has been submitted by the chief legal officer or other appropriate official of such State or subdivision to the Attorney General and the Attorney General has not interposed an objection within sixty days after such submission, except that neither the Attorney General's failure to object nor a declaratory judgment entered under this section shall bar a subsequent action to enjoin enforcement of such qualification, prerequisite, standard, practice, or procedure. Any action under this section shall be heard and determined by a court of three judges in accordance with the provisions of section 2284 of title 28 of the United States Code and any appeal shall lie to the Supreme Court.

SEC. 6. Whenever (a) a court has authorized the appointment of examiners pursuant to the provisions of section 3(a), or (b) unless a declaratory judgment has been rendered under section 4(a), the Attorney General certifies with respect to any political subdivision named in, or included within the scope of, determinations made under section 4(b) that (1) he has received complaints in writing from twenty or more residents of such political subdivision alleging that they have been denied the right to vote under color of law on account of race or color, and that he believes such complaints to be meritorious, or (2) that, in his judgment (considering, among other factors, whether the ratio of nonwhite persons to white persons registered to vote within such subdivision appears to him to be reasonably attributable to violations of the fifteenth amendment or whether substantial evidence exists that bona fide efforts are being made within such subdivision to comply with the fifteenth amendment), the appointment of examiners is otherwise necessary to enforce the guarantees of the fifteenth amendment, the Civil Service Commission shall appoint as many examiners for such subdivision as it may deem appropriate to prepare and maintain lists of persons eligible to vote in Federal, State, and local elections. Such examiners, hearing officers provided for in section 9(a), and other persons deemed necessary by the Commission to carry out the provisions and purposes of this Act shall be appointed, compensated, and separated without regard to the provisions of any statute administered by the Civil Service Commission, and service under this Act shall not be considered employment for the purposes of any statute administered by the Civil Service Commission, except the provisions of section 9 of the Act of August 2, 1939, as amended (5 U.S.C. 118i), prohibiting partisan political activity: Provided, That the Commission is authorized, after consulting the head of the appropriate department or agency, to designate suitable persons in the official service of the United States, with their consent, to serve in these positions. Examiners and hearing officers shall have the power to administer oaths.

SEC. 7. (a) The examiners for each political subdivision shall, at such places as the Civil Service Commission shall by regulation designate, examine applicants concerning their qualifications for voting. An application to an examiner shall be in such form as the Commission may require and shall contain allegations that the applicant is not otherwise registered to vote.

(b) Any person whom the examiner finds, in accordance with instructions received under section 9(b), to have the qualifications prescribed by State law not inconsistent with the Constitution and laws of the United States shall promptly be placed on a list of eligible voters. A challenge to such listing may be made in accordance with section 9(a) and shall not be the basis for a prosecution under section 12 of this Act. The examiner shall certify and transmit such list, and any supplements as appropriate, at least once a month, to the offices of the appropriate election officials, with copies to the Attorney General and the attorney general of the State, and any such lists and supplements thereto transmitted during the month shall be available for public inspection on the last business day of the month and, in any event, not later than the forty-fifth day prior to any election. The appropriate State or local election official shall place such names on the official voting list. Any person whose name appears on the examiner's list shall be entitled and allowed to vote in the election district of his residence unless and until the appropriate election officials shall have been notified that such person has been removed from such list in accordance with subsection (d): Provided, That no person shall be entitled to vote in any election by virtue of this Act unless his name shall have been certified and transmitted on such a list to the offices of the appropriate election officials at least forty-five days prior to such election.

(c) The examiner shall issue to each person whose name appears on such a list a certificate evidencing his eligibility to vote.

(d) A person whose name appears on such a list shall be removed therefrom by an examiner if (1) such person has been successfully challenged in accordance with the procedure prescribed in section 9, or (2) he has been determined by an examiner to have lost his eligibility to vote under State law not inconsistent with the Constitution and the laws of the United States.

Sec. 8. Whenever an examiner is serving under this Act in any political subdivision, the Civil Service Commission may assign, at the request of the Attorney General, one or more persons, who may be officers of the United States, (1) to enter and attend at any place for holding an election in such subdivision for the purpose of observing whether persons who are entitled to vote are being permitted to vote, and (2) to enter and attend at any place for tabulating the votes cast at any election held in such subdivision for the purpose of observing whether votes cast by persons entitled to vote are being properly tabulated. Such persons so assigned shall report to an examiner appointed for such political subdivision, to the Attorney General, and if the appointment of examiners has been authorized pursuant to section 3(a), to the court. SEC. 9.

(a) Any challenge to a listing on an eligibility list prepared by an examiner shall be heard and determined by a hearing officer appointed by and responsible to the Civil Service Commission and under such rules as the Commission shall by regulation prescribe. Such challenge shall be entertained only if filed at such office within the State as the Civil Service Commission shall by regulation designate, and within ten days after the listing of the challenged person is made available for public inspection, and if supported by (1) the affidavits of at least two persons having personal knowledge of the facts constituting grounds for the challenge, and (2) a certification that a copy of the challenge and affidavits have been served by mail or in person upon the person challenged at his place of residence set out in the application. Such challenge shall be determined within fifteen days after it has been filed. A petition for review of the decision of the hearing officer may be filed in the United States court of appeals for the circuit in which the person challenged resides within fifteen days after service of such decision by mail on the person petitioning for review but no decision of a hearing officer shall be reversed unless clearly erroneous. Any person listed shall be entitled and allowed to vote pending final determination by the hearing officer and by the court.

(b) The times, places, procedures, and form for application and listing pursuant to this Act and removals from the eligibility lists shall be prescribed by regulations promulgated by the Civil Service Commission and the Commission shall, after consultation with the Attorney General, instruct examiners concerning applicable State law not inconsistent with the Constitution and laws of the United States with respect to (1) the qualifications required for listing, and (2) loss of eligibility to vote.

(c) Upon the request of the applicant or the challenger or on its own motion the Civil Service Commission shall have the power to require by subpoena the attendance and testimony of witnesses and the production of documentary evidence relating to any matter pending before it under the authority of this section. In case of contumacy or refusal to obey a subpoena, any district court of the United States or the United States court of any territory or possession, or the District Court of the United States for the District of Columbia, within the jurisdiction of which said person guilty of contumacy or refusal to obey is found or resides or is domiciled or transacts business, or has appointed an agent for receipt of service of process, upon application by the Attorney General of the United States shall have jurisdiction to issue to such person an order requiring such person to appear before the Commission or a hearing officer, there to produce pertinent, relevant, and nonprivileged documentary evidence if so ordered, or there to give testimony touching the matter under investigation, and any failure to obey such order of the court may be punished by said court as a contempt thereof.

SEC. 10. (a) The Congress finds that the requirement of the payment of a poll tax as a precondition to voting (i) precludes persons of limited means from voting or imposes unreasonable financial hardship upon such persons as a precondition to their exercise of the franchise, (ii) does not bear a reasonable relationship to any legitimate State interest in the conduct of elections, and (iii) in some areas has the purpose or effect of denying persons the right to vote because of race or color. Upon the basis of these findings, Congress declares that the constitutional right of citizens to vote is denied or abridged in some areas by the requirement of the payment of a poll tax as a precondition to voting.

(b) In the exercise of the powers of Congress under section 5 of the fourteenth amendment and section 2 of the fifteenth amendment, the Attorney General is authorized and directed to institute forthwith in the name of the United States such actions, including actions against States or political subdivisions, for declaratory judgment or injunctive relief against the enforcement of any requirement of the payment of a poll tax as a precondition to voting, or substitute therefor enacted after November 1, 1964, as will be necessary to implement the declaration of subsection (a) and the purposes of this section.

(c) The district courts of the United States shall have jurisdiction of such actions which shall be heard and determined by a court of three judges in accordance with the provisions of section 2284 of title 28 of the United States Code and any appeal shall lie to the Supreme Court. It shall be the duty of the judges designated to hear the case to assign the case for hearing at the earliest practicable date, to participate in the hearing and determination thereof, and to cause the case to be in every way expedited.

(d) During the pendency of such actions, and thereafter if the courts, notwithstanding this action by the Congress, should declare the requirement of the payment of a poll tax to be constitutional, no citizen of the United States who is a resident of a State or political subdivision with respect to which determinations have been made under subsection 4(b) and a declaratory judgment has not been entered under subsection 4(a), during the first year he becomes otherwise entitled to vote by reason of registration by State or local officials or listing by an examiner, shall be denied the right to vote for failure to pay a poll tax if he tenders payment of such tax for the current year to an examiner or to the appropriate State or local official at least forty-five days prior to election, whether or not such tender would be timely or adequate under State law. An examiner shall have authority to accept such payment from any person authorized by this Act to make an application for listing, and shall issue a receipt for such payment. The examiner shall transmit promptly any such poll tax payment to the office of the State or local official authorized to receive such payment under State law, together with the name and address of the applicant.

SEC. 11. (a) No person acting under color of law shall fail or refuse to permit any person to vote who is entitled to vote under any provision of this Act or is otherwise qualified to vote, or willfully fail or refuse to tabulate, count, and report such person's vote.

(b) No person, whether acting under color of law or otherwise, shall intimidate, threaten, or coerce, or attempt to intimidate, threaten, or coerce any person for voting or attempting to vote, or intimidate, threaten, or coerce, or attempt to intimidate, threaten, or coerce any person for urging or aiding any person to vote or attempt to vote, or intimidate, threaten, or coerce any person for exercising any powers or duties under section 3(a), 6, 8, 9, 10, or 12(e).

(c) Whoever knowingly or willfully gives false information as to his name, address, or period of residence in the voting district for the purpose of establishing his eligibility to register or vote, or conspires with another individual for the purpose of encouraging his false registration to vote or illegal voting, or pays or offers to pay or accepts payment either for registration to vote or for voting shall be fined not more than $10,000 or imprisoned not more than five years, or both: Provided, however, That this provision shall be applicable only to general, special, or primary elections held solely or in part for the purpose of selecting or electing any candidate for the office of President, Vice President, presidential elector, Member of the United States Senate, Member of the United States House of Representatives, or Delegates or Commissioners from the territories or possessions, or Resident Commissioner of the Commonwealth of Puerto Rico.

(d) Whoever, in any matter within the jurisdiction of an examiner or hearing officer knowingly and willfully falsifies or conceals a material fact, or makes any false, fictitious, or fraudulent statements or representations, or makes or uses any false writing or document knowing the same to contain any false, fictitious, or fraudulent statement or entry, shall be fined not more than $10,000 or imprisoned not more than five years, or both.

SEC. 12. (a) Whoever shall deprive or attempt to deprive any person of any right secured by section 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, or 10 or shall violate section 11(a) or (b), shall be fined not more than $5,000, or imprisoned not more than five years, or both.

(b) Whoever, within a year following an election in a political subdivision in which an examiner has been appointed (1) destroys, defaces, mutilates, or otherwise alters the marking of a paper ballot which has been cast in such election, or (2) alters any official record of voting in such election tabulated from a voting machine or otherwise, shall be fined not more than $5,000, or imprisoned not more than five years, or both

(c) Whoever conspires to violate the provisions of subsection (a) or (b) of this section, or interferes with any right secured by section 2, 3 4, 5, 7, 10, or 11(a) or (b) shall be fined not more than $5,000, or imprisoned not more than five years, or both.

(d) Whenever any person has engaged or there are reasonable grounds to believe that any person is about to engage in any act or practice prohibited by section 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 10, 11, or subsection (b) of this section, the Attorney General may institute for the United States, or in the name of the United States, an action for preventive relief, including an application for a temporary or permanent injunction, restraining order, or other order, and including an order directed to the State and State or local election officials to require them (1) to permit persons listed under this Act to vote and (2) to count such votes.

(e) Whenever in any political subdivision in which there are examiners appointed pursuant to this Act any persons allege to such an examiner within forty-eight hours after the closing of the polls that notwithstanding (1) their listing under this Act or registration by an appropriate election official and (2) their eligibility to vote, they have not been permitted to vote in such election, the examiner shall forthwith notify the Attorney General if such allegations in his opinion appear to be well founded. Upon receipt of such notification, the Attorney General may forthwith file with the district court an application for an order providing for the marking, casting, and counting of the ballots of such persons and requiring the inclusion of their votes in the total vote before the results of such election shall be deemed final and any force or effect given thereto. The district court shall hear and determine such matters immediately after the filing of such application. The remedy provided in this subsection shall not preclude any remedy available under State or Federal law.

(f) The district courts of the United States shall have jurisdiction of proceedings instituted pursuant to this section and shall exercise the same without regard to whether a person asserting rights under the provisions of this Act shall have exhausted any administrative or other remedies that may be provided by law

SEC. 13. Listing procedures shall be terminated in any political subdivision of any State (a) with respect to examiners appointed pursuant to clause (b) of section 6 whenever the Attorney General notifies the Civil Service Commission, or whenever the District Court for the District of Columbia determines in an action for declaratory judgment brought by any political subdivision with respect to which the Director of the Census has determined that more than 50 percentum of the nonwhite persons of voting age residing therein are registered to vote, (1) that all persons listed by an examiner for such subdivision have been placed on the appropriate voting registration roll, and (2) that there is no longer reasonable cause to believe that persons will be deprived of or denied the right to vote on account of race or color in such subdivision, and (b), with respect to examiners appointed pursuant to section 3(a), upon order of the authorizing court. A political subdivision may petition the Attorney General for the termination of listing procedures under clause (a) of this section, and may petition the Attorney General to request the Director of the Census to take such survey or census as may be appropriate for the making of the determination provided for in this section. The District Court for the District of Columbia shall have jurisdiction to require such survey or census to be made by the Director of the Census and it shall require him to do so if it deems the Attorney General's refusal to request such survey or census to be arbitrary or unreasonable. SEC. 14.

(a) All cases of criminal contempt arising under the provisions of this Act shall be governed by section 151 of the Civil Rights Act of 1957 (42 U.S.C.1995).

(b) No court other than the District Court for the District of Columbia or a court of appeals in any proceeding under section 9 shall have jurisdiction to issue any declaratory judgment pursuant to section 4 or section 5 or any restraining order or temporary or permanent injunction against the execution or enforcement of any provision of this Act or any action of any Federal officer or employee pursuant hereto.

(c) (1) The terms "vote" or "voting" shall include all action necessary to make a vote effective in any primary, special, or general election, including, but not limited to, registration, listing pursuant to this Act, or other action required by law prerequisite to voting, casting a ballot, and having such ballot counted properly and included in the appropriate totals of votes cast with respect to candidates for public or party office and propositions for which votes are received in an election.

(2) The term "political subdivision" shall mean any county or parish, except that, where registration for voting is not conducted under the supervision of a county or parish, the term shall include any other subdivision of a State which conducts registration for voting.

(d) In any action for a declaratory judgment brought pursuant to section 4 or section 5 of this Act, subpoenas for witnesses who are required to attend the District Court for the District of Columbia may be served in any judicial district of the United States: Provided, That no writ of subpoena shall issue for witnesses without the District of Columbia at a greater distance than one hundred miles from the place of holding court without the permission of the District Court for the District of Columbia being first had upon proper application and cause shown.

SEC. 15. Section 2004 of the Revised Statutes (42 U.S.C.1971), as amended by section 131 of the Civil Rights Act of 1957 (71 Stat. 637), and amended by section 601 of the Civil Rights Act of 1960 (74 Stat. 90), and as further amended by section 101 of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 (78 Stat. 241), is further amended as follows:

(a) Delete the word "Federal" wherever it appears in subsections (a) and (c);

(b) Repeal subsection (f) and designate the present subsections (g) and (h) as (f) and (g), respectively.

SEC. 16. The Attorney General and the Secretary of Defense, jointly, shall make a full and complete study to determine whether, under the laws or practices of any State or States, there are preconditions to voting, which might tend to result in discrimination against citizens serving in the Armed Forces of the United States seeking to vote. Such officials shall, jointly, make a report to the Congress not later than June 30, 1966, containing the results of such study, together with a list of any States in which such preconditions exist, and shall include in such report such recommendations for legislation as they deem advisable to prevent discrimination in voting against citizens serving in the Armed Forces of the United States.

SEC. 17. Nothing in this Act shall be construed to deny, impair, or otherwise adversely affect the right to vote of any person registered to vote under the law of any State or political subdivision.

SEC. 18. There are hereby authorized to be appropriated such sums as are necessary to carry out the provisions of this Act

SEC 19. If any provision of this Act or the application thereof to any person or circumstances is held invalid, the remainder of the Act and the application of the provision to other persons not similarly situated or to other circumstances shall not be affected thereby.

Approved August 6, 1965.

Sincerely,

Gabriel

Food for thought:

June 25, 2013

“Though beauty gives you a weird sense of entitlement, it's rather frightening and threatening to have others ascribe such importance to something you know you're just renting for a while.” - Candice Bergen

“Sometimes people take it for granted that they had success, especially nowadays when you have instant stardom. A lot of people feel entitlement and nobody is entitled to anything.” - Donny Osmond

“Male privilege and entitlement are dying a very painful death; no one gives up power without a struggle.” - Gloria Allred

“I don't have a sense of entitlement or that I deserve this. You'd be surprised at the lack of competition between nominees - I think a lot of it's imposed from the outside. Can I have my champagne now? - Cate Blanchett

*) Yes, structural sentence corrections were made.

I can’t seem to figure out the English language to save my life. It’s like a horrible nightmare date that just won’t end. I think you understood that literary sentiment. I cleaned up the awkward ESL. Thanks!!!

Aloha!

Happy Tuesday!

Shall we dance?

Thank you, yes.

--- --- ---

Therapeutic: (healing, curing)

Therapeutic value of some foods was discussed for a long time.

--- --- ---

Once upon a time…

In a Kingdom far…far away…

There lived a stranger; a little blond girl in a neighborhood called Bryn Mawr, Minnesota.

The little girl was little not because she wasn’t of adult age but rather she was a girl because she was all too inconsiderate of anyone not beneficial to her.

This girl was a Bakku-shan that only a mother could love.

The Caucasian girl had a ‘bangin’ bod’ any brother would love.

The girl’s body was rail thin without breasts or curves.

She wore a thin, strapless, yellow, summer dress like a cheap, disposable, picnic tablecloth while she stood in the way of traffic with her driver’s car door wide open to the street.

She stood downhill and faced a rail-thin tall Caucasian man with white hair who stood next to her parked red car and faced up-the-street about fifty meters from a four-way-Stop corner coffee shop.

In this Kingdom far…far away one could smell the quality of high grade coffee bellowing out into the streets like the days’ of old when the chambermaids would throw out the morning basin water along with....

The man in white hair wore a light-weight and dark-colored summer shirt and green khaki shorts.

He stood with his narrow legs shoulder-wide-apart and gave his back to a slight downward slope on a hill.

He stood about three feet apart from the girl and directly faced her while she made sheepish looking facial expressions at traffic like she was about to grab her crotch at any minute and pee herself with excitement.

The man stood narrowly erect and continued to speak to the girl who looked all around to see who was watching her in all her sunshine glory.

A car came to a complete stop ten feet away from the bean-pole of a man.

In the opposite direction a utility truck slowed way down right by where the girl stood.

The utility truck driver made room on the road for the stopped car and slowly proceeded forward while the truck driver stared at the two ignoramuses taking up the road on his left.

The truck driver turned back his head, looked straight forward and made quick eye-contact with the stopped driver and gave her that look that said everything: “Barn Animals.”

The utility truck driver’s facial expressions were subtle but they said everything that needed to be said in that Italian nose and those thick dark eyebrows.

The girl threw around an aloof look at traffic standing-still, waiting for her to move, close her car door and step to the side to have an adult passing conversation like most civilized urban folk.

Her air of superiority was like: “why shouldn’t you wait for me?”

She neither acknowledged nor cared how she inconvenienced everyone around her either because she: one) felt more important than the rest of civilization a) entitled b) public life didn’t dawn on her that it’s public and shared c) she was deaf d) she was a prostitute e) she was a spoiled brat and…at that as well… f) she was out of gas g) she just didn’t care that the world co-exists h) she was mentally handicap i) she had to go to the bathroom j) she was a bumpkin new to the city and has many tough lessons yet to learn because people will exploit and harden those that are gullible, ignorant and not with it k) immature l) she was high or drunk. Pick any of the above or other.

Whatever her reasons were for taking up so much space almost into the middle of the road she was a moron for one reason and one reason only…

She was inconsiderate about the safety of all those around her.

She wasn’t a woman.

She acted like her life was a play and she was the leading role to a hallow storyline.

Bad acting makes any viewer uncomfortable.

The little girl could’ve been the cause of any accident because she was, therefore.

The driver scanned her face, memorized it and archived it.

All that the driver could think was: ‘I hope I never get stuck next to her at any of these socially weird Minnesota parties.’

Once the driver got pass the little girl; she annoyingly sped away at 30MPH to get out of the congestion, cluster and further getting held hostage by the rude road blockers.

When in Rome…

It appears to be that in the minds of these inconvenienced barn animals that they come from rural America where there’s so much more space and land for them to roam, stretch and feed, however, not in the city.

Cities are shared by thousands of respectful mature people each and every single day in which any square mile radius is optimally occupied to its fullest therefore adults are attentive to the safety of all.

Moderation is the key to success.

Respect is the key to dignity.

Awareness is the key to maturity.

Maturity is the key to wisdom.

The End.

Sincerely,

Gabriel

P.S. Yes, if one is a professional artist, comedian, a satirist or any other cable Television entertainer then one may use the word “fuck.” Cheers!!!

Peace…

June 24, 2013

Aloha!

Happy Monday!

Mondays off for the summer!

Studying for a pilot’s license through Monday, September 2^nd, 2013.

Cheers!

Gabriel

June 21, 2013

“Progress is the attraction that moves humanity.” - Marcus Garvey

“Without contraries is no progression. Attraction and repulsion, reason and energy, love and hate, are necessary to human existence.” - William Blake

“Greatness lies, not in being strong, but in the right using of strength; and strength is not used rightly when it serves only to carry a man above his fellows for his own solitary glory. He is the greatest whose strength carries up the most hearts by the attraction of his own.” - Henry Ward Beecher

“Certainly I have no attraction to misery. I don't intentionally go for dark.” - Christian Bale

Aloha!

Happy Friday!

Shall we dance?

Thank you, yes.

--- --- ---

Pewter: (any of several alloys chiefly composed of tin)

In the old home of Paul Revere pewter dishes were on display.

--- --- ---

Take it away Mr. Bill Maher! Break a leg. Good luck. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Gabriel

Storytelling Time:

*) Okay, get ready:

Roll up your sleeves and don’t give yourselves Carpel Tunnel.

Sensuality in Minnesota definitely isn’t like sensuality in the Latino cultures.

First, sensuality and sexuality aren’t the same things. (Look it up.)

Second, no, I’m not a piece of meat so don’t look at me like I’m some cow to be devoured.

Third, no, don’t whistle at me I’m not a dog. No, I won’t be beckoned. I’m a woman.

Four, what would you know about sensuality? Please.

Five, yes, I refuse to masturbate across the page. That’s not my job. My job is to write.

Six, I can look and speak to anyone I wish to without shame, without abuse, manipulation or ulterior motives. You can look but don’t touch. (Get it through your thick skulls.) Ha!

Seven, is there anything else? Nope.

Let’s jump right into today’s moral lesson:

Don’t Assume Anything

Okay; let’s set the scene:

Date: Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Time: 3:30pm

Location: Downtown, Minneapolis

Place: Key's Café & Bakery

::: (Which happens to be one of my favorite places in downtown, Minneapolis. Please support such an incredible establishment, we do and we’ll continue to do so for as long as we’re alive.) ::: Peace.

CONT.

…Slowly, I made my way to the back of the restaurant, turned a sharp left then a second sharp right into a bathroom with a huge white “W” letter on the public restroom door. I went in and thoroughly washed my hands, dried them and exited the lavatory…

…As I exited… I opened the large women’s restroom door, inwards, (on my left) and exited into a long concrete floored, dark grey, hallway; faced forward, looked into a glass, turned my head to my right as I caught a figure out of my peripheral view and said to a man, “I’m sorry I’m going slow.”

I didn’t wait to hear his reply, turned my head and looked left; clumsily curved my entire body in that direction as my right ankle felt a tinge of pain when I twisted however I tried not to show it on my face.

I tried to get out of the way as much as possible for the man who’d held the outer door open for both the manager-type and myself when we entered the restaurant. He didn’t leave any type of lustful imprint upon me, but his aura sure made an impression. We were complete strangers passing by and we acted like it.

I entirely exited out of the narrow and beautifully dimly lit hallway that leads to a kitchen door with a circular transparent glass view-window in the middle of it; just before the hallway makes a slight curve to the right and continues through another heavy brass door and exits into a marble hallway of the Foshay tower.

Let, alone, standing inside the beautiful, honey, marbled hallways of the Foshay tower makes me want to make love to Eric. (No, I don’t believe in public sexual intercourse. I’m, too, private for such nonsense.)

I reentered the back of the restaurant, stood between a table and a black railing to allow for the man to pass me by as he made his way down a set of three steps he wheeled electrical equipment and high-tech tools on a trolley.

I inched my way forward towards the front door where daylight was brightest.

I wanted to breathe deeply but I caught myself and waited until I was outside.

There was a sensual residue in the air leftover from the “sexy 1930’s” trapped inside those echoing walls. Our interaction was all about platonic coincidence, timing and chemistry. The air smelled clean. There weren’t any sex smells only a fresh scent of the outdoors.

When the man made it to the bottom of the steps I directly asked the back of his head, “Are you the owner?”

“No. I’m not the owner.” He choked back disbelief of the question.

“Do I look like the owner?” He asked in surprise.

“Yes, you walk like an owner.” I responded in all seriousness without a trace of flirtation or sex in my voice. It was obvious that I wasn’t flirting. I was merely curious about his nature.

“If I was the owner would I be carrying this?” He asked in an amber timbre.

His voice sounded like Louis Armstrong’s jazz horn.

I thought: Any intelligent woman could trust to fall back into the arms of that voice.

A waitress came towards us and they exchanged words.

As the middle-aged waitress walked towards the back of the restaurant she faced me, head-on, and eye-balled me while pretending like she wasn’t.

I eye-balled her back without any pretence about doing so.

I wasn’t interested in what they had to say to one another. It was obvious that they were acquainted with each other, enough, to make some passing remark.

He picked up his pace but to no avail.

Too, late.

I was already fascinated by his mellow and calm yet authoritative movements.

I studied him in his clothes.

I liked the way he moved in them like a jungle cat.

He wore comfortable, clean, unwrinkled, loosely-fitted blue jeans at the correct length and a dark grey, rock star, T-Shirt with text pressed on it. I didn’t bother to read the lettering. It was only a mere distraction from his movements.

I watched him from the back as his T-Shirt rippled over his right ribcage like a slight breeze over waves in low tide running right over the surface of them and over the tops of sand dunes leaving behind the evidence of vertebrae indentations.

I thought that he was the type of man I could surf with for an entire hot and muggy afternoon as comfortably as I do with my closest male friends and drink mango juice at sunset, throw back a few beers at night with a great meal and say our goodnights at the front door; that’s how cool he was.

I continued to slowly walk as fast as my sprained ankle would take me.

I didn’t try to catch up to him.

If I could’ve walked right alongside him then I would’ve.

I wanted to know where he’d acquired such a confident walk without going into a long life story about his childhood or his adulthood for that matter.

The man held the slightest scent of walnuts and genuine fine leather exuding from his pores. He faintly smelled like a great port wine, that, smell, which came directly from his hair and not his breath. I liked his smells. He smelled like a man.

Neither he nor I took deep breaths while in each other’s presence.

It was as though time slowed and we both slightly held our breaths, suspended, above our heads, once, we caught up to one another.

He stopped, waited for me to come to a complete full stop, right alongside him.

I stood on his right hand-side, one foot away from him. With a total and complete cool approach he waited for my closing remarks to politely cut across behind me and turn right.

I left him with a scent of my perfume upon my jet-black hair as we crossed paths without ever touching the other, not once. Yes! He left me wanting for the finest Cognacs in the world. I thought I could taste Cognac upon the tip of my tongue.

We stopped together at the edge of a larger square room near the deli counter at the end of a narrow passageway with small tables on each side of the aisle; we stood, not daring to look at each other.

He looked down at his cases pretending to adjust something.

We stood side-by-side almost like two equals except for the following revelation:

“I know a lot of owners who carry-out the trash.” I didn’t look at him.

“Oh, yeah.” He scoffed off and shrugged his shoulders.

Pity.

What a disappointment.

He was a completely different man than his walk let-on.

He looked all, too, sheepishly for an adult man of his years and he, finally, understood that I was being all too real with him.

He finally seemed to understand that our interaction wasn’t about sexuality or sensuality and I understood why he wasn’t the owner of the restaurant.

He didn’t believe in the abilities of others much less his own. The End.

“All you have to do is keep your clothes on!” Exclaimed the manager-type in his “theatre voice” as loudly as he could project to his entire staff, patrons and restaurant. Copy that!

We were jolted awake by the random statement and I thought…Time to get the hell on out of here. Yep.

Best Regards and with all my love;

Gabriel

P.S. No, I don’t hate any kids (not even our annoying and loud neighbors) however I do hate their misbehavior and misconduct. (I misspoke out in anger. My deepest apologies to all.)

Yes, I worked with children for an entire decade and there are children all over the world who know me to be a strict and respectful disciplinarian, fun with distinct physical boundaries and open minded enough to listen to their lives even though sometimes I’ve been mortified at the fact that children don’t die at the hands of adults. Yes, from a far, I, respect children and its neither any of my business to parent them nor do I care to. Please.

Peace.

“I hate those kids’ misbehavior.”

*) Corrections were made.

June 20, 2013

“I don't believe in devils. Indifference and misunderstandings can create evil situations. Most of the time, people who appear to be evil are really victims of evil deeds.” - Max von Sydow

““The word love has by no means the same sense for both sexes, and this is one cause of the serious misunderstandings that divide them.” - Simone de Beauvoir

“Don't Make Assumptions. Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness and drama. With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life.” - Miguel Angel Ruiz

Aloha!

Happy Thursday!

Shall we dance?

Thank you, no.

I’d love to watch the dancers across the ballroom floor from this balcony.

--- --- ---

Titanic: (Very large, enormous, powerful)

Titanic machines were needed to build the structure.

--- --- ---

Stop The Press!

Key's Café & Bakery downtown, Minneapolis is one of my favorite restaurants to eat at. It’ll continue to be one of my favorites until the day it either closes (pray that it doesn’t) or I pass on from old age. Period. Moving on. Next.

Please Stop. Just Stop. Don’t be such ignoramuses.

No, I didn’t write that we got food poisoning from Key's Café & Bakery.

Yes, I wrote that our guest had vomited twice in one day.

No, neither Eric nor I vomited; nor did either one of us become ill at any given point during our guest’s stay.

Therefore, it leads us to believe that our guest came down with heat exhaustion.

Now, just because our guest did in fact become ill; Neither Eric nor I became ill therefore it leads me to believe that most likely our guest came down with heat exhaustion or the flu yet he didn’t exhibit any other flu symptoms. Period.

Chill out, guys!

Chill out, back up and face your dancing partners.

Everyone take a deep breath and relax.

Don’t be afraid to touch your dancing partners.

Yes, both, Eric and I did have food poisoning three times this winter and spring and I know exactly from which two restaurants and their locations in Minneapolis (not downtown, Minneapolis) and Robbinsdale which that restaurant location is now closed. Moving on. Next.

Yes, I keep notes about all sorts of things especially the quality of food at different establishments and I can tell you this; right-here-and-right-now; we’ve never (not yet anyway, knock on wood for good luck) been or have become ill from any of the restaurants downtown, Minneapolis.

For almost fourteen years Eric has been eating lunch downtown, Minneapolis Monday-through-Friday at all types of different establishments. That’s fourteen years that Eric eats all sorts of foods at all different types of restaurants and establishments and so do I. We eat our meals downtown, Minneapolis each and every day, because that’s how much we trust in downtown, Minneapolis.

I love and trust downtown, Minneapolis and its restaurants because I DON’T get sick from any of their food and we eat-out each-and-every single week after week, month after month and year after year well into almost a decade-and-a-half. Peace. Relax! Tranquillos.

Oh, my!

You’re not Costa Ricans are you?

I could almost get on a plane and not look back.

Now, if you’re going to be like that then storytelling time is over and I can write about politics, nature and weather and nothing else.

Tomorrow, I’ll tell the moral from yesterday’s tale and you’ll blush at the fact that you assumed way too much without hearing the end.

Tomorrow, I’ll give you literary wet dreams for life.

Please, who’s telling this story?

Me or you?

You or I?

Indubitably.

Nope.

Back it up.

We’re fair minded people.

One of my grandfathers was a member of the Massachusetts Restaurant Association.

I’ve got a great deal of respect for restaurant owners, managers, staff members, workers and anyone associated with making their bread and butter while working their way through life and putting a roof over their children’s heads and food on their tables. Absolutely. Here’s to you! Cheers! (I’m not made of stone!)

Restaurants are in our blood, not because we’ve ever opened or ran any food or restaurant establishment, but rather because we care about excellent policies implemented for the overall great public health, employee safety, fair wages, their health benefits, retirements and profits, shares and stocks. Period. Moving on. Next.

Peace.

Best regards and with all my love;

Gabriel

P.S. Grammatical mistakes were fixed. Thanks, guys! I’m working on my punctuation especially on my apostrophes.

Almost on a daily basis I look up punctuation rules that I was taught by the masters and I can’t seem to find a shortcut or a good trick in remembering the rules to apostrophes. Darn things! Cheers!

I’ll blog about the deconstruction of apostrophes and then you’ll get it that I get it; I just can’t seem to follow the rules in how to correctly and properly place them. I get confused each and every time. English’s so awkward.

June 19, 2013

“The word love has by no means the same sense for both sexes, and this is one cause of the serious misunderstandings that divide them.” - Simone de Beauvoir

“Don't Make Assumptions. Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness and drama. With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life.” - Miguel Angel Ruiz

Aloha!

Happy Wednesday!

Shall we dance?

Thank you, no.

--- --- ---

Titular: (in name only, having the title only)

The titular head of the organization was the youngest member.

--- --- ---

After lunch; just as I was about to leave Key's Café & Bakery downtown Minneapolis: a short and stocky balding Caucasian manager-type in a long white sleeved, work shirt stated in his loud “city-voice” while he was seated just behind the deli entrance-counter with two other business types: “All you have to do is keep your clothes on!” (This isn’t any grounds for dismissal yet it’s definitely grounds for a footnote.)

Oops, does someone have Tourettes Syndrome?

What the hell!

Settle down.

When a man makes such a blatant statement in a public space for all to hear then he’s projecting his inner-psychological subconscious fears and sexual desires and it’s as though a man will undress and make himself the object of repent in front of perfectly good strangers because it’s just, too, random a statement for everybody else to acknowledge what on earth he’s thinking. It was easy to see that he had raw fucking sex on the mind. Please, keep it kosher family friendly. (Yep, I’ve gone Kurt Vonnegut.)

There was no need for him to become so unprofessional except for one reason and I might not disclose it here. He’s a man like any other man…

Men have a tendency to think a lot about sex all the time while women don’t.

It’s how different our gender physiologies truly are. I didn’t take it personally whatsoever, except for the mere fact that he made a complete bloody arse out of himself. How uncouth.

He made sure that I and everyone around a square mile radius of him could hear him loud and clear. Copy that. What a dorky type. What was he trying to prove? What was he getting at? I ignored him and slowly made my way towards the front door with a busted foot (ankle, really).

I do keep my clothes on at all times. Thank you very much! I’m an old woman.

Twice, today, with my delicious vagina: I’ve had to prove to three pricks that my dick was larger than theirs. How boring indeed.

Yes, all you have to do is keep your clothes on.

That’s what sophisticated city folk do.

If you go around taking your clothes off then you’re a freak and everybody knows it. Socks don’t count. Flip flops are fair game. A bare foot is just, that, a bare foot.

{The only way that I take my clothes off is when I’m about to bathe and retire for the evening or make love to Eric, dressing or undressing in the privacy of our master bedroom and bathrooms…

Otherwise, it’s sexual assault or sexual exploitation if someone rips off any women’s clothing; when and if that were ever to happen again then be very well prepared to be killed (literally) in self-defense and to philosophically be taken out of this world.

I won’t stand for such nonsense because I was born an eighty-seven year old woman. I’m an old woman and I’ll die an old woman. In other words I was born an old woman and that’s that. No mistake about it. Back it up. I’m your grandmother in every way. My morals and ethics align with the Greatest Generation.} Period.

While in Minneapolis; I often think; it can’t be about me: It can’t possibly be about me unless people / strangers have the courage or the dumb audacity to address me head-on and then it’s on. Careful.

if Minnesotans don’t have the courage to address anything directly to my face then I don’t take whatever the hell they say personally because then it can’t possibly be about me and I don’t go around the world thinking that anything’s about me. Why would I? I don’t have that type of time. Deal with it. I’ve got far more important things to do with my time.

For about an hour we sat outside for lunch. After I ate my delicious honey BBQ wings I retired to the women’s rest to wash my hands.

As I was heading indoors; two employee male-types held the outer and inner doors open for me: “Gentlemen, thank you.” I said to them. “I’m going slowly with this sprained foot.”

“‘Oh, don’t worry about it we’re also going slow.’” Said the manager-type as he held the inner door open for me and the other man held the outdoor door open for both of us.

As I walked pass the manager-type, both, he, and I, looked deeply at each other and for one moment he seemed to think that he recognized me from somewhere; maybe, he, thought, that I’d been one of his cleaning Mexican staff, but then he realized that I was no one he’d ever socially interacted with and then his gaze quickly turned into one of curiosity, fascination and instinctual sensuality and raw sex.

No, I’m not an uptight organic vegan type who’ll file a sexual harassment report if you look at me twice with that type of sensual look of desire and lust. I don’t really care if men get turned on by staring at me; then by all means just don’t ever touch because I do have a deadly venom bite. I’ll leave you for dead with your heart…

I became an object of his quick admiration and I stared deeply into his soul because it’s easy for a woman like me who knows herself all, too, well what’s behind a certain male gaze.

No, I’m not stupid even though people think that I am. I can tell when my breasts and buttocks are being devoured by the male gaze. Please. Don’t think that I can’t shrink a man to the real size of his dick, however; I choose not to. I’m, too, intelligent to play that game.

I’d never seen this particular man’s face before and he knew just as well as I did that we’ve never worked together much less ever been properly introduced to one another.

He and the younger male in his mid-thirties followed me into the restaurant just after holding three doors open for each other.

…Slowly, I made my way to the back of the restaurant, turned a sharp left then a second sharp right into a bathroom with a huge white “W” letter on the public restroom door. I went in and thoroughly washed my hands, dried them and exited the lavatory…

More later…

I ran out of time…

It’s time for dinner.

I’m almost afraid to take our guest out.

I hope that our rock star guest from Stanford music department doesn’t get food poisoning for the third time today. We’ve taken our guest out to eat and he’s vomited twice just, today, alone. I feel awful about it. I don’t know what to think anymore about Minneapolis restaurants. Oh, my!!! It puts me on the defensive, on high alert and territorial about our guest’s well being…

Much Respect;

Gabriel

More later… I’ve got to get washed up for late Nordic dinner.

June 17-18, 2013

No podcast:

Today and tomorrow we’re visiting with and amongst relaxed rock stars.

Thanks for the “Orion Music Festival” in Belle Isle, Michigan.

I understand that it’s incredibly clean and lots of recycling.

No, I didn’t attend but people are painting an awesome picture of that show.

Thanks for “Amnesia Rock Fest” in Montebello, Quebec.

I understand that it’s covered ankle-deep in urine and garbage.

Gross.

No, I didn’t attend but people are painting a vivid picture of that show.

Cheers!

See you Wednesday.

I’m taking it easy while icing my ankle.

I’m going slowly regardless of all of the fun activities lined up.

Today we go and see “Man of Steel” and then Mexican for dinner.

What a rock star weekend we had!

What a blast!

Best Regards;

Gabriel

P.S. I can’t stand the loud mouthed and abusive African-American kids (ages 4-10) residing down the street with their grandfather.

These kids have the gull to call Eric “ugly” while he’s doing yard work around his own private property. What a bunch of little bullies. If they speak in such a way to Eric imagine what these little suckers will say and do to our children? What the hell? Get those ghetto brats off of my front sidewalk.

Who the hell do they think they are? Oh, yeah -- that’s right; no body.

The little ghetto brats; the-little-hood children will not get ahead in life because they have horrible attitudes about everything and they act as though they own our neighborhood by terrorizing it with loudness all night long. These are children who scream at the top of their lungs well into 11 and 12 O’clock at night. Oh, my god! What the hell!

I hate that school’s out.

No, my front yard isn’t any children’s playground.

No, I’m not here to take care of screaming black children just because their parents won’t look after them.

No, not any child may insult us while going to-and-fro our driveway or putting out the garbage cans. Please. Don’t be so goddamn insulting.

Can you imagine a four year old calling your neighbors ugly? How déclassé. What a little fucking bully and that’s how a crooked tree grows in Robbinsdale.

The thing is this: those kids’ parents don’t even pay taxes to our block because the children live with their grandfather while their father’s in jail so don’t give me any guff in my own neighborhood in which we pay for these brats to attend public American school.

I hate living amongst loud and disrespectful ghetto black children without any sense in their brains. As a matter of fact I fell in love with Uptown, only, because you never heard children screaming all day and all night long. I hate living amongst screaming children without bedtimes or social boundaries.

Crazy children sure say a lot about their crazy parents.

I hate it when black parents allow for their crazy black children to be crazy and out of control, disrespectful and socially terrorizing.

It’s as though these crazy little black kids are entitled thus they take over the neighborhood by screaming at 7:30, 8:30, 9:30 and 10:30 at night.

Shouldn’t kids be getting ready for bed anywhere around seven at night? Yes.

Eight O’clock in bed, read for an hour.

Nine O’clock lights out all year round.

Discipline our American children for excellence and success.

Instead they’re mouthing off and calling us ugly.

I hate those kids’ misbehavior.

The more I hear screaming children late at night the less I like them and this neighborhood.

No, I haven’t lived in Robbinsdale for one complete year.

Yes, I’m giving it a whole hearted try for one full complete calendar year and after that if I don’t like it then its literary war. Yes, I’ll philosophically war against Robbinsdale if it means raging against ghetto attitudes and bad manners like our neighbors who seem to be the only ones out of control on the entire block week-after-week, month-after-month.

If you have anything to say to me then say it to my face but be very well prepared to have me be armed with words so painful to your egos that you’ll end up crushed for life.

I hate that Americans breed like rats but they won’t control their brats. Please.

This neighborhood isn’t a playground.

The entire world isn’t a playground for your brats and the sooner they learn that then they’ll be prepared for success.

Kids co-exist amongst adults who bring home the bacon not the other way around.

Be quiet!

People are peacefully dying at home from cancer, people are injured, telecommuting, conducting calls worth thousands of dollars to Tokyo, relaxing, vacationing, learning, wanting and needing peaceful nights at home.

Be quiet, you!

The world doesn’t belong to children.

The world belongs to adults who make the money around these parts and sustain our communities, neighborhoods and cities. We make millions of dollars for Minneapolis so we expect respect because we bust our balls making sure that our city doesn’t sink into the mud so your children can attend public schools in the area.

What’s so hard about that? Nothing.

June 18, 2013

“Talent is God given. Be humble. Fame is man-given. Be grateful. Conceit is self-given. Be careful.” - John Wooden

“Believe in yourself! Have faith in your abilities! Without a humble but reasonable confidence in your own powers you cannot be successful or happy.” - Norman Vincent Peale

“My religion consists of a humble admiration of the illimitable superior spirit who reveals himself in the slight details we are able to perceive with our frail and feeble mind.” - Albert Einstein

“Pride slays thanksgiving, but a humble mind is the soil out of which thanks naturally grow. A proud man is seldom a grateful man, for he never thinks he gets as much as he deserves.” - Henry Ward Beecher

“The common idea that success spoils people by making them vain, egotistic and self-complacent is erroneous; on the contrary it makes them, for the most part, humble, tolerant and kind.” - W. Somerset Maugham

Aloha!

Happy Tuesday!

Shall we dance?

Thank you, no.

I’m moving quite slowly.

--- --- ---

Treatise: (a systematic composition of dignity and length)

He wrote a learned treatise on the science of government.

--- --- ---

On a Personal Side Note: Yes, on Friday evening around dusk I was greatly humbled by the Gods when I fell off my skateboard for the first time in two years and received a minor ankle sprain. Aye, aye, just a scratch. Nothing’s broken. (No, I didn’t take any painkillers except for one shot of vodka and two Ibuprofens.) It hurt like hell on Friday night.

No, I’m not complaining.

Yes, I know what it’s like to feel the intense pain of a broken bone, deep tissue road-rash in which you can see all the way down to white bone and what dislocating a shoulder is all about and placing it back into its socket all by myself (I almost passed out from the pain but I didn’t.)

This swollen ankle is a scratch and minor compare to the other three types of injuries.

Yes, I wear a helmet no matter what my hair may look like when I take it off.

I got distracted and looked away from my skateboard as I stepped down on my right ankle and twisted it. No, I haven’t twisted an ankle since 1990-1991 when I sprained my right ankle five times in one year running track and field. All’s well with the world. I’ve got a great deal of respect for humanity because I get humbled each and every single day of my life.

The Gods know best.

A friend in the industry keeps telling me: “‘you’re one of the lucky ones because early on you took control over her career. For that reason, alone, no one knows who you are or what you do. You’ve got your freedom intact until…’ ” How right he is.

I slowly walked all the way up to the street in a minor sprain and I couldn’t even bum a smoke off of the bum on the corner muttering to himself because he and no one else around cared who the hell I was.

It was the greatest feeling on Earth to be so humbled and unrecognized by all. Yes! Absolutely yes! All I could think was, “someday it won’t be like this, so for right now enjoy it for all it’s worth.”

Do you think that I haven’t known for most of my adult life that I’m meant to be famous? Please.

(No, no delusions of grandeur. You’re reading the work of a woman who grew up in the jungle-barrios of Costa Rica and had no idea what the hell Television even was until the age of ten. Please.) Yes, as an adult I’m actually a real executive producer with more content than llamas have saliva.

Someone with as much intelligence, content and talent as myself and my equals don’t hideaway in the shadows unless we like to, because we hate overly calculated stimuli.

The greatest thing that I’ve got going for me is that I’m extremely independent, introverted and intelligently smart about many subject matter.

“Everyone” that I went to school with and was ever jealous or green with envy would go out of their way to tell me: “Someday you’re going to be famous.” Then they’d give me a look that said it all; “We hate you!” Alright. Whatever. Let them hate me.

Yes, I’ve known it all along and so have they.

They just happened to be dumb enough to point out the obvious right along with their hatred about the fact that they were not going to become really famous even though they wanted it so much more badly than I ever did.

I can take it or leave it.

I don’t really care.

I never did care about fame and because of that I aggravated them to the core of their shallow beings. How could, I, be so close to something they wanted and yet not reach out and grab it? Our family has known (on a personal level) quite successful film producers for the past fifty years. How dare, I, not pluck the fruit from the vine? How dare, I, not go after what every arts school kid is after? How dare I? Yep. I dare. Picking fruit is hard work especially when one has competition from the strong and dumb monkeys.

Of course I know that someday I’ll become famous but for now, it sure feels incredibly good to be no one special.

Yes, I’ll become famous when the public pays me for my work and not one minute before that. If the public doesn’t pay for my work then I won’t belong to them and I’ve got no interest in becoming a public figure. I’m a private citizen until that moment. Period. I know how this game is played better than most. Peace. Moving on. Next.

I love how Minnesotans mind their own goddamn business… as a grown adult woman if I need help then I’ll ask for it but as you can see; I’d rather walk myself to a nearby hospital even if it means walking on a sprained ankle then to ask for help from strangers because I’m just as stubborn as the character of Anne of Green Gables.

No, I’m not anything like the character, but I can relate to her stubborn nature.

My father told me that the best advice his mother ever gave him was this: “Mind your own business!” Here! Here! Cheers to that! I drink a toast in honor of that motto.

I’m grateful to all of the Minnesotans who minded their own business and left me alone to figure out my minor sprain. Oh, I was so grateful not to be asked million-and-one-questions by lovely and perfectly good looking strangers loading music gear onto a loading dock. What rock stars! They knew better. Thanks!

If any adult woman needs help then she’ll ask for it and if she does then she means business. She won’t be fucking around especially if she were ever to be gravely injured otherwise, no news is good news. Peace.

Sincerely,

Gabriel

June 17, 2013

Aloha!

Happy Monday!

No blog.

Taking Mondays off through Monday, September 2^nd, 2013.

Sincerely,

Gabriel

June 14, 2013

“Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.” - Buddha

“An insincere and evil friend is more to be feared than a wild beast; a wild beast may wound your body, but an evil friend will wound your mind.” - Buddha

“Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.” - Buddha

“There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth; not going all the way, and not starting.” - Buddha

Aloha!

Happy Friday!

Shall we dance?

Let’s!

--- --- ---

Subsidiary: (dependent, acting as a supplement)

A subsidiary branch of the company was opened yesterday.

----------

Take it away Mr. Bill Maher! We, The People cheer you on. Break a leg! Good Luck. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Gabriel

P.S. I’ve given Europe quite a bit of thought and consideration within the recent past twenty-five years of history.

I’ve got many letters to write by hand or typewriter written.

No, I don’t feel prepared to write such letters to all types of citizens across the globe because I’ve given a great deal of reflection to the plights of many different regions and all I know is that: I know, what, I know from my acute perspective.

I don’t pretend to know anything unless it’s been taught to me through logic, reasoning skills and analytical critical thinking.

I take everything at face value but I very rarely believe in what’s said unless it’s face to face communication so that I may study the characteristics and honesty of other individuals and their features; or if a concept is explained to me from those whom I seek explanations which more often than not they’re masters or experts in their fields. Cheers to that!

Who am I to know any better for others?

No body.

I’m somebody who doesn’t reside in other global regions (at this time) but I’d like to think that I can understand what other people go through on a daily basis in order to place food on their tables and a roof over their heads for their children and elderly. Period.

I do think the world to be as it is because first-handedly we’ve traveled it.

I can understand the beauty and struggle as they stand hand-in-hand against dark forces.

Yes, Scottish and Irish histories are roaming around my brain today.

No, I haven’t forgotten. I owe your people one letter.

I’ve been well acquainted for twenty-five years with the Scotts and thirty years with the Irish. What do you think Bean town is all about? Peoples whose lineages take them as far back as they can to their Motherlands. We all come from certain soils and that’s what marks us as individuals with particular stories, histories and memories in the struggle to survive the weather, wars, disease and famine.

Cheers!

I raise a glass to all!

Here’s to you!

I can see the moving images of those who stood, on these, here, rich lands, well, before us and lived, fought for their freedoms and survived humanity’s plight and went on to thrive.

Survival has occurred since the beginning of cavemen times.

To survive the human condition isn’t something new or unique to humans just like mean-spirited people meander the Earth, asleep to their spiritual, calm and compassionate needs. Opa!

We’ve been at the human plight ever since the start of humans as a species.

The key, the goal and the intent is to thrive as humans not to merely make-it-by.

It’s not good enough to survive just because all other species do.

Humans are granted the power of intelligence.

Humans are indeed refined instruments of their own making.

We see, we learn, we reason, we use logic and we can develop and improve upon our evolution. We’re not some foraging bacteria, amebas or amphibians.

Humans aren’t necessarily confined to trees because panthers and jaguars roam the forest floor.

Humans aren’t necessarily forced to peel off bugs from their coats and eat them for protein.

Humans aren’t necessarily foraging the forest floors for nuts and berries to eat.

Humans aren’t cold blooded no matter how many con-artists, one, may encounter.

Humans are indeed mammals like elephants, dolphins, deer, cows, buffalo, rabbit, squirrel, mice and beavers.

Our circulatory systems work the same and thus we have common knowledge and respect for those, whom, which, we, co-exist amongst as humans.

Humans co-exist amongst other animals.

Other animals don’t co-exist amongst humans unless they must.

Humans can think through logical explanations and come up with reasonable concepts; for example such as: brain surgery and space rockets; we can and do read and write, create, innovate, and reach for the next set-of-steps in evolutionary advancement because all we can hope for is that the next generation, and, the one following that; all the way till the last surviving human, that, our offspring will be better off than previous generations and stay healthy to continue the human lineage or humanity perishes. Period. The End.

One can only hope and wish for our offspring to be better equipped for the world then we ever were and to be free to think and innovate towards the advancement of our development or we seize to exist. Simple as that. I can dilute this equation further; however we’re all smart enough to know what’s going on around the globe. Yes, indeed.

Our job is to be present, alert and make sure that the history books contain correct information and facts about our present Era even if we hate to hear, read and speak the honest to god brutal truth about the times in which we live-in; for example genocide, on-going-wars, lies, deceit and corruption about our current status quo as one body of work.

Am I getting a little bit too “heady” now?

Well, thoughts won’t hurt you.

They’ll only make you smarter.

Peace.

Cheers!

Gabriel.

P.S.S. Yes, I’m getting informed by experts that the “Fluoride” in toothpaste is the same in H2O is indeed toxic. Ask the experts. I’m neither a chemist nor any type of chemical expert. I’m simply informed and that’s that.

Note: Yes, I’m getting informed by experts that public cameras don’t drive crime down.

It’s been proven that the technology isn’t like “NCIS” such as-in-the Television show or that the technology is anywhere near as fancy as it’s portrayed by independent contractors or police forces.

Public cameras are a made-up industry for surveillance of The People but its poor quality and it doesn’t totally and completely prove anything 100%.

Okay. I believe the experts. I won’t be voting for police public cameras. It’s a bogus industry.

June 13, 2013

Aloha!

Happy Thursday!

Shall we dance?

Let’s!

Correction; Thank you to the City of Minneapolis for patching up the pot-holes in Theo Wirth Parkway; Today I found out that it wasn’t the city of Golden Valley that made those repairs rather it was the City of Minneapolis.

We’re grateful and proud of all of the hardworking men and women who maintain our freeways, streets, parkways and parks. We’re grateful! The only thing that I ever wanted to be in life as far as a career is concerned was a park ranger, but I chickened out because I love city living. It’s so damn convenient for all types of events.

--- --- ---

“I Had My Chance”

By

Morphine

I had my chance and I let it go

Well if I ever have myself another chance like that

I'm going to grab it and I won't look back

Sometimes I'm too careful

I walk just like I'm carrying a hand grenade

It's going tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick

Ticking ticking ticking in my hand

It's going tick tick tick tick ticking in my hand

Tick tick ticking in my hand

And if I ever have myself another chance like that

I'm going to grab it and I won't look back

Yea if I ever have myself another chance like that

I'm going to grab it and I won't look back

--- --- ---

Farmers Market June 2013

Downtown, Minneapolis, Minnesota

Thank you

Now, I’ve missed the downtown, Minneapolis’s Farmers Market for the past two seasons as part of a personal boycott; I did indeed get marked as “trash” and racially profiled by some of the vendors in past seasons. No fun! (We’ll let bygones be bygones.) I left for a while. I had to; the communication was, too, ghetto for me to deal with; the lack of refined urban communication in human compassion left a sour taste in my mouth.

Whole heartedly, it’s one of my favorite Farmers Markets here in town. It’s a real urban experience which brings together the heart of the city; farmers and corporate-workers. Incredible! Wonderful! Thank you.

When I worked out of the 40^th floor of the I.D.S. building (2006-2007) that’s when I learned and found out about the Farmers Market and it’s been in my heart ever since.

I love that it’s so affordable for all economic classes and income brackets. Thank you for feeding the people of Minneapolis and the surrounding townships without breaking the bank. We’re grateful.

I’ve grown, developed and matured within the past two years.

I’ve become calm, relaxed and assertive ever since I had surgery November 2011.

When I was in pain 24/7 I was a curmudgeon, grouchy and cantankerous at people who took up way, too, much space and acted like barn animals from the surrounding rural boroughs.

People who ate with their mouths open and projectile little bits of food and saliva in others’ faces while talking.

I used to get real annoyed and angry at having to deal with Caucasian barn animals that pride themselves in “white privilege” but had no class to speak of. I used to get frustrated at being treated like a thief without stolen anything.

For many years, everywhere I went downtown I was either followed around or scolded by establishment workers and it grates on a human soul to be made a criminal before proven guilty.

Now, I’m tranquillo.

I’ve come to a few realizations, epiphanies and conclusions about people who throw stones at glass houses.

I’m still hyper about the fact that many of the goods and services that are distributed by corporations are indeed mediocre, cheaply-made and more expensive than it requires for the products to be so. Highway robbery…

Like my Roseville, social worker auntie, who recently retired from Hennepin County’s social work services, just like her, I, too, will comment very loudly if the service is lousy or if the goods are crap. I’ve got no qualms with doing so because as a woman it’s my prerogative.

The Elders in my family have taught me that it’s okay to make a fuss about the mediocrity in our culture and these are Caucasian, Finn, Jewish and Muslim women who won’t take any guff from anyone.

I like that.

Normally, I’ll travel silently and will disappear at a moment’s notice; nevertheless if I’m being physically mishandled or racially profiled then I can raise a stink like these Elder women in my family can and do.

Dealing with the Elder women in my family when they are dissatisfied can become a real royal pain in the ass because they can become annoyed, frustrated and loud thus broadcasting to everyone nearby that poop has been flung in their direction by monkeys (people).

At times: I, too, raise a stink when monkeys (literally) have tried to fling poop at me; monkeys know that I don’t like it when they attempt to fling poop in my direction and they’ve come to learn over a 34 year period that I, too, will squat, take a dump and fling poop at the monkeys if it means the difference between having them war against me or stand my ground.

Don’t think that I won’t.

They know better.

They’ve learned over time.

Do you know why I’ll raise a stink?

I’ll protect myself against monkeys (literal animals) because they’re incredibly strong but stupid and not very clever.

There’re a few monkey tribes (literally) who know me by smell and sound and when I enter the jungle floor they leave me alone because I’m passing through, taking refuge from the world and I’m extremely quiet while amongst their clans.

They know I come in peace and I mean no harm.

The monkeys know I mean business yet I’m relaxed. They let me make a fire and boil some water for coffee, take a siesta, hang out and relax amongst their clans because we know one another even though we don’t belong to each others’ tribes.

I’ve come to find out that people are no different than monkeys or any other mammals for that matter. I could get into the differences in comparison between the two, but I won’t; you can do that on your own.

Now; downtown, Farmers Market is a place where you better know what’s going on with you. It’s such a sophisticated place in which you may not freak out, yell at people or mutter or get naked. I love the sophistication of that Farmers Market just as much as I love the Farmers Market in Uptown behind the “Rainbow” grocery store there.

I love the downtown Farmers Market because people are cool, relaxed and even though the streets are crowded, sometimes, for a moment; just a mere moment I can sense the heat, excitement and culture of New York City, but it only happens for about three seconds and then it’s gone.

I grew up, summers, at the Manhattan marina shopping for coffee and bagels at the deli around the corner. I miss delis on almost every other street corner. I miss family owned bakeries and meat counters (butchers).

I live for those moments in which I feel as though I’m standing at a crosswalk in the middle of Manhattan or Soho with my Minnesota family who’s been living there for over fifty years and our in-laws were off-Broadway stars. Ha! It’s so cute. Our in-laws rocked N.Y.C. in the 1920’s, 30’s and 40’s. There’re pictures of wild Broadway parties to prove it.

I love the suits and their lunchtime freedom to roam Nicolette Ave. amongst the lovely farmers and their families.

I love this town.

I live for this town.

I live for many other towns across the globe.

I’d live in Czechoslovakia (of course, I know it’s called the Czech Republic) if our family and our work weren’t here. Don’t think that I don’t know what’s been going on around the globe, because citizens keep me informed about weather, politics, agriculture, art, science, mathematics and their people.

I live for this town because it means just as much to me as it does N.Y.C. and Boston as well as one other town in Texas, which I won’t give it away. It’s a secret to us.

Thank you for treating me humanly today.

Today, I was better treated at the Farmers Market than I ever had since 2006.

I’m human. I like to be treated with dignity and not like some dumb monkey although Caucasian people are the only ones to go out of their way and tell me to my face that I look like a monkey. What idiots! How racist.

I like to shop from one particular Asian family because they’ve always been so good to our family. I won’t forget it. I never forget anything. You’re in my heart. Peace.

My alarm just went off.

See you tomorrow.

Cheers!

Gabriel

Note: If, one hasn’t watched a film, then, one can’t critically review a film. The entire critique of one individual falls apart when they haven’t screened a film because they don’t quite know what they’re talking about. Please watch a film before giving it a review and please no generalizations about any towns, cities or states. Thank you.

----------

P.S. Yes, as a matter of fact Monsanto now owns Hormel of Minnesota.

I wouldn’t eat it if I were you.

Why?

I wouldn’t eat any GMO’s because it’s been factually proven in mice studies that genetically modified foods kill the mice from different forms of cancers. How tragic.

It’s too bad that Hormel sold out.

That’s exactly what “selling-out” looks like.

Selling out; does indeed kill and murder innocent citizens and civilians for profit and nothing else especially in a sneaky and pervasive manner. Pity.

What a shame that we’re a country in which our corporations refuse to stand for anything much less a moral code and center. Individuals stand with a moral center and since corporations are now considered individuals (yeah, right!) by some crazy legal technicality then don’t corporations have the responsibility to find a moral code and become just as responsible as adult individuals are? Yep.

--- --- ---

P.S.S. I’ll come back later in the day.

Next: Tennis and the Farmers Market.

I just found out that “Farmers Market” is spelled without any apostrophes.

June 12, 2013

Aloha!

Happy Wednesday!

Shall we dance?

Let’s!

“Gone for Good”

By

Morphine

I'm never going back

Never going back to you

I'm never going to see you again

I'm never going to dig out your picture

I'm never going to look you up someday

Life is very short

You don't love me anymore

So I'm never going to see you again

I'm never going to write you a letter

Never going to call you on the phone

I'm never going to drive by your house

I'm never going to catch you coming outside

Never going to walk up your walk

And ring your bell

And feel you fall into my arms

I'm never going to see you

I'm never going to see you again

You’re gone for good

--- --- ---

No, we don’t live in the millionaire neighborhood of Kenwood, Mpls.

No, we don’t live in Uptown, Mpls (“an overpriced ghetto”) amongst fake hipsters.

No, we don’t live in the Seward, Mpls neighborhood of public school, trust-fund babies who live in squalor.

No, we don’t live in Northeast, Mpls neighborhood of rich artists who pretend to be poor.

No, we don’t live in North, Mpls neighborhood in which the property owners fight for their freedom from the gun violence, pimps and prostitution. North is a neighborhood architecturally more beautiful than all of Minneapolis combined.

No, we don’t live in the Bryn Mawr, Mpls neighborhood at the edge of North, Mpls.

No, we don’t live in downtown, Minneapolis, (although we might as well.)

No, we don’t live amongst the rich people of Theo Wirth Parkway and the golf course.

No, we don’t live in the Golden Valley neighborhood one mile from Robbinsdale.

Yes, we live in the City of Robbinsdale amongst the blue collar and professional doctors.

No, we’re neither blue collar nor doctors.

Yes, we’re professional filmmakers and broadcasters by trade.

Yes, we run our companies from our private studio and the office.

Yes, at home we have modest laptops and that’s about it.

Yes, I still listen to records on a 1970’s stereo.

Yes, I still type letters in an old 1930’s “Royal” typewriter.

Yes, we have lots of inexpensive books and modest furnishings from the 1930’s that would give you a hernia if you decided to pick them up and move them. The furniture was my great-aunt Ellen’s (family heirlooms throughout the generations) shipped to Minnesota from San Francisco when she passed on.

We own one Tele and no landlines.

The internet and satellite are the fanciest things we own.

No, we don’t have squat to steal; nothing that’ll amount worth anything in value.

My laptop was worth maybe $200.00 and my home camera was worth $70.00. Ha!

Oh, I’ve got a $70.00 digital walk-man.

How fancy is that?

Not very but fun!

No, we don’t have anything worth stealing and neither do our neighbors or anybody else’s neighbors for that matter.

If we have anything of value then it’s locked up in a vault downtown.

What else?

What’s the most expensive thing I own?

Nothing.

My two-dollar flip-flops.

Anything worth any type of gold is sitting inside a vault that contains thousands of my ideas about the world and we’ll get them patented, copyrighted, and officially sealed before I die.

My thoughts and ideas are worth more than all of the objects we own.

Do you think that I’m not familiar with Tesla’s theories? Do you think that I don’t have an energy grid mapped out to bring light to our brothers and sisters in ghettos and shantytowns? Do you think that I’m okay with food and H2O becoming commodities only for the wealthy to occupy? Do you think that I don’t think about restructuring the tax code, the educational system and the infrastructure of this country? Think again.

I care about what happens to this Nation.

I care more deeply than you’ll ever know even though people tell me that they believe I’m made-out-of-stone or that I’m exactly like “Mr. Darcy” or “Mr. Spock.” Please. I feel deeply. I’m more sentimental than I’ll ever let you know in person. No, I’ll never cry in front of you. I can hold my tears and my rage back from drowning you in sorrow.

It’s been explained to me that we live where the “rich people” live within the surrounding neighborhoods of Theo Wirth Parkway near the golf course, Kenwood, downtown, Bryn Mawr, North and Northeast; HOWEVER, we’re middle-income-earners who live modestly and can afford leisure, movies, tennis, travel and eating-out like any other middle income earners of our social status and economical class before hitting that two-hundred-thousand dollar mark. I guess that once you’re at two-hundred-thousand dollars per annual-income then one becomes “upper middle earners” and, one, is no longer considered “middle income earners.”

We’re just like that; we afford our lifestyles because we believe in a vital economy in which everyone does well by everybody else.

Oh, my alarm just went off.

Time to move on.

What I want you to know is that we live in the heart of Minneapolis, because all of these neighborhoods surround us. All of these neighborhoods are just as much a part of our pumping heart as any other vital organ. We look forward to seeing vitality, peace, justice, safety, love and a thriving economy in these neighborhoods, because when they do well then so does the heart of the City of Robbinsdale.

Note: Thank you for fixing the tremendous potholes on Theo Wirth Parkway and across from the golf course entrance. We’re grateful to the city of Minneapolis for taking care of one of our favorite places in all of the Twin Cities.

On a bi-weekly basis I see deer, turkey, raccoon, turtle, Cardinals, hawk and crows. I’m grateful for this incredible piece of land untouched by corporations. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

What’s this that I hear that the people of Golden Valley have to fork over $5.00 bucks every hour that they play tennis? That’s ridiculous!

Here in the City of Robbinsdale our taxes and our municipal liquor store pay for the maintenance of our tennis courts. We do play on top of seasonal blown garbage (which it can’t be helped with outdoor courses) but hey, at least we don’t have to pay five bucks every hour we play tennis. I’ve fallen in love with tennis. I look forward to golfing in about a decade when I retire from this work, become an expert writer and go on to master discipline to construct masterpieces.

Best Regards to all;

Gabriel

P.S. Please bring a lawsuit forth to all of these crazy, evangelical, morbid, sadistic, ideological and policy-ridden rapist Republicans in Congress wanting to control the uteruses and ovaries of women. Please.

Slap them with some type of charge... These are the crazy motherfuckers playing god with Roe v Wade.

These are insane people who think that they can decide the outcome of each and every abortion as though they believe to pretend-to-play god. Crazy and inhumane people will get our women killed. Please don’t let them get away with murdering the women of America by making abortion illegal which will drive women underground to administer their own abortions. Please, no. That’s 100 steps backwards to 1885. Please, no.

June 11, 2013

Aloha!

Happy Tuesday!

Shall we dance?

Thank you, yes.

Let’s rock this party!

I’m sick and tired of lame Minnesota parties.

Doesn’t anybody know how to relax and party, peacefully, anymore?

Although thanks for the fabulous party this weekend.

It was splendid!

Cheers!

--- --- ---

Okay; Tica style:

About the subject matter of friendship;

While living in Minnesota I’ve come to learn that people are extremely and excruciatingly, painstakingly passive-aggressive in communication especially when it comes to misunderstandings, cowardice and apologies.

I’ve recently learned that people in Minnesota grow up to perceive daylight as a commodity and thus most of life becomes a commodity in cultural-perspective and in terms of relationship to everything else in life that which matters most.

Daylight is anything but a commodity; daylight is the difference between life and death for most people around the globe who still (as of this very hour) live without electricity in ghettos and shantytowns; therefore it appears that daylight is far more essential than just something to be considered a thing, to make the most of but rather a need in terms of substance than a mere object.

Daylight is one of the greatest friendships that humanity holds true and dear in connection to mother Earth and the sun. Moving on.

I’ve come across many people who don’t have any connections or means to social status and / or money therefore they are morbid and manipulative social climbers for the one-and-only reason to get “more in touch” and connected to people with more money or status than they’ve got so they can use their connections to get ahead while harming others in the process of that particular and specific goal in mind.

Social climbers can be dangerous when they harm others through their maniacal, twisted and demented delusions of grandeur as gossipers and liars for the mere sport of it. Careful.

This modus operandi is ridiculous because a) Minnesotans don’t really support each other especially outside of their many social circles b) Minnesotans live in cliques that fight and hate each other however there it is, company to make the long winters pass by c) Minnesotans like to have their backs scratched but they don’t like to scratch; (in other words they like everything done for free) d) Minnesotans don’t climb together; it’s all about the first, one, who, gets to the top of the summit, wins, and gets to look around while their friends fall to their deaths down below. Oops. (Did I spell it out for you? I’m curling my eyelashes over here.) I could pretend to act like Marilyn Monroe and piss the hell out of ya’ all.

Now, I’ll speak to anyone.

No, I’m not afraid to speak to anyone. Please.

I won’t necessarily go out of my way, but...

I’ll speak to anyone from the bum sitting on the curb to the capitalist.

I’m an adult woman and least of all am I afraid to speak to the supposedly small town celebrities in these parts because I can and will. I don’t need anybody’s permission to communicate to others. Why wouldn’t I be connected to you just as much as you’re connected to me? Please.

I’ll even go so far as introducing myself to anyone, but by no means are we friends or are we going to become friends. Spending an evening at a party talking to someone is just that, conversation; deliciously, better, yet, political discussion or debate.

An introduction doesn’t mean anything to me other than it’s fun to speak with perfectly intelligent strangers and to wine side by side with those who can peacefully relax amongst mutual friends of friends even if we’re only perfect strangers to one another.

Relax, no one needs or wants anything from you. Relax.

No, I don’t go anywhere with the expectation that anyone owes me anything much less do I owe them anything but respect, soberly functional communication and understanding as well as any peoples can through multiple languages.

If, you, could only speak my language then we’d laugh inside spools of locked humor. Everything’s funnier in Spanish. There’re no bombs aimed with hidden messages out of mockery or disrespect.

My people don’t hate themselves so they don’t have to go around mocking others.

No, I don’t go anywhere conducting business.

If I’ve got business to conduct then it’ll be done at the negotiating table on Wednesday mornings in a feminine uniform. Please. No, I don’t need a single penny from anybody. I can set up meetings with any of the world’s leaders at a moment’s notice and be penciled in. Thank you.

We’re middle income earners and we live for a better future.

We meet our needs. Thank you.

If, we meet and someone happens to hawk their good little egos at me then I’ll tell them that I’m a dishwasher and more often than not people are shallow-enough to walk away from me mid-sentence right after that statement is made. Good riddance. Don’t waste my time. Keep it real. We’re all human, here.

Yes, we’ve locked down our investors for the next decade. Period. Thank you.

We can create whatever the hell we want.

This blog could all become a rant for the six years (and I’d have a blast with that) but I’m far more constructive in my writing than that. I’m overly educated thus I’ve got literary criteria and responsibilities to fulfill as well as creative agendas planned like daily lessons to meet my twenty thousand hours towards becoming an expert writer. Cheers!

You can namedrop all day long and I may or may not know people but get this: I’m well informed about people in this town and in any other town for that matter; I’m well informed about people that I’ve never even met. I’m mutual friends with newspaper royalty all across these United States of America. You have no idea as to whom I know.

If I were so to choose or desire to inquire or meet anyone then I can: Why? Because of who I am. I’m, who, I say I am; dating as far back to 1066 when we became Lords after the Battle of Hastings; we became Stewarts of the lands, finances and affairs. I know it’s a joke to you, but the experience is what’s brought us thus far and that’s why our family doesn’t work for yours. We’ve toiled the land alongside the serfs and we know all about serfs and their plight. It’s been our responsibility to keep them and their families fed, healthy and alive.

I realize that you don’t even know what that means therefore please don’t go around producing music videos about something that can’t be explained away in a dusty, two-dollar vest.

No, I haven’t watched any of the music videos or listened to your musica; however my friend explained to me the music video like it was storytelling time and I listened to the rhythms and sounds of his voice as he described moving images like passing clouds. How much fun! What I’ve got in mind is probably not even the same thing as what the music video portrays. Cheers! Peace.

I’d love to tease so hard but I must not be like that here upon the page until we meet face to face because “royalty” can always say… …to each other. Right? Right. Cheers. If you so much as profess to be any people’s royalty then answer me this… until we meet, because you owe me one correspondence in polite gesture towards communication. I love to test people. I know, I know. People don’t really matter to the Minnesotans unless one has a jeweled encrusted forehead full of diamonds. How lame.

What Minnesotans don’t seem to understand is that no one really needs them, yet they’re allowed to stay in the game because they have some Lutheran value system that keeps others believing that Minnesotans do their best and that’s all that one would hope for.

Best Regards to complete strangers in this weird social scene;

Lady Gabriel (Ha!) (Eat it for late Nordic dinner.) Can you swallow it? Don’t choke on it! (A title or a familial Crest of Arms doesn’t mean anything especially if you’ve ever starved in your lives while living in America.)

No, we didn’t purchase our titles over the internet. The Crest came with courage, honesty and hard work as well as loyalty to the aristocrats of that time period. We didn’t purchase our status; it comes with a proven history and a testimony of our leadership.

P.S. I don’t pretend to know strangers or acquaintances; no matter how famous anybody is. If we’ve never spoken face to face or directly communicated through correspondence then we don’t know each other. If I don’t know you then it’s because I don’t know your smell as someone who’s held a conversation with me over the duration of many....

As for that little girl: Please stop telling people that we know each other because we don’t.

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

To answer your questions:

No, I’m anything but arrogant.

Yes, I do have pride like any other adult woman.

Yes, I’m unassuming.

No, I’m not any more or less crazy than you are but when I’m tired or hungry I can get dumb and stupid.

No, I’m not a lesbian, although what woman wouldn’t love to make passionate love to another woman at least once in her lifetime? Please.

No, I’m not a freak. My arms and legs haven’t been cut off and if that were the case then my head would also have to be cut off right along with my limbs because if I were left alive to fit anything into my mouth then I’d plot to kill all of my enemies, one-by-one in their sleep.

If I were a freak then I’d live for vengeance and nothing else plotting away as to how to slowly kill those who’d dare make me into a freak without a choice to accept membership. Please.

No, I didn’t betray anybody; they betrayed me and for that reason alone I’ve now turned them into the “Chicken People” never to be touched again for another seven generations. One of us… We accept them.

Now that I’ve got the truth by the balls; I see the light of their ways; they’re more corporate and more a part of “The Man” than I am.

No, I’m not the freak, they are.

No one will partner up with “them” so as to have their linage die off within seven generations. Their sons and daughters are now taboo here within these city walls. One of us… We accept them.

We might do business with the public school, trust-fund babies who like to live in squalor but like hell if we’ll ever touch or marry off into their clans. Please. Betrayal hurts, doesn’t it? Wait for the snowball effect. Not being able to marry off sons and daughters can only mean one thing; inbreeding and death.

When women are taken sexually advantage of and exploited then they become less of a freak to their own natures and more like lovely soldiers, understanding generals and sharpshooters and excellent referees; women become that, which, men ought to be all along in cultured society; disciplined, observant, caring and protective of their nationalities. Peace.

Anything else? Nope.

June 10, 2013

I’ll come back to make grammatical changes. Thanks.

Aloha!

Happy Monday!

See you on Tuesdays until Monday, September 2nd, 2013:

I love long weekends! I just do.

Gabriel

June 7, 2013

Congratulations to the Graduating Class of 2013!

Thank you to all of the parents, teachers, family members, friends and administrators; and all those who guided these graduates through and towards their completion and on their way to their life’s journey.

Know your enemies.

We know who our enemies are.

I have so many words to write to this graduating class in hopes that they’ll understand my deepest sentiments about lost friendship, lost respect, censorship, misuse of power, distrust and most of all manipulation and heartbreak, hurt and strength.

I like to be the last to throw a punch but when I do it I mean it.

If I take a punch then others better be able to receive a punch just as well as I do.

Yes, your friends will misguide you, desert you and disrespect you.

It happens.

It doesn’t need to be that way but it’s because the American culture is a mean-spirited, disturbing and selfish, one, not to mention abusive.

It is part of life because people get hurt, misguided and misused by others.

Your friends will laugh in the face of adversity yet it’ll be hallow laughter filled with fear because they know that they’ve wronged and they’ve been wronged.

If your friends pretend to laugh in the face of adversity it’s because they hate what they’ve become and how deeply they’ve hurt you.

They know that if they have the power to hurt then so do you.

It’ll be a nervous laughter filled with body odor that you’ll be able to smell from yards away. It’s a nervous odor like no other smell of rotting flesh and fear.

They won’t be able to disguise their fear of you, once they understand that you can emotionally punch just as hard as they can.

Then you’ll be even; you can move on and forward mainly only with mature adults.

An immature adult or a coward will run from communication because the embarrassment is, too, much for them to bear. They won’t know how to reverse the wrong that they’ve caused from the ashes of miscommunication and power struggles.

Your friends will indeed abuse you especially if they’ve been.

If you’re someone who has any type of talent then people will try to exploit your natural gifts for their benefit.

Others will want money and that’ll be the extent of their abuse because they won’t have money or they can’t find it on their own so they’ll use you like a human shield in their defense to justify how much they’ve secretly hated you all along and justify violence against your person.

Your friends may turn out to be freaks and can physically harm you because they want to control you and force your hand. Your friends will lie to you by omitting the ugly truth about themselves so that you’ll get confused and won’t have a clear picture of the abuse that’s already occurred long before you ever came along.

Your friends will mock you, make fun of you and pretend like they like it because they’re shallow and can’t deal with the hurt they’ve cause their friends.

The greatest defense to that type of struggle is having endurance to endure it all.

When your friends lock you out of their lives without so much as a single word or explanation; that’s only because they’re embarrassed that they abused the power that was granted to them through friendship.

When your friends can’t face your hurt then you’ll be sent away to face the hurt alone because they don’t want to take any responsibility for your united bond.

You’ll learn that your friends didn’t care about you because you were simply and only a commodity to them from the very start.

Perhaps, they loved you at one point and that’s not a friend that’s just a lustful acquaintance except for the following: you’ve already gotten to know one another, you’ve already broken bread, traveled and had agape moments of gratitude; so you’ll ask yourself: how did this beautiful relationship go so wrong? You’ll ask yourself: how did your friends become your enemies or worse yet, how did your friends become just another face in the crowd? Are you not to care anything about their well being ever again? Nope. I guess, not, only because they never truly cared if you lived or died. If you were to drop dead in front of them, then they’d go through your pockets and steal the belongings off of your dead corpse.

Your friends will push you so far away from their souls, and that’ll make you want to cry out onto the atmosphere and hope that they’re merciful gods to bring about balance, justice and fairness to the grief.

You’ll face moments of uncertainty and your friends will abandon you because they never wanted to travel by your side.

Not to worry, they’ll never forget you and you shall soon forget them.

A friend who’s wronged you isn’t a friend to remember, only, one, to forget.

You will all learn valuable lessons together, develop and it’ll be excruciatingly agonizing yet successful for them to understand that this is one big mean world and people aren’t to be used for amusement only because your friends want you when you have something to offer yet they send you away when they have nothing to give not even so much as a “hello.”

Your friends will assume things about your life, your history and you.

Your friends will say horrible things to you about you and your loved ones.

Your friends will want to deny and justify the hurt they’ve caused.

Your friends will think you a weakling when you’re kind.

Your friends will think you stupid when you don’t argue each and every point.

Your friends will think of you as unworthy of a breath of life when they abuse you.

Your friends will consider you a dirty idiotic moron when you’re culturally different from their value and moral systems.

Your friends will take you for everything you’ve got and come back for more.

Your friends will consider you the giving tree.

Your friends will take your heart out and eat it right in front of you as you gasp for your last breath of friendship.

Your friends will think that you’re “retarded” when making peace.

Nevertheless, it’ll be your friends whose misjudgments will misguide them about you.

They’ll lose sight of you because they never saw you in the first place over yonder swimming in dusk filled horizon waves with a rapidly vanishing orange sun.

All that your friends ever saw of you was the dark and not the light.

When your friends have declared war on you then warn them in advance that you won’t be made a fool and that it’s on: all’s fair in love and war.

When your friends mock you then echo that mock by a 1,000 fold.

Leave a ringing in their ears.

We do indeed forgive our enemies but we don’t forgive our friends for slaying us down in battlefields and sending us off to the dungeons to be mutilated in slow deaths of hatred.

Your friends will cut out your hearts and pretend like nothing’s wrong.

Your friends will disrespect you in ways that you never thought was possible.

Your friends will use you as a soundboard, as servants and as slaves.

Your friends won’t care to meet your needs but their needs will be plenty and they’ll demand that you serve them as they never will you.

Your friends will become your enemies and you must be prepared at all times to be good and to do good no matter how much they drive that stake deeper into your back.

Your friends will turn out to be freaks disguised as intellectuals, losers, liars, seducers, horny bastards, cheats, and abusers, sexual offenders and sexual predators and oddly enough you’ll still continue to love them because you didn’t know for about five years what they truly were.

No matter what; you won’t be able to overlook their tremendous smiles, love, their heartache, their dreams, desires and wants for a better future. You won’t be able to look away because once they’ve imprinted love upon your soul you’ll want to teach them what the taste of blood is really like in the middle of vengeance.

Your friends will kill you if they have the chance to succeed.

Your friends will betray you if they can trap you into an early death.

Your friends will be savages.

Your friends will scalp you.

Your friends will blackmail you for something they’ve conspired to do.

If a friend be rough with you then you be rough with a friend.

If your friend ever justifies physical harm against you then teach him a lesson he won’t soon forget.

If your friends use you for their amusement then plague on both their houses.

If your friends think that you’ve got no power because you walk alone and sit as still as the ocean on calm nights then teach them about the awesome power of retaliation, justice and fire if they physically harm you without ever touching a hair on their heads.

Yes, your friends will assume that you have no power or community when you come to their help but they’re never around to help out.

This assumption is to their deadly demise.

Your friends will think that just because the ocean is calm without a night breeze that it has no power to rage against them.

Your friends will consider stealing the stars from right under the night sky but they must first go through you because your job is to co-exist with the stars. If the stars are stolen then humanity wanders in the dark and that won’t do. That’s not good enough. Get it out of here.

Most of all; your friends will think that you’re alone and lonely because they are.

Money doesn’t buy respect, a good reputation or love.

The greatest secret about strength is that you’ll be a better friend than they ever could be to you and because of that little secret you’ll go on to meet world leaders while your friends fester in their petty jealousies, envy and indifference to you as a human with a soul. Their lives will be an endless cycle of monotony and desperation. They’ll dream small because they are small minded.

Long after you’ve gone: your friends will lust after you; because they’ll never have what you’ve got… a soul of the ages.

Your friends will wish that they had made love to you without realizing that you were love incarnate and you did love them however you didn’t…

Your friends will miss you especially when they pretend like they won’t.

Your friends will know what it’s like to truly lose something more valuable than money or their rotten reputations. They have everything in the world to lose: your company, your love, your respect.

Your friends will call you by name on their deathbeds and wish you were there one last time to wipe away their brow and to send them onto the next leg of the journey.

Your friends will be crazy insane with jealousy and envy especially if you’re talented, smart and genuinely kind.

Your friends will try to bring you down to their level.

Your friends will kick you once you’re down.

Your friends will hate you.

Your friends will love you.

Your friends will hate on you.

Don’t let them disrespect you.

Stand up for yourselves, be good, be just and the hell with your friends gone mad.

If your friends physically harm you then send them out into the ocean to deal with the undertow of your rage.

Know this: if you’re friends fall in love with you then they’ll most certainly close off doors to you because the sting of losing your trust will be, too, hard to bear after they’ve injured you, left you for dead and came back to bury your corpse.

Once you’ve avenged yourself then you’re even and you can begin again.

Your friends will miss your smells and joy.

Your friends will miss your thoughts and mind.

Your friends will miss your outlook and viewpoint.

Your friends will be, too, proud to ask for forgiveness.

Your friends shall not be allowed to be mean to your loved ones.

Your friends will be forgiven but never forget their demons.

Your friends will go to the grave wishing you were there to send them off.

I forgive all who’ve wronged me before today.

Your friends will only wish that you staid a little longer on your way to your incredible and amazing lives that they’ll never get to share with you because they walk in the dark of their shadows and not in the faint light of dusk sunlight.

Remember; this pain won’t last forever…

When it passes you’ll be anew again.

Ready and prepared for the world.

Once you’ve been betrayed you’ll not get easily shocked forevermore.

You’ll become invisible to their...

They’ll hold you in their hearts with highest regards for not allowing yourself to be chewed on or disregarded.

There’s nothing more powerful than someone who defends their soul.

To you, they’ll soon faint away into a distant memory of some smell, a sound or a passing thought of some remnant foggy notion of someone you once knew but you can’t quite remember what they look like or the shame on their faces.

Your friends will grow old and alone without your dying devotion and trust.

Your friends will only wish that they could call you to come over and sit with them, but by then it’ll be too late.

You’ll be long gone and never to return because to their surprise you actually have a beautiful life someplace else.

You’ll be your best friend when all others fail you.

You’re your best company.

You’re golden.

You’re you and good.

You won’t ever be alone.

The world is just right outside your door.

Those who love you won’t stab you in the back or say unkind words about you.

You won’t be alone on this journey.

We’ll be with you.

Know your enemies.

We know who our enemies are.

Ha! Eric says he’s now going to go and throw the toaster into the bathtub because he’s so depressed after I read him this. I’m laughing out loud and having a blast sitting next to my best friend with a glass of red organic wine.

We’re off to a bonfire.

Salud.

Cheers to you and yours!

Cheers to us and ours!

Peace to all.

Wishing you a safe and lovely summer 2013.

Goodbye.

Goodnight Moon.

Best Regards and with all my love;

Gabriel

P.S. I’m taking Mondays off all the way through to Monday, Sept. 2nd, 2013:

I’ve got a pilot’s license to study for. Cheers!

June 6, 2013

Aloha!

Happy Thursday!

Shall we take to the dance floor?

Thank you, no.

No, I’m neither Helen of Troy nor Cleopatra. I’m me.

One little individual; nothing more and nothing less.

--- --- ---

Okay.

Moving on.

Next.

Literary Disclaimer:

When my words get jumbled in a sentence; it means that I’m thinking too quickly and my fingers fail my mind. I don’t type as quickly as I think. Thanks for your patience. I appreciate it. Thanks.

I do think that it’s unconstitutional for the police to stop and search anyone without probable cause. Just as I think that citizens and civilians deserve proper representation through due process and beyond a shadow of a reasonable doubt, evidence and witnesses; or at least that used to be our constitutional rights and liberties of the American people but after Homeland Security and The Patriot Act came into effect as a Bureaucratic Nazi Corporate Regime then America became a Gestapo Nation and well, many of the people’s liberties and constitutional rights went to hell in a hand basket.

Our democracy is now an Oligarch and not a Republic.

No, I’m not a survivalist.

No, I don’t believe that the government is going to crash through my ceiling and kidnap me because if they did that then I’d go missing and then there wouldn’t be a blog or podcast and if that were to happen then hell would erupt here on earth. I’m sure that my Anarchist acquaintances in New England would set the entire country on fire because they just need one good reason to go ahead and do so.

I don’t like to be followed around by security guards or cops in shopping areas or stores. As a matter of fact I hate it! I’ve got money in my pocket and if I’m in a store then it means that I can afford to purchase what I intend to buy and if not then I’m window shopping and leave me alone. No, I’m not going to steal the inexpensively made, Chinese slave wage, products from warehouse stores dressed up. Please.

No, I don’t have a stealing psychological condition. Everything that I touch; either belongs to me or it doesn’t and I know the difference. Thank you. No, I’m not like Winona Rider. Thank you very much. I’m a middle income earner and I pay for everything of mine or I don’t touch it. Thank you.

Yes, I shop like the Finn Elders.

They go in, take care of their business, pay and get the hell out.

They don’t loaf around in a store.

Why would they?

They’re too classy for that.

Now, as far as mouth swabs are concerned: Hypothetically; if ever, while randomly getting searched and without probable cause; we’ll sue the city, the state and the government for everything they’ve got if that were ever to occur.

I’ll sink the country and leave it bankrupt before I run off to… Just give me one good reason to command my American god given rights and liberties.

I’ll become an economical cannibal.

No, I’m not a militant.

No, I’m not a rebel.

No, I’m not a political activist.

No, I’m not a radical.

No, I’m not an extremist.

No, I’m not a separatist.

No, I’m not a freedom fighter.

No, I’m not a queen.

No, I’m not a wanna-be dirty Hippie.

No, I’m not a Bohemian.

No, I’m neither a private nor public trust fund baby.

No, I’m not an Anarchist.

No, I’m not a drug dealer.

No, I’m not a Shaman.

No, I’m not a Healer.

No, I’m not a Mind Reader.

No, I’m not a government employee.

No, I’m not a cop.

No, I’m not F.B.I.

No, I’m not C.I.A.

No, I’m not N.S.A.

Yes, I’m a skateboarder, that’s not a crime.

Yes, I’m a legal citizen of the United States, Costa Rica and El Salvador. Period.

Yes, I’m a Mayan citizen, scribe and thinker.

Yes, I’m Ivy League.

Yes, I’m elite.

Yes, I pray to over three-hundred gods throughout the year as a cultural practice but I’m actually an Atheist / Agnostic. I believe in a powerful Deity greater than alien forms and humans; I just don’t believe in all of these mean religions of our Era in which they profess murder in the name of some insane gods. No righteous god in their right mind would ask for humans to kill their brothers and sisters of the human race or alien forms. Period.

No, I’m not anything your misguided, fantasy-driven, melodramatic minds wish me to be.

Yes, I’m a modern contemporary woman.

Eat it for Nordic dinner.

I’ll turn my civil disobedience into a worse nightmare: more so than any fat cat CEO of any corrupt corporation who’s ever left their employees to starve on slave wages, without health benefits and without hope. Please.

Fuck off: from one adult to others: especially those who have no clue which correct, justified and right policies to implement for the people and by the people.

Get off your power trips. Please. I’ll place a cotton swab so far up the legal system’s anal rectum that everyone will feel it. Yep. Moving on. I’ll pull a dragon.

What makes the United States government think that the people have no power or rights?

We’re the tax payers. What we say goes and that’s what gets implemented as policy not these crazed evangelical and Gestapo Nation’s disillusionment of fear of everything.

Mark my words.

Please, don’t ever lay a hand on me; especially male cops.

Hypothetically, if there were probable cause to search me then a female cop will have to handle my body and write everything down on her official report; if she were ever to fondle my crotch or vagina then I’ll self-defend myself to the death and that goes for anybody else out there. I will kill in self defense even if it’s a cop. I have that right as a human of this world to protect myself against any Anarchistic power especially now that the police force has taken it upon themselves to place cameras everywhere without the people’s judicial and memorandum vote. Be careful. The people don’t like to be toyed with.

Power struggles will not be tolerated by any Anarchist police force anywhere.

I come in peace and will be treated as such by all.

You will respect me as a woman of color, damn it!

Women have gotten smarter about their rights.

Neither the cops nor any other person has the right to man-handle anyone. Period.

I know my rights but more importantly we know judges across the United States.

The People aren’t fucking around.

This isn’t a Nazi state in which The People will randomly get stopped in the streets while they’re minding their own business and have an officer of the law cotton swab them and search them. Please. Officers as a matter of fact get paid their annual salaries from the backbreaking work that The People sacrifice towards paying the I.R.S. our annual income taxes. Nope. Back it up, politicians.

Back it up or there’ll be legal action taken and lawsuits will be brought up against these nit-witted government officials, politicians, the city and state; in which create ludicrous policies and laws into effect to treat the people like animals and slaves.

Please.

You’re stepping on the people’s toes and they don’t like it. Get off it! Now!

As For Mr. President Barack Obama signing off into effective command some ridiculous presidential order; some loop-holed, shabby, little policy permitting corrupt Monsanto corporation the ability and freedom to get away with murder and not to have any judges be able to apply judicial justice to corrupt and broken down systems; is, indeed, juvenile and in poor taste. Yes, three of President Barack Obama’s political officials, the staff in his cabinet are former Monsanto workers or members of that corrupt corporation. Let’s think about this for one moment. I wonder who bought whom?

Who’s manipulating those puppet strings?

Don’t answer that. It’s rhetorical. I already know the answer.

If Mr. President Barack Obama is looking for a lawsuit from The American People then he’s got one on his hands. How dare he make deals under the table and out in the open against the benefit of The People for the support of Monsanto.

We; The People demand our rights!

No, not his people, but THE PEOPLE.

Please, don’t be so insulting.

Any president of the United States doesn’t sign off and signs away the rights of the people in exchange for a hand job under the table from their lobbyist and corporate whores. Period.

What a dirty little fucking country.

Peace;

Gabriel

*) About swearing:

::: Back it up.

I don’t swear when I speak but I will here upon the page and if you don’t like it then don’t read. I’m only going to tell it to you one more time.

Never tell me how to think, create or write.

I’m a grown adult woman.

I’ve got carte blanche freedom of expression as an American citizen and I’ll put it to use when I see fit. I’m a mature, confident, intelligent and mentally healthy human.

My psychologist Father tells me that I’m no more or less crazy than anybody else and that I’ve got a clean bill of mental health. Back it up. You’re crowding my style and efforts to defend liberty, peace, justice and our constitutional rights. I’ve got creative license in ways that you don’t even understand what that means. Do you? No, of course not. I’m not here to shock the senses. I’m here to get our civil rights and freedoms back. Period. I’ve got a real purpose.

I almost ought to go and work for the government, but that would be too easy.

Tomorrow: Written Graduation Speech for the graduating class of 2013.

I think everyone’s out of session by now. Yippie! (I love the character of Snoopy!)

June 5, 2013

Aloha!

Happy Wednesday!

Okay. Shall we dance? No? Yes? Yes. Right. Right.

Let’s!

I’ll stand back and watch an entire room of people dance with glee and joy.

Thanks.

--- --- ---

Okay.

Everybody take a deep breath or several deep breaths.

Nobody move.

No sudden movements.

Steady now.

Let’s ride out this tidal wave like kind hearted surfers.

Peace.

Pura Vida.

Check; however not checkmate on the King of Spain.

Forgiveness is everything when one’s been granted an apology. Period. Moving on.

{No, I’m not a slut.

No, I’m no man’s whore.

No, I haven’t committed adultery.

No, I’ve never been a prostitute or exotic dancer.

No, I’ve never paid a prostitute to have sex with me.

Yes, I was sexually assaulted in March of 2011.

Yes, I was sexually assaulted by one of my brothers’ friends.

Ha! Yes, it was a set-up.

No, I have no proof but the men gave away their strategic positions.

Yes, I was betrayed by one of my five brothers mentioned below.

No, I’ll never tell you which one.

Yes, the betrayal hurt so bad it left me stunned.

Yes, I’ve recovered.

Yes, I’m a whole person again.

No harm shall befall my brothers.

Philosophical vengeance is mine.

No, please don’t ever donate a single penny to Sisters’ Camelot.

Yes, Sisters’ Camelot is run by blue collar, white trash, public school, trust fund babies who don’t need the public’s money.

Yes, they love to mock people with their stories about how they are poor but they live off of the fat interest of their mass fortunes.

Yes, Sisters’ Camelot people are The Man.

Yes, I’m still going to raise a million dollars for the people of Minnesota.

Yes, I’d still like a million matched to build a school in Haiti.

Yes, my heart is with Haiti because our family and close friends have taken a great interest in Haiti for about twenty years now.

(Thank you for your questions.)

Now, back it up because I don’t have a bark but I most certainly have a literary bite.}

::: Ode to my five rigging brothers with bad manners :::

Rigging: In May of 2009 I was gifted five Caucasian brothers with the blessing of Kelly Guttenfelder who passed away from prostate cancer December 2011; to me, Kelly was my Staging Master and a friend who bickered with me at times and I didn’t like it one bit. (Ha! Ha! Ha!) With a sturdy handshake we began to work together like siblings and with Kelly at the helm as Captain of his company “Lost Staging” along with his silent partner who later became and is still my friend as well as my Welding Master; a senior carpenter at the Guthrie Theater in town; these brothers are from Minnesota who live all over the world; And will be my brothers until the day I die because we’ve worked alongside one another, sixteen hour days for one entire season from May to September of that year.

We’ve raised massive steel beams and staked them into the ground as secure structures, raised and placed motors, scrims, lowered and raised baby grand pianos, rigged, hooked up and cabled entire stages, wiring work, mounted massive speakers and stage lights, spotlights and ran them, snaked cabled wires through underground tunnels and hooked it all up.

We’ve worked together side-by-side and striking down entire stages (even the stages themselves, everything down to the grass) for National acts, packed up gear into semi-trucks late at night and went back to campfires, had a beer and called it a night, went to sleep in our tents. What lives these men lead that I don’t.

My brothers are considered seasonal workers and the best in the industry in the entire world because no one dies when they rig stages and that’s nothing to sneeze at; something that I’m extremely proud of even though they wear long dreadlocks, they dress like working, outdoors, concert men and they’re highly political in their rhetoric, some are indeed peaceful “Freegans” and peaceful Anarchist activists without trust funds, hardworking men in their mid-forties and fifties working away for the man and towards their retirements as well as my brothers; others’ husbands, fathers, brothers, cousins, friends, family members.

I shadowed them and held the same liable responsibilities as they did; no one got injured or killed with a green rookie for a volunteer apprentice on the job. Thank you. I’m grateful and forever will be for that particular learning experience. They saved my life once all of them. I shall never forget it. These men are rough around the edges, with bad manners, hearts of gold, full of integrity, respect and kind-approach to life even when they’re crabby as hell because life is tough on most people they come across.

We’ve welded together, we’ve camped out, made coffee in the mornings over open fires and we’ve broken bread together, traveled and mended bones and arms pulled out of sockets. Yes, indeed. These are five men and their friends who when in conflict we’ve spoken calmly (or not) yet rationally and worked it out directly and in respectful communication without any sort of threat but with real annoyance and irritation at the other. Peace.

While concentrating on our highly coordinated and physically demanding work we didn’t speak much to one another; raising and lowering stages, ground rigging stages and striking down. We worked long hours under the hot sun on a tight schedule.

Now, we don’t speak much but when we do we have something important to say to one another. Peace.

We recently broke bread together at The Hard Times Café and amongst their-personal close mutual friends, some visiting town as guests from thirteen years ago and they’ve all worked together side-by-side while they helped build Sisters’ Camelot and the food buses, the program and such, but now barely any of them are involved with the program because mostly all had horrible experiences with the inflated egos and complex communication styles in order to progress forward or they had horrible personal significant traumas like rolling a bus and some are still angry at each other for that particular mishap yet they get along no matter what.

Most left Sisters’ Camelot in disgust and went their separate ways. Pity. They’re such a lovely force to reckon with because they are so beautiful, direct and honest together. I like watching them interact. As of nowadays they party together and it’s fun to watch. I would stand up in any court of law in the world for these men and women and their loved ones and tell the truth and nothing but the truth so help me god. Peace.

::: Ode to my five rigging brothers with bad manners :::

Sisters’ Camelot: I met many incredible men and some women whom I worked alongside and whose jobs and daily work are at Sisters’ Camelot especially men from Eveleth and the Range. Thank you.

*) One of my welding brothers for life, his children, close personal friends and community of neighbors and other-close-personal friends and spouses are important to me so we keep the peace no matter what. My personal Anarchist activist friend and I debate and disagree peacefully about anything political. How irritating. We’ve never raised a hand against the other and his backyard will be Native sacred land to me until the day I die because that’s the backyard in which I reconstructed an entire Guthrie stage by myself titled “The Mansion” and was given Master Lessons in welding by the production staff members from the Guthrie at my friend’s backyard. My friend saved my life from getting trapped under a stage that fell over on me. He saved my life because late one night I let go of a stage he instructed me to carry with him and hold on. He held on but I let go. I was holding up one corner but my muscles gave up and I almost got crushed by it. Thank you for saving my life, brother.

*) One of my mechanical engineering brothers for life is brilliant with all things motors and for one summer I watched and lightly helped out with the grease bus at Sisters’ Camelot plus he grew up as working blue collar and raised in Robbinsdale. I trust him with my life. The man’s brilliant on all engineering aspects. We’re still keeping an eye out for his dog Joe. On crisp-cold autumn mornings I think of Joe, my friend’s dog in which my friend believes his dog got murdered in New Orleans one winter four years ago and it’s quite tragic, the entire story stunned me, the violence against this little companion dog, Joe. This man means the world to me. I wish he would’ve been introduced and met one of my sisters who’s all tattooed. I would’ve welcomed him into my blood family because even though he barely has a pot to piss in, he’s a gentleman by and by with a curmudgeon disposition and a heart of gold. I love him as my brother.

*) One of my Native spiritual and organic-biologist brothers for life understands how to translate sentiments when it comes to the deepest roots in the exchange of emotional communication yet a Native brother who’s a man and not womanly; when it seems that there are no solutions to be found and only more misunderstanding then we begin to see land and we figure it out every time. I met this brother the summer of 2001 and forever I shall be grateful to know his face. This is a man whose cultural believes challenge me yet I can understand what he speaks about. He’s got the most gorgeous, strong, brown hair he wears his long hair in a braid as a Native American man who’s been welcomed into Ojibwa lands and into his clan of Elders.

*) One of my audio-engineering and stagehand brothers for life has returned to school and intends on heading west with his pooch, Ruby. What a life! To be so young and alive. This is a man who I’ve never heard speak an unkind word of another human. A man who is soft spoken yet has a mind of his own. A man who I respect in the deepest of ways because he tells the kind truth instead of the ugly truth. This is a man for the ages with an open mind, a genuine smile and incredible communication with women yet he’s a man with a masculine scent and bleach white natural hair. I love this man as my brother. We’ve worked long hours under hot sun and he adores Texas as much as I and our other mechanical engineering brother does. This is a true man. I would never question what he says to me because he intends no harm to anyone. What a tremendous quality in a man. He was raised well by his Grandfather, Grandmother and parents. He’s fine quality human. A Gentleman.

*) One of my organic gardening and maintenance brothers for life makes his own organic wines that are to die for; from all types of tropical fruits. It’s like juice and it makes my mouth water just thinking about his incredible collection of wines over the years. This is a man who I’ve watched run and keep a public community garden safe and clean from prostitutes and heroin junkies who like to frequent the garden at night. A hardworking man who provides wisdom at his responsible post as Maintenance Master for a transient food bank. This is a soft spoken man with long beautiful dark hair and beard with streaks of white hair coming in; who recently played the Seventh Street Entry. A man who with his tender loving care; for hours; we tended to his common-law wife’s serious injury at a concert behind stage as she dealt with her pulled shoulder away from its socket. We gingerly and carefully reset it. It took one month for her to fully recover the usage of her arm. We’ve cooked and cleaned dishes for hours, days for a perfect audience at one Halloween 2010 for an outdoor cardboard puppet show who are strangers to me and that I don’t know nor do I care to meet. We’ve shared dreams about our projects late at night; we’ve looked at paintings in his studio made by his former studio mate who paints oil on canvas. At times my brother and I have piss poor miscommunication because he’s extremely passive-aggressive and likes to lead people on about what matters most yet we barely make it by in conversation because translation is difficult at the best of times.

So you see… I do have a heart.

I love these men as my brothers and no harm shall come to any of them or to their communities because we all have to get along no matter what and that’s the moral of this tale. Isn’t it? Yes. Right. Right.

Now, the women of this clan are alternative, they do wear and keep their clothes on even when they pull out their breasts and breastfeed in public without shame in front of anyone as they ought to have that freedom to do so.

These intelligent women have alternative children whom I’ve co-existed alongside them as a village while preparing meals, talking politics or logistics. I have a great deal of respect for the way they’re raising their small, two-year-old children running around buck naked even though it greatly challenges my belief system yet I don’t judge it. I’d love to be able to give that freedom to my small children and yet again I believe in keeping-on every single article of clothing all throughout the days.

We’ve all broken bread together.

Some of the women have been…

We all have “Couscous,” in common; Kelly’s Bichon Frise. Couscous is a rock star dog.

So, I forgive; Let bygones be bygones yet I uphold to my freedoms to come and go as I please from any establishment without anything getting thrown at me; thank you; because I shall not be afraid to travel in and out of villages of all sorts of social class circles, neighborhoods and establishments.

We have tremendous love and trust for each other.

We do indeed think the other intelligent and kind even though we’ve argued as siblings.

Peace.

Best Regards and with Love; wishing you a safe rest of this 2013 year.

Gabriel

P.S. Yes, my friends call me “Mr. Spock” or “Mr. Darcy.”

What makes them think that I don’t have emotions? I’m sure that I don’t know.

My emotions run deep like tall waterfalls. Please.

If I come across as a complete snob it’s because A) I’m one. B) I care more than I’ll ever let you know C) when I love my friends I love deeply and without vengeance or lawsuits even if they cause me to meet some type of demise. Period. We move on and grow so that we can learn to trust in each other or it’ll be over.

*) I’m prestige in a fragrance bottle. What more can I say? Nothing.

*) In conclusion: my perpetrator and sexual assaulter who happens to be a distant member of my brothers’ clan; who supposedly got over a heroin addiction and probably will have to deal with that severe addiction for life; I want for him to-live-to-be-an-old man. No harm shall befall him on my behalf. I want him to grow as old as I and well into our eighties.

What worse prison is there for that type of man but old age and trapped in his caged-in soul yet we may not live in the same town nor frequent the same town as I because I’m a tourist here in Minneapolis and this is my playground. Please don’t ruin that for me. I just got comfortable living here. I don’t want to run into my perpetrator and attacker each time I am to visit my friends into our old age, later-on in life.

My perpetrator can understand that. I can. On my death bed I’ll ask for him to come to me. Hands off! There’ll be no violence here, not, today, or any other day; because my friends reside here, thank you.

I respect and guard them well. I wish for this man (as a member of their clan) to bestow upon me one genuine verbal apology someday: “I’m sorry” will do just fine. We’ll never have to talk about it ever again. I’ll accept an apology silently and gleefully. Thank you. That’s all a mature woman can hope for from her perpetrator; so that a man may present himself quietly and humbly to her and take responsibility for his sexual misconduct. Thank you.

Peace out.

I have a heart, you know. Even though others may whisper that I don’t. My friends know better than to listen to the gossip. Ha! Ha! Ha!

Forgiveness.

Peace.

Spiritual and social justice.

Goodbye.

We rode that tidal wave hard and we landed on our feet.

Finally, we’re beginning to understand each other after five years of piss poor miscommunication. We broke through unto the other side.

I’m no longer an ignorant “spic” but Gabriel to their community of snobby vegans.

*) The “Body Talk”. We spoke. We’re over it, beyond, moved on. I had the worse back pain ever for one complete day since yesterday morning until this morning. No, I won’t be doing phone sessions with this practicing practitioner. I’m rotten at talking on the phone. I’ll do phone sessions but I rather look at facial expressions.

Indubitably, I understand that body talk is somewhat of a science combined with energy fields, if that translated. Now, when I call body talk; “magic” I’m not such an ignorant spic as to believe that it’s black or white witch craft (which neither of us practices either.) I call all types of medicine “magic” as a little tongue in cheek joke. Cheers. Body Talk is a discipline like martial arts and a practice like anything else, but it’s most definitely not for me except with this women and her specific body odor that I can still smell to this very minute.

The next time we see each other we can continue with questions and open conversation. I’m only willing to physically practice with this particular woman in my brother’s clan because we started out on a journey that we didn’t even mean to begin yet here we are. Peace. I wish her all the luck in the world with her scholarship and with the Maria Montessori teaching body talk as a life skill and discipline because it doesn’t require a B.A., M.A. or Ph.D.

I wonder if she’s left the Twin Cities back to Sioux Falls South Dakota and if not then I’d like to run a gift over to her in exchange for a felt bag she gave me as a trading, exchange and gift.

She’s my new acquaintance who happens to be friends with two of my brothers; one from the Arts High School and the other from Sisters’ Camelot. As well, all three have worked long hours together so they know each other in that regard. Peace to all.

I’m no man’s slave.

I’m no man’s whore.

I’m not afraid to be the woman that I am.

I was meant to become this…

June 4, 2013

Aloha!

Happy Tuesday!

The three lies of Minneapolis organic / Anarchist activist culture: Sisters’ Camelot:

Eat your hearts out!

Please don’t match funds raised per one-million dollars in a donation towards Sisters’ Camelot, not ever. I’ve got more honorable communities in mind that truly require and need that million.

There’s a school that needs to be built in Haiti and our family holds close ties to those who do global fundraising work there. Furthermore, Moose Lake needs a new High School. Thank you. I’ll let you know when I'm ready…

Oh, my gods!

People sure are social sociopaths and excellent liars and freaks.

I feel so used.

My heart aches today.

Lie #1:

(I’ve been informed by excellent sources within the past 24 hours)

My sources are doctors, attorneys and judges here in the community:

I’ve got well connected friends in high places who bathe; they are coming out of the woodwork with information to be quite careful of the Minneapolis Catholic, blue collar, Anarchist activists, wanna-be dirty Hippie, public school, trust fund babies who live in squalor.

Some happen to be Anarchist activists and financially play the system (the stock market) while others are wanna-be Hippies and disguise themselves as the great unwashed of the city who co-exist amongst the truly transient great unwashed of the city so they can “work” amongst those who have absolutely nothing while they live the fat life like any other corporate-head does, except that these millionaire, trust fund babies have never had to work a day in their lives for anything so all they know how to do is to preach their socio-political garbage but that’s about it.

What a bunch of nose pickers without grandmothers to teach them better.

These rude, nervous and somewhat paranoid ignoramuses are a bunch of ‘fat cats’ who never made their own fortunes with their own hands so they like to snob others who “work for the man” yet their trust funds come from “The Man” and they couldn’t live without their trust funds even for one solid year. What a bunch of liars! They’re worse than “The Man!” Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Their trust funds come from their parents who worked tough jobs as blue collar, general managers and higher ups (corporate management) for cereal manufacturing, food manufacturing and anything blue collar corporate here in the Twin Cities.

These are a bunch of blue collar trust fund babies! Ha!

Now, that’s hilarious!

No wonder they have horrible manners, like wild beasts and they don’t care if others live or die at their expense. Fat Cats just like The Man.

What a bunch of white trash who go around preaching to the choir but have never worked a day in their lives yet they detest the Middle Class for working for “The Man” while they come directly from “The Man,” more so than the Middle Class does while the Middle Class only “works for the man.”

These white trash, blue collar, trust fund babies live off of the left over fat from the crappy healthcare benefits, long hours and slave wages of the Middle Class. What a bunch of hypocrites! What a bunch of blue collar, white trash losers who’ve never worked a day in their lives unlike those hardworking blue collar workers. Please.

Don’t ever ask me for a single penny!!!

As an independent filmmaker who doesn’t work for the man: I’m more culturally elevated and astute than these bunch of liars.

I have private investors who believe in my work and invest in all of my work. I’m truly independent and since I didn’t acquire a blue collar, corporate trust fund from Mommy and Daddy, well, no one may ever look down upon me ever again like I’m some type of nigger by trust fund baby, Caucasian adult freaks who have absolutely nothing to say to any person hard at work for a living because they have nothing to show for except stolen, white trash, trust funds. How boring indeed.

No wonder so many are flaky and shallow.

They’re embarrassed deep down to the marrow of their bone because of who they are and the very fact that their trust funds have indeed financially, culturally and socially ‘raped and pillaged’ those in our surrounding cities and country. They live a fat life at the very expense of many who suffer and can barely feed their children.

The truth sure stings don’t it? Ha!

I’ll never trust an Anarchist activist or dirty wanna-be Hippie ever again; much less find them funding to their ridiculous causes. Imagine; I thought these were starving hobos who happen to be millionaires. What a lie!

{I do look down upon these particular Catholic, public school, blue collar, white trash, trust fund baby freaks because they put me through the ringer only because they could and they wanted to. These people put me down and my marriage. They almost ruined my marriage because I wouldn’t write grants or find them funding for free. How dare I ask to be paid in full for my efforts to write grants? Their cause is more important than my time. Please, don’t bore me with that shit. Back it up!

I’m starting to think that my sexual assault by the wanna-be Hippie and Anarchist activist community was indeed a set-up as every other person we’ve spoken to in which I’ve shared with them the facts and details and they keep pointing out that it was a set-up.

Oh, my gods! If this is so: I’ll personally financially ruin them all. Mark my words. I’m the granddaughter of New England multi-multi millionaires who wrote me out of their will for telling the truth about our family abuse. Nevertheless, I’ve got connections dating back to the years of 1680, 1066 and all the way to the Pentagon. If that’s the case: I’ll take them out of this city to wander Siberia in destitution for the rest of their lives. Just give me one reason to become an economical carnivore.

I make an amazing friend but as an enemy; I’m a War General.

The only reason why I know in my heart that my sexual assault was a set-up is because I had a complete stranger (a freelance web designer for Sisters’ Camelot that I’d only spoken to twice in passing approach me. He approached me once at the garden and once at Sisters’ Camelot from Sept. 2010 to Sept. 2011; he approached me in the queerest manner at the previous Sisters’ Camelot site.)

He came up to me and spoke to me about my sexual assault in terms of an analogy of a rooster running free in a chicken coup. (There’re all a little crazy because they’re cowards in communication.)

There are only two people in the entire world, who, I’ve told both of them, by name who assaulted me, yet this Sisters’ Camelot freelance web designer male stranger seemed to know everything about it.

He gave away their strategic position: He gave them all away without having to say too much. He said to me: “We promise you; it will never happen again.” How queer is that, ha? I already know it was a set-up. I just need to find something that will link it to proof and when I do… I like to eat duck liver. Yes, all vegans: go ahead puke inside your mouths.

It does make me wonder: These people aren’t off the hook yet.} ::: [When I put it all together; I’ll set the pieces on the chessboard into motion and I shall win.

They’ve already lost my trust, so the victory is won.

I’ve got nothing to lose and that’s what makes me a dangerously legal opponent with people backing me up all the way from the very top to the very bottom to win and to take out scum.] Careful. Don’t ever insult me again or I’ll come looking for blood and it won’t be mine. Scum most of them.

What a bunch of losers without any real causes only more laziness and tons of bad-breathed rhetoric about nothing at all. Please. I’m one of the greatest snobs in this country. I’m Blue Blood. I stand for something. I’ve got something more valuable than a blue collar, white trash, trust fund; I’ve got prestige, respect, honesty and integrity. I could make so much fun of them all. Oh, my! Loserville to the maximum.

Because I’ve watched these particular trust fund baby bastards in action they really don’t like to help out others in need unless they align themselves exactly with their viewpoints to think and believe in Anarchist terms. You can have a bowl of soup, but only if you live, do and think as I do. What a bunch of malarkey. Rich kids playing around with the very fragile lives and souls of the truly starved folks of America… I never… thought.

I’m getting informed that these 20, 30, 40, 50 and 60 year olds are social piranhas in the sense that they have nothing to financially lose and yet they push for their radical social agendas because they will always have a cushion to fall back on; their millions; or Mommy and Daddy. Yikes! What a bunch of begging freaks.

: [A freak to me is someone who doesn’t use logic and reason to their benefit or to others’ benefit but now I’m going to add to that definition; others who use people by pulling the wool over people’s eyes for manipulation to have their needs met.]

Lie #2:

(I’ve been informed by excellent sources within the past 24 hours)

My sources are doctors, attorneys and judges here in the community:

These Catholic, blue collar, white trash, public school, trust fund babies, Anarchist activists, dirty wanna-be Hippie, freak, losers; have the bizarre notion that the world revolves around them and / or that the world owes them something and because of that poor lame excuse they take it upon themselves to have carte blanche with other people’s lives; they will fuck with people’s lives because they have nothing else to do all day long. They will try on religions and sexual partners as freely as women try on clothes in changing rooms.

In other words they’re extremely boring people with nothing to do all day long so they invent causes and melodramas for themselves but only if the causes are tailored to fit them and if people become their servants and do exactly as they wish otherwise they throw tantrums or set up ultimatums and keep resources from others. What a bunch of little freaks! What a bunch of little pricks.

I’ve been informed that Sisters’ Camelot “people” sleep around with the 14 year old runaways and as far as I last looked up the law that’s considered statutory rape.

The wanna-be Hippies and Anarchist activists have many venereal diseases. You can look at them but don’t touch. Careful. They’re animals in their cages and they ought to stay as such.

They’re just as horny as anybody else and willing to use people for their benefits. They can couch their horniness with Anarchistic ideology of saving the world as an excuse to statutory rape of runaway minors and doing away with women as they wish. Careful these are indeed socially warped and dangerous people. More dangerous than I ever thought they could be socially.

Kelly Guttenfelder’s wanna-be dirty Hippies and Anarchist activists sure are fucked up and crazy. Kelly came to me in a dream from the other side of passing and told me to tell the entire truth as I know it to be and here it is: Last Stop: Grow up.

They’re statutory rapists because they don’t believe in the laws set up in place to defend minors and those in need. What a bunch of cowards. I’ll not trust an Anarchist activist or dirty wanna-be Hippie for as long as I live.

Lie #3:

(I’ve been informed by excellent sources within the past 24 hours)

My sources are doctors, lawyers and judges here in the community:

These Catholic, blue collar, white trash, public school, trust fund babies, Anarchist activist, dirty wanna-be Hippie, freak, losers; like to dumpster dive. Yes, I’ve been there to watch. Yes, I’ve witnessed others.

Yes, I disagree with that philosophy.

No, I’ve never personally dumpster dove.

No, I’ve neither seen the inside of a dumpster nor do I care to. I’m too classy for that.

Yes, I’ve been with people who’ve dumpster dived because they wanted to show me what it was all about. Whatever.

Yes, if I were to ever starve in America as an adult I wouldn’t hesitate to dumpster dive. No, I have no qualms about that. I’ll never starve in America again.

The people that showed me where they dumpster dove had no idea that while I stood there staring at multi-millionaires scavenge like rats: that I thought: this entire scenario is pathetic…

Why did I think it was pathetic?

I thought that it was pathetic because while they made dumpster diving out to be a socio-political fuck off to the system, there was still something quite wrong about intelligent people going through the garbage. Period.

They, too, know deep down inside, just as I did staring at them trying not to gawk, too, much that it was all wrong. I was stunned and beside myself to see multi-millionaires act like they liked it and like it was a way to save the West from political demise. How wrong they are. They’re more ignorant than I gave them credit for.

Even though it seemed like they made dumpster diving out to be a cool thing; It wasn’t.

“Freeganism” is a great excuse for never having to contribute to the society but to live off of its garbage. It’s a great way to excuse the misconduct of the self and never take responsibility for what’s truly happening to our country. ‘Tune out and drop out’ is a coward’s way of never having to really deal face-on and contribute anything of worth in value to our country. I hate “Freganism” not as a concept but as a social irresponsibility.

No, I care less if people dumpster dive.

I’ve only seen dumpster diving in 3^rd, 4^th and 5^th world countries from people who truly are poor, starved and living in poverty and who don’t live like blue collar, white trash, trust fund multi-millionaire babies.

It’s pathetic and they know it but they couch it with Anarchistic activist ideological philosophy and if they can’t win you over with philosophy then they might physically harm you. Be careful. These are not peace activists of the 1960’s. These are people who’ll fuck anybody over at anytime.

I hate corporate America just as much as I do dumpster diving, Anarchist activism and wanna-be dirty Hippies and their lies.

They’re all one in the same.

They all want you to buy into them because they want your money.

That’s it.

Best Regards;

Gabriel

P.S. Oh, my gods!

*) The information I’ve found out as of late not only leaves me feel used and lied to but truly what a bunch of white trash, blue collar, spoiled brats begging for money from the public when they live off of the interest of their mass multi-million dollar fortunes.

What a bunch of cowardly begging liars living off of their millions.

I almost want to spank or slap each and every single one of them, hard, across the mouth and draw blood for being such liars. I fell for it. I bought into it. What a sucker. I really did feel bad for them. Don’t you ever lie to me again or you’ll end up behind bars.

*) Okay, so I’m being informed not to match a million per million to Sisters’ Camelot.

Done.

Sisters’ Camelot was started and run by a bunch of Anarchist activists, dirty wanna-be Hippies, white trash, blue collar, Catholic, public school, trust fund, baby-freak-losers who don’t need any money from the public or from me. They have millions available to them. What a bunch of losers! Millionaires pretending to be poor.

These are people who are living off of their interest, so don’t feel, too, bad for them and their children because they live fatter lives than they lead others to believe. They lead fatter lives than the rest of us as Middle Income Earners.

What a lie.

My heart aches… I’ve been lied to by people who promised me the truth.

Oh, how my heart aches.

There’s nothing like betrayal from friends and their communities…

I’ll want blood for this someday.

I’ll get even and without getting illegal about it.

No, not today but some day.

*) Thanks for the information to all of those professionals in Minneapolis for having the courage to tell the truth… I’m ever so grateful!!!

*) No, I’m not a journalist but like great journalists, one, never divulges one’s sources. Not even wild horses could drag it out of me!

Peace.

I still come in peace; ready to strike a deadly blow if I were ever to need to defend myself.

P.S. Three million dollars is nothing to scoff at. I’d be grateful if any producers or investors trusted me with three million dollars. I’d donate two million and make an excellent film for a million. I’ve got dreams of what I’ll be doing with a mass fortune someday.

I’m not so arrogant as to turn up my nose at three million, especially three-free-million dollars. Please. Who does anybody think they are? Low brow without morals.

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*) After today for as long as I live; I shall never write or speak of Sisters’ Camelot and my sexual assault by one of their own! Goodbye. I have one podcast to do about this subject matter and that’s that.

May you burn in eternal hell for the misery you’ve cost this city and looked the other way while sexual predators forced statutory rapes upon destitute minors and women of this city and those women coming in from other parts of the country looking for safety. Go to hell most of you!

The Twin Cities will financially make you pay for what you’ve done even though I’ve got no proof of the allegations of statutory rape of minors; yet, others do. Stop begging the public for your bloated social freak projects. It only takes one Helen of Troy to bring down entire empires. No, I’m not a Helen of Troy nor a Cleopatra. Please. Who did you say you were? Oh, no body. Get out of my way. Scum.

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*) Go get them Gentlemen; take over the organic and vegan free market and give it back to the middle income earners because these corporate heads and Anarchist activists and wanna-be dirty Hippies have got a monopoly on it. Cheers! Thanks!

Monday, June 3, 2013

Aloha!

Happy Monday!

No, I’ve never paid for sex nor been paid to have sex.

No, I’ve never been a prostitute in my life. Thank you.

Nor a strip dancer. Thank you.

No, I don’t sell drugs.

Don’t ask me.

{Yes, I’ve been a dishwasher, a hotel cleaner, a barista, a lunch lady, a manual laborer.

No, I’m nobody’s bloody whore even though; sometimes the Utmost upstanding men can make women feel like that… otherwise, I, too, have the power to make men feel like whores but I don’t misuse the power that I have as an intellectual because I know that I can more than break people; I can leave them destitute for life. I’m powerful in my own right and in my own person. I have power even though Caucasian people don’t believe that people of color do have power. We’re considered lesser than…inferior. As if. No, I’m not any Caucasian woman’s little servant. I have choice in all matters.}

Although; in my mid-twenties some of my boyfriends were incredible men but (at times) some were so bad in bed that when I think about it now I almost wish I would’ve commanded currency in exchange for my wasted time as a sexual partner.

The first time in my life that I ever had sexual intercourse with a man I was 21 and he was my fiancé and also a 21 year old who had slept through an entire small group of White Trash waifs who were sisters and in-bred cousins disguised as artists for the lack of anything better to do with themselves.

Yes, we always wore a rubber because I didn’t trust him and where he had dipped his dick. He kept telling me for seven years that I was crazy but it was he who ended up in a padded room in a straight jacket and clinically diagnosed with bipolar. People sure are crazy especially when they project their fears unto others. Crazy!

What a little girl at that time! Oh, my; how time flies by, doesn’t it?

----------

I’m emotionally and spiritually spent.

No, I don’t feel physically ill.

On Saturday night, I went to an organic Garden Party (a friend that I’ve known since I was 15 years of age hosted the party.) We both have a mutual acquaintance that I just met as of the past two weeks and he used to work with her years ago near Western Minnesota at a farm. The host of the party is my brother.

She’s been trying to persuade me into a type of energy-massage called “Body Talk” for the past two weeks. Finally, I went for it but unfortunately while she ate BBQ chicken she touched the sinuses of my face with grease on her fingers and had smoked tobacco. Yuk.

Ever since I woke up on Sunday all I can smell is tobacco and BBQ chicken. At first, it’s okay but then after about 24 hours, it gets irritating and annoying.

For about two weeks I had said “no” to “Body Talk” from this particular acquaintance.

On Saturday night my sinuses were so bad that I went ahead and changed my mind, except that she took me by surprise to practice on me; right there-and-then; in front of mostly all other strangers and guests like I was on window display as some object to come and be looked at.

No, I didn’t feel insecure. I’m not like that. I was insecure as a teenager and as a young woman but not as an adult woman in the prime of her life. Nope. As an adult woman I’m beautiful and definitely I look like someone who you don’t fuck with because I’m Zen and I carry myself with relaxed peace, a fair approach and kind-respect.

When you come across my path and share the same space as I do; a few things: Yes, I come in peace and by now I can kill a man with a single blow if I were to need to do so for self-defense thus I’ve become so chillax.

Yes, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger: and as much as I’m willing to die I’m just as prepared to kill with one single blow for self-defense. Period.

Yes, I’m finally prepared to kill if need be for self defense.

What makes you think I don’t pack heat?

What makes you think that I can’t hit a moving target?

Nevertheless, I’ve decided that if I had to defend myself I’d rather kill with my bare hands than with a blunt instrument.

Just give me one reason to defend myself because this time I won’t blink twice and I will kill. Kill or be killed. I’ll be standing over a dead body and satisfied.

I have no qualms about killing an attacker and I never will ever again.

I grew up and now I’m stronger and I won’t mind becoming a killer if I needed to self-defend my body ever again. I’m more deadly today as a woman than I’ve ever been in my entire life because as a citizen your safety as a woman isn’t guaranteed in America.

If I ever come across my sexual assault attacker then I won’t approach him nor harm him but if he were to approach me then he’d leave himself open to have his throat or heart ripped out of his body with my bear hands (metaphorically speaking) while I’m sober and I know exactly what I’m doing. No, I’m not a zombie. I’m awake, alert, sober and ready to question everything. Mark my words.

I’ve thought about it and arrived at an adult conclusion. Run, motherfucker, run. I know people, who’d kill for free, but I’m not like that and they know that. I have people who want to get vengeance for me because I’m considered kind, respectful, honest and direct by many communities across the world. I know Russian mafia all the way to Black gangsters, Columbian militants and American Army snipers, FBI, cops and diplomats who’d love to murder this man in 5,000 different ways never to be found again but I hold my silence and I shall not speak his name because I know better.

I simply want a hard kick to the balls. I grew up playing soccer and let’s see if I can drive his testes into his body. It’s a way to kill a man but if you don’t do it, too, hard, but just hard-enough then you can ruin his testicles for life. Peace.

I better never see him anywhere ever again because not even his community of heroin junkies and wanna-be misguided and flaky Hippies can hide him nor keep him safe from a calm warrior Mayan who’s made up her mind about what I want.

I want a life threatening kick to the balls so hard that I may leave him impaired for life, if the opportunity ever arises. I’ll decide if I’ll have enough mercy and leave him with his testicles intact or not. I want justice and I shall have it. It’s mine. Step aside. I don’t have time for burned out people with self promoting agendas about stupid things that ought to never manifest themselves.

I don’t trust, too, many of the great unwashed and ghetto-property-highflying owners who play ‘King of the Hill’ in this city and have an innate need to have their asses kissed for owning a little bit of ghetto property and servicing the starved with organic produce. I’m not a serf. I don’t bow down to any man especially annoying, loud and boastful men.

I don’t trust the great unwashed of this city or in other parts of Minnesota unless I’ve worked alongside them as intellectual equals and for a common purpose as brothers and sisters otherwise you’re just a stranger and we have absolutely nothing to say to one another. I’m an adult woman and I don’t owe anyone shit much less my time and energy.

No, I didn’t use my voice because by the time she started working on me; it happened all too quickly and suddenly. I meant “yes” some other time. So much gets lost in translation! I hate communication with Midwest Caucasian people. They’re so entitled to their English that sounds like bombs in my ears instead of the Romance languages.

I had lost my voice and irritatingly went along with her massage.

I felt safe with her but annoyed to be on display for her sake not mine. She was the one looking for people to practice on and networking the entire crowd.

I had no fear.

I still don’t have any fear only annoyance that I allowed myself to go back on my word as protection for myself against her wayward and scattered energy that I had witnessed for two weeks while helping out with her unruly children not because I was her servant but because I had time to give towards that cause, even though I went in search of being alone and quiet time but rarely found that she and her brood could be silent while in community and sharing space together.

Everyone had serious attention needs to be fulfilled because they couldn’t do it on their own. How exhausting! Caucasian people do that. They have a need to talk at other people all the time. Single Caucasian mothers use other adults as sounding boards to their boredom, loneliness and to brag about their children because they have nothing else to talk about. It’s like this all over the Midwest.

Adult conversation doesn’t mean monopolizing a conversation with the subject matter about one’s children for hours. That’s ridiculous and exhausting not to mention that it excludes other adults from conversations. How boring. Indeed.

I neither wanted her to work on me nor had I wanted that from the very beginning and she knew that; I had told her directly.

By 9pm on Saturday night my eyes had watered for twelve hours and I was at my wit’s end with the runny and itchy eyes.

I’ve lost complete trust in this particular person’s ability to heal. Simply because I find that she’s trying to promote herself constantly rather than really take a step back and define aspects of herself to herself instead of selling it to the choir. Don’t sell me anything. I didn’t come here to shop. I’m not a guinea pig. Thank you.

Caucasian people seem to be entitled and forget the sacred of time and space.

I would never practice any form of energy-massage or body work on anyone other than in a safe, quiet and solitary space without the gawking eyes of others at a party or the worry of children constantly having their needs filled. When a mother constantly has to keep an eye on her children while she’s working on someone; then that energy transfers and it’s not relaxing even though I did at times felt sleepy, but never went to sleep while I was sitting up on a picnic bench.

No, I never allow for myself to fall asleep anywhere at any time even if my eyes are closed only for a moment.

I fall asleep only in the comfort of my home and in Eric’s arms, amongst close and personal friends and their families and if I’m an invited guest for the night somewhere where there’s honor and responsibility then I relax and fall asleep without a worry in the world because I trust in the space and in my hosts to be in charge of what may be and they can guarantee their guests’ safety…

The reason as to why the organic “wanna-be” Hippies are so awkward with me is because they fucked up as a community with many different women and sexual assault in their villages. They can’t necessarily extend invites to women because as men and as a community they can’t guarantee the safety of all, but mainly the safety of women because women are considered pieces of meat; something to be devoured. It’s a weak community that requires a lot of resources and money but they’re emotionally flaky and that’s hard to trust in the shallow atmospheres of people’s souls.

I’m quite private and I don’t allow anybody that I haven’t known extremely well and for a long time to touch me because I’m sensitive to touch and will take on whatever the other person is feeling.

I find that the way the wanna-be Hippies network is just as slimy as corporate workers. They’re cut out of the same cloth. Two peas in a pod. Gross. They’re the same. No different.

No, I’m not physically ill other than I can’t stop smelling, body odor, tobacco smoke and BBQ chicken in grease. This is the second morning that I smell a combination of all and it doesn’t help me concentrate on what I have to do for today. Bummer. My eyes won’t stop watering.

Cheers!

Gabriel

(Fucking “wanna-be” Hippies.) Why are they so weird and sometimes so scatter-brained and emotionally flaky? If only they could hardness that then others would trust them more. I have no fear of the weird little wanna-be hippie adults in their 30’s, 40’s, and 50’s. I like their ideas of progressive and alternative methods of living but they lack a code of honor because public school trust fund babies are shallow, flaky and don’t seem to know how to make real connections to others without pushing for their agendas. Gross.

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