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Thursday, October 31, 2013

Aloha.

Happy Thursday!

Happy Halloween!

Oh, my! It’s that time of year already!

I love the fall season.

I’m wishing the American children a safe and happy Halloween 2013.

I hope they have fun and get lots of candy!

Halloween is our favorite Holiday ever.

Our work day isn’t over until 8:00 P.M. and that’s when we’ll open up the house to handout candy until 9:00 P.M., curfew time. We’ve got lots of candy, decorative lights and we set up the glow in the dark, Disney’s Haunted Mansion display. I’m excited like a child.

Thank you for all of the swank parties we were invited to here and abroad.

Our priority tonight is to handout candy to little kids, children and pre-teens, late Nordic dinner and relaxation, however, I know that some of my jet-setting friends are visiting and partying here in the Twin Cities, tonight, and if I have enough energy to get myself off of the couch then I may just go and party like a rock ‘n’ roll star, courteously, kindly and graciously however don’t hold your breaths, it’s been a long work week already.

The night’s young and I’d love to take in some music but that takes effort.

Much love and respect;

Gabriel

P.S. I’m tired tonight.

So much work got accomplished today.

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

“Wise as a snake and gentle as a dove.”

(A proverb)

“If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him!”

(A book title)

“The world goes on only

because of those who disregard their own existence.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Caustic: (severe, satirical, sharp)

He loves to give caustic replies to his opponents.

--- --- ---

You do know the easiest psychological trick in the world, right?

The easiest psychological trick, practiced by psychologists and those in their field is to bring one to a place of terror and then gently bring them back to a place of safety; no differently than any literary roller coaster.

Yes, as a writer, I use this psychological trick of the professionals through my writings to take the audience through the splendid journey of self discovery, development and growth and that’s all that this is. Period.

Now, that you realize, understand and acknowledge what I do, then you won’t feel so worried or terrified about any of this writing because the best of the best use this trick to create development in others.

I want you to know that I’ve been informed by professional psychologists that America is a violent and beautiful place to live. This is a nation of much shame and guilt, innovation and freedom about anything and everything.

Many people who’ve traveled the globe will tell you that for as beautiful as many other countries are or aren’t; that America is the only place on the globe in which freedom of speech rings true and freely and that makes America the most sought after country by immigrants and refugees.

The reason why so many great American writers reside in this nation is because in America, writers are guaranteed not to be killed or murdered due to our writings.

Here, our freedoms are actually free.

Even racists, bigots and white supremacists can express their freedom of speech as they see fit no matter how wrong they may be in their opinions and viewpoints.

I would fight for such freedoms of others to express their deepest sentiments, bias wrong opinions and prejudices because the right and liberty to freedom of speech is one that was ingrained and written into our American constitution and I stand by that, whole heartedly without being an idealist about it. The simple and forward truth of the matter is that we can write as we please. Thank you Founding Fathers.

If you don’t understand that I practice my freedom of speech as well as teaching difficult and complex literary lessons to get you to understand your very own existences, freedoms and liberties then you’ve missed out on the point of these writing exercises completely and all together. Pity.

I want you to know that I’m almost prepared to turn the page and write about the great beauty, awe, wonder and sincere greatness of America but not without, first, showing you the ugliness, mean-spirited nature, insincere lies and brutality.

Nope, we can’t have one without the other. It’s not possible.

In writing workshops I was disciplined to always handout positive criticism, first, with a positive statement and then I was allotted to go to town with a negative statement for each positive statement I ever made.

For every positive statement I was allowed a negative one. Yes!

I decided early on and as an adult writer to start out, the first five years of blog writing with negative statements made about our current era and smack the audience in the face with harsh realizations, so that they didn’t get, too, comfortable with my writer’s voice as only coming across as kind or gentle, because if I would’ve done it the other way around, then once I began to dish out the harsh criticisms later on, I didn’t want the reader to think: “What a real b**** she turned out to be.”

My intension was to leave the audience on a high (and sweet) note and I intend to follow through with that no matter how much you may hate this literary experiment for now.

Instead, the reader now has brought themselves to believe and think of me as a real b**** without knowing the real sweetness of my true intensions and that’s a tough lesson to teach at the best of times.

The lesson is that: when, one, is wrong, then one sure is wrong about anything at all that which may appear to be one thing yet quite another. (Ouch. I know, I know. Yep.)

It’s a test to see how the reader reacts upon the basis of their own judgments, fears and ignorance.

In my mind, I figured that it would be best to test the audience to believe to hate my writings, first, and then surprise them later because I wanted to find out if they had a backbone when it came to cultural criticisms and I’ve come to find out that they…

If I started out with negative criticisms, first, then readers could learn to handle it because they could stick it out in this comprehensive joy ride to the end in which we’ll all safely get off the roller coaster ride and go our separate ways, never to forget what took place here within the ten years of development.

It’s a gift that was well thought out for about a decade before I ever began to write for your benefit and reading pleasure.

I thought about the layout, the structure and the safety of the audience for about ten long years and all that the reader had to do was to scream their heads off, laugh, cry, and enjoy what this is all about, no less and no more than that because once the ride is over then the reader will indeed have to purchase a ticket to more joy novel riding.

Once this blog joy is over then it’ll be over for good.

I’ve got to get on with the rest of my work.

In my intellectual mind, I figured that if I started out with negative statements and criticisms, first, then the reader would get used to the harshness of my literary voice, and come to expect me to be a b****.

I figured that with time, the roller coaster would become a joy ride as we entered the half way point and go into the second half of our time here together (which is only around the corner) and leave the reader on a high note and have them think: “Oh, my God that was fun but scary reading, entertaining and sacred and safe and she’s actually not a b**** after all. She really knew what she was doing all along and how wrong we were to judge her so…”

What I’m doing is radically difficult and complex to pull off because once the reader has made up their minds that they hate my guts or more precisely that they hate my writing, then once we turned a corner they would have no choice but to look deeply inside themselves and consider the possibility that they were incredibly wrong about me or my writing, the entire time and then where would that leave the reader?

It would leave the audience thinking and considering their true selves. That’s the job of any real writer and I’m accomplishing that to no end even with the audience kicking and screaming all the way down the aisle. (Ha! Just kidding.)

It would leave the audience in a place of humility, humbleness and forgiveness for their harsh judgments about my writing.

I get it; you guys hate my writing but when it’s all said and done and the journey and joy ride will come to an end it’ll be up to you to most harshly judge yourselves and realize that my intent was to create harmony, peace and respect in a nation that does all the kicking and screaming about positive change.

No, not me. I’m not kicking and screaming.

I’m ready for real positive and excellent change.

If you believe that I’m a good for nothing SOB, then that’s a fine opinion of yourselves, however, I get to walk away scotch free of all harm at the end of ten years and by then you’ll be so in love with the psychology of writing that you won’t be able to help yourselves other than to purchase my novels in droves because you’ll come to realize that I love and that you’ll miss my weekly writing.

Most likely you won’t miss me but you’ll miss the writing.

I don’t mean for it to be like that but anything of value is that way.

It’ll be a testament of the reader more so than of the writer.

I already know who I am, what I’m imposing upon your brains, and forcing you to safely buckle-in and to take a joy ride with me because I want you by my side as I get stinkin’ rich, successful and well understood by others of my caliber.

Yes, I’m on my way to make a fortune so that it can then become donated towards the advancement of the sciences and mathematics.

No, I don’t mean any harm towards anyone and if that’s not understood then we have absolutely nothing to say to one another.

Yes, I have rave reviews for Ms. Norah O’Donnell but not without some work put in first.

You can’t get something for nothing.

You have no idea how well I could write about her, her disposition and her loveliness however there must be real change in the loving care and tenderness for our American People; or, our public figures fail us, we fail them and we fail each other and that’s a terrible and tragic end to any story.

I live for happy endings and if the reader thinks that I don’t wish public figures and celebrities the best of the best then you’re horribly mistaken because I’m well connected from sea to shining sea as well as incredibly respected by peers and equals alike.

Yes, my writings may be intense, however, I’ve not once and not ever economically and physically harmed another and that’s how honorable I am with my intentions. Can you say that about yourselves? Please, stop sending me hate mail. It’s hilarious but also a waste of our time.

Yes, you’ve made me a much stronger person and I have thicker skin for it but enough is enough. I know how you feel about my writing and possibly about me however since most of you have never held a conversation with me, face-to-face then we have absolutely nothing to say to one another. Thank you very much.

No, I don’t send hate e-mail to celebrities and public figures because I think more so about their positions of responsibility to the greater public than I do about their hairdos and makeup.

If you’d like to hate the writing then go ahead and be my guests however you may not hate me, personally, because you have no idea who I am and what I’ve lived through.

You have no idea how good and polite I am as well as a caring fool for the wellbeing of all, so step off it or there’ll be hell to pay, here, upon these pages.

Yes, I could strip anyone naked down to their bare souls because it’s been done to me and for that reason, alone, I don’t go around doing just that however don’t think that I can’t leave you crying until the cows come home. (Ha!)

As for Ms. Claire Danes, Ms. Ellen DeGeneres and Ms. Emma Watson and Ms. Kristen Stewart and Beyonce and U2; I could write lyrical poetry in their honor however not yet, anyway.

I do have a clue as to what I’m doing, and I don’t want to give you literary bloody noses within this literary process however if it calls for that I could have you down upon your knees begging for mercy to your Gods.

Yes, I’m doing critical analyses and criticism backwards as a case study and I ought to have explained that earlier then you wouldn’t get your underwear in a bunch however I didn’t want to spell it out because I needed to find out the effect of such a study. Yes, I’m always thinking as a scientist, first, and then as an artist.

If I have failed you to understand this incredibly difficult and complex case study and literary structure then I’m terribly sorry for that.

My intent and goal wasn’t to fail you, so please don’t fail me so that we may not fail each other because that would make for a terrible ending to this storyline. Be patient for crying out loud. At ease, dearest ones. At ease.

With Sincerity as always;

Gabriel

Gabriela de la Holm

Peace.

If you feel played with; imagine what it’s like to have some of your best friends for professional psychoanalysts. They’re always pushing and challenging me to think beyond my ego, myself and my disposition in life. It’s hard work. Relax.

We have a year and a half more of this negative criticism and then we get to turn the page and read positive criticism. I never thought it was going to be this difficult to get the reader to go along with such a tough literary experiment. Ha!

I have yet to prove myself with five years of positive criticism going into the second half of this blog.

Word Count: 2,160

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

“Three kinds of people grow old before their time:

those who raise chickens for a living;

those who give orders but are not obeyed;

and those who live on an upper floor.”

“The old who are not wise should not be called venerable.”

“Four things make a man age prematurely:

fear, anger, children and a bad-tempered wife.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Melancholic: (having a fixed condition of despondency)

His melancholic disposition kept him from taking part in social activities.

--- --- ---

(Excerpts)

On Writing; A Memoir of the Craft

By

Stephen King

Page 144

What follows is everything I know about how to write good fiction. I’ll be as brief as possible, because your time is valuable and so is mine, and we both understand that the hours we spend talking about writing is time we don’t spend actually doing it. I’ll be as encouraging as possible, because it’s my nature and because I love this job. I want you to love it, too. But if you don’t want to work your ass off, you have no business trying to write well--settle back into competency and be grateful you have even that much to fall back on.

Page 145

If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot. There’s no way around those two things that I’m aware of, no shortcut.

I’m a slow reader, but I usually get through seventy or eighty books a year, mostly fiction. I don’t read in order to study the craft; I read because I like to read. Similarly, I don’t read fiction to study the art of fiction, but simply because I like stories. Yet there is a learning process going on. Every book you pick up has its own lesson or lessons, and quite often the bad books have more to teach than the good ones.

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

Aliens and daft Earth Smirking Reporters

Let’s talk about it

(Please, keep an open mind otherwise

one is considered an ignoramus

by modern intellectual standards)

Now that the twenty-first century is here, in order for one to be considered any type of intelligent human species in origin, one must intellectually accept the concept of any alien life forms other than humans do exist.

Why must one accept the concept of any alien life forms?

One must intellectually accept the concept of alien life forms, because otherwise one is considered not only ignorant but also arrogant to believe that amongst the galaxies and universes, the human species is the only form of intelligence there is, alive. As if.

Hypothetically; If, the human species is the only life form, upon the universes then we’re doomed from the start because humanity isn’t quite as intelligent as it ought to be, not by a long shot.

Now, I consider it extremely ignorant and condescending of somewhat modern reporters and talking-heads to smirk when they report about aspects of life that they know very little or nothing about and are, too, embarrassed to do any sort of intelligent journalism and serious coverage, any justice, simply because they got stuck in the twentieth century with dust covering the corners of their minds.

Come on.

Keep up with culture.

Duh! Everybody already knows aliens exist and live here on Earth. Duh!

Don’t you know anything about anything?

Don’t you know where humans come from?

Please, read some history about the Egyptians and / or any other Ancient civilizations for that matter. What’s the matter with reporters’ dusty brains?

As a global communications analyst and conceptual engineer; I’ve kept my eyes peeled to the skies when it comes to mass media and alien subject matter.

Now, for some reason within the past decade there’s been a rediscovery and an “infusion” about aliens as fodder for subject matter in films, television shows, and commercials.

Much of this “Alien” mass media makes me consider the possibilities that the powers that be are pushing a mass agenda for this subject matter to, no longer, be considered a sensitive issue much less a scary one since religion is a dead practice and doctrine like pantomiming and baking have become something of the past for the simple reasons that Catholic priests have been raping little boys since the second and third centuries and that’s just a fact (look it up).

The Roman Catholic Church knows all, too, well that their days are numbered within the next fifty years therefore they’re going to milk that cash cow for all it’s worth knowing perfectly well that when the church allows for priests to rape the local neighborhood kids then the church’s not worth anything, not even their spoiled and sperm filled underwear. (How vivid indeed.)

No, I’ve never been raped much less from a Roman Catholic priest however if they had so much as tried, when I was a child then I would’ve bit their dicks off, literally and they all knew it to be true thus I was left alone.

I had fight in me as a child and everyone who came in contact with me knew not to fondle me, sexually molest me, or, otherwise, adult reproductive body parts would’ve gone missing and rightly so.

Now since religion’s a filthy liar and a sociopath for a pervert then it’s become a dead practice and doctrine; and the church will have to allow for our global leaders to tell the truth about alien life forms and thus I concur that our American government is preparing the next three generations to become mentally equipped and ready to understand other alien life forms and that we’re simply not alone in the galaxy.

I do believe as any Social Elite is taught to believe that what appears to be and what is; are not the same things.

What happens behind-the-scenes is all, too, radically different than what the public is taught to believe really occurs in the world today or ever for that matter.

When it comes to reporters and journalists, they have no clue as to what happens behind closed doors only mostly what they’re told to say and report upon the basis of their acute information.

When it comes to real power; journalists and reporters are powerless to any valuable information for that matter. I would know that reporters have very little idea as to what happens behind-the-scenes of social power and structures because Social Elite are privy to such fragile information and that’s just the way the cookie crumbles. I don’t make up the rules I simply follow them and follow the money.

Thus I concur that our actual behind-the-scene leaders are preparing the Americans to get used to and comfortable with the idea that alien life forms do reside here on Earth, just look at mass media.

It’s extraordinary how much mass media has changed within one decade. If one were to look for hidden clues then one’s able to find hidden truths and answers.

Most everything’s a puzzle, a riddle or a code’s game.

No, I haven’t lost my wits about me.

Yes, I’m still here and as intelligent as ever without having genius brains, fear or anger about any subject matter that I may explore more widely and openly through the written word.

For crying out loud it’s been factually proven through eye-witness accounts that bigfoot exists and lives in Kettle River, out behind our back forty. Wow! That’s awesome and we’ve factually seen cougars at the watering hole. Yikes! The DNR needs to get going with public safety warnings.

Yes, cougars are in Golden Valley and here in the Twin Cities but the DNR refuses to send out any public safety warnings because of greed.

I guess that the public has to wait until somebody’s child gets eaten and then maybe, just maybe, there will be some type of public notice about the cougars in our area. Remarkable indeed!

No, I don’t believe that humans ought to allow for aliens to enter the humans’ homes, invited or uninvited, or to allow for aliens to anally probe humans or to make humans their guinea pigs or to kidnap humans, however, it may be possible for aliens to uphold to Constitutional Civil Rights, Liberties and Freedoms, no differently than those of the Americans, unless the alien life forms come to Earth to mine gold by enslavement of the humans through some form of mental slavery and / or physical invasion, and then they’ve got another thing coming because humans have no mercy when it comes to enslavement.

Humans are a scary, brute, raging force and killing machines when it comes to getting entrapped in cages such as our minds and our bodies. Humans are definitely not docile when it comes to slavery. Oh, wait, there’s Television for mind drones, never mind.

Hypothetically, I do believe that if alien life forms are going to enslave the humans then it’s going to be done by breeding our aggression out of us however not for the sake of peace loving co-existence but more so as an enslaved human race to mine the gold for the alien life forms.

I know, I know.

I love sci-fi and other possibilities thus I’m an American intellectual writer because an intellectual is one who can think about anything without fear that their very own thoughts are spooky, stupid or scary.

I mean, really. Let’s get with the intellectual program, here.

In conclusion; since everybody already knows that alien life forms are here on Earth then why can’t the global leaders or at least the American government better inform their constituents about alien life forms? Yes, more than one type of alien life forms, as in plural not singular.

I mean, are the American constituents supposed to be just as ignorant about alien life forms as we are about “The Affordable Health Care for America Act”?

Seriously.

How boring and violent indeed to keep an entire country ignorant of truths simply because the American government realizes that the Roman Catholic Church is one big cash cow for now, but not for long.

Within the next few short years the American government will have to come out with this information before the alien life forms do and then there will be hell to pay for keeping the public misinformed and in the dark about important matters such as these.

No, I’m not scared or angry about alien life forms and neither are the next three generations.

As far as aggression; humans don’t want their aggression bred out of them because it means our demise, our end, our death.

Yes, I do believe and think that a little bit of aggression goes a long way and is great for the overall human survival.

One thing that I’ve been taught by the Maya is to not give up my instinctual aggression towards survival. If I feel a real-life threat, hunted and about to be harmed then it is my life-given right to fight for my survival, alien life forms or no alien life forms.

Fun. Wasn’t that fun to consider subject matter so far away from your minds as Sri Lanka is to us, now? Yep.

Don’t be afraid to consider any subject matter because innovation springs free from the fountain of life, love, discovery, exploration and instinct.

No, don’t make fun of what you don’t understand otherwise it’s futile, meaningless and it leaves the humans in the dark ages.

Survival Aggression and Peace;

Gabriel

P.S. The reason as to why I can’t stand watching Norah O'Donnell with the CBS Morning News is because she smirks like the Joker ready to murder culture.

I’m sure she’s a very nice lady however the audience can’t stand her no matter how much she gives that look like: “I’m rich and you’re not.”

Everywhere we go, Americans tell us, that they can’t stand Ms. O’Donnell because she looks as though she’s making fun of the Americans.

I’d have to agree with them after studying her body language, face, eyes and lips for close to a year, she doesn’t realize how she comes across and that’s a pity.

As a producer I would’ve hauled her into my office a long time ago, and offered her body language classes, given her six months to get her act together, and if she couldn’t do that then there would’ve been a breech in contract because you can’t have a nation of audience members thinking that your morning anchor is making fun of them whether she is or not. That’s just moronic.

She smirks like she’s shit her pants on the morning news and she possibly might have.

The audience hates her so much that I’ve decided to boycott the CBS Morning show for as long as she’s there or until she changes her act, because we can’t have a large majority of an American audience feeling like some rich donkey’s ass is making fun of them along with their morning breakfast.

She’s got to get it together and any senior executive would know better than her. No, I didn’t write: a junior executive, I wrote senior executive. You do know the difference because I sure do.

I realize that the producers have no clue how much Ms. O’Donnell is distrusted, disliked and loathed by the public because the producers live inside their mass media bubbles. Could you imagine having a morning anchor that people consider creepy and scary by modern cultural standards and not know it. Oh, my!

*) Yes, I do like the journalist David Gregory on “Meet the Press” however I don’t like it when he smirks just because he seems uncomfortable by any subject matter that which he may find unsuitable, not to his satisfaction or liking.

I think that Mr. Gregory is an intelligent, handsome and smart cookie that can and is trusted by the American public for the most part however he can’t pick and choose, only, what he deems important information and smirk at the rest the he may dislike or find unimportant just because he personally doesn’t agree with it.

Yep, I just saved their jobs before the public starts sending them mass hate mail if they don’t already. I know all about hate mail. I do. It’s hilarious, at

times.

*) The only television anchor I trust in the Twin Cities is KSTP’s: Leah McLean. She’s a real human and willing to inform upon the truth. She seems as though she’d never hurt a fly, a bee, a bug or a child. I do like her and trust her to no end. I can’t say that about others.

No, I don’t watch WCCO or KARE II news however if I’m going to listen to talk radio (which is never) then it’s going to be WCCO radio however I can’t be paid enough to sit though television news because it seems so smarmy. It’s probably because I worked in television news for almost three long and arduous years.

Cheers.

Word count: 2,173

Monday, October 28, 2013

“To lose years is far worse than to lose dollars.”

“Fortunate are those who actually enjoy old age.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Addicted: (habitual accustomed to)

It did not take long before he became addicted to drugs and alcohol.)

--- --- ---

“The Ghost in You”

The Psychedelic Furs

As of right now I’ve only completed about 81,169 words within the past three months of writing.

Yes, most serious writers cover about 180,000 words within a three month period of writing. I’m about one-hundred thousand words shy of my literary quota as a serious writer for a three month writing span, (as far as the blog is concerned).

Yes, most serious writers cover a lot more literary ground than I have within my past three months of blog writing.

Yes, most serious writers are able to write the first draft to their novels within a three month period otherwise they’re not really considered serious about their writing.

Yes, any serious writer writes about two-thousand words per day and a semi-serious writer covers about a thousand words per day.

What does that say about my writing? A) I’ve got to get going B) I’m quite serious about writing however I’ve been quite ill as of recent C) I don’t mind covering about two-thousand words per day, it’s just that the blog reader doesn’t get to read my screenplays because they’re awful so the reader doesn’t get to see any of my other writings or my short-hand journal entries, each and every single day.

Yes, I do cover two thousand words (or more) per day just not on the blog alone.

So, you see I’m not even close to writing excessively.

I’ve got to get going in order to meet my blog writing goals, however, please do keep in mind that I do other types of writing throughout my days.

It’s not an excuse; it’s just that the way in which I’ve structured my days, it’s most important to accomplish so many other tasks like film business, communications, reading, research and other important responsibilities aside from writing as a business entrepreneur telecommunicating from home, for the most part. What a lucky, lucky gal.

No, I’m not frustrated when it comes to writing or many other responsibilities for that matter. I’m quite organized and diligently relaxed about being disciplined and that’s why life is so easy to do.

Writing’s a hell of a lot more complicated than one would expect.

Writing’s a lot harder than any other type of work I’ve ever done and thus here I am plugging away and working as industriously as I can muster the time, the courage and the know-how.

No, I don’t write in public places because that’s just silly and every serious writer knows that to be the truth. To write in public is to seek an audience at some type of quasi-effort.

Writing’s a solo sport / event that must be done in the company of no one else otherwise one is to pick up other’s nervous energy, desperations, distractions and neediness.

No serious writer wants that type of neuroticisms jumping into their writings. It’s just no good and it’s easy to tell when one reads the writings of others if they’ve been distracted by others or not. Nope. No, thank you.

Writing’s a sacred art in which one sets time aside and goes at it alone.

Writing’s the type of work in which one better be comfortable being alone for at least two hours a day or otherwise the work won’t carry one very far. To be alone is to be strong and capable of great character because there are a million and one distractions in life trying to get in the way of the work.

Yes, I’d rather sit at this writing desk in my private study plugging away than at some coffee house pretending to write but not getting much accomplished.

No, don’t get me wrong I’d love to run out for an almond milk latte with lots of whip cream on top, however, thus is the responsibilities of any serious writer to shut the door, draw the blinds and get some serious work done.

No, I’m not a drunkard although it would be interesting to write drunk but then my writing would fall by the wayside.

It’s tough enough to write as an ESL adult let alone drunk. Oh, my! I don’t think I’d make any sense if I wrote drunk.

No, I don’t think I’d be able to get in any structured sentences if I were drunk. The writing would become gibberish to say the least.

Yes, since I’m married, I’ve got another person to testify to the fact that I’m neither an addicted drunkard nor an addict of any type.

Eric may or may not drink about twelve beers within a seven day span and I’ll try to take down one bottle of red wine per week but that’s tough at the best of times when I don’t like the taste of alcohol.

Yes, I feel incredible lucky to be without an alcoholic or drug addiction since much of my work is heady and intelligent therefore I have to stay sober minded and intelligent myself otherwise you guys would be like: “What the hell is she writing about, anyway?”

I can get drunk on two stiff drinks, thus it takes me about three to five hours to get through one stiff drink, alone.

I’d rather drink water or soda and smoke e-cigarettes.

If alcohol were to taste like candy or chocolate then it might be another story but with alcohol there’s always that bitter alcohol aftertaste in which it tastes nasty to my tongue no matter how much it may be disguised in sugar and flavor.

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

I was adopted into half a family of severely wet millennial alcoholics who are in their thirties as of now so they’re no longer kids and now they’re considered young adults and not much good for anything other than vomiting and pissing themselves.... I come from a family of recreational cocaine and heroin users and that’s no fun either because it makes them mastermind manipulators and scum.

I was adopted into a family of the Greatest Generation and Baby Boomers who were and are mean dry drunks, selfish, self centered, narcissistic bi-polar gluttons and scary as hell so I learned early on not to take on any addictions other than I got stuck in the caretaker role of mean dry and wet drunks which I’ve broken that curse as of the past five years, now.

Yes, I’m addicted to organic 100% tobacco cigarettes but that’s nothing compared to recreational heroin, cocaine and severe alcoholism. I’m telling you it’s nothing in comparison. Nothing.

I was adopted into a family of raging dry and wet drunks in which my one uncle tried to French kiss me and make-out with me while in my mid twenties while visiting home for Christmas and it scared the hell out of me.

I was adopted into a family of dry and wet drunks in which they’ve driven drunk for decades and have gotten caught by the police and have had DWI’s as well as their names in local New England newspapers for everyone to witness before their God and their communities.

My family members have had to pay large fines and almost gotten arrested because of their dangerous drunk driving conditions upon Massachusetts roads for over twenty years. How scary indeed.

I was adopted into a family of raging dry drunks who are mean, manipulative, abusive and cruel thus I learned early on to take care of them or they’d become extremely abusive and mean towards those who loved them unconditionally and weren’t like them at all.

I was adopted into a family of raging dry drunks who love to watch others get injured or abused because they’re mental and emotional social sociopaths.

I was adopted into a family of raging dry drunks who are emotional pinchers and pushers and if one doesn’t hurt as much as they do then they’ll find ways to physically injure or harm another until the other is screaming and yelling to please be left alone because you know what’s coming down the pipeline, more manipulation and abuse.

No, I don’t mean that they’ll just spill a cup of coffee over your laptop by mistake; I mean that they’ll literally burn you with a cup of boiling hot water and derive great joy from it, hold you down and choke you, sit on your chest and wish that you give them the slightest reason to kill you and starve you for decades because they thrive upon the pain of others.

I come from a lunatic adopted New England family who selfishly leaves their millennial young adult children to go homeless upon the streets of Miami and to strip dance while the Baby Boomers attended Ivy League schools on the stolen inheritances of their adult children.

I come from a lunatic New England family who destructively hands out hundreds upon hundreds of dollars at a time to their spoilt young adult brats so that their adult children will get out of their hair and go get drunk in Boston’s club circuit and become used up sluts and social whores while the Baby Boomers secretly drink themselves to death in damp cellars because they loath their washed up spouses who complain about everything and everyone especially their nieces who are perceived more as competition than they’re considered relatives.

I was adopted into an insane dry and wet drunk family who’ll steal any family members’ inheritances and call it a good day’s work and pretend like millions of dollars weren’t left in a family trust fund and pretend like they’re poor good for nothings that they truly are because they aren’t good for much else other than manipulating their way into others’ lives to eventually assert their power over others and take over their trust funds. (Careful, these Caucasian people sure are scary and they’ll get away with murder if you let them.) I know what I’m talking about.

I come from adopted abusers, neglectful and lying scum who I took care of for close to fifteen years and who shan’t meet our future offspring because they’re estranged from me.

No, I’m not estranged from these abusive bastards. I dropped them like hot potatoes on their asses the last time that one of their boyfriends was allowed to poke me with his penis, more than twice, from behind and they derived great joy and comfort from my young adult abuse. I watched them as their lips and eyes danced with smiles while I held back tears.

Ivy League, don’t preach Ivy League to me because so many of them are scum and every Social Elite knows very well what they are…

I was adopted into a family in which I was told year-after-year for almost a decade that I was most likely schizophrenic without any solid psychological proof from any professional evaluations, only to turn 36, and have absolutely not a single sign of any insanity for that matter once I was tested for schizophrenia as an adult to prove to myself that I wasn’t.

I’ve been fucked with in ways that you have no idea and that’s why I don’t go out of my way to injure or harm others because I know better.

Yes, I’m psychologically proven to be sane by psychiatrists other than those in my family and as sane as any mentally healthy adult can be and as “crazy” as any other humans are. Yep. Nope, I’m not insane and I’m so happy to prove that to professionals.

Nope, I no longer hold a sense of inferiority complex, shame or weakness to be liked by drunkard donkey’s asses. I’m stronger and more beautiful today than I’ve ever been before, after going through hell and back again.

How exciting to live a life of mental health and freedom, finally.

Would you have been able to live out a life in which the adults in your family taught you to think of yourself as schizophrenic without being so, and afraid to get too close to anyone or to get married because you thought that you’d have to disclose it to your spouse that your family members thought that you might be schizophrenic without a shred of proof?

It was a mind fuck to say the least.

I’ve lived through enough pain to last me a lifetime and that’s why I turned out to be a kind disciplinarian with trust and hope for the future as well as with respect for all and I’m actually a happy and content person. How wonderful is that? Quite.

No, I don’t believe in Americans adopting foreign children because the Americans sure are mean even when they hide it and disguise it through money and social rank.

No, Americans aren’t ever going to tell you this but America is an abusive, alcoholic and mean-spirited culture that looks forward to crushing those who are naïve, innocent and kind.

America for the most part is a filthy country of incest, rape, power struggles and ego driven maniacs.

No, please don’t adopt-out your beautiful foreign children to Americans. It’s just wrong and everybody knows is to be true because this is a culture of hatred, sins and abusive violence disguised as…

You taught me what America truly is and now I hold the power of the plume to unravel this filth, neglect and abuse. I win. I hold the power to calmly tell the truth no matter how much it may chap others’ arses. The truth is on my side. I shan’t cover up for drunkards any longer.

No, I no longer go around taking care of my dry and wet drunk mean family members, nor do I feel sorry for my former insane and mean-spirited alcoholic friends with whom I became friends, in the first place, not because I really liked them but because I felt sorry for them. Not so, any longer nor ever again because I’d like to start a brand new generation of bambinos who can break the spell of abusive idiotic alcoholic tendencies within our family. Thank the Gods I don’t come from their blood linage.

You have no idea how many asses I’ve wiped clean of feces and urine or picked up vomit. That type of caretaker role gets old quickly. I’m no longer a caretaker to alcoholic dry and wet drunks. No, I don’t wish them luck because they never wished me any luck either, only disaster and abuse.

Don’t be fooled by dry drunks because they’re far more manipulative, cunning and scarier than wet ones are even if they’ve made me add up their budgets in the upwards of eleven million the night before their homework was due because they had a need to show off. Like I don’t know what eighty million looks like. As if. Whatever.

Sincerely and Peace; (Ha!)

Gabriel

Here are my 2,461 words. Eat it for Nordic dinner.

Friday, October 25, 2013

“Two things grow weaker with the years; teeth and memory.”

“The man who wants to know everything gets old fast.”

“Gray hair is a sign of age, not wisdom.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Promulgated: (set forth, made known by open declaration)

The results of the deliberation were promulgated throughout the nation.

--- --- ---

(Excerpts)

On Writing; A Memoir of the Craft

By

Stephen King

Page 103

“What Writing Is”

Telepathy, of course. It’s amusing when you stop to think about it--for years people have argued about whether or not such a thing exists, folks like J. B. Rhine have busted their brains trying to create a valid testing process to isolate it, and all the time it’s been right there, lying out in the open like Mr. Poe’s Purloined Letter. All the arts depend upon telepathy to some degree, but I believe that writing offers the purest distillation. Perhaps I’m prejudiced, but even if I am we may as well stick with writing, since it’s what we came here to think and talk about.

Page 148 & 149

Reading at meals is considered rude in polite society, but if you expect to succeed as a writer, rudeness should be the second-to-last of your concerns. The least of all should be polite society and what it expects. If you intend to write as truthfully as you can, your days as a member of polite society are numbered, anyway.

Where else can you read? There’s always the treadmill, or whatever you use down at the local health club to get aerobic. I try to spend an hour doing that every day, and I think I’d go mad without a good novel to keep me company. Most exercise facilities (at home as well as outside it) are now equipped with TV’s, but TV--while working out or anywhere else--really is about the last thing an aspiring writer needs. If you feel you must have the news analyst blowhards on CNN while you exercise, or the stock market blowhards on MSNBC, or the sports blowhards on ESPN, it’s time for you to question how serious you really are about becoming a writer. You must be prepared to do some serious turning inward toward the life of the imagination, and that means, I’m afraid, that Geraldo, Keith Obermann, and Jay Leno must go. Reading takes time, and the glass teat takes too much of it.

Once weaned from the ephemeral craving for TV, most people will find they enjoy the time they spend reading. I’d like to suggest that turning off that endlessly quacking box is apt to improve the quality of your life as well as the equality of your writing. And how much of a sacrifice are we talking about here? How many Frasier or ER reruns does it take to make one American life complete? How many Richard Simmons infomercials? How many whiteboy/fatboy Beltway insiders on CNN? Oh man, don’t get me started. Jerry-Springer-Dr.-Dre-Judge-Judy-Jerry-Falwell-Donny-and-Marie, I rest my case.

Page 157 & 158

So okay--there you are in your room with the shade down and the door shut and the plug pulled out of the base of the telephone. You’ve blown up your TV and committed yourself to a thousand words a day, come hell or high water. Now comes the big question: What are you going to write about? And the equally big answer: Anything you damn well want. Anything at all… as long as you tell the truth.

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

American Football does cause Brain Damage; Fact

Well, if one is into American football then one is considered a knucklehead and we all know that to be the truth.

If parents allow for their children and youth and teenagers to play American football then it’s the same as causing mental and physical harm and injuries to one’s offspring and that’s the truth of the matter no matter how ignorant one may want to be about the entire bloody ordeal.

The truth always prevails no matter what.

American football is to keep the masses from panicking and freaking out that this nation has much work to do.

American football is a way to keep society and culture from realizing that it’s been left in the gutter as far as innovation, architectural advancements and scientific research. Look around: why do you think there’s so much garbage, trash and litter upon the streets of America.

America’s been turned into a gutter, a ghetto, into garbage filled streets. I don’t remember so much street blown garbage in the late 1980’s and 1990’s. Shame. How filthy indeed. It’s a sign of how terribly horrible America feels about itself in this everlasting recession. We shall overcome.

Modern American football is no different than that of the Roman Empire times in which gladiators killed each other off in the ring and spectators were given free loafs of bread, courtesy of the empire to keep the masses from noticing their empty bellies and rioting at how rotten their lives really were.

Okay, no, I don’t believe in rioting however I do believe in substantial change because today I saw a black homeless man hold his babe in his arms as the winter fast approaches. My stomach and heart ached for him and his little baby infant who had nothing and I mean nothing except for the clothes on their backs, each other’s company, comfort and sincere love for each other’s survival and life; it was a sight I can’t neither describe in a thousand words nor will I try.

No, I personally hold absolutely nothing against American football because the rules of the game are fascinating to me even though I still can’t make heads or tails of what’s happening out on the field however I can figure it out, I’m that smart and Eric’s brilliant at explaining football to me although I’d rather watch soccer, tennis or gymnastics or running or speedskating. I’ve fallen in love with the high vault. (Actually, I’d rather see a ballet or listen to an opera but that’s an all together different and separate event.)

Yes, I’ve always wanted to become a female football referee in my retirement however I’d rather become a referee of tennis or baseball or basketball. Now, there’s some real great talent when it comes to athletics.

Yes, American football is a dying sport and everybody knows it because no parent in their right mind is going to place their children in a dangerous situation and allow for their youth to become brain damaged. I mean, really.

If any minor is injured because of and by brain damage due to football injuries then you know what that means a) the stupid and ignorant parents will have to care for their offspring for the rest of their lives b) the parents will have to work later into their retirements to financially support their brain damaged adult children in diapers c) tragedy d) the costs will be infinitely higher than if their adult brain damaged offspring could bring in some sort of income of their own and contribute to their own household e) no fun for anybody f) lots of hard lives and hard work ahead for many American parental households contending with brain damaged adult offspring g) yuck, hard lives of silent malcontent.

Now, the scientific experts and the NFL all know it to be true that within less than twenty years American football will be something of the past like an old sepia photograph and kids will ask: “What’s that?”

You know it to be true and that lesson chaps everyone’s arses that has any involvement in making a boatload of money from retarded brain damaged athletes.

No, I don’t believe in robbing athletes blind especially when most likely they’re going to die of swollen brains. God, what an awful way to go.

Yes, I love the athletics just as much as any American spectator does however in all good consciousness I’m not able to advocate for American football, not now and not ever.

Finally, American culture is making a turn and navigating away from a deadly ice floe such as American football.

No, don’t get me wrong, I love football and I’ve held and do hold close and personal ties to remarkable football players and they’ve known for about twenty years how I feel about them becoming brain damaged as an effect of their game.

Every time that any of my male friends have hit the field I’ve had to turn and look away. I haven’t been able to watch them play and get injured.

I love American football so much that my first novel will be dedicated to that subject. It’s a novel about the secret romance between an all American football player and a writer. That’s all I can say for now. You’ll have to purchase the book to read what happens and find out the ending. It’s juicy because I… (I’m only teasing you, more than anything else.)

Yes, as of this fall I’ve begun to boycott American football for the rest of my life because I feel justified to implore after the mental health and vitality of our American youth.

Plus, the half time entertainment is crutch filled and that’s nothing to look up to or place on any pedestal.

No, I can’t stand listening or talking to knuckleheads who can’t articulate a single sentence because they’ve been brain damaged by their high school football experiences.

Try baseball or basketball for a sport. Those two sports take a finite amount of intelligence and ability to produce something of vitality.

Now, catch up with the modern world of intelligence.

The only way that anyone will make any type of substantial income in the short future to come is if they’re well rounded, well spoken and articulate because American manufacturing and factory work is indeed dead.

It has been outsourced and the only way to make it financially into the twenty-first century is to be intelligent, innovative, scientific, mathematically inclined and to telecommunicate and to operate as any intelligent being can, with intelligence, smarts and an open mind for a future fast approaching and one that’s already here.

America is no longer a blue collar, working class culture in which it can sit back get drunk on weekends, yell at the boob tube, and take in football because as all intelligent people know, here today and gone tomorrow. As Americans we learned our harshest of lessons with outsourcing.

Peace;

Gabriel

So many little thoughts.

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

No, I don’t have a crush on Bill Maher because I have no idea what he smells like and to me, he’s a two dimensional (height x width) figure on the Tele however I admire what he does for America. I respect the man and his work to no end. Thank you very much. Ha!

Thursday, October 24, 2013

Gossip:

“What you don’t see with your eyes, don’t invent with your mouth.”

“Loose tongues are worse than wicked hands.”

“Those who think of themselves don’t gossip about others.”

Advice:

“Don’t worry about what may happen tomorrow;

just correct what you spoiled yesterday.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Banal: (lacking freshness or vigor, commonplace)

His conversation is so banal that he lulls one to sleep.

--- --- ---

If you don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all.

No, a government shutdown isn’t good at all by any means;

no matter how much one may live

inside malicious bubbles or on cloud nine.

Yes, authoring a terrible bill is moronic.

Yes, higher education costs is classist,

and anyone with brains knows that perfectly well.

Yes, the American dollar is stronger than any other currency.

No, don’t lecture me about the American dollar.

Yes, I stand strong by the American dollar

more so than any other form of foreign currency.

Yes, I believe in America otherwise I’d be gone.

No, I’m not leaving America even though…

Yes, I’ll hold my position and stand guard for the Americans.

Let’s do it!

Let’s thrive.

Yes, only the Americans and American writers can criticize America.

If you abhor Americans then you don’t know us very well.

Yes, Americans can and will overcome this economic recession.

Yes, I’ll stand strong.

I’m here, aren’t I?

I shan’t abandon the Americans.

I love more than I hate.

Now, let’s roll up our sleeves and get to work.

There’s much that needs to be done.

I do write with love, respect and dignity;

believe it or not.

Lessons were learned let’s move on to what comes next.

The harshest literary lesson of all:

Destruction, war and chaos aren’t change.

Yes, I’m allotted poetic license in my writings

and that’s what makes me so damn Patriotic.

I believe in America.

Don’t you?

I believe in the American literary writer.

Don’t you?

I believe in the great American novel.

Don’t you?

Of course, you do.

You must believe otherwise fairies die.

(I’m being metaphorical.)

I don’t see why not?

What reasons would Americans have

for not believing in the writings of American writers?

Writers work as hard as we can to challenge the status quo;

to create positive and modern change.

Walk with me, as I bestow the toughest types of literary lessons.

When I write about needing help or pleading for it;

It’s done rhetorically, metaphorically and anecdotally.

No, I don’t literally require your help as readers.

Period.

Let’s learn to read a contemporary writer’s lessons.

I’m an American writer, damn it.

Peace.

Gabriel

P.S.

If you think, that I abhor America then you’ve got another thing coming.

I can only hope that the Saudis continue in their friendship with America because I want to live in Saudi Arabia when I’m an old woman

and write about it without getting murdered or ostracized

by their Peoples because of what truths I may write.

The Gods are with me and so is Allah.

I have so much hope for an alliance with Saudi Arabia and America.

If you can’t tell that I’m teasing,

making fun of misguided leaders and Peoples,

or that I do mean to write harsh literary lessons

about life in general to challenge anything at all

then you don’t know what writing is all about.

Writers don’t war or throw bombs or

murder in cold blood with their silently written words.

We make love, not war.

No, I’m not masturbating over here.

Simply loving humanity from afar.

No, I’m not a rebel or a revolutionary.

Nope, I’m not your personal cheerleader

however I’m an appreciator of humanity

and I can’t help but write stinging whipping lessons

to get you to think about mediocrity, hatred and misguided actions.

I’m smarter than my writings.

Don’t you know?

You must know, or we have absolutely nothing to say to one another.

Don’t you know anything?

When a writer makes love to your brains?

Please.

If love be rough with you then be rough with love.

I don’t want to tell you this but

I love you, guys.

Can’t you feel the heat radiating from my words?

Don’t tell me that you don’t know anything about love or lovemaking.

That would be a tragedy.

I could write tragedies to last you an eternity but that’s no fun.

If you don’t understand that I’m smarter than my writings

then you don’t understand anything

about real value, consequence or beauty.

No, I don’t love, too, hard or that would be foolish.

Yes, from now on I shan’t write the word “hate” anymore.

Did we all learn valuable lessons?

Yep.

Yes, I’ll spell anything out for you however please do keep in mind

that I’m a woman underneath a writer’s cloak

and I can and do get embarrassed and shy, at times, as a human.

I’m made of flesh and bone.

Yes, I do bleed and I can be made to hurt.

So please don’t mock my efforts

at something wonderful, extraordinary and exceptional

otherwise you come across as dork losers who can’t spell at all.

Thank you very much.

No, I’m neither an illusion nor are my writings, however.

Yes, I’m quite bona fide nevertheless I was taught a literary trick.

Sometimes, the more a writer writes at length

then the less they’re saying anything personal about themselves

to hide behind a shield of monumental words and sentiments

so that readers don’t necessarily settle in and get too cozy

and come to believe (in their minds) to be the writer’s best friend.

Yes, writers can and do keep readers at arm’s length

more for the benefit of the reader and for the safety of the writer.

A reader isn’t a writer’s best friend.

You know that, right?

You actually have to hold a real-life relationship to a writer

otherwise it’s considered reading and make-believe.

Correct.

I’m glad we got that squared away.

Thanks.

The reader and I aren’t best friends unless

we hold a history of friendship, face-to-face,

share our lives in conversation,

break bread together with close ties

and respect for each other.

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

“When you’re hungry sing; when you’re hurt, laugh.”

“If you can’t bite, don’t show your teeth.

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Solicitous: (showing care, attention, concern; full of anxious desire, eagerness, apprehension)

In trying to answer the questions the boy was annoyed by the solicitous prompting of his mother.

--- --- ---

(Excerpts)

On Writing; A Memoir of the Craft

By

Stephen King

Page 141

There are no bad dogs, according to the title of a popular training manual, but don’t tell that to the parent of a child mauled by a pit bull or Rottweiler; he or she is apt to bust your beak. And no matter how much I want to encourage the man or woman trying for the first time to write seriously, I can’t lie and say there are no bad writers. Sorry, but there are lots of bad writers. Some are on-staff at your local newspaper, usually reviewing little-theater productions or pontificating about the local sports team. Some have scribbled their way to homes in the Caribbean, leaving a trail of pulsing adverbs, wooden characters, and vile passive-voice constructions behind them. Others hold forth at open mike poetry slams, wearing black turtlenecks and wrinkled khaki pants; they spout doggerel about “my angry lesbian breasts” and “the titled alley where I cried my mother’s name.”

Continued on page 142

…I am approaching the heart of this book with two theses, both simple. The first is that good writing consists of mastering the fundamentals (vocabulary, grammar, the elements of style) and then filling the third level of your toolbox with the right instruments. The second is that while it is impossible to make a competent writer out of a bad writer, and while it is equally impossible to make a great writer out of a good one, it is possible, with lots of hard work, dedication, and timely help, to make a good writer out of a merely competent one.

The day’s done.

I ran out of time.

Cheers;

Gabriel

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

“Uphill, we always climb with caution; downhill, we dash carefree.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Redolent: (suggestive of, pertaining to, full of)

He loved to tell stories redolent of Native American life.

--- --- ---

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

No, I don’t like either memoir or nonfiction writing.

No, this isn’t a historical account of humanity.

Go read an authenticated history book for that matter.

Yes, if I were to read memoir or nonfiction writing then it better be about famous historical figures that underwent many struggles, trials and tribulations and adversities in their quests for new found freedoms, rights and liberties for others.

It’s difficult to pull off great writing much less write about one’s, own, life stories.

Oh, my! It’s intellectual torture to add oneself to any storyline especially when one doesn’t like doing it. (It’s like having teeth pulled.)

Yes, it takes brilliance, if not then genius literary talent to be able to convey something profoundly purposeful to others through the storytelling of one’s life but it’s quite rare to come across anyone that’s not mediocre in this era and age of coarseness.

Yes, I find that no matter how much or how little I may express some of my deepest emotions on paper that it takes brilliant literary talent to move mountains of significance and understanding.

Yes, anyone can become a writer but it’s rare to find literary geniuses in any age or era. It’s difficult to even find brilliant writers at that.

Yes, everybody wants to be somebody but what they don’t already realize is that they are somebody, the moment they were born therefore to become a writer is to sacrifice, to let go of one’s ego and to allow for the writing to guide the very best in any soul no matter how harsh the writing lessons may become.

Writing is all about comprehension and learning.

Yes, to become a great writer, it doesn’t mean that you have to become a mindless drone of misinformation.

Yes, to become a great writer, it doesn’t mean that one’s ego is their guiding force.

Brilliant literary talent is quite rare no matter how much parents or editors may sell it to readers that their children or staff writers are geniuses because that’s a lie.

More often than not children are mediocre and “stupid kids” for the most part. It’s not their fault or the fault of the parents it’s just that it takes time to acquire real life maturity, understanding, skillful articulate thinking and feeling processes.

Writing requires for mature adults to bestow wisdom upon others’ lives otherwise, no go.

If the writings of a fool are mud then the writing’s simply lies.

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

No, I can’t stand getting lied to by any mediocre memoir or nonfiction writers like “Three Cups of Tea.”

I ought to burn that book as a prayer to the Gods not to let that happen ever again. I felt like that book was a personal a-front upon the good Peoples of the Earth. How could he do such a thing? Oh, my Gods.

I could barely breathe when I found out that that memoir book was a lie.

I was beside myself to have humanity ever so insulted by such a weak person to call himself a writer. He’s no writer. He’s a talentless hack who can’t write the truth about his life and, one, that ought not to be touched ever again by any respectable publisher. Why should anyone give this lying quasi-writer another chance? Nope. Not on our watch.

To lie to oneself while staring into the mirror is one thing; but to lie to the world upon the written page is quite another.

So you see, not everyone can become a great, excellent or brilliant writer especially in these mediocre times when everybody and their grandma wants to become famous without any talent to speak of or without anything worth a contribution to society and to humanity at large.

Don’t think that any writer can get away with pulling another modern writer’s leg. We’re in the literary trenches each and every single day. I know what this is all about: The reader.

Yes, I can understand politicians lying through their teeth but not memoir or nonfiction writers because I trust that they’re telling the reader, their very own truths otherwise it’s a waste of our time to sit through and read lies.

If any writer tells you that they love writing about themselves then we’ve got issues as readers because some of the most difficult writing out there is done within the boundaries of those two similar literary genres; memoir and nonfiction writing, (which I dislike doing very much especially the more I do it. I can’t tell you enough how much I loathe writing nonfiction.) It’s so fucking aggravating.

To write about oneself is to sacrifice one’s privacy.

Perhaps, not completely because the reader really only gets about 1% to 5% of how any writer really feels about anything otherwise it would be complete inconsideration to spell out everything to an already smart and intelligent audience. Readers can read between the lines of emotion just fine. Thank you.

As a writer, the more information one gives away then the closer the reader may seem to feel to the writer however it’s an illusion because the writer will always keep their cards close to their chests.

Writers know all about nature and the laws of nature therefore we know natural magic like how the sun looks and appears over the horizon just before it sets. It’s beauty and magic combined.

We’ll show the reader our literary strategies in becoming better thinkers however we’re not going to give away our lives because that’s to play with the Gods’ thunderbolts.

Careful as to what, one may write, if one doesn’t understand how to touch the intuitive power of the Gods with respect, grace and command towards good will, change and thought provoking alertness. Wakeup, I tell you.

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

No, the reader doesn’t really know what’s in the heart of any writer nevertheless they can go upon the basis of what the writer writes and that’s just it, there’s a lot of mediocrity out there because many writers fall for book deals, advertising, speaking gigs and a driven ego.

Writing’s a divine intervention between truth and the unforeseeable truths.

Writing is love more than hate.

Writing is like being made love to by the writer even if the reader hates what the writer has to write.

I see writing more as a vehicle, a conduit of love than hate however one may not, have love or hate without the other, or that’s mare foolishness.

Don’t you believe in romance and love?

I do, thus I write, even if you think, whatever, you may think of me, it still doesn’t change the fact that I’m here and working away on something profoundly important for the readers’ sakes.

What do you take me for?

A slob?

I don’t think so.

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

No, I don’t see or understand what Americans see or understand writing to be. Not exactly. Nope.

As a Native American of the Mayas, I see and understand writing to be a far more profound energy than any book deals or speaking engagements or any writer’s ego for that matter.

I see the enormity and profound responsibility towards future civilizations to get a peek insight into the porthole of our breathing and living era.

No, as a Native American of the Mayas I’m not to sugar coat anything even if American readers consider my writings at times rage filled. (Ha!)

What would you really know about rage other than its patient like time, kind like silence and thought provoking like a whip on any horse’s back?

I shan’t hand it to you.

You’ll have to work for it because I do.

The problem with American audiences is that they’re lazy minded and they want everything handed to them in a whicker basket therefore anything that isn’t considered “positive thinking” (which they confuse quite often with calmness) is then thought of as negative, and they short change themselves of anything truly profound and full of life, while their cheaply made whicker baskets unravel.

The goal to life is to live out peaceful co-existences and to think with the intelligent power of the divine. Now, that’s real living otherwise we become babbling idiots at best and that’s poor quality.

American audiences are easily confused so it’s easy for writers to mock them which I hate to mock any reader because as a reader I hate to be mocked. I get it just like anybody else.

Readers know when they’re being made fun of, and by then they won’t return for more. Why would they? They wouldn’t.

Yes, I must keep within accordance to my Mayan teachings and beliefs.

No, I shall not be swayed to become a sellout and sell poorly made products, thoughts and degenerate aspects of life without value. Nope.

I must not and I cannot for our sakes become a fraud nor can you. I’m not bought or sold as a slave here upon these pages and that can only chap anybody’s rear end to no end. (Ha!)

Yes, I loathe nonfiction and memoir writing as you already know all too well.

Nonfiction literary genre sure is tough to pull off, well, and on a continual basis. When; I’m done with this nonfiction blog I shan’t look back and write another blog for as long as I live.

Yes, I find that many aspects of life are far more profound when reading-in-the memoir-written-form because one can sit with the writings, re-read and ponder the very existence of our very own divine souls.

Yes, I’ve read a lot of dribble about writers who display a great deal of narcissism and I’m frightened by neurotic narcissists because I don’t want to stare at their reflected images rather I want to read any writers’ stories that will get me to think about the existences of the universes, difficult lessons and hope for a brighter future that we’ll overcome our ignorance, insignificance and hate even if the writer has to peel open my mind to think, on a greater playing field. Thank you.

I was taught by the Masters that writing isn’t supposed to be about the writer, per say, rather it’s supposed to be about the reader; and their journeys into a mature adult world in learning forgiving latitudes towards a world of injustice, crime and discrimination and getting them to think about justice, fairness and judgment.

If you were to meet me, then you’d be annoyed to find out that I’m one of the more lazier of people and thus I don’t take revenge upon others because I’m not looking for projects. I’ve got, too, much legitimate work on my plate to keep me working for two decades.

I was taught that I’m only a literary vessel and not the answer.

I was taught that I was to disrobe of all ego, and write as profoundly as I could to reach into the souls of readers even if it scared the reader senseless and sharply awoke their senses by having the reader look at themselves as honestly as possible and realize that a) they’re not very different from anybody else b) they’re not alone c) they’re not the only ones going through adversity d) they have the awesome ability to make better choices e) they can problem solve f) they can and will look to cultivate better thinking patterns about their own lives and others g) that we’re all in this together, as one human race.

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

No, I’m not spitting into the wind, here, and having it come back and hit me in the face. I’m, too, smart for such nonsense.

Yes, I have purpose, intent and mindfulness by my side.

Yes, I know exactly what I write and with what purpose.

Yes, I challenge the reader to think about anything at all.

No, I don’t stare at myself in the mirror hundreds of times a day because I already know my very own soul.

No, I’m not wasting my time writing to the reader.

No, I’m not going to kiss anybody’s ass, become a pet or pet myself on the back about my writing because I’m on a journey to become better at this bloody literary craft.

Yes, writing is more difficult than digging ditches.

Yes, if one’s going to write then they better realize what it’s for.

Yes, writing is power but bad writing is powerlessness. (Ouch.)

Yes, don’t be afraid of words and thoughts just don’t follow through with them and make them into action because that’s the difference between being smart and intelligent or not.

Am I a great writer? Probably.

Am I a brilliant writer? I have yet to prove that.

Am I a genius? The tests indicate otherwise. (Ha!)

I know exactly what and who I am.

No, I’m no longer a child, a teen or a young adult with my head firmly planted up my ass.

I’m now an adult writer and I reserve the right to write anything that turns this ship around, slowly but surely. Starboard side. I’m navigating and writing by the stars. Don’t you know how to do that?

Have faith in me that I’m doing right by the reader.

No, I’m not a demon or a devil. I can prove it.

I’m flesh and blood and I, too, shall become star dust.

I hold faith that the reader will do well by others towards profound change.

The Gods are on my side because I’ve asked them to be witnesses to my writings and thus they guide this light and not this darkness.

The Gods are my beacons of hope in these, here dark ages.

If my heart isn’t in the right place then may the Gods strike me down dead with a lightning bolt and they haven’t yet. I must be doing something right by the Gods.

Don’t you know anything about Ancient mythologies?

Do you not know how much humanity loves and hates? (Ha!) (Just kidding.) I’ll stop there before you send me spiteful and mean e-mails.

Peace;

Gabriel

P.S. I love anything by Stephen King. Yes, he’s one of my favorite contemporary writers. Thank you. We’re watching as many of his films as our schedule permits before Halloween night. Fun!

Monday, October 21, 2013

“Adversity is the best college.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Impervious: (unable to be penetrated, affected, or influenced)

He was a man impervious to all recommendations.

Done writing at 8:06 P.M.

--- --- ---

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

24 billion wasted dollars

within a 16 day government shutdown

(What the…)

No, I don’t believe in genocide of any type.

No, I don’t believe in shooting off guns in any city or individuals.

No, I don’t believe in causing harm or injury to any city or individuals.

No, I don’t believe in poor quality.

Yes, I believe in positive change.

No, I don’t believe in murder.

No, I don’t practice white or black magic.

No, I don’t cut deals with the devil.

No, I don’t practice witchcraft.

No, I’m not a witch.

No, I’m not a Pagan.

No, I don’t communicate telepathically with any one given human.

No, I don’t see musical notes in colors.

No, I don’t hear or see hallucinations.

No, I don’t have delusions of grandeur.

Yes, I know exactly who and what I am.

No, I’m not anti-American.

Yes, I’m a disciplinarian teaching some harsh literary lessons.

Yes, when I write that I practice my craft

I do mean: I practice writing the literary arts.

Yes, I believe that writing is magic

In the same way in which flowers grow in the springtime.

Let’s talk about it…

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

Chess

Yes, I personally believe in the survival of the human race.

I believe in the survival of our species because I acknowledge all those who came before us and who, sacrificed a great deal of themselves for the ever important societal advancements, scientific clarities, innovations and cultural developments of the ages. (No, I don’t believe in eating our young.)

No, I don’t personally believe in genocide because our families have sacrificed many of our own relatives to lost wars, concentration camps and with their very own wits, survived starvation as prisoners of war, overseas in the hands of the Nazis and the Russian army.

I understand the remarkable obstacles, trials and tribulations that our many family members who overcame adversity for the betterment of this nation and other nations throughout the centuries.

No, I don’t personally believe in firing off any gun in any city.

You’re perfectly aware that if one were to shoot off a gun anywhere, especially in the domestic urban sprawl then most likely one is bound to hit an innocent bystander and kill them with one fired bullet. (I hope you’re aware of that fact.)

No, I don’t personally believe in violence of any type.

No, I don’t personally believe in war. I loathe war.

No, I’m not personally anti-American.

It may seem or it may appear that I’m anti-American because of how I write about American culture simply because I expect more from…

Yes, I loathe living in America however I’m not anti-American.

I believe in this great nation of ours. Isn’t that obvious? I care enough to write about America’s downfalls in front of the entire world to witness. Please. (Don’t be so rude.)

No, I’m not personally disappointed with the Americans however I’m disappointed in our leaderless congressional government.

No, I don’t personally blame the Americans for every single little problem in America however I do blame our slow progress to make strides in scientific advancements, innovations and strides forward.

I want my floating car, damn it.

Malaria. I can’t say enough about third, fourth and fifth world countries and what their Peoples go through.

Yes, I want to see less senseless crime in America like arm robbery, burglary, and molestation, rape and murder.

Yes, I want to see advancements in the educational structure.

Yes, I want to see a free educational system set up for our citizens and civilians. (It’s the proper responsibility to do well by our People.)

Yes, I want to see strong governmental food subsidy programs set up, especially programs for Women and Children and Infants and Men.

Yes, I want to see zero tolerance policies about discrimination, racism and classism in any work place, schools, and professional establishments and amongst culture in general.

Yes, want to see less political male-chauvinism against the constitutional reproductive rights of women.

Yes, I’d like to see less of ghettos, less street garbage and less broken windows upon the streets of America.

Yes, I believe in America therefore we stay and work.

Yes, I could write a thousand poems about the beauty of America.

What do you take me for?

Do you take me for a barbarian, a brute or an abuser?

Please, I’m naturally an optimist and an intellectual pessimist.

Please, I care enough to spend some ink time on this country.

Yes, I do I believe that at the age of 19 I ought to have left America for other golden shores.

Yes, absolutely however my Central American Ivy League mentors and cultural Elders sent me back here to the Midwest and thus here I am taking on the responsibility to work hard, develop, grow and watch over our American Midwest Elders and our neighborhoods and our communities.

We contribute to the beauty and betterment of America because we stay and live and thrive and survive beyond our means.

Yes, we run our household budget on about thirty-thousand dollars per year because we believe in less waste and keeping costs down for the working poor, working class and blue collar.

It’s a lovely life; we make late night Nordic meals at home, get out twice a day to run errands downtown, Minneapolis, run to the studio, professional work, the beds, dishes and laundry require to get done, along with e-mails, texts, and returning phone calls, conceptualizing, writing screenplays, blog, research, reading time, conversations, walk the dog and care for him as well as care for ourselves, our health and overall wellbeing, make time for our beloved friends and family and neighborhoods and communities throughout the years, play, party, food, smile and laughter, be merry and be happy.

We live!

What about you?

We contribute in positive aspects all around.

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

No, I shan’t ruin the present neighborhood we live in because I love it for so many reasons. Have you no clue, inside your noggins how much I love the green short kept lawns, the mostly tidy streets, the beautiful looking gingerbread homes?

Have you no idea how much I love our neighborhood and community?

Although, I don’t like shopping in our neighborhood’s downtown for personal reasons nevertheless there are gems that take my breath away like the hardware store and…

No, I’m not here to advertise about the place we reside and no, I shan’t mention it by name for as long as I live. (That place that shan’t be mentioned. Ha!)

Now, I love our fifteen minute commute to downtown, Minneapolis each and every single day. I’ve witnessed four seasons here in this neighborhood and the wilderness takes my breath away. The trees alone are remarkable.

On a weekly basis we see raccoon, deer, possum, rabbit, white squirrel, Robins and Cardinals.

I mean; life’s sure gorgeous on Sugar Plum Lane.

It’s an ideal place for a writer, except for...

Don’t think that I don’t know about the working poor, the working class and the blue collar of Boston and New York City and New Jersey and Chicago and Los Angeles because I do.

The reason as to why we chose this neighborhood is because we believed that not even the ghetto could touch us here as it had in Uptown (which is considered an “overpriced ghetto”) with structures falling apart (literally,) weekly graffiti on our previous rented property and the daily crassness of people going through our garbage.

Living in Uptown was a rough ride for six long years.

Our present neighborhood is indeed magnificent in every regard other than our black ghetto neighbors’ weekly shrieking and screaming adults and children who ride their bikes alone to the ends of the block without parental accompaniment. (I don’t care what anybody says: I’ve been a witness to this misconduct for about seven months straight.)

Parental accompaniment means that a parental guardian actually has to get off of their asses, and accompany minors under the age of sixteen, anywhere, they may go outside especially on sidewalks because once a child leaves any property’s parameters then they’ve entered the world of adults and anything goes, unfortunately.

If you’re not by your children’s side when they’re in public then they’re not accompanied by a guardian and that’s against the law.

Peace,

Gabriel

Friday, October 18, 2013

“Even life’s smoothest path is studded with stones.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Ineffable: (unable to be expressed in words, indescribable)

His ineffable delight was caused by the unexpected arrival of his friend.

--- --- ---

Genocide

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

Genocide: (By 'genocide' we mean the destruction of an ethnic group . . . . Generally speaking, genocide does not necessarily mean the immediate destruction of a nation, except when accomplished by mass killings of all members of a nation. It is intended rather to signify a coordinated plan of different actions aiming at the destruction of essential foundations of the life of national groups, with the aim of annihilating the groups themselves. The objectives of such a plan would be disintegration of the political and social institutions, of culture, language, national feelings, religion, and the economic existence of national groups, and the destruction of the personal security, liberty, health, dignity, and even the lives of the individuals belonging to such groups.)

Threat: (1. An expression of an intention to inflict pain, injury, evil, or punishment.

2. An indication of impending danger or harm.

3. One that is regarded as a possible danger; a menace.

tr.v. threat•ed, threat•ing, threats Archaic

To threaten.

Action: (1: the initiating of a proceeding in a court of justice by which one demands or enforces one's right; also: the proceeding itself

2: the bringing about of an alteration by force or through a natural agency

3: the manner or method of performing:

a: an actor's or speaker's deportment or expression by means of attitude, voice, and gesture

b: the style of movement of the feet and legs (as of a horse)

c: a function of the body or one of its parts

4: an act of will

5 a: a thing done: deed

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

Literary Disclaimer:

No, writing isn’t a physical action like speaking

therefore because literary writing is silent

it can’t really be considered a threat

unless signed at the bottom with black or blue pen

and…

This is what I’m going to tell you about written threats:

A) The threat better be real, to the point with specific demands

B) Signed in pen with a signature at the bottom

C) If an anonymous threat is made then it’s made by cowards and neither to be taken, too, lightly nor, too, seriously

D) A written threat better have a poignant and exact

purpose in conclusion, with an end date,

and precise intentions to be carried out.

----------

(No, I don’t believe in any form of genocide

however I reserve the right

to write about genocide

in any literary capacity

that’ll create thought

and hopefully spark discussion

about manipulative intentions,

two-faced instigators, greed, destruction, morality and

positive change, brilliant and simple solutions to modern structures, frameworks and systems as main topics.)

Otherwise, we fail each other.

Writers, write to ignite wisdom and thought

nothing more and nothing less

no matter how stinkin’ mad

the reader may get

at the writings for pushing the reader

to think about anything at all. (Ouch.)

Writers are silent in their approach

to teach harsh literary lessons or not.

If one doesn’t seem to learn the literary lessons, well, then…

Writers aren’t villains or vigilantes.

Writers aren’t the enemy.

Writers aren’t heroes.

Writers are humans with organized thoughts.

Writers may write anything they wish

no matter how positive

or negative; crude or critical the writing may seem,

and others may agree to disagree

otherwise don’t read

that’s always an option.

Fables are written to teach humans to control their impulses, reactions,

quick judgments, temper and incorrect thinking so as not to manipulate themselves into believing lies and then reiterating those very lies to themselves and their children for seven generations

until they forget to read about history.

Writers reserve the right, liberty and the freedom to write as they see fit to describe a world full of injustices, disappointments, failure, dysfunction, abuse, clarity, development, innovations, growth, function, and legal justice.

Writers use their typed written words to express any confusion others may have about anything from the miniscule to the most prolific.

Writers, write with typed words rather than with spoken words.

Writing is thought provoking, while speaking is a deed, and a threat must be spoken with the intent to cause harm or injury otherwise, no go.

Writing stands on its own as a sacred and divine fine art,

not to be improperly touched or harmed

for the sake and purpose to further develop

intellectual capacities

amongst the human species.

[My Mayan Ancestors understood writing to be a divine gift from the Gods, and that’s why our Ancestors didn’t destroy any writings,

no matter how much they hated the lessons of unspoken words

that silently sat and collected dust over the passage of time,

waiting for someone to pick up the volumes,

and learn anything of value

about themselves as those who hold

divine breath and souls,

thoughts and lives

as any other intelligent beings do.]

It’s very seldom that one will encounter chatty writers

speaking about their deepest and most guarded thoughts

and candid verbal expressions in the spoken word

because they know all, too, well that their words

carry meaning, eloquence and articulation

in which the spoken words make sense,

hold clarity and create positive change.

Writers aren’t necessarily philosophers but they sure dabble in the thinking craft of logic and reason every time they write,

or the writings won’t make sense to anyone.

The goal of any writer is to make sense

no matter how vile the literary topic or sentiments.

No, writers don’t speak about what means most to them

because we know the power of spoken words.

To write is to remain silent.

To speak is to possibly threaten harm or injury

through physical action.

Moving on.

I just gave it to you.

I spelled it out, and that’s most annoying because I’ve had to pay my dues to learn how to do what I’m writing about however it seems that audiences lose themselves in the midst of thinking rubble from an explosive, destructive and insensitive educational system that hardly teaches history, dry wit, satire, dark humor,

expression and parodies and anecdotes, anymore.

It’s a gift.

For you.

No, I don’t expect anything in return

because that’s not how this gift of wisdom works.

I have to stay ahead of the curve

because that’s my job as any thinking writer does.

What you don’t seem to understand is that I love, admire, laugh, hope and believe in the goodness of life and humans.

Peace.

Relax.

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

Correct; destruction isn’t even considered change.

(Finally, you get the lesson.)

Thank you.

Okay.

If I want to throw a tantrum then I’ll throw myself on the floor, roll around and scream but I can’t remember doing that since about the age of three.

If I were to get a wet diaper then I’ll…

Thank you very much however I’m not in the business of wetting myself since about the age of four when I learned to dress myself (and when I was terribly ill while in my late teens and early twenties, hemorrhaging, and I didn’t even know how ill I was at that time.) (Yep.)

[Yep, the urinating has been under control for about fifteen years and it wasn’t even full on urination it was little dribbles of pee like when pregnant women sneeze. Ha! I’m so mature I can write about it.]

If I were to make a serious and demanding threat then I’ll come face-to-face and tell you exactly what’s going to take place, legally.

If I were to take action then it’ll be through the proper channels and legal options towards positive change no matter how distraught I may become as a woman I reserve the right to become distraught in difficult situations without the guidance of remarkable leadership however my actions won’t seek destruction because I want to live, thrive and survive beyond our means.

I’m a contributor to society not a destroyer.

My written words are for you to realize your own power as individuals, as a culture, as a nation and as citizens and civilians.

This is not only my gift but also my promise to you to sharply keep you on your toes and thinking.

Yes, literature can be a roller coaster ride and I love to trust the engineers to keep me safe while I clutch on for dear life to a handle bar at all of the adventure, fun and hilarity of the ride.

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

I’m not really sure as to why our Republican leaders failed us by proposing a keystone pipeline as part of their negotiations to reopen government from a shutdown? Apples and oranges once again.

I’m bewildered at the very fact that our republican elected officials and others placed that point, on the table as part of negotiations. As if.

I’d like to believe that our elected officials and others won’t make such propositions ever again, of that type, that, which will threaten the security of our nation’s overall wellbeing, in every sense of the word.

I’m not really sure as to why our global leaders and others allow for Syrian genocide to occur.

I’m bewildered at the Syrian massacre.

I’m bewildered at the Mexican-drug cartel massacre.

I’m bewildered at the corporate greed that takes away from the mouths of babes and slowly starves the have-nots.

I’m bewildered to say the least but not without hope and high regard for life.

I’m an intellectual like any other of their era and it’s my right to think about the justices and injustices created in the world as any other thinking adults do.

I want you to understand that Genocide of any type isn’t morally correct, intellectually sound, without foundation and with possible destruction to wipe clean any lifestyle that may or may not agree with the status quo.

If you believe in Genocide then you’re on a fool’s errand because as keepers of humanity, we’ll defend the right for anyone’s survival. We just will.

Genocide is decimation and not just cause.

No, I don’t believe in destruction.

Yes, I believe in creation thus I write.

Yes, change is created through a series of organized steps towards compromise to peacefully co-exist and to uphold to the rules and discourse of honorable intentions no matter how much ego, pride and vanity gets in the way otherwise go take a hard look in the mirror and don’t lie to yourselves about your intentions for grabbing power away from others and telling lies about it afterwards.

I loathe any force that holds others hostage by any means possible.

Sincerely;

Gabriel

P.S. Yes, we live within two miles of the best Pizza in the world and we didn’t get ill afterwards. Thank you.

No, I shan’t ever write about the city I reside in however I reserve the right to write about life in general even if you hate the writings.

The best pizza in the world award goes to: “Pig Ate My Pizza”

Bravo.

[Disclaimer; No, I’m neither any type of food critic nor judge. I simply was taught to cook by some of the best Masters in the world and I like to eat. I’ve always held a hearty appetite however I control my impulses to stuff myself full.]

--- --- ---

*) We’re finally going to decorate for Halloween. We’re going to put up little lights this weekend and get ready with candy.

Yes, we cancelled our Halloween party 2013 because I just got out of surgery four weeks ago (correction) and I’m still not feeling up to par. We’ll hold a party next year whether invited friends or foes attend; that’ll make for something interesting to say the least. I’d like to invite…

--- --- ---

*) You do know that yanking family members away from Thanksgiving day and night to work is indeed sacrileges and profanity.

It brings destruction to civilized civilization. Greed and destruction.

--- --- ---

*) No, I don’t per say consider celebrities as freaks in general, only when they sell or preach a way of life to the Americans that’s poor quality for the Americans then I’ll jump right in and defend the Americans in any literary capacity possible to convey the disgust of such decrepit attempts upon the very existence of culture as we already know it. Relax.

You understood that.

I’d love to write about what I enjoy most in celebrities because well, it’s no different than writing about nature (nature can be freakish) but with all of these self-imposing award ceremonies that no one can keep up with it’s like seeing the Olympics every two years instead of every four years. It takes the fun out of it.

The regularity of these self-imposed awards is not only a cash cow but also a farce and badly conducted as well as in poor quality and taste like the Presidential seal signs that continues to fall off of the President's podiums. (Ouch.)

--- --- ---

*) Don’t lecture me about Prestige.

I just gave it to you in a picnic basket and all.

The world doesn’t get to judge what’s going on with me because you’re not inside my head, my soul or body to know as to how I feel about anything at all, much less, have you ever spoken with me face-to-face.

What say you? Nothing.

That’s what I thought.

Thank you.

Finally, silence.

--- --- ---

*) Yes, I have lots of make-up quotes and vocabulary words to catch up on however I’ve been exhausted ever since after surgery.

--- --- ---

*) Yes, America has defaulted on it’ debt and loans before.

Don’t lecture me about…

Thursday, October 17, 2013

“Love can’t take advice, and lovers won’t.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Nefarious: (wicked, vicious)

He was given a long prison term for his nefarious crime.

--- --- ---

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

Welcome back.

Thank goodness the lights are back on in Washington, D.C.

The government is back in business,

although it’s been in session the entire time.

(We all knew that. Right?) Right.

Surely, only any nation can judge their internal affairs.

I mean, I’m sure other nations wouldn’t like to hear what the American People have to say about other national economies and modern wage-slavery and slavery in general. (Ouch. I’ll stop there.)

To throw rocks at glass houses is to…

The world can loath the decisions the American government makes however the world may not loath the American People because we’ve sacrificed our Sons and Daughters to a twelve year war in the Middle East.

Only we get to judge the deaths of our own.

The lesson that chaps the world’s arse is that America is a wealthy, dysfunctional, strong, chaotic, classist, organized, well-intended, oligarch passing for democracy.

Don’t you know anything about democracy?

Someday I’ll tell you Her Story.

She’s gorgeous and not anyone’s whore

even though she gets treated like one.

Relax.

We keep an eye peeled to the skies.

We financially invest in America

because; “we put our money where our mouths are."

We’ve got funds at stake, here.

Our stocks are very real to us.

One penny is the difference between having wealth or not.

We believe in Disney stock amongst others however those companies hardly contribute to the world welfare, primarily for profit.

The overall global stock market is utmost important to the advancement in scientific innovation, positive solutions in communications development, clean energy and free enterprise, intelligent capitalistic progress.

We invest in America for the long haul.

Our retirement plan is everything to us

because once we sit down,

that’ll be it for a while.

I’d like to move slower as I age

when the time comes.

Slow down.

We’ll grow old happily and that’s that. (Ha!)

We work hard, we work forty hour weeks and that’s full time.

That’s enough.

That’ll do.

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

What did I meant by; “No, no, deal. No go.”?

I meant that the American government doesn’t stoop so low as to allow a high-jacking, hostage situation or negotiate under unsafe and detrimental ultimatums in the exchange to forfeit a mandated law. Government isn’t conducted that way, we all know that. Duh!

In other words the high-jacking of a plane, the derailment of government, the economic hostage situation and the ultimatums were absurd. (I mean, really. We thought we we’re watching a soap opera. Wow! Let me catch my breath. So much melodrama.)

Really. Normally, politics are cut and dry.

First point, under no circumstances are any elected officials or civil servants to place the American government, Wall Street, and the Public at risk with actions that may damage the overall global economies, government workers and military paychecks.

There ought to be a written provision with a conceptual clause somewhere in which it states something like; At no one given point ought there to be a government shutdown unless under the following difficulties and even then: Civil War, UFO Invasion, Genocide and / or the atomic bomb. (Ha! Just Kidding.)

No, but seriously; I’m not an attorney nor do I pretend to be one nor do I desire to be one thus I don’t author bills however that’s something that I could’ve done happily, to contemplate loopholes, conceptually think about what’s at stake when it comes to writing modern bills to pass into laws. (So many modern bills just don’t carry common sense because everything’s clumped together into one bill and it butchers the possibility for prosperity.)

One, I’d love to see something to the effect in the form of a debatable bill; A government shutdown is not to be manipulated, instigated or twisted into a pretzel by the terrible tactics and stratagems of any one given political party or parties. (Primarily, it would take time to research a list of loopholes and close them.)

Two, I’d love to see a bill written about: congressional insider trading. I mean, according to my research the most any congressman or congresswoman makes is about; one-hundred and ninety-eight thousand per year, annual salary. Indeed, these are our elected civil servants, our representatives in the Senate and the House, both.

Three, I’d love to see a bill written about; Tightening up the loopholes when it comes to filibusters and gerrymandering.

Four, I’d love to see a bill written about; setting-up an independent governmental federal agency in which its sole purpose is to conduct background checks on all of government employees (if that’s not a conflict of interest) at the time of hire. Conducting background checks is time consuming, tedious and most important work. Background checks are extensive research and it has to be conducted well. No, this agency wouldn’t be a police state. It would be something like that of the FDA or the EPA of background checks. (I don’t know. Maybe that’s a stupid idea. I’d have to think about it more. Anyway.)

When I wrote: “No, no, deal.” I meant: Open up the United States of America’s Government because the Government doesn’t negotiate with fundamentalist Ideologue crusaders to forfeit already mandated laws. Nope.

The government isn’t something to be purchased, gambled with or to be manipulated through a series of severe tactics and actions towards a path to real-life destruction, cause and effect.

I meant; Open up the government now.

A country requires their governing body, not to sell or purchase deals under the table but to write and debate policy, pass common sense laws and budgets with an intelligent approach for the betterment and the greater good of all, and not only according to fundamentalist-extremist, right-wing, arm-twisting ultimatums to forfeit a valuable law or else the government shuts down. What. It doesn’t even make sense.

Governing isn’t like business. (You know that, right?)

Governing is about the welfare of all.

If congressmen and congresswomen desire to make big bucks, in trading, then they need to go into Walls Street rather than governance.

Governance is about choosing what’s right for The People rather than what’s right for the conglomerates, the monopolies, or industrial warfare and fundamentalist ideologues.

We need our leaders to lead, properly, correctly and well.

To face up, to make the right decisions because human lives depend on it and not for the sake of some political scoreboard.

I mean, lives, paychecks, food, diapers, baby’s milk were at stake, here, on the ground for the past sixteen days of a government shutdown. Shame. That’s just unpalatable.

Enough for now.

I’ve got a million and one things to do.

Ciao;

Gabriel

P.S.

To answer that; I’m not one to say, as to how one purchases anything however they do.

We have so many nephews and nieces that we do gift cards for the Holidays. We derive joy from doing that because they mean the world to us.

As far as tightening up belts for the Holidays; you have to make that decision.

We don’t purchase much of anything on any credit card unless it’s for travel or emergencies however we do spend where we find there’s a need.

We like to spend on the local economy and eat out, once a day, three-hundred and sixty-five days a year. We like to shop around the Holidays for beloved ones and friends from something as small or greater.

We purchase cards and small gifts throughout the year.

We purchase breakfast for our guests throughout the year and I love to tip as well as I can. It’s fun. We rejoice in it. Around the Holidays we love to give tipping-gift cards and that also derives much joy.

We’re blessed to be able to do so many gift cards to so many different types of people in our lives and we give with glad tidings, not expecting anything in return. The gift of giving is to rejoice in the giving without expectation.

*) I’m being informed that what’s needed more than ever are children’s, youth, teens and young adult coats throughout the Midwest and the rest of the country.

We donate during the Holidays because that’s our duty as working professionals of this modern era. Thirty percent of our annual income is donated.

*) Please, I ask of you to donate, if possible, brand new, coats, warm mittens, hats, scarves and such to your local communities because that’ll be the greatest gift one can give. Don’t forget the young adults and adults. All types of people have needs for warm outer-ware.

*) Please, don’t forget to donate to Thanksgiving Dinner to homeless shelters this year and always. (We don’t personally volunteer but we donate to just causes not lost ones.)

*) Thank you for donating to Early Childhood Education during the government shutdown. We’re grateful.

*) Thanks for the first four episodes of Downton Abbey.

I’m sworn to secrecy. I was stunned. I was left speechless with a shallow breath. Oh, my! I can see how the Brits are pissed off as hell. I just didn’t see that coming out of left field. Holy Toledo.

*) We don’t default on our modern debt.

We’re America, strong and capable to meet our responsibilities at every turn.

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

“A good saying at the right moment is like a piece of bread during famine.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Gregarious: (living in groups, liking to be with others)

Sheep are, in general, gregarious animals.

--- --- ---

P.S. No, we shan’t despair. Yes, the American Government is rich beyond its means. It’s just that there’s incredible amount of mismanagement when it comes to congressional government, fundamental ideologues and budgetary spending.

Yes, there’s plenty of money in some form of treasury or another to keep the post offices open because that’s our historical value, officially sealed correspondence is what makes us a democracy in part.

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

Literary Disclaimer: Nonfiction blog writing genre:

Please don’t confuse any writer with any villain because that they’re not.

I’m the writer of these works, here. Thank you very much!

[If one can’t tell the difference between reality and literature,

I would suggest to anyone to please

sign-up to any intro literature course at any community college.

(It’ll benefit any reader in the refinement of audience participation.)

It’s important for readers to learn to differentiate reality from storyline otherwise one is considered, or, becomes insane

if one can’t tell reality from storyline constructs.

I don’t know. Humans sure are something to say the least.

Correct? Correct.

Moving on. Next.]

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

Parts to a Whole

I. American Government Shutdown 2013

II. “The Affordable Health Care for America Act” To You.

III. Debt Ceiling Raise, now.

IV. Why does the GOP hold the American Government

in a shutdown hostage situation?

V. Genocide. (Do you know why it’s immorally wrong all around?)

VI. Who are the modern Fascists?

VII. Is the Speaker of the House all right?

“The Affordable Health Care for America Act” ought not to have anything to do with the hostage situation of the American Government Shutdown 2013. (It just shouldn’t and we all know why.) Apples and Oranges don’t add up.

It’s not only irresponsible of the GOP’s “Tea Party” to do so but also selfish, in poor taste and low-grade leadership.

Yes, “The Affordable Health Care for America Act” sure is affordable and it’ll cost on average about thirty to forty dollars per month depending on how one qualifies. (Hey, where can I sign up?) (I know I know we don’t qualify. We pay hundreds upon hundreds of dollars in health care coverage per month.)

Yes, “The Affordable Health Care for America Act” will save many millions of our youth, young adults, working poor, working class, blue collar, lower-and-some-middle class Americans. (American population is around 315 million in 2013.)

Yes, “The Affordable Health Care for America Act” ought to be left alone by the “Tea Party” monkeys and donkeys asses. (Back away slowly from the incredible and remarkable “The Affordable Health Care for America Act”.) Don’t our leaders have any self respect to speak of?

Yes, I’m all in for “The Affordable Health Care for America Act”. I’ve finally read through most of its 1,990 pages. What can I say?

No, the debt ceiling is not an issue in the governing of America until about 2011 when the “Tea Party” (a branch of the GOP) began to dismantle government through rhetorical ultimatums, terrible negotiations and detrimental causes towards ineffectual neglect and chaos of our nation.

Yes, this may be a meager Holidays for many military families and government workers who depend on a paycheck from the government.

Yes, large government doesn’t have to be a bureaucratic digital spying system upon its People because the concept of large government is one of trust that separatist-extremists won’t take over the country and enslave it’s People, but also it’s about confidence that large government will operate smoothly, well and take full financial responsibility for its budgetary spending and finances.

No, there’s no need to put our American families at financial risk for the Holidays or at any other time just because negotiations can’t be reached. (The debt ceiling limit has never come knocking on our doors so please don’t feed us such malarkey for Thanksgiving. we won’t be able to stomach our morsels of food, along with halftime crotch entertainment. Please, no. Such carelessness in governmental disorganization mocks our civilization down to the very bare bones.)

Yes, as Americans we might have to tighten our belts this Holiday season 2013 and rejoice in excellent health, great company, the breaking of bread and the happiness to get this giant back on its feet again.

No, don’t despair because that’s to forsake Your one and only God.

No, I won’t despair because that would be to forsake my three-hundred some Mayan Gods even though as an intellectual I reserve the right to be an atheist who hopes to believe that there’s hope that the Gods haven’t forsaken humanity by making us into mare mortal toys for their vanity and amusements.

No, there’s no point at all, to this GOP’s hostage takeover of the American government shutdown 2013, frozen paychecks and pensions.

No, no, deal. No, go.

The GOP’s separate-extremists can’t negotiate a government shutdown as extortion upon the basis of an already passed health care law.

It might even be against the rules of governing to do so. We’re back to apples and oranges don’t add up. Do our leaders need to brush up on how to govern and governing laws? Yes.

Yes, policy and negotiations are two very completely different things all together.

Yes, policy actually requires intelligent conceptual thought for the greater good of all, and writing those intelligent thoughts down on paper to pass into bills and to make into laws.

Yes, negotiations are compromise in any and all communications.

Negotiating is arriving at a middle ground and agreeing to disagree nevertheless making organized arrangements in which both or all parties involved are satisfied with how to go forth on any action that requires to be made for the sake of all Peoples.

No, not the negotiating of policy because policy isn’t something that one negotiates rather one debates logic and reason into words, thoughts and deeds. If words don’t add up to logic and reason then the policy is dead on the floor because it may bring injury or harm to the majority and well, we just can’t have that in a democratic system.

Yes, about fifty percent (48%) of the country requires some form of government assistance. (We’re “middle income earners” so we don’t qualify for any government assistance yet our taxes are already through the roof.)

Yes, I’m sure that I know why the G.O.P.’s right-wing, separatist-Marxist-extremists, government representatives fight only over fundamental ideological means rather than to seek out real positive governing solutions.

It’s because politicians make a boatload of money on insider trading and thus it’s important for politicians to keep the fire going, instead of putting out fires, they destroy the political playing field because then chaos means reelections which in turn means more money for them, their cronies, family members and friends while leaving the rest of country in ruins, government workers and military with frozen paychecks and pensions. Pity.

No, I’m not a journalist, a political expert, a politician, political science expert, a psychologist or financial expert.

Yes, I’m a modern writer and blogger, and my bias opinions are my own.

Take it or leave it.

That’s one difficult lesson that chaps some readers’ arses.

Sincerely,

Gabriel

P.S. I hate to have to tell you this but I do believe that our financial system, framework, and constructs are quite archaic.

Don’t lecture me about the debt ceiling limit.

Don’t lecture me about trickledown economics.

Don’t lecture me about the minimum wage raised to $10.50 according to inflation and rise in lifestyle. I also took econ-101. I get it and I don’t like what I see. Keep up. This isn’t a financial class.

This is real financial life cause and effect. If one requires to sign-up for physics class to better understand financial Wall Street then do so.

Why is the debt ceiling one of the GOP’s stupid trump cards?

It’s the dumbest trump card in the entire world and the debt ceiling limit doesn’t even belong in a poker game of policy making about “The Affordable Health Care for America Act.”

What’s happened to the moronic intelligence of our Tea Party leaderless group of snot nosed, spoiled bullies. Get these idiots out of there. They’re choking the country and getting away with murder.

Yep.

Out of there so fast you won’t know what the People hit you with.

Their Blunt Votes.

Is the Speaker of the House all right?

Order, here.

Order, now.

Here! Here!

What say you?

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

“Sweet words won’t warm you, but sweet thoughts will.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Epoch: (A time or event which marks a relatively new development)

The atomic bomb is an epoch-making discovery.

--- --- ---

Oh, my!

How did it get to be five in the evening?

I’ve got to change my schedule around.

I love writing from six to seven in the mornings.

My mind is fresh and alert.

It’s more fun at that time, alas.

Later in the afternoon I’m tired.

-- --- ---r in the afternoon. afternoon.

--- --- ---

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

Physical Injuries

I don’t want to write about my double-sprain however I must.

I sprained my ankle in the first week of June 2013, and then again three weeks later, I slipped on mulberries throughout the grass, slightly slid down at the top of a hill, and there it was, a second sprain on the same ankle.

(As I sit here, I’m not able to cross my legs, at the ankles, because a sharp hairline fracture of pain’s felt in the inner side of the ankle.

Even the slightest twist and the ankle doesn't like it.

The pain signals hit my nerve endings and I understand the ankle's sole desire is not to be turned, in any direction, so I don’t, by honoring it.

Nevertheless, when I stand on one foot, and balance for about a minute at a time, then I hold-up my other leg, point my one foot into mid air, and make-out the letters of the alphabet with my ankle, foot and toes to bring strength back to the ankle. I try to get through as many letters in the alphabet as possible before regaining complete balance on both feet.

I could do this exercise with a physical therapy band, but

I’m afraid it would be excruciatingly painful because the ankle still has difficulty resting at ease while I fall asleep.

I still feel pain when I fall asleep because I can’t seem to find a comfortable angle for my ankle to rest upon. No, I’m not losing sleep over it however the throbbing pain at bedtime is interesting to say the least after a long day’s work.

It’s taken four months to do the “air-alphabet” competently just like “air-guitar”.

I’m being informed that it’ll take another two months to get over this injury and I just hope that it heals before the snow and ice comes.)

The second time I twisted the ankle; I realized that…

I caught a hold of myself with the ankle, dug into the dirt with my foot and kept myself from slighting all the way down to the bottom of the hill and I paid for it. (Ha!)

The berries were slick ice and I should’ve known better than to stepped bare foot on soggy ground.

I was showing a friend our mulberry tree and lost my footing. My feet were moving so fast they must’ve looked like cartoon feet. If I would’ve been standing there watching myself then I would’ve laughed so hard but alas.

My friend was kind with his approach. He understood why I was so clumsy with my steps once I explained to him that I’d recently sprained my ankle.

He asked me only one question: “On a skateboard?” I nodded and there was nothing more to say between us. He knew perfectly well what I meant.

So, there it is.

I haven’t regained my full balance on that one ankle, and that one darn broken toe, on the same foot, has been broken for almost nineteen years.

Once one breaks a toe, then it’s broken for good and don’t I know it. My one broken toe sits slightly higher-up than the rest. I can’t look at my broken toe for too long or it grosses me out in some odd way.

The human body sure is amazing.

I must be thinking about past injuries only because when it rains then I feel the dullish sharp aches of my body.

Yes, I’ve aged and it’s been a beautiful sight to see. Oh, my! I’ve been through hell and back again with much of my health and well, every day I look more like I did when I was sixteen than I do as a thirty-six year old. I seem to be aging better now than when I was younger. (Hip! Hip! Hooray!)

Don’t get me wrong. I’m beginning to slightly get lines and in a few decades wrinkles will set in and I most certainly welcome life. This is the natural order and progression in life, to age, gracefully, peacefully and beautifully.

Nope. I don’t personally believe in snip-snip. Not personally, anyway.

Even though, at times, I contend with some severe previous sports injuries and such I’ve aged better than I ever looked in my twenties. Oh, my! My twenties were a painful and severe time while eating empty refined calories and hemorrhaging.

Thus is life.

As an intelligent woman I reserve the right to be clumsy from time to time because the one injury I still can’t get over is, from the time whence I pulled my arm out of its socket. Oh, it does just fine however once that injury set in then my rotator cuff hasn’t been the same hence thirteen years ago.

At the time, when I pulled my arm out of its socket, well, I didn’t have health insurance and I had to tend to the rotator cuff as gingerly as I could for months, afterwards.

If I ever lay wrong on my shoulder then it’s immediate sharp pain and I’m not able to bare it for anymore than three seconds. The pain is so sharp I can almost feel the pain in my teeth.

Now, talk about being a clumsy woman.

I bought the wrong shoes all together this spring.

I bought a pair of fashion tennis shoes.

I wanted a pair of tennis shoes to slip on however enclosed.

I learned my lesson.

Fashion, means fashion, not sport.

As an adult I’ve gotten tired of lacing up my tennis shoes but now I understand why laces are so important when it comes to sports rather than fashion.

Mindlessly, I went out for a skateboard ride on a glorious June afternoon.

I got caught in utter surprise by the thunderous clapping sounds of thirty-thousand people, turned to look to see what it was because I became startled (I thought I was alone) twisted my upper body, heard bones crack in my foot, fell over and got up quickly, slightly placed weight on my foot, to see if I could, at all, and I did. I slipped away unnoticed. Thank the Gods.

Yesterday was the first time I wore the same pair of shoes since the accident.

I tripped, twice, while walking the dog.

No, I didn’t fall over. I’m good like that.

When I go down then that’s it.

I’m down and it’ll take a moment to recover.

The humility is awesome and powerful.

It makes me want to laugh every time however I don’t.

It’s kind of quaint to watch someone genuinely fall over.

It’s hilarious but disarming also.

Amazing, that humans fall over at all.

We’re for sure not made like squid.

The only shoes in which my ankle doesn’t hurt is in flip flops but it’s started to get cold outside, and socks, and flip flops make for wrong and weird fashion apparel.

Now, I’ve been studying the bottoms of these fashion tennis shoes and they’re incredibly narrow at the arches.

My feet are flat and wide.

I know I know I bought the wrong shoes.

What can I say?

Now, I bought the shoes because I was wild about the look of them but I tend to trip and buckle under pressure when it comes to that one semi-sprained ankle each and every time I wear the shoes.

The shoes are making their way into the garbage tonight. No more.

Now, the search begins for two pairs of tennis shoes.

Why is it that American women can’t find halves in shoe sizes, anymore?

What’s happened to American shoe apparel?

I shan’t do that again.

Sincerely,

Gabriel

P.S. Yes, many corrections need to be made.

“The Affordable Health Care for America Act” = “Obamacare”

Monday, October 14, 2013

“Set a fence around your words.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Epitomize: (to summarize, to briefly outline)

To epitomize the activities of the organization was not easy.

--- --- ---

Quickly now: I’m running out of day light.

It’s five in the evening.

I’m running an hour behind schedule today.

--- --- ---

A Literary Lesson on Sweetness

[(It’s only any critics’ job to write a positive statement, first,

and then to write a negative statement, second.

If it were up to me; I’d write rave reviews without a single terrible observation however it wouldn’t be the complete truth, either.)]

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

Okay, like adults.

Harsh literary lessons were learned. (Moving on. Next.)

(I reserve the right to think and feel as I please, and write about my biased opinions because that’s what writers do. We don’t go around bombing anything; we read, we research and think about anything we please and then unfortunately share it with the globe.) (Like hell if I’m ever going to tell strangers any of this stuff, much less acquaintances. Thank you very much.) (Ha!)

I could write about the most mundane aspects in life and bore you to death with them because those are some of the most important aspects in life to most mature adults.

Have you ever sewn a button, mended anything torn, brushed hair away from a lapel, or fixed a mechanical appliance? (Ha!) Well.

Okay, for real, now.

We’ve kept a 1978 lawnmower running for as long as we’ve been able to and finally it’s come to pass.

Our lawnmower is no more.

It stopped running.

The back wheels and handle came off however the body (the motor) is one sweet piece of machinery. This machine is all steel and metal, and ready to ride. Oh, my!

I can’t express enough, what, this piece of machinery has come to mean to us. We did everything possible to find parts and such. It’s important for us to continue with analogue and hardware because that’ll not change for us as engineers.

For thirty-five years (correction) our lawnmower has seen farm country and the urban city. If our lawnmower could speak then imagine the tales it could tell. Our lawnmower would probably swear in Finn.

I have a great deal of respect for anything that requires to be hotwired (not that I go around doing that) however more precisely the spark of electricity sure is powerful.

I have a great deal of respect for hardware and laser beams, both.

I have a great deal of respect for digital ware.

As a child, not once did I ever imagined that I’d become an American adult cook and make cookie dough with a 1950’s electric dough mixer.

Oh, my! Such technology makes me feel like a real Chef in a seriously well built 1950’s tiny kitchen with lots of laughter and odors of freshly made breads, sauces and main courses.

Every time that I handle a piece of 1950’s electrically-made-metal-machinery, or a power tool or an instrument I’m grateful that they exist because plastic just isn’t the same.

There’s much to be said for cheap and quickly made goods or merchandise in any industry.

We buy American, because it’s the better made of all of the Industrial countries, because unions carried our Industries thus far into the twenty first century although I’m being informed that unions aren’t the same anymore.

There’re laws in place for the safety of our workers, their wages and pensions.

We believe that those who make our very own goods from raw materials are indeed brilliant, and important, and we thank them in the same ways in which we thank any local farmers for what they produce come harvest each year. Thank you.

We don’t live in bubbles in which we believe that our field of study and expertise is the most important because that would be foolish to believe.

We believe in the sciences, mathematics, the arts, innovations, building, fixing and the many intellectual facets to positive problem solving and peaceful co-existence, clean competition, fun.

We’re grateful that such an incredible piece of machinery lasted so long. It was a great friend to our family and we did everything we could to keep it running well into the twenty-first century. What a feat!

Aspects of life do come to pass.

All comes to pass.

We live in a divine era in which we must get our civilian population caught up with a modern approach because only peaceful civilizations live, thrive and survive beyond their means.

When I teach harsh lessons and my literary voice is a tempest at sea then it’s because it is, but by no means must any mature adult internalize my writings, and make excuses for their misbehavior out of the writings.

The writing stands alone and strong in the sense that it doesn’t misbehave. Writing lives on white paper and nothing else.

Nope. You won’t catch me slapping, kicking, screaming, yelling, swearing, biting, or insulting people ever and if I am then it’s only because someone has laid a harsh hand upon me in violence and then all’s fair in love and war.

If love be rough with you then be rough with love.

Don’t you see: I’m thirty-six years old and I’ve proven myself not to be an alcoholic, an addict, a rapist, a molester (of any type,) an arsonist, loiter, a litter bug, and a prisoner much less a sociopath or a psychopath.

I’ve upheld to my side of the bargain:

To uphold to continually develop as a model citizen, who, occasionally happens to make the worse mistakes, without a mean intention towards others is to be true to thyself.

If you don’t have a clue or an idea as to what I’m doing as any intelligent writer does to advance civilization along into “old world meets new world” then you don’t understand anything about being an audience appreciator.

Nope. Step back.

You’re not the one writing.

I am.

I’m putting in the time to write and that’s my destiny.

I know, I know. Yep.

Nonfiction is a bitch of a genre to explore because it’s literary material taken from real life and that’s a bite to say the least.

I loathe writing nonfiction and well, here I am stuck, doing just that, towards the completion of my literary expertise from a well developed working-professional into an expert in any literary genre and it just happens to be this nonfiction blog.

Oh, yes!

I can write with the wrath and fury of the Gods and handle a tea cup any day of the week without breaking it. (As a matter of fact; I’ve got coffee on the burner right now.)

Oh, yes.

I’ve already published.

I’ve proven that I can.

The moment I published then writing was no longer a hobby even though I treat this blog as though it’s a hobby but really it’s work and every adult knows that. I’d rather be…

I took on the nonfiction blog genre because I thought it would be the easiest genre to write in, so as to more precisely communicate anything to any audience but I’ve come to realize that it’s the most difficult genre to write in.

Once I’m done with the blog I don’t want to write nonfiction for as long as I live.

I hate spelling anything out, insulting or angering anyone however if this is a game of truth and more truth then let’s have it; knowing perfectly well, that I don’t present myself by screaming and shouting as I enter any room.

I like to travel under the radar because that’s why my Navy ancestors did while they couriered delicate files back and forth from San Francisco, California to Weehawken, New Jersey.

Cheers!

I smell bread baking.

Peace.

Relax.

Just because I write with the fury and wrath of the Gods it doesn’t mean that’s who I am in person.

You guys have me confused with some villain.

Not fair. I’m human. I don’t consider our readership our enemies unless there’s something we ought to discuss person to person and it’s already been established that we’re each other’s enemies.

My personal material is a gift to you and you know it better than I do.

Why should I share anything with anybody?

Because it’s my duty to do so as a thinker and as a writer of this age even if you hate the writing and it pisses you off, hopefully, it’ll make you laugh in the end, because the absurd is always funny and thus is life.

No, I’m not absurd but life sure can be and I just happen to catch it by as I observe anything I wish.

Sincerely,

Gabriel

6:05 P.M.

P.S. Correction; from a possible Cambridge, Minnesota Perkins to North Branch, Minnesota Perkins.

I’m not sure if there’s even a Perkins Restaurant in Cambridge but I know the one in North Branch quite well. Cheers!

Friday, October 11, 2013

“Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge?”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Apparition: (ghost, specter, phantom, appearance)

The apparition was seen by three small children.

--- --- ---

Quickly now; It’s exactly four in the afternoon and my day isn’t over yet.

--- --- ---

What more is there to be said?

Nothing.

Shall we begin again?

Hello and welcome to this blog space.

This blog space is here for any reader’s convenience at any one moment.

As any free thinker, philosopher and writer I reserve the right to state anything at any time in observation to create moral tales of wisdom (no matter how much it may anger anyone,) nothing more and nothing less. I uphold to that right as any writer does.

Where shall we begin?

I’m backlogged on subject matter that requires to be addressed.

I’d love to write about the Sequester 2013, the American Government Shutdown 2013, Italy, Spain, Greece, Argentina, Japan, Native American Brothers and Sisters, Native American Reservations, Russia, The History of the Olympics, Traditions, Standards, War, and Peace, Global Fashion, the World Bank, Global Economies, Trade, Imports and Exports, Industry and Enterprise, Investments, and the Rights, Liberties and Freedoms of all American Citizens and Civilians, China, Brazil, Ice Land, Norway, Finland, Denmark, the Philippines and Indonesia, Vietnam, Vietnam War, Korean War, WII, WI, Ghettoes, Genocide, Syria, Sudan, Immigration, the American Automobile, Engines, Space Garbage, Space Travel, American Police Brutality, and, and, and...

I could spend years writing about the history of the American Slave. Couldn’t you?

I could.

Records prove and indicate that our Ancestors (Puritans and Pilgrims of New England, America) didn’t trade in the business of slaves, neither as slave-cargo or as humans crossing the Atlantic in Southern American ships in chains like animals.

If I find out otherwise, then you already know what.

I’ll write about it.

After twenty five years of personal research I’ve found nothing that indicates otherwise.

I feel safe with saying that we are the free thinkers and believers of freedom, liberty and justice for all. Our age has come and continues.

The end of an era of seven generations from before the founding of this country was established into the twenty first century. It’s a feat. We made it! We arrived to witness a new era of modern technology, progress and innovations.

Aren’t you amazed because I sure am every time I’ve witnessed a nighttime light parade. I live in America because we celebrate the Holidays. I love it all. I can’t tell you enough.

I love the magic and splendor of Holiday lights. The lights make the world seem more civilized, somehow. I could write screenplays about the Holidays for decades.

The two times I’ve witnessed this scene of nighttime lights and splendor, the sight, alone, brought one or two quiet tears of the deepest joy.

I realized that I could go on believing in magic as any adult does because the engineers had designed the most spectacular show with electricity and little LED bulbs. What a wonderful world indeed.

I’m amazed everyday by the beauty, the splendor and the awe and wonder of others, nature, weather, cycles and patterns. I live for that. I really do. Don’t you? I love keeping up with weather patterns.

I see something spectacular happening each and every single day. Don’t you? Waking up in the morning is like waking up to live a full and fulfilled life even if, sometimes it means discipline although… All work and no play…

As Captains of our vessels our trade lay in goods, merchandise, sea navigation, surveyors of shorelines, as sea captains communicating, relaying and receiving information as former lords who eventually became American Citizens; after our Native American Brothers and Sisters were slaughtered and driven West to Reservations with instructions to lose their language, their ways, their livelihoods and their communities.

I could write about our Native American Brothers’ and Sisters’ histories and present challenges throughout the modern globe, whom still suffer at the hand of economic oppression and post-modern colonization. This isn’t over yet. The aftermath, the devastation and the destructive economical oppression left tidal waves throughout Indigenous global communities and America. What, do you really think that I don’t know anything about the Conquistadores? Please. As if.

Now, I’m sorry that you find it annoying that I relate stories back to myself, I reassure you of that.

I communicate like an Indigenous in that it’s tough to break the first, six years’ pattern as a child in listening to adults relay storylines about their lives back to themselves to best understand sentiments of the other in creating a picture of emotions to reflect back some deep understanding for what the other’s going through. Mirrored images of sentiment, emotion and respect nothing more and nothing less.

It’s a gift to have any adult relay anything back to themselves because adults most definitely don’t want to, but sometimes to be better understood one must, even though it can be respectfully annoying at the best of times.

Yes, while in conversation I hate to repeat myself anymore than three times, bring back a conversation to me (directly) simply because there’s a lacking in deep understanding or unless it really applies in general to me or when asked questions face-to-face.

I don’t like to swear unless boundaries are severely crossed and my person is in jeopardy.

I do keep my composure even when people have spit in my face.

All I ever said in those circumstances was this: “I’m going to count to ten starting backwards and by the time I get to one I need you to have vacated the vicinity because I’m so angry that I’m afraid I could bring physical and bodily harm to your person. Run.”

Slowly, I've counted down; “ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…” while I’ve stood ever so still, and went white in the face, ready to pounce like a lioness, every muscle was lose and ready to strike.

By the time I’ve counted to six they had vacated the premises and long gone because they knew that if they hadn’t then there was going to be a bloody brawl and a good one, too, if they hadn’t left and quickly.

I was so mad at any white adult man for spitting in any woman’s face after I had made him a sandwich and he knew that the look in my eye said, if you don’t leave me alone then you could end up through that glass window because I’ll send you through it myself. (Ha! That’s so funny! It was like watching a crude film only in real life. Weird.) So surreal.

People sure do lose a sense of themselves and at times they do let go of their senses all completely or slightly and all you can do is to hold steadfast to your own.

No, adults don’t go around relating anything back to themselves, or much less telling personal moral tales because, they’re adults and most often than not, they reserve that right not to share stories, unless one reads to children at public libraries.

Adults know themselves.

Adults don’t have time to talk about themselves in general.

If someone talks about themselves (at short length as a quick example) then it’s a courtesy to the other party to get them to understand that the listener understands what the other party speaks of. (Consider it free. It’s on the house.) (Ha!)

Every adult knows themselves better than any other man can; who’s to look into another’s heart, and know what’s there? No body.

It shouldn’t be possible to speak for another because well guarded sentiments are like jewels. Why would I desire to flaunt deeply guarded sentiments that I don’t even want to talk about in the first place so I write because I don’t want to hear myself sound like a broken record.

At least when the reader reads, it’s mostly silently inside their own mind and they can’t hear the sound of my voice. Thank be to the Gods.

Intellectually I know that I shouldn’t relate in such a way to any Western cultures because for the most part the culture can’t even spell well enough beyond a sixth grade reading and writing level. Pity.

By today’s modern standards not even seniors in high school can read and write at a sixth grade level. Aren’t you disgusted at this American failure because I know I am.

Lastly, the fact that I relate tales back to me is so that any reader may learn from these tales however and nevertheless remember that I’m human, and I can be incorrect and wrong however the splendor of it all is that I can always make corrections and right my wrongs because that’s what humility and maturity are combined; strength of character and good intentions.

No, I don’t like writing about myself but I find it most necessary.

And I especially don’t like to talk about myself but I have enough courage to answer any direct question, as honestly as I can.

I don’t have time for bullshit.

When I write novels I won’t have to explain myself because it’ll all be made up, anyway, won’t it? Yep. For sure.

Nonfiction writing is difficult to do at best of times but I’m proving that I can do it. It’s such an irritating genre because mostly everything has to be spelled out or there’s much confusion, anger and discontentment from the reader / listener.

I, too, get turned off when I’m expected to perform for anyone’s amusement. I’m not a toy.

Sincerely,

Gabriel

Relax. Have a little food, breathe, break bread together, laugh, joy, and share. Peace.

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Post Script from earlier.

What a week.

Thank be to the Gods it’s Friday.

I can’t wait to take the Sabbath.

Corrections were made.

Yes, I have much literary ground to cover.

All in good time.

All that ends well is well.

Our little family is intact, secure and researching options as quickly as we can.

Life, the sanctity of food, breaking bread together, great company and joy, laughter, sharing.

I’ll make time to get back to this darn bloody writing in a bit.

I have yet to check my personal emails dating back three months.

Slowly but surely progress is made. (If its dire then our peeps jump on the horn over the wire, dial directly and speak otherwise they all know it could be a while to get an email from me. If it’s pressing then they text and I text back within three days unless it’s a direct question that requires an answer promptly within minutes then I’m on it...) If I don’t call back within three days then I’m either held up without a connection or I’m dead. Ha! That’s Finn humor for you.

Oh, yeah!

I’m breathing.

Aren’t you?

Gabriel

Keep calm and carry on.

(Ha! That’s hilarious!)

Thursday, October 10, 2013

“If you’re going to do something wrong, at least enjoy it.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Desuetude: (state if disuse, uselessness)

(The good old customs soon fell into desuetude with the new generation.

--- --- ---

[Quickly; I’m running out of daylight and it’s already four in the afternoon. Dusk is upon us. (Ha!) (A small joke. Are you kidding me who doesn’t love to genuinely laugh?)]

Chess

vs.

Life’s Challenges

Eric and I’ve begun negotiations about what to do with this property.

Eric would like to stay, retire and die on this property and so would I however I’d also like to be out of this neighborhood by October 1, 2014. Seriously. Ha!

So we discuss like any other two civilized adults as to what to do.

I’ve proposed to Eric that we could play chess to stay or leave.

I’m willing to leave it up to chance because I can’t force Eric to move and he loves it here and I love him and he loves me.

This is the most difficult decision because this is where Eric wants to be and, and, and…

No, we’re not going to leave each other however maybe we’ll live in separate neighborhoods. (Ha! Just joking.) That would be a daily challenge.

If Eric wins, we stay until we’re old people and buried in the ground.

I won’t verbally complain knowing perfectly well how I feel about our one set of neighbors who are most and incredibly disruptive, sound wise.

I’d love to retire here but solutions and real disciplined-change requires to be made over the long haul while crossing the Atlantic in chains.

There must be one complete positive outcome or leadership has failed us, we fail each other, we fail ourselves and our future children.

No, I don’t care if our unruly and disruptive neighbors stay however if they do decide to stay then we must abide by social contracts or drastic legal measures require to be made, and within one year because I’ve already given one whole year away to this chaos, craziness and disregard for our neighborhood.

Some of our friends tell us; something like: after all legal steps and measures have been made; if you’re forced to leave your home then the disruptive neighbors ought to lose their home as well, because it’s only fair since they didn’t grant you the same rights and liberties as they believe to have and since it’s so, then the disruptive neighbors don’t qualify for the neighborhood’s overall peace, civility and fairness. They don’t deserve to live there either.

I’ve been taught that I can verbally make three respectful verbal warnings and tell anyone if they overstep their boundaries for one repetitious continual year.

If I have to give out the same warning, three times about the continual misbehavior then on the fourth warning professionals require to step in, take action, and help out with solutions and positive change.

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

For one year and two months; I’ve driven the same street in one particular neighborhood (that I don’t live in) and not once in that time did the beautiful black youth overstep their boundaries and spill out onto the streets with moving traffic.

Twice this fall (within a month) these youth have started to block off, their certain street with their shoes, or stand in the middle of the road like deer, bouncing a basketball, back-and-forth, like they thought they were on television in some studio with the bright spotlights on them, so I honked, and brought the youth back to his senses. (His misbehavior was queer to say the least and no, I don’t mean homosexual.)

I brought the one youth and his three companions back to reality and to life instead of mare imitations of some weird notions they uphold for themselves. Delusions of grandeur. (Ouch.)

If any youth stands ever so still, bouncing a basketball back-and-forth while traffic approaches then that youth is either mad or he’s got, no real parenting.

Watching youth attempt to get in the way of traffic is like watching the ignorance of his parents all over his face or the madness of his driven ego.

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

Now, I was taught that playing out in the middle of the street was a sign of disrespect to an entire community and drivers.

I was taught that by playing, horsing around or getting distracted while in the middle of the street was no differently than taking my life into my own hands, and so not to do it because it was poor decision making. (Ha!)

Accidents will happen quickly.

Faster than you think.

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

Three times, this summer 2013, we personally witnessed a toddler run out into the streets with traffic and my breath left my body, each and every single time especially the second time when a suburban approached at thirty miles per hour.

I calculated the distance to the toddler and realized that I couldn’t cover enough ground in time to get to him even if I tried to and that would’ve been a tragedy, to watch a toddler get hit by a car.

My stomach turned.

I had to turn and look away.

I couldn’t bring myself to watch.

When traffic’s coming in hot at the speed limit then all it takes is seconds for an impact if the distance and timing aren’t calculated correctly by the driver and the moving subject.

I was taught to drive at the speed limit and not to let go control of the wheel even if that meant veering off to avoid an accident and…

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

This summer 2013, I was ever so grateful to check under my vehicle otherwise I would’ve run over, and most likely killed a puppy under the back wheels.

When I found the puppy hiding there, my breath left my body because I was about to drive away and I knew that if I would’ve killed the puppy then it wouldn’t have been my fault but then I would’ve had to live with that tragedy for the rest of my life.

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

Doesn’t anybody know about self responsibility anymore?

I was taught that one’s toys, garbage, personal belongings and such, ought not to end up on the sidewalks or one believes themselves to be more important than the rest.

To have one’s personal belongings spilling out onto the sidewalks and streets is like taking over a neighborhood because one thinks they’re special and somebody owes them something.

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

No, I don’t think I’m special.

Do you?

Because if you do think yourself special then I’d suggest talk-therapy for narcissism, selfishness and self-centeredness.

If anybody ever considers you special then they’re not taking you seriously as an adult.

No, I don’t need anybody to pet me on the head.

No, I’m not somebody’s dog.

No, I’m not somebody’s pet.

Thank you.

I’m only asking to uphold social contracts because that’s the decent thing to do in life.

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

Yes, mediation is one step away from court.

Recently I spoke to a detective and he gave me the number to an agency to get in touch with professionals that could help bring civility to a disrupted neighborhood for over four years and counting.

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

If Eric wins the chess game then he’ll have to take the lead on this one.

Eric’s silent but metaphorically deadly in the sense that he’s a Scorpio and when he strikes through legal channels then hang on for the ride of your lives, the end is near.

If Eric wins the chess game then I can’t ever verbally complain ever again about my lot in life because if you saw this tiny and beautiful little spaceship for a home; it’s one of the most proficient, efficient and modern places we’ve ever lived in and this house is better built than the millionaires or the billionaires.

Whether it’s through mediation or not; in two decades this neighborhood may not be the same if the middle class doesn’t keep a strong foot hold.

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

My peeps tell me to fight for this land and this property because now that we’re land owners we too have rights and liberties as anybody else and most people fight for that because this is the American dream and we won a sliver of the pie, it’s ours for keeps.

This is prime real estate because we don’t have to drive an hour into work each day. This is the main reason as to why Eric needs to be here and so do I. I don’t want to drive an hour per day to the studio; plus I can be there within fifteen minutes if Eric were ever to need me.

If you don’t know your responsibilities to any neighborhood then go look them up. It’s your responsibility to know your responsibilities.

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

If one’s children aren’t brain damaged then the children can prove that through their constant disciplined behavior to break negative patterns and the parents must help their youth under eighteen to do so and achieve such goals.

People do have to prove themselves to others otherwise get them where it most hurts right through their pocket books and that’s a tough lesson to respectfully teach at the best of times.

Cheers to our health!

Cheers to your health!

Gabriel

P.S. I’m a Sardinian at heart.

I’m very verbally expressive but only with close and dear ones or when push comes to shove, and I have a principal to fight for however I can also be lazy and have others take the lead when I think it’s a loss cause but others don’t. Sure, why not? I’m not going to beat a dead horse.

I want to live in a neighborhood in which we all get along so that we can all get stinkin’ rich together and prosper because the neighborhood has something incredible to offer such as basic civilities, effective functions and respectful purpose otherwise it’s not worth two cents to rub together and everybody knows it.

When our neighborhood is respectfully quiet (no, not silent,) urban civil and modern chic then the property value, alone, goes for about five hundred thousand dollars, but when there’s disruptive neighbors then the neighborhood’s overall property value plummets and that’s just annoying and tragic. No good.

I don’t have time for mediation but I’ll do it because jumping through hoops is something that I’ve become excellent at doing. It’s the easiest game in the books.

--- --- ---

P.S. The cleanest downtown neighborhood that I drove through in the months of August and September 2013 was north Minneapolis.

I swelled up with pride to see that the cleanest streets in Minneapolis were those of north Minneapolis. (I know who you are. Thank you. I know. I’m kept informed about north Minneapolis. Don’t think that my heart isn’t there because it is.)

If our safety, liberties and rights could be granted then I’d live in north Minneapolis at the drop of a hat.

I’ve always wanted a lifestyle in which I could skateboard to and from downtown and north because it would make it so damn convenient to our work.

--- --- ---

*) Last note: I trust enough to eat anywhere in downtown, Minneapolis.

I travel at dark throughout downtown Minneapolis and I feel as safe as any woman can in any civilized culture.

I’ve fallen head over heels in love with downtown, Minneapolis. People are urban chic for the most part and civilized.

I frequent downtown every day throughout many different parts of it and I like what I see for the most part however I’m also informed by problem areas such as the man dressed in a three piece suit with a tennis racket threatening people to hit them over the head all the while screaming at the top of his lungs. Pity.

Oh, my! How creepy, indeed.

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

“Never consult a woman about her rival,

a coward about war, or a merchant about a bargain.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

American Government Shutdown

Debt Ceiling Limit

Personally, there’s a part of me that is indeed an extra conservative Republican spender, in other words; if I don’t have to spend any money then let’s not unless it’s in the overall investment for the safety, progress and vital education of all citizens and civilians. (Cheers!)

Spending is a part of me that wills common sense because numbers are just so.

Publically, while in negotiations; all parties present must come to the table to listen, discuss, converse and debate a greater good for all and not hold any one party metaphorically hostage for the sport of it otherwise it’s not politics it’s just a dirty game of tricks, chaos and unorganized filth. (Like we can’t tell the difference.)

World economies are serious business and I have a great deal of respect for money, professionals, experts and masters in their fields, not so much because they deal in money but because they problem solve in numbers.

Math always makes sense and tells the truth otherwise it doesn’t have an outcome.

If I were to negotiate the debt ceiling limit being raised I wouldn’t like to, personally however publically I’d negotiate for the greater good of all because I’m not a donkey’s ass.

There’s nothing more beautiful than to see leaders thrive, succeed and lead the path towards further exploration and success.

As an adult, I thought: (inside my small ego mind) that it was the job, the work of our congressmen and congresswomen to keep the shop running, preferably with the lights turned on, debate on the table and fair negotiations achieved, dining, respect and sharing in different ideals while building for a brighter and better future, together.

There’s nothing more beautiful than to watch negotiations in progress because it means that it’s the finest dance between a bullfighting human-animal and an animal. (Ha! Think about it.)

When it comes to fiscal overspending and debt (in general) I don’t believe in defaults. Ever.

It’s any barrower’s responsibility to pay back the debt they owe. (That’s just a given, it makes for great business and it’s fair to the lender and barrower in relationship to the other.)

When it comes to the debt ceiling limit raised then I can only think that it must be done, because overspending is either, misappropriated, disorganized or mismanaged. Period.

Why must the debt ceiling limit be held hostage?

Why must fiscal overspending not be capped off?

No, I don’t personally agree with breaking the debt ceiling law and raising the debt ceiling limit however I do believe that if there aren’t enough funds to complete the last quarter of any fiscal year then there better be some type of surplus someplace to cushion that blow and we better deal with some serious financial insider mismanagement.

I know I know you’re all for the debt ceiling limit to be raised and you have your reasons and I’ve got mine.

I’ll negotiate anything on the table only it has to be a fair deal otherwise it’s a waste of time. There’s nothing more fun than to read through proposals to negotiations. It’s fun.

As far as a government shutdown goes; why would one implement such an economical cruelty upon their constituents unless to teach them a whipping lesson however it’s really only up to philosophers, thinkers and writers of any era who can really teach creative lessons that bite like a scorpion, deadly, moral lessons about how to become a better person. (I just gave it to you.)

A water droplet can have a tsunami defense.

Live and let live. Do you even know what that means? Nope.

I would never in my wildest dreams want to hold or be held hostage. Never. Not once. Why? Absolutely.

I think that great leadership looks pass their noses and to a sea of constituents waiting for our leaders to do well by the country rather than voting down the party line.

America’s ready to get back to work, prosper and continue to innovate.

A shutdown only brings more grief than I can ever express to you in a thousand words.

If our leaders don’t understand the dire gravitas of any complex situation then they have no right in getting elected into office because it means that they can’t think intelligently beyond their ideals of righteous indignation. Ha!

I’d like to believe, like a little kid, that we can trust in the present leadership of America and get this giant back on its feet without corruption or corporate favoritism.

I’d ask global leaders not to give up on the American People because well, it’s a tale of woe and around these parts we laugh everyday because that’s our greatest power and magic, to make ourselves happy however never at the expense of others’ happiness.

Thank you.

I have so many more thoughts about the debt ceiling limit and the American government shutdown but I better drink a little water, have a snack and think on it. (I’ll get back to it some other time.)

I’d love to write about the stock market but I wouldn’t know as to where to begin.

Sincerely,

Gabriel

P.S. Nope. No, step back.

No, I don’t purchase tickets from anyone out on the streets selling anything unless I’m in an open, outdoor market or…

Nope. Step back. I’m too modern classy for that and it’s illegal.

It’s only been the opera and ballet houses that taught me that I could always make a left or right turn of the beaten path, present myself at the ticket booth, and if there were any tickets left for purchase that I might participate, respectfully as any other audience member even if I weren’t completely dressed for the occasion however my conduct would shroud me in good manners, grace and dignity.

I love taking a turn, walking off the street, going to a ticket booth or side window and asking if there are any tickets to be purchased.

I love doing that with opera and ballet because it’s not every day that I desire to listen an opera or see ballet but when my soul calls me to it then I’m moved by the beauty, graciousness and intelligence of any such production and performance.

Cheers!

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

“Words should be weighed, not counted.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Shoddy: (of inferior material; lacking the quality claimed, sham)

They have been selling us these shoddy products long enough; from now on we go elsewhere.

Today’s Lesson:

Hypocrites and Double Standards

(How annoying and irresponsible)

Run

Paraphrase: “If anyone ever upholds to double standards, or becomes a hypocrite while overstepping their boundaries, because they abuse their power, then you always have the option to leave any place. If you’re going to leave a place then mean it, and do it. You don’t have to hang about with people who are continually disrespectful but command your respect.” I stared at the talk-therapist like she was crazy.

“At anytime?” I asked.

“At anytime.” She answered. She stared back at me like the sane person that I am. Thank you so very much.

“Even when it’s my family?” I asked.

“Especially when it’s your family.” She answered and she was dead serious.

I wanted to laugh just then because she was funny but I didn’t because I understood her authority and respected her teaching skills about how to utilize coping skills in a dumb world of violence, disrespect and chaos. Ha!

I stared at the floor and noticed her cute shoes while she stared at me.

We sat in silence for a long while.

She understood that my wheels were turning.

No, I didn’t feel one bit uncomfortable.

She’d given me the gift to ponder many aspects of my life to live internally ever so peacefully and prosper as any mature human can, will and does.

It was the roughest lesson to learn however I learned it.

It’s better to leave a place then to continually be disrespected because then it means that others don’t respect themselves and you don’t have to put up with “bullshit.”

The only two aspects of my life in which I’ve ever been ashamed (and no longer am) is that I’m of dark pigmentation in skin color, which I can’t control. Seriously. Ha!

The other aspect of my life in which I’ve been ashamed is that I’ve economically slaved for twenty-one years in America, and that doesn’t get me a decent neighborhood because the American dollar isn’t worth what it ought to be, which I can’t control. Seriously. Ha!

Okay, here goes nothing.

[Disclaimer: I have much to lose but not when it comes to thinking about the world. I can organize my thoughts, explain deeply guarded sentiments that only close and beloved ones do and can understand while in adult discussion. They’re intelligent enough to understand logic and reason, and it makes sense to them, also. They, too, wish for a better high-quality of life.]

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You know all about the waitress theory?

(When one waitress accuses others of stealing tips)

Right.

Okay, let’s begin with a short story and then I’ll spell out the moral tale for your reading pleasure at the very end in conclusion.

Now, I’m hoping not to fail you in translation. We’ll see.

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

Once upon a time there was a man who continually for about a decade has granted me the freedom to speak openly while in adult friendship and in discussion as expressively as I wish without ever harming anyone directly or personally.

I can express myself as strongly as I feel or not about my lot in life.

I’ve granted him the same freedom in discussion unless he begins to emotionally attack me, personally or directly, then watch out, I’ll respectfully stand up for myself even if my voice shakes or I have to mock but I don’t like to.

(Fun. That’s rare. Open expressive communication amongst closest beloved ones without fear or threat of anyone getting physically out of control but if someone’s been physical in the past, just once, then the other party acknowledges that the other can become a brute simply if one disagrees with their acute perspective about the lives of others. The passage of time has taught the peaceful party much about others’ short fuses and their abuse of power in relationship to the other.)

Thus begins this tale.

A story about continual miscommunication due to double standards and hypocrisy is a tough lesson to respectfully teach anyone at the best of times.

Our intelligent friend lives amongst millionaires and billionaires however he’s had a difficult go at it, with his neighbors who cross serious boundaries.

His one multi-millionaire neighbor (who established one of the largest pizza delivery chains in America) has threatened to kill our friend’s dog, to set their property on fire, and / or shoot our friend as our friend has disclosed with us over the live wire. (How weird, indeed.)

How awful for our friend and we’re honored to be kept directly posted about their deepest sentiments about their hellish nightmare.

Our friend had to deal with his neighbor setting his own garbage cans on fire within feet of our friend’s property and that’s just rude to say the least.

So over the course of eight years our friend has gotten on the horn with us and spoken directly at great length for hours about their troubles with their neighbors.

We’ve gladly listened each and every time because that’s what respect is for the other without judgment.

We feel terribly bad for our friends’ inconvenient dispositions and misfortunes amongst mean-spirited millionaire neighbors who obviously loath themselves.

Our friend raised his voice, swore, cried and retold the same story over and over again until he’s becomes exhausted of listening to himself retell the tale of woe for eight straight years without solutions. How exhausting. We’ve listened because we care. That’s what friends do for each other.

Our friend’s other neighbors tore down part of his property without permission. Oh, my Gods! It was serious and court was only around the corner. It was a messy event and one that went on for years. How terrible. We listened because we care.

Once again our friend raised his voice, swore, cried and retold the same story over and over again until he’s become exhausted of listening to himself retell the tale of woe for four years straight without solutions. How exhausting indeed.

Our friend relayed to us that he had wild imaginary thoughts about shooting at his neighbor if his neighbor ever set foot upon his property or if the neighbor ever shot the dog and / or set the property on fire.

Our friend was irritated to say the least and in pain about the entire scenario.

We didn’t judge him while he expressed himself to a full extend.

A year’s gone by, and not once have I bestowed upon my friend our tale of woe about how rotten our neighbors have been however just recently when I did express myself, directly, to him, face to face, about the pain, annoyance and irritation then he pulled out the mother-load of hypocrisy.

He had the gull to tell me: “I feel uncomfortable by how you’re expressing yourself.”

(Mind you, my hands calmly lay upon my lap and I raised my voice one octave as soon as he held his double standard. The sound of my voice said, careful not to get too mean with me or I can destroy your ego by the end of this conversation and with it your manhood if you push too hard.)

Not once did I swear at him or at all.

I only raised my voice slightly when he began to judge me, personally.

At one point I thought: In any other culture I’d have the permission to slap this man for his ignorance, as an adult woman. I knew to be careful and not to break him with every single truth told to his face about himself or to leave him on the floor weeping in tears about how he’s wasted eight years of my life complaining about his lot in life.

It’s not fair.

It’s rude and in poor taste.

He had the gull to tell me: “I just don’t like the way you express yourself.” Whatever… Get modern, please.

I didn’t swear once while I stood my ground in debate, once a challenge was placed before me about my personal life through assumptions. Please. Have some courtesies about miscommunication.

-----

By the time one party tells the other that they don’t have the same liberties, rights and freedoms already established in relationship then it’s another ball game all together when it comes to excellent manners in teaching a whipping lesson to any stubborn horse. (Ouch.)

The one disrespected party realizes rather quickly that one’s dealing either with a real fragile human or a hypocrite.

I’d rather deal with fragile people because then I can water down everything for them or stroke them.

If one wants their ego stroked when it comes to sharing the same permissions, freedoms and rights as any other mature adults do to freely express themselves, then don’t uphold to double standards or your loved ones will want to teach you quiet emotionally controlled lessons, far worse than any mean neighbor that doesn’t truly know your soul.

I’d rather not deal with a hypocrite because then it means that that person either doesn’t know themselves very well or they’re little instigators of mischievousness and deeply internally out of control.

It’s just no fun to speak to someone that much out of control.

If one’s going to listen, and sympathize in discussion then do it respectfully however if one is going to argue and debate their hang ups about how others feel (about their personal lives) while sharing in private discussion; then step aside, no one’s got time for that much “bullshit.”

My friend acted like a hypocrite and he expected me to take it as I always have all these years before.

For as intelligent as he is, he’s déclassé and annoying to say the least when it’s all about him and he’s ego gets bruised.

Since it was his fault then he must ultimately admit that he was in the wrong although everybody already knew it especially him most of all.

-----

At the end of an arduous hour in a none physical and peaceful confrontation, and heated discussion, conversation and debate about disrespect; under my breath I told him that he was rude, and that’s when I made up my mind to leave no matter what because the very words escaped my lips therefore I meant it.

When I informed him that we were leaving then he retaliated with words like “its bullshit” that I had made up my mind to leave after he’d called two days earlier to invite us over on such short notice.

One, in all the years that I’ve known him, he’s never, not once, called me up at last moment’s notice to invite me over.

Why break patterns?

Over the phone I could hear the desperation in his voice to come visit him within two days.

We dropped everything we were doing and went to be with him but that’s not how we have ever done visits in our friendship. That’s never been established and he disrupted our lives to a certain extend.

Two, over the phone, he invited himself to come visit us at a moment’s notice and we granted him that, but we also had to stop everything we’re doing, immediately.

We thought that either he was dying or he’d lost everything in life.

(Knock on wood that he doesn’t.)

We began to think of the most terrible scenarios only to find out that he’s a most horrible, devious host, emotionally out of control.

I don’t really care.

I don’t have time for that.

I’m too busy working and living to deal with people like that.

Our time is the most valuable aspect of our lives.

We barely see each other as it is.

Please. Don’t be so insulting.

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

We left.

Eric didn’t even question once if we should or not.

We packed up our suitcases and left, immediately.

As I made my way downstairs with my suitcase in hand; I told both our hosts that we were grateful and thankful for having us but we were leaving.

Both our hosts jumped in and my friend tells me that “that’s bullshit.”

He continued to tell me that my decision to leave was bullshit.

What he didn’t realize was that it was a firmly made decision without apology and with respect.

As I gathered my belongings both hosts came to the door and spoke simultaneously, slightly raised their voices, pleaded, told me, asked and fought my viewpoint and decision while I quietly gathered the dog’s belongings and placed a harness and leash on our dog.

My friend pointed his finger at me while he argued as to why we shouldn’t leave. My mind was made up.

I asked, him, several times to please not swear at me and please not to point a finger at me while he spoke to me.

I asked him to please leave me alone while I gathered our belongings but at one point he stood in the doorway and blocked my way as I placed things away in an orderly fashion.

I told my friend to please back away from me because he’d torn a door right off its hinges, before, while I’ve stood on the other side of that door, pleading and crying to please be left alone.

I told my friend to please leave me alone ten times (I counted) while he enclosed in on me in a small entryway and continued to talk at me.

By that time I’d already turned off my listening brain and I no longer listened. My brain went into autopilot to get out of there as fast and safely as I could with our family intact.

I already felt threatened by lack of respect.

I continued to tell my friend to please leave me alone because in the past he’s blocked the door to my vehicle and did get forceful with me about leaving. In the past my friend has frightened me to say the least.

I already know that he can become; a forceful brute when he can’t control he’s emotions or if he feels that he’s not winning control over another person then he physically forces his way onto others to bend others to his will to feel only as he does. He’s like a little kid who requires to be agreed with or else. Ha! Horse shit.

I’ve agreed and supported him over the years in friendship but he hasn’t extended the same courtesy to me. How tragic.

My friend had the audacity, the cowardice and the opportunity to get in a dig at me just because he was out of control and I was cool as a cucumber and he wasn’t. No screaming, no swearing, no yelling.

My friend closed ajar his inner entry door, and blocked the remainder of the space with his entire body, lowered with voice and chin at me, and with viciousness in his voice, he leaned in and told me; “You just can’t get over what happened to us in the past. Write me a letter and tell me all about it.”

He had the gull to tell me how I felt about anything.

If he would’ve been man enough and asked then I would’ve answered him honestly.

Yes, I’m over it, except, that he continues to tell me what I am, and how I feel, without asking, so that can only mean that that’s how he really feels about himself and he can’t emotionally unstuck himself and that’s not my problem that’s his because he feels so guilty about his misconduct. Whatever.

It’s like the waitress that steals the tips

and accuses everybody else of doing that.

Right after he said that, I immediately looked him up and down like he was insane and his personal body parts had broken off.

I thought to myself; “You don’t deserve a letter from me much less anybody else’s. You don’t deserve anything that’s created from me personally so don’t hold your breath either while waiting for the post.”

I got my shoes on.

I was disgusted by this man’s misconduct, abuse of power and his gravely bad misbehavior in friendship.

He knew he’d failed me in friendship while making it my problem.

He was an asshole in those fleeting moments and an instigator.

He wanted a reaction out of me and he didn’t get it.

Not once.

It’s one of my proudest moments as an adult.

I was beautiful.

All I knew was that the nervous odor of his body was making me ill and I had to get away from him as quickly as possible because I was going to be ill or pass out, trapped in an enclosed space with his smells. He needed to take a bath.

Eric came downstairs, said his goodbyes, hugged and thanked our hosts as I had thanked them. We peacefully left and that’s that.

I won.

I was in the right and I don’t have to make any apologies.

I didn’t cause the chaos and disgrace in miscommunication.

I kept my cool and my wits about me.

I’m maturing.

I’m growing.

I’m learning to be my grandmother’s daughter.

A Lady.

I won over my emotions, over getting emotionally bullied, over getting manipulated into a fight; a verbal confrontation and looking like an ass before the Gods and our friends’ neighbors. (Please, I’m too classy for that “bullshit.” I get embarrassed when I get emotionally bashed over the head by others and they make it seem like it’s my fault because they can’t control their emotions, their egos and their craziness.) That’s not my problem, that’s theirs.

I uphold the right to leave at any time.

My friend and I left it that: We may speak again at another time when cooler heads prevail. It wasn’t goodbye or the end. My friend can call whenever he wants however not too soon because he left a horrible impression and a sour taste in my mouth.

Before we left he offered me an entire pie and I almost laughed but instead with an even tone in my voice I told him: “You’re a horrible host” and that was my dig into him.

He wasn’t going to get over that dig anytime soon, because he knew he’d misbehaved most terribly and he’d not been honorable in his intent. He’d been a hypocrite and he knew it better than anyone else present.

He’s so transparent that he’s easy to read like words on rice paper.

My dig was the truth whether he could admit it or not to himself. How dare he bring so much disgrace to himself and his home? Wow!

People sure are crazy to say the least!!!

I won!

I won!

I won!

I kept my dignity and grace intact, when another abused his power.

I should get a medal for this. (Just kidding.)

I might just make one out of crayons and paper. Ha!

Oh, I’ve got to run.

Sincerely,

Gabriel

P.S. You already know the difference between “short-circuit” and “closed-circuit.” Right. I’m not going to explain electricity to you. Look it up.

Monday, October 7, 2013

“In a restaurant, choose a table near a waiter.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Officious: (forcing one’s service or office upon another, too forward)

A good administrator is not officious.

--- --- ---

Today’s Lesson:

Hypocrites and Double Standards

(How annoying and irresponsible)

Run

Paraphrase: “If anyone ever upholds to double standards, or becomes a hypocrite while overstepping their boundaries, because they abuse their power, then you always have the option to leave any place. If you’re going to leave a place then mean it, and do it. You don’t have to hang about with people who are continually disrespectful but command your respect.” I stared at the talk-therapist like she was crazy.

“At anytime?” I asked.

“At anytime.” She answered. She stared back at me like the sane person that I am.

It was the roughest lesson to learn however I learned it.

It’s better to leave a place then to continually be disrespected because then it means that others don’t respect themselves and you don’t have to put up with bullshit.

The only two aspects of my life in which I’ve ever been ashamed (and no longer am) is that I’m of dark pigmentation in skin color, which I can’t control. Seriously.

The other aspect of my life in which I’ve been ashamed is that I’ve economically slaved for twenty years in America, and that doesn’t get me a decent neighborhood because the American dollar isn’t worth as much as it ought to be, which I can’t control. Seriously.

You get it.

More later.

I ran out of time.

Sincerely,

Gabriel

P.S. Yes, I make direct and general answers to people who write to me directly via e-mail.

If you have the courage to ask me directly if I’m a spoilt brat in diapers then I’m going to answer you directly on the blog and cover all material by spelling it out for you which can leave a sour taste in your mouths.

*) No, I don’t watch T.V.

I have no idea what’s going on most of the time until I plug in which most likely it’s only ten minutes, per day.

I’m living a full life and rarely have time for television. I’m sorry. Yes, I have an on-going list of things I’d love to watch for more than just one minute at a time.

For example there’s a show on some channel titled “China Rising.”

Oh, my Gods! It’s so cool but I have too much work to park myself in front of the television and watch.

Maybe, in later retirement when I’ll be too tired to move I can catch up on this earlier part of the century’s entertainment that everybody’s talking about.

*) High tea: I’ll write about it some other time.

Since, we don’t keep tea in the house then we serve root beer floats, donuts, blueberries, cookies and homemade bread with jams and almonds for health.

In winter, its hot chocolate with all the whip cream on top that your little heart desires because I love tons of whip cream on top of my hot coco.

Since, we’re a modern couple, we sit for high tea, once a year, amongst one of our neighbors who’ll happen to ask us out of the blue if we’d like to hold high tea, which who wouldn’t?

It’s so relaxing and fun.

It’s as fun as asked out to lunch by a peer.

One never passes up the opportunity to socialize civilly amongst others no matter how much work one may have, because it means that you get to practice your civil conduct amongst others. To be asked to lunch is a great honor that comes only once in a great while. People are busy to say the least.

I have so much work that when others ask me to please join them at anything civilized I follow through because how much fun is that? Tons of fun!!!

Are you kidding me?

I love to play.

I’m a kid at heart.

I just don’t want to be manipulated, bashed over the head by a bully or be disrespected in any way over power struggles. I’m too tired for that.

*) High tea: if we’re expecting company from the ages of sixteen to seventeen then we only ask that they’re accompanied by a legal guardian, or that they sit outside, in our back patio (If they visit unaccompanied,) while we peacefully socialize.

If a child is younger than sixteen, then we only ask that the child is accompanied by a legal guardian to our backyard patio unless they’re our godchildren, our nephews and nieces, or great nephews and nieces.

No, we don’t put on pretenses however we do bring out the cloth napkins, silver tray and straws.

At times we eat with our hands (donuts) and respect the lives and time of our guests as they respect ours. Thank you very much.

*) Friday’s bomb threat to our neighborhood.

Oh, my! What can I say? Nothing. That’s horrible. That’s awful. We keep this city in our prayers each and every day because we love the respectability more than we hate the misconduct of others.

I found out around nine p.m. on Friday night. I had no clue. I had no idea what was happening earlier on in the day.

Peace.

Friday, October 4, 2013

“If you want to be a barber, practice on someone else’s beard.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Diurnal: (of a day, daily reoccurrence)

The sun follows its diurnal course.

--- --- ---

Yes, I made some minor corrections in some jumbled places because I was thinking faster than I could type. I made corrections for your reading pleasure and nothing else. Please, understand that sometimes writing comes with horribly made errors but it doesn’t mean the entire works is bad. Thank you very much.

--- --- ---

Okay; let’s get going on today’s lesson; it ought to make you think as global intelligent adults do…

I don’t even know how to structure this literary composition:

Desperation: (extreme anxiety, worry, fear, distraction, nervousness, harassment)

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

Regard for Civilian High-Quality of Live

(It’s a life given right)

Disclaimer: [If you’re desperate-enough to judge the suffering lives of others then get a hobby and make it a good one. (Ha! That’s hilarious!)] There’s nothing uglier than humans who dish out judgmental opinions without ever stepping foot on the field. (Field work is dangerous to say the least. Please.)]

I know what I’m talking about; here’s something larger than yourselves; “the deterioration of civilization.” (Ha! I know that concept might be too large for you. Sit on it. Think about it.)

Live. What’s your problem? Don’t you know anything about neuroscience, nature and animals? (Please, read a book or get in tune with nature, more precisely.)

If you’re desperate and have no options then turn to professional help of any type, in any field and the professionals can do wonders. (From my bias, unprofessional none medical opinion, talk therapy would be great for anyone in search of real positive solutions and options when others overstep boundaries to your person and regard for high-quality of life, not things on television or radio, per say, because nothing on T.V. or radio is real, per say.

You already know that, right? You’re smart enough to recognize what to take seriously and what not to take seriously. Don’t take anything on T.V. or radio seriously, ever unless it’s a national invasion or a weather warning. (For real.) Ha!

[I simply write about T.V. and entertainment because it’s my job to analyze what the visual realm does to any society as a case study. No, I don’t consider people as in monkey cages only as a pattern of perpetual chaos (more physics some other day,), violent destruction and unwillingness to move with the times, when it comes to racism, classism and discrimination, misbehavior, violence and disruption in any natural progression.)] (Don’t lecture me about any of those.)

(I may not agree with others and my voice might shake however I do mind my P’s and Q’s each and every single day when directly dealing with any one in any physical interaction or communication.)

Do you?

I dare you to.

Talk therapy does wonders.

I’ve spoken with therapists who (bless their souls) gave me the permission to let go forever and coping skills not to pray to the Gods to send down meteor thunder balls upon this era and shut it down, because I’m human and I can feel however I want and you can’t do anything about that. (Ha! That’s funny, too.)

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

When one holds power then one holds the reigns, whether others like it or not, and that’s just the way it is, and any leaders job can be to teach a harsh lesson, or the same rules apply to everyone however leadership holds the right to annoy the indifference and the complaints of everyone around, who, refuse to do anything about any group problem without arriving at solutions, first.

Annoyance is effective as short term lessons because that’s a tough lesson to teach to anyone at best of times.

How irritating it is to watch and listen to the same copied misbehavior of one rotten apple spoils the entire cart by leadership.

When leadership knows better, so does everyone else.

Others know that the leader knows exactly what the leader does, because the leader’s placing pieces on a chessboard. (Ouch.) (I’m sorry I’m on a roll to teach difficult intellectual lessons today.)

If a body or group of people complain but don’t lift a finger to do much about anything then they’re no one to speak about anything to others in the struggle to maintain balance, high-quality of life and sanity for all.

Nevertheless, that doesn’t mean that the leader can’t teach one or two good lessons in which it’ll make everyone stop and consider their own misbehavior and the repetitious misbehaviors of others, or misconduct in general, whether one stands by and does nothing, or not.

Immediately, when a leader follows the most direct line of path in proving a point about misconduct then the entire group realizes the worse realization about their low quality of life in raising their children below the status quo’s societal standards, which in other words means no one’s children is moving up in the world.

Because they, too, will most likely settle into a life of quiet desperation because their parents did and thus for seven generations patterns tend to repeat themselves. (Ouch.)

These types of children can move up with money as far as mobility is concerned however not socially because these children get spotted immediately by those who live and abide by social contracts and know them quite well.

Miniscule behavior will give them away, and will linger over their heads and only their kind can truly understand their mannerisms and gesture and words and deeds considered well below the bottom of the rung, and thus there’s no real change created, and most likely they’ll get mocked, hurt and possibly injured behind their backs by those who do know better. (I don’t make up the rules; I just follow them because it’s my duty to do so.)

When parents don’t set high standards as the main precedence then most likely neither will their children and thus the lives of quiet desperation persists. (How tragic indeed. It’s so tragic I almost shouldn’t write about it.)

[(Ouch.) (It’s actually the most tragic aspect of a crumbling culture and no, I don’t mean blue collar and working class, I mean posers, who look like something but really they just live in ghettos with manicured lawns.)

(Ouch. I’m sorry. Just a scratch. A scratch, I tell you. I mean no harm. It’s just that I swung the tip of the blade, too, fast, and dug in a little, too, deep right below the surface of the skin, broke the skin, and now it’ll leave a scar for sure but you’ll get over it as I did when one realizes what’s implied in a manicured ghetto mentality.)]

The harsh realization becomes apparent to everyone involved, and getting mocked by a leader does make one realize, that the neighborhood has hit rock bottom, and it’ll most likely not prosper without the intelligence and unity of all, thus a leader of consequence cannot participate in the complaining and misery of others.

That’s where a leader leaves others to figure it out because a leader doesn’t play police. A leader leads by example amongst those who have enough respect to respect themselves. Period. (Ouch.)

The truth is so tough to bear at times. I know, but it must be done.

Any leader in power knows perfectly well, when to annoy others, once in a while, because rugby is a tough sport, but it does indeed come to an end and that’s why it’s played well and rough but with severe rules of etiquette as to when to press and when to let go; that’s finesse at its finest.

Desperation isn’t poetry in motion; poetry is lessons taught for the good of all and that’s what it’s like to have one’s pursuit of happiness stolen. (Ouch.)

You can’t have it both ways.

Have neighbors complain all the time but then not do much about a united problem they all face together as a body of work.

It’s déclassé in ways that it can only create bad luck for the offspring.

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

No, I don’t have to live amongst a miserable lot.

No, we’re not poor or broke.

Yes, we’re middle class.

We make excellent choices everyday to keep the lights on, the shop running, our home intact, make little food, live, care, love and accept that when it comes to our high quality of life, we want more and we’ll find it.

As middle class we can move up or down because we maintain the peace even if we give philosophical whipping lessons to those who over step their boundaries.

The greatest gift, I can give to society is to maintain standards for a continued civilized civilization through my deeds and actions, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t get to disagree, and call anyone out on their misconduct and misbehavior because that’s real courage; to set things straight, and if the misconduct persists then it’s a broken down system, and I neither have to associate with it nor partake in such chaos. I just don’t.

I always have great options.

I always have, even, when I was poor and broke.

I’ve been a wage slave before. I know what that’s all about. Don’t pretend with me. I’m as real as a boulder is when you stub your toe on it upon entering the water and not realizing that you must share public space with a bolder. Ha!

The poor choices and options generated by an entire body or group then create a blob out of any neighborhood and anyone of real consequence doesn’t want anything to do with blob neighborhoods because chaos is the main course of the hour. Yuck. I don’t like… served cold.

I understand that Americans don’t want to take a good long sobering look in the mirror and ask, why I do I fail others?

Irresponsibility.

I; just as well as other adults understand what it’s like to live from one day to the next with very little, and never complain about that, not once to anyone for a decade and a half because I was ashamed that I couldn’t make it on three jobs working sixteen hours a day. (Ha! Ouch.)

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

I become a New England Patriot when my high-quality of life becomes poor because I may be robbed of my money but like hell if I’ll allow for others to rob me of a high quality of life. (I learned that from my old man, my pops; my dad.)

Leaders have courage to lead when they’ve tried direct and indirect positive approaches to solutions, and nothing gives, and everyone around is as lethargic as zombies, then one’s dealing with a dead culture of working stiffs and wage slaves who most likely can’t stand their misbehaved neighbors either but they must withstand it because it’s wage-slavery. (Ouch.) I don’t mean to be harsh, only an observation.

In a neighborhood in which no one cares about the overall high-quality of everyone’s health and safety then the blue collar class and working class has perished or hangs on by a thread and how tragic indeed.

Living from hand to mouth is cruel at best of times but not speaking up for one’s high quality of life in one’s village, is giving up, rolling over and wishing that someone would save them from their quiet lives of desperation because they wish for a high quality of life, also, but they’re not willing to do anything about it because laziness and misfortune drives that work horse. (Ouch.)

Okay.

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

In conclusion; I know what it’s like to be mocked down to my naked soul.

Yes, indeed as the daughter of one of the founding pilgrim families of this nation; we founded this nation.

We worked, labored and sweat for what we have.

We left England and came here to carve out cabins in the woods, trade, educate and leave a legacy for all, including today’s generation.

We’re no one to you because we’re silent, and we do carry on with stiff upper lips, but we can put you in your place so fast it’ll make you consider who you truly are.

Our family was almost murdered in witch trials and still yet we had the courage to speak up for this nation, publically, because it was the right thing to do.

My Puritan ancestors almost got burned at the stake because we had open minded ideas.

We were ahead of the curve in trade, enterprise and thought.

My family helped build this country alongside other immigrant pilgrim founding families and we know who they are and they us.

We’ve been here well before the United States of America was founded. Before George Washington, before slavery, before Lincoln before President Obama. Before… and well after…

Our hard work is a gift to you, and I’m now the last of seven generations to begin an entirely new line of the next seven generations.

This is a death and a birth of an important history.

America’s history before the world changes drastically, once, again and takes on a whole new set of advancements in innovation of galactic dreams to be implemented into realities.

We’ve given this country our best efforts.

If this country can’t stand up to our Bill of Rights, then Americans’ rights are no more which means that we do have options to go freely, and contribute someplace else because we’ve done it before and we can do it again.

If this country isn’t the land of the free with law abiding citizenry contributing to it then it’s no good. It’s poor quality.

Prove to each other that this is a great country because even through starvation, hell and high water I proved myself to this nation to be great through a decade and a half of hellish and severe poverty and semi-starvation, I kept my civility about me and no, I didn’t beg. Not once did I beg to anyone.

Just because I don’t talk about it…I write about it… it doesn’t mean that…

It’s your turn.

I’ve grown tired, and I’ve got much to get through in one lifetime.

If this country isn’t worth civility then we can become pilgrims someplace else because my equals have already escaped to Switzerland, Spain, Africa, Far East, Middle East, South America and their high quality of life is much higher than anywhere I’ve ever experienced in America even amongst multi-multi-multi billionaires.

Are you kidding me?

I stay in America because there’s much work to get done, slowly but surely.

No, I don’t like living in America because all of the promises that were made to us, many promises have been broken over and over again.

As the offspring of a multi-multi-multi-multi-multi-multi-multi generational wealthy family who started out with nothing; I was guaranteed that America was a place in which one could pursuit one’s happiness because we were all going to abide by social contracts, effectual laws and civility.

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

My terrible and mean grandfather (may he rest in peace although I know that he’s rolling in his grave) used to mock me by bragging about how he’d raised eighty million or one-hundred and twenty million within less than a year but then I hadn’t had a new winter coat in three years or I didn’t have boots and I was hungry all the time from horribly empty calories.

Ouch.

What a terrible country that likes to brag about nothing but money but then leaves others destitute.

No, I’m anything, but desperate or insane because not once did I ever complain of carrying on an empty stomach, step out of line, neglect or abuse anyone as your Gods are my witnesses.

It wasn’t until my thirties that I began to write about what had happened to me, only, as a gift to humanity, and by then I had already arrived on my own with Eric.

At the tender age of fifteen, I went out, and worked for my clothes and shoes, because no one, not even my gorging and neglectful family was going to give me a morsel of food.

So it was my job to take care of myself, and I shall continue to do so however don’t for one moment think, that I have to passively sit by and take it up the ass just because others choose to do so. Nope. I’m too classy for that.

I’ll be ready to step into the literary shoes of the greats within two decades.

I was promised civility as a middle class American and I’d like that contract upheld, or living in America means absolutely nothing to anyone and I’m not the captain of this ship.

I like to stir clear of ice floes for an entire nation’s sake.

That’s how modern classy I am.

I can also be wildly legally rebellious to teach lessons that hurt so deep that the lessons sit in your psyche festering away, eating away like acid whether you realize it or not, and it’ll bother you because the truth is just that raw.

I’m for real as one of the wealthiest of the Social Elites because I’ve slaved from nothing at the tender age of fifteen to get to the upper middle class only to find out that it’s all for nothing because this country is severely broken. (Don’t do that my loves. Don’t hit yourselves in the face. How painful.)

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

No, there’s no cannonball in the hull of our ship.

The cannonballs missed us, but our high quality of life suffered this year, and we’re out millions of dollars in work, and future developed works, so that’s no good.

My father says that if “it’s no good” then something’s poor quality (especially a neighborhood).

Something has to change.

I make great choices to be happy.

I prove that each and every day. Please.

If the country’s dead then I’ll let it rest, and wish it peace because what’s the point in beating a dead horse.

We lost yet another year of complete bodies of work and that’s no good…

In 2006, 2007, 2008 we had seventy grand (as in seven-zero) in pocket change to play with but ever since the well went dry we live modestly and well below our means and have fun at home with movies, food and media.

Do you know what it’s like to have seventy (70) grand for pocket change?

It’s a blast but ever since our quality of life went down we haven’t had that type of pocket change since jingling around.

We will again but it’s difficult when I can’t work from our legally purchased and owned property.

God Bless America.

Eric goes to the engineering studio downtown while I stay home as much as I can and I’m connected to the world through one small laptop on the internet.

I might not associate with anyone in my neighborhood but that doesn’t make me a social hermit.

People will pick up their phones, answer texts or emails at the drop of a hat (if they can) and speak with me directly just about anything that needs to be addressed because what I have to convey is important and I know others’ time is indeed valuable.

My equals will get back to me as soon as they can. I have the same courtesy for them. I respect them. I’m more connected to the world than most of my peers or neighbors are.

No, I don’t associate with my neighbors. No, I don’t make the time.

I’m hoping to contribute in the same ways in which Leonardo da Vinci did.

I know it’s a tall order.

Now, how about fusion?

I’ve got to run.

I’m trying to come up with solutions for cleaner energy.

No, I would never want a pipeline through the middle of any neighborhood much less this one because I don’t cut deals with the devil. I’m too classy for that however…I can be wicked awesome when push comes to shove.

Okay, my day’s not even over yet.

Ciao,

Gabriel

*) A social contract; the moment you leave your property (correction) and spill out into the sidewalks then you’ve entered the public arena, and no one wants to hear you sing, whistle or scream because then someone will haul you off in a straight jacket; everyone will think that something’s wrong with you or brain damaged.

If you want to put on a performance then do it in your living rooms or backyards, and not at the expense of the neighbors and others who didn’t sign-up for an admissions ticket to see your horrible performances.

It’s not fair to civilization to be on show and display on the streets of our country when no one wants to hear it anyway. It’s creepy.

If you’re going to complain then do it and get it over with but if you’re just going to do the same dumb repetitious misbehavior it’s either because you’re high on sugar or neglected. Oh, woe is you.

If you’re neglected then you need to suck on your mama’s tit because it means you require attention from the entire world. Gross.

Posers are such losers.

Creepy little fuckers.

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

Post Script: Earlier in the day.

(Corrections were made.)

As a teenager my Father said to me; you can say anything you want and express yourself in any creative manner in which you desire however you may not physically injure or harm anyone.

I got that lesson loud and clear so why can’t the rest of the world?

I keep my hands to myself so why can’t you guys?

Are you all insane?

Get a hobby.

Think. Think. Think.

Think before you react for goodness sake.

--- --- ---

I’ll come back to teach you the literary lesson of your lives when it comes to the pursuit of happiness.

As a middle class citizen I’m indeed an endangered species.

If others repeatedly threaten my way of life then indeed its philosophical war because it means that nothing is sacred and chaos wins.

No, I’m not a social worker, a psychologist, a cop or a healer.

Yes, I’m a writer and I have a lot of work to get through in the next twenty years.

No, I’m not an ideologue crusader or a warrior, so don’t make me out to be one. I’m too lazy for that type of work.

No, I’m not a savior.

Get that through your thick skulls.

Nothing pisses me more than when people force my hand at carrying the Earth up a hill for them because they’re either lazy or like to mock my efforts in a life in which I’m trying to build for a more secure and successful future for the middle class.

No, I can’t save any neighborhood from imploding so don’t ask me to be a savior. I didn’t sign up for that job.

No, I’m nobody’s bitch and I shan’t be treated as such.

Just because you don’t have any power it doesn’t mean that I don’t.

If I philosophically threaten to put a pipeline through the middle of any neighborhood it’s because I can and I will when push comes to shove.

It means that the stakes are high and culture has failed the middle class even though you keep feeding me lip serviced bylines.

If you don’t know what it’s like to sit at any negotiating table than you don’t know what’s at stake and please step aside. I don’t have time for your petty complaints.

By the time a real and serious threat has been made then either change needs to occur, positive conflict resolution, mediation because if any adversary throws a cannonball at my ship and begins to sink it then what makes you think that I won’t throw a cannonball at yours and hit you where it most hurts?

If I get to the point in which I throw a cannonball then I’ll do it with precision and I mean to sink you faster than you can tread water.

I’m not fucking around.

Back it up.

If one threatens my way of life and wars against me without warning, our future offspring and our success then you’ve got some serious decisions to make, and make them quickly because by the time I’m dealing with a cannonball through the hull of my ship; I’ll want blood simply for leaving me to fix a cultural war and an entire neighborhood all by myself.

And if the generals are asleep then wake them up.

I didn’t start this war and it doesn’t belong to me.

I was walking along eating fruit and taking in the sights.

Why must you war upon me and my own?

Cutting a deal with a skuzzy pipeline executive would be so easy and you know it and if you don’t then I do.

It only takes one neighbor to sell and don’t put it pass me if you continuously think that I’m somebody’s nigger. Absolutely not. I can’t help it that you don’t have any power to speak of.

No, I don’t push the red button unless…

No, I’m not going to drive up on the mall and scare the shit out of people.

I’m classy, if I decide to get even then I’ll do it where it most hurts; quietly through your wallets and pocket books until the well goes dry and it becomes a barren land never to be seen or heard of from again.

I have more power as social elite then you’ll ever know and I look so normal in my corduroys and sweaters. Ha! Cheers!

Don’t push your luck because I’ll teach you about silent war strategies that’ll send you home rethinking cultural peace and wishing you had chosen to be my good neighbor and not my enemy, that goes for any neighborhood.

We’re holding the fort down and we’ll keep the peace on our end because to decide to go to war is no different than deciding to avert war at all cost.

No one wins in a war but if I war, then I want a high philosophical death toll to teach you about love and hate because how dare you feed me lies and not walk the walk.

No, I’m anything but a child in diapers throwing a tantrum.

I’m for real and an adult.

I can make you cry out to the Gods for mercy if I place the pieces on the board.

Right now I’m not even playing.

I’m simply dealing with the effects of a year long’s sour taste in my mouth and that’s not enough to war but enough to loath the mean aftertaste of any lying, lazy, crude and cynical culture who leaves it up to one single individual to patch up a cannonball through any ship’s hull.

Please, who do you think you are? Nobody.

Get out of my way. Thank you.

I’m so tired of mediocrity, it’s so boring.

I could become Paramount’s executive.

You must have holes in your brain.

Ciao;

Gabriel

Thursday, October 3, 2013

“If you eat your bagel, you’ll have nothing left but the hole.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Divulge: (to make public, to reveal)

We should never divulge a secret.

--- --- ---

Three or Four Vocabulary Terms

Okay; I think this might be the last time I’m going to address swear words and swearing in writing and then you’re on your own for this one. If you can’t figure it out then “you’re shit out of luck” as far as the American expression goes.

1. Accompanied by Parental Guardian: (escort, go with, go together with, go along with, attend, convoy)

2. Fuck: (I don’t even really know what the word “fuck” means; An expression that holds strong sentiment in a derogatory means, when two of a species mates, raw sex, the big granddaddy of them all words, a hateful or bold expression in sentiment or gesture. (I think I got that right.)

3. Asshole: (An expression that holds strong sentiment in a derogatory means, a particular part of an anatomy in which its main function is to successfully pass a bowel movement, a butt hole, a donkey’s ass, a hateful or bold expression in sentiment or gesture. (I think I got that right.)

Okay, as an ESL adult, I try not to use any swear words when I speak or address others directly because it’s just mean, ignorant and hateful plus it’s insulting, rude, ugly and lazy to say the least; so I just don’t but don’t think that I don’t have strong emotions just because I’m not telling someone “to go fuck themselves” and if I have to in person then I will but that’s only happened three times in my life because boundaries weren’t maintained and I had to send out a quick warning signal that my human body felt in jeopardy.

Okay, as an ESL adult, I try not to use any swear words in my writing but it’s so thick and delicious that I love how overly sweet it is until it gets old like an over licked lollipop. Swear words leave a strong impression, a rough tongue, and with a sense of overstuffed sweet emptiness.

You might feel full when you quickly realize that you’re starved and it’s any one adult’s duty to take care of.

To me words are like food.

I feel for the flavor of words to convey the best meaning then I use them without discrimination and yes, that means swear words, too.

As an ESL adult, I’m compelled to write as I see fit for a modern era nothing more and nothing less.

As an ESL adult, I’m not really sure why modern people use the F-bomb in their verbal speech patterns as their every other word.

In verbal speech patterns swear words seem to stop the flow of properly and well formed together thoughts and concepts but in writing swear words make for fast and smooth ice.

The type of ice in which gold metals are won and heroes are made.

So slick is the ice that you can just glide before the ink hits the surface of the paper and gets soaked up with wisdom and real logical thought behind the words.

The surface of the ice is racer sharp and it’s a science to skate in the same manner in which one holds a plume up just milliseconds before the first drop drips the paper dry and then you’re off to the races and I mean intellectual and athletic armada races of words making sense in a world that refuses to grow up and doesn’t want to reason, think and comprehend divides and rarely comes up with intelligent solutions rather only lazily asks for donations.

Once you can skate like a pro then there’s no turning back; either you’re going to compete or you’re not.

Once you can write like a pro then write like the dickens, and don’t stop until you’ve written every real logical thought that you have inside your soul hovering above and behind you, and until you’re done producing a well structured piece of anything literary to convey something of value that can be felt or thought by an audience otherwise how mean to put an audience through mediocrity, over and over again.

Mediocre repetition is like watching someone repetitiously bang their heads up against the wall for hours. The mediocrity leaves one jarred after a while.

I don’t like to bang my head up against the wall. As a matter of fact I’ve never tried it before because it just looks violent and violence is boring to me. Moving on. Next.

When one’s learned to skate like a pro then you can always do it again even if not for competition but if only to prove to yourself that you can still ride like the dickens then you can and you will.

Why not? Right.

Writing’s no different once you’ve learned to write like the pros, the rules to the game, structure, comprehension for the deeper science of linguistics and much more; then one can begin to become one with everything. (I’m not going to spell it out for you.)

To skate like a pro one must become one with everything, adapt to distance, velocity, movement, range and approach balance in the same way that, which it feels like to breathe inside a slow motion dream of love and hate; an articulate balance; indeed.

Now, when one writes or skates like a pro then the entire level playing field changes again and you have to be prepared to fall and get up, gracefully in front of everyone and the Gods especially when you become great at anything; and be respectful and thankful for the time you’re given on Earth.

Writing like a pro and skating like a pro does indeed mean that one will make all sorts of mistakes and correct them as one goes along on this incredible journey and joy ride.

One last point; to watch someone clumsily write is to watch their learning curve which that’s as close as you’ll ever get to a writer in draft or a skater at practice.

I mean. Really.

You’ve got a front seat row with the writer because you’re watching their personal journey, choices, strides and success.

There’s nothing cooler than watching people succeed and to be invited along on that journey is to accept that this is their race and not yours to proclaim.

Please be quiet until clapping time and then all goes; jump up for joy at watching the amazing feats of heroism created before your very own eyes because you’re not the one putting in ice time or penmanship time.

Magic is being made before you as a gift to your humanity. Be grateful that people dedicate their lives to great and fun endeavors.

The thing with writing is that if you stink at conveying what you think then no one will go there with you and that’s because the writing is bad and requires not only further practice but also further discipline; because writing about your most inner deep thoughts in front of the entire world to read as your witnesses is indeed serious business and no differently than skating on a world or national stage. (Corrections were made.)

Writing towards excellent achievement is for real, so breathe, relax and have fun on a roller coaster ride because you can trust that our engineers have fasten all of the bolts in the proper places, oiled all of the squeaks out, and that gives the reader a sense of security and they’re allotted that because that’s their life given right to think about anything any writer writes so long as it means something of value and importance otherwise it’s just meaningless dribble and well violent and mediocre.

In conclusion; as a disclaimer; as an ESL adult, English swear words don’t mean a thing to me other than strong felt sentiments to shake a fist at or to bite my thumb at thee.

I know exactly each and every time I type the words “fuck” and “asshole.”

These two derogatory words don’t have any real comprehensive significance to me in my literary vocabulary usage because they don’t really mean anything as an ESL adult, they only do to English speakers.

The word “fuck” to me is the same as chair or table; because when used on paper it soaks up and lingers with a whiff of sewage, and I love it, it’s as annoying as the smells of sewage when one doesn’t have to in a beautiful city.

I write with swear words to teach a deeper and more profound lesson.

I use swear words because I’m also lazy to a certain extend nothing more and nothing less however don’t mistake the writings for trash because no civilized society lives without a sewage system otherwise it’s one big lie.

No, this isn’t to say that I’m sewage, or that my writings are sewage; it is only to directly imply and re-direct the reader to the deeper understanding that swear words do have their place and are sewage co-existing amongst beauty.

I place swear words in my modern era writings to more precisely convey to modern audiences, whom obviously seem to make the personal choice to speak with everyday usage of modern swear words, and it means absolutely nothing to them in speech patterns because it’s become common cultural language; as ugly as it may seem, it is and it has become.

I love words.

I fell head over heels in love with words early on as I learned the root of Latin words. Oh, my! Did I ever fall in love even though I’m horrible at Latin but if I think long and hard enough I can make out words and then put them together to create meaning. Fun.

It’s a lot of work for me to translate; and I hate to tell you this but: written Latin is like Portuguese, which is like Italian, which is like French, which is like Spanish which is like love and hate.

The question is: are you a clumsy skater on Olympian ice or not?

The question is: are you a poor writer on a world stage or not?

Writing’s like knowing how to sharpen your own skates and fly around a corner at twenty-five miles per hour (or more) without falling, staying upright, keep form, and tuck in for aerodynamic finesse that feels more like gliding and floating than skating. You forget your body and you just exist.

Once you’ve touched heaven then you’ll not go back again. You know sophistication in its utmost form, shape and desire for human connectedness.

Once you reach that pinnacle then creating feats of heroism isn’t so hard because you can and you do.

What else is there? I’m not made of mud. I’m not a mud person. (Mayan Theological reference.) Just being a little cheeky.

Cheers.

Salud.

There’s still so much other work to get done.

Gabriel

P.S. As far as expressing my own personal viewpoints and experiences about any subject matter, that’s for me and me only. Butt out, you’re cramping my writing style and that will not do.

Be careful not to judge wrongly, and end up burning your judging hand just because you assume the stove looks cool.

I’m level headed in person, and a metaphorical anecdotal kicking wild literary buck if you take up too much unnecessary room when it comes to whipping me for reacting to verbal slashings in commanding me in how to express my personal freedoms, deepest, guarded sentiments and life experiences that I only share with my dearest and most trusted beloved ones directly in communication face to face with each other.

This is priceless material and that’s not ever going to be spelled out for you in any novel by a writer.

This is my life and I’m writing it down for the entire world to read. If you don’t like it then don’t read but don’t assume I’m trash or even like you for that matter. Peace.

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

“You can’t fill a sack that’s full of holes.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Distraught: (mentally agitated, crazed, distracted)

The mother was distraught by the absence of her daughter.

--- --- ---

Corrections were made.

You’d be surprised how smart I’m getting about making corrections.

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

Two Public Apologies

Three Vocabulary Words

Cathartic

Yes, I’m an Atheist

Get Back.

Way back, I tell you.

Don’t come to Robbinsdale until we clean house.

(It’s going to have to prove itself to us for one full year because you can’t pay me enough money to stay here, but this is where Eric wants to retire. I refuse to live a bitter existence. I have too much work do get through.)

Robbinsdale as the “Bucket lady” working class-wage slave poser

Empathy

Social Contracts

One Promise

Fracking or a Pipeline?

Which to consider for Robbinsdale

(I would dare, don’t push your luck)

Indeed

Yes, when push comes to shove,

and there’re no social contracts set in place

then anything goes;

I can become a royal cunt

however never through illegal actions,

only annoying as hell because chaos means anarchy

and our neighborhood is chaos

What do I want in our new neighborhood?

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

I’ll be the better man:

First Public Apology:

To the condescending and / or stressed out Robbinsdale police officer, I’m sorry that I wrote in supposition and in the hypothetical inclination that you would’ve ever possibly raped your screaming children.

According to the experts your parenting style is outdated by thirty years as well as creepy by modern standards.

I simply made you an example in the literary form.

Please forgive me for those hateful words that I wrote because I really don’t believe them for one moment however this apology doesn’t excuse your rude and unprofessional misbehavior, demeanor and discord.

I’m not Your enemy.

I don’t regard You as my enemy.

We pray for all of those in your line-of-duty, each and every single day.

My best friends are police officers and damn good ones.

We’re a fully licensed married couple

who wanted to find a quiet nook to live, work, play and prosper.

We wanted to live near North Memorial Hospital because I live with reoccurring tumors, and must go through a series of possibly more surgeries and there’s nothing that I can do about that.

No, I’m not writing this for you to have pity upon my poor soul,

I’m an adult and I control my pain.

I don’t need you or anybody else to do that for me because you don’t live inside my body. I do. Thank you very much.

I’m solely writing this for your information,

nothing more and nothing less.

I want you to understand that people suffer real physical pain and not made-up games of melodramatics.

Every two years or so I must have tumors removed through my abdominal and that pain is unbearable at times.

It would make any grown man cry.

We have so much work to get through within the next twenty years.

We’re up to our eyeballs in work.

Our retirement goal is to purchase a ticket to live in outer space and retire in a quiet space village. (Look it up if you don’t already know.)

We want to raise our children in a neighborhood that simply abides by social contracts and not social freakishness.

We want to submerse ourselves into a respectful multi-cultural and multi-racial middle class neighborhood, and happily live out our existences in peacefully teaching our future children to succeed as only success can with civility, intelligence and high regard for others,

thus I write to you personally.

I want you to know that we’ll not call the cops again about this matter of brain damaged and retarded screaming / shrieking neighborhood children.

If we call the Robbinsdale fire and police department

it’s only because anyone has broken into our home

and their lives are at stake by our hands at self defense. Deal. Okay.

Yes, as melodramatic as it may sound,

we’ve both studied martial arts in one form or another.

We take great pity upon these brain damaged children of our neighbors,

not because we’re pious but because we mean it. How terribly tragic.

Yes, I can ignore brain damaged children in the same manner that I can mentally handicap children. (Oh, woe is them.)

Yes, this public apology is quite grave and serious.

I’m neither laughing nor mocking anybody.

I’m not made of stone.

Too, much rides on the line, in keeping the peace.

I want you to know that I hate living in Robbinsdale.

I also want you to know that Eric loves living in Robbinsdale.

We work from home and from an engineering studio in downtown, Minneapolis but we quickly came to the realization that we made the worse mistake of our lives in coming here and living amongst working class-wage slaves who are passive / aggressive hateful about

living amongst social freakishness and chaos.

Yes, we’re placing the house on the market.

I’ll be the better man

and try not selling this gorgeous home to Gary, Indiana gangsters

or East Coast gutter punks but don’t push your luck.

We’re going to put thousands of dollars into this home.

We’re going to sound proof it, fence off the entire parameter,

place closed circuit cameras and plant trees.

We’ll leave it in better condition than we found it.

This will be a gift to the following owners.

We wish to be out of here by October 1, 2014.

I wouldn’t stay here even if someone paid me.

We’ll keep the peace on our end.

Thank you for your patience.

I’m sorry that your hands are tied behind your back

And I understand that you can’t help us

because you don’t have that type of power.

No, I’m not laying it on thick.

No, I’m nobody’s nigger.

This is an honest to God modern apology that truly needed to be made.

Peace be with you.

And also with you.

And with thy spirit.

Peace;

Sincerely;

Gabriel

P.S. I’ll actually write a short, short-handwritten apology note,

post it and send it to you directly by post

because that’s what Social Elite gets you;

honesty, integrity, respect and civility when one is wrong.

You can do whatever you wish with my short hand written apology.

As a matter of fact you have my permission to post it up at the police station on that cute little community message board,

I love so much, with hand written notes of gratitude.

As a matter of fact, I’d be honored if you posted up my handwritten apology alongside those beautiful notes of gratitude

from grateful community members.

As much as I hate living in Robbinsdale,

there were some aspects of it,

that I just fell

head-over-heels in love with, such as the quilts.

I fell in love with the small and quaint little quilts hanging up in the Robbinsdale police and fire department.

I just did.

I’m that type of woman.

I don’t expect an apology from you, ever, because that’s not how this apology works. (Please, don’t think that I’ll hold my breath.)

I don’t live my life that way.

I don’t expect anything from anyone.

I’m real.

I have empathy for others.

I care.

I love.

I cry.

I laugh.

I’m not made of stone and I’m not as melodramatic as you are.

You get mean when you get mad and that’s not my problem that’s yours.

Moving on.

Next.

After today I shan’t ever write about Robbinsdale for as long as I live.

You already know how much I hate it here.

I’m making an apology because I think it’s the correct thing to do and because I was raised well however I still think that you were also wrong. It makes me distrust Robbinsdale police and you know perfectly well why.

I’m sorry.

And if you ever were to take physical vengeance upon my person,

over petty miscommunication

then I’ll sue you

until you bleed from your eyeballs in debt.

I’ll leave you destitute for seven generations

until your line dies off

because it’ll prove

that you’re not worth your oath.

Have a wonderful life.

Ciao.

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

I’ll be the better man:

Second Public Apology:

To our neighbors, two doors down, from us, who I think neglect the emotional needs of your supposed brain damaged children, I’m sorry that I wrote in supposition and in the hypothetical inclination that you would’ve ever possibly raped your screaming children.

No, I don’t believe for one moment that you as our disruptive neighbors rape, sexually molest or sexually assault your beautiful black children.

Not for one single moment.

I’d testify to that in a court of law, any day, and if I were ever so wrong then it would be heartbreaking to be so wrong about that,

but I don’t think that I am wrong, here, when, it comes

to our neighbors two doors down.

I’d never lie about that.

No, dear neighbors, I think that you’re so cool about

keeping your hands off your children however I see that they’re neglected in some form or another because they can’t seem to find

new neurological pathways to changing their misconduct.

I can really admire you for simply that because you don’t beat or rape your children however I don’t like that you don’t discipline them because of whatever reasons and if laziness is the main reason

then mercy upon your souls until you go to your graves.

I think that the most important thing that you could ever be is great and awesome parental guardians to your children

because that’s the sole most important aspect in life.

There’s nothing else but to improve upon the lives of your children who desperately and ever so obviously require your attention.

Your children need and crave to be taught to live and thrive by you or they, too, shall live out quiet lives of desperation.

How tragic, indeed.

I think that as adult guardians,

you’ve fallen short and failed at some aspects of modern parenting by neglecting the everyday functions of disciplinary requirements

in high quality parenting

and that’s just not fair to the rest of us,

much less your children

living side-by-side with others

and you know that to be true.

It’s any parents obligations to take care of their children’s disciplinary, intelligent and global cultural needs otherwise the parents are indeed bad, hateful and disruptive parents who possibly hate their children for existing in the first place and that’s just no good, no good at all.

Who am I to judge you as parental guardians?

Only by what my Father taught me

and his incredible Minnesota Jewish-Finn family.

I’m no one to judge however I’m trying to stay fair upon the crude impression you’ve left upon us. It’s a sour taste to say the least.

Indeed, I judge parents by the repetitious misconduct of their children.

Why wouldn’t I?

Why wouldn’t we all?

The apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree.

According to the experts your parenting style is outdated by thirty years as well as creepy by modern standards.

I simply made you an example in the literary form.

Please forgive me for those hateful words that I wrote because I really don’t believe them for one moment however this apology doesn’t excuse your rude and disruptive continual misbehavior, demeanor

and discord in the neighborhood.

I’m not Your enemy.

I don’t regard You as my enemy.

We pray for your family each and every single day because that’s just the type of Atheist I am; I pray even though

I don’t believe in the Gods of hateful humans.

Yes, this public apology is quite grave and serious.

I’m neither laughing nor mocking anybody.

I’m not made of stone.

Too, much rides on the line, in keeping the peace.

I want you to know that I hate living in Robbinsdale.

I also want you to know that Eric loves living in Robbinsdale.

We’re a fully licensed married couple

whose wants are to find a quiet nook to live, work, play and prosper.

We wanted to live near North Memorial Hospital because I live with reoccurring tumors, and must go through a series of possibly more surgeries and there’s nothing that I can do about that.

No, I’m not writing this for you to have pity upon my poor soul,

I’m an adult and I control my pain.

I don’t need you or anybody else to do that for me because you don’t live inside my body. I do. Thank you very much.

I’m solely writing this for your information,

nothing more and nothing less.

I want you to understand that people suffer real physical pain and not made-up games of melodramatics.

Every two years or so I must have tumors removed through my abdominal and that pain is unbearable at times.

It would make any grown man cry.

We have so much work to get through within the next twenty years.

We’re up to our eyeballs in work.

Our retirement goal is to purchase a ticket to live in outer space and retire in a quiet space village. (Look it up if you don’t already know.)

We want to raise our children in a neighborhood that simply abides by social contracts and not social freakishness.

We want to submerse ourselves into a respectful multi-cultural and multi-racial middle class neighborhood, and happily live out our existences in peacefully teaching our future children to succeed as only success can

with civility, intelligence and high regard for others,

thus I write to you personally.

I want you to know that we’ll not call the cops again about this matter of supposed brain damaged and retarded screaming / shrieking neighborhood children.

If we call the Robbinsdale fire and police department

It’s only because anyone has broken into our home

and their lives are at stake by our hands at self defense. Deal. Okay.

Yes, as melodramatic as that may sound,

we’ve both studied martial arts in one form or another.

Dearest of neighbors;

I want you to know that your ten year old daughter is just simply the most beautiful little lady.

Indubitably, I wanted to ask her to high tea, as we have with our other teenage neighbor next door neighbor. She’s ever so lovely and knows how to sit for high tea because she is indeed an incredible human and a great example of peace.

Your ten year old is a beautiful little black girl who has high regard for the world but she can only do so much on her own when she’s left to tend the other two smaller unruly children who don’t seem to understand that a middle class neighborhood isn’t the ghetto and must be treated respectfully otherwise bad luck.

Your ten year old took my breath away with her glimpses of kindness and apologetic looks for her two younger more unruly family members who seem to hate the world at such a young age.

May she have a bright future ahead.

She’s not only a jewel but also poetry incarnate.

May she never lose that light of respect and great demeanor for others.

You thought that I was made out of rock didn’t you?

Well, I’m not.

I, too, feel.

We moved here, two doors down from you because Eric’s best friend / sister of twenty (or more) years grew up in Robbinsdale

and gave it incredible reviews.

Eric’s sister is one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met and we love her so, we believed her and her family’s word.

We trusted their recommendation and we still do.

Our trust, high regard and love for their family won’t change with this horrible nightmare experience.

One of the last aspects that I’d like to make you aware of is this: Shrieking.

You do know all about shrieking don’t you?

In my bias opinion and in general any child that shrieks

is a complete poser loser waiting for a bloody nose from the world.

Why?

Shrieking takes a great deal of work and effort

from the diaphragm to the throat and your seven year old tends to use her vocal chords as a weapon instead of an instrument.

What a lost talent.

It’s the greatest mockery to humanity to have any child mock adults because the adults allow for it. It’s a deepest tragedy.

It’s exhausting to shriek for hours on end.

Just try it.

I had to just to figure out how a child does it.

Shrieking is like putting on a terrible performance, and all the audience wants to do is throw tomatoes and cabbage at the horrible performers’ chest because everybody knows they’re posing

at a terrible and detrimental risk to others’ health and benefit.

Another point in matter: we’ve picked up your children’s litter, and garbage, candy wrappers, and such that have blown into our yard for over a year, every week or so. How tragic indeed.

That’s so unfair of you to allow for your offspring to poop where they eat.

Why do you hate the neighborhood so much?

Don’t you want to live in a nice place?

Why can’t you abide by social contracts?

(If you don’t already know them then please look them up.)

Dearest neighbors, no, we didn’t come here to parent your unruly children. We don’t have the energy nor time to do so.

I’m perplexed that you leave your children to ride bicycles up and down the sidewalk screaming and shrieking at the top of their lungs for hours on end just because it appears that your parenting style is too lazy for discipline.

I’m sorry if I’m too bold in my opinions about raising children but you must understand that the other children in the neighborhood

don’t do shriek and scream except yours.

If your children are indeed brain damaged

then please forgive me for judging you most harshly.

I didn’t know until the experts spelled it out for me.

In conclusion: you’ve been some of the worse neighbors we’ve ever lived amongst and we’ve lived amongst people who threw plates, had fist fights, drunken and disorderly, screamers, men who punched their girlfriends in the face, emotional pinchers and bullies.

We’ve done it all and yet you seem to be the worse because we bought below market price to keep a stronghold on the middle class but it is you that have taught me that classes ought not to mix and thank you for that.

Lastly, we’re neither poor nor broke.

Yes, we’re middle class.

We work for everything we’ve got however

we don’t have to put up with anything because we don’t.

In conclusion:

Once a week, I bake a loaf of bread in your honor, and when it’s all baked, and cooled down, I walk to my front door to bring it over to you but then your offspring are so mean-spirited and undisciplined that I lose the courage to bring over some of my best organic homemade bread and its tasty. I know because other people tell me so

and not because I have a bloated ego about it.

If I can muster the courage within the next year, I might just leave a goody bag with homemade wine, homemade mulberry sauce and homemade bread not because I need you to love me, or admire me but because every week for one year, I’ve considered in acting upon that, but then I get a sour taste in my mouth and I just don’t want to.

So I turn around, go back into the kitchen and I can’t eat that loaf of bread until I bake a new loaf for us. Your loaves of bread sit untouched by me because I can’t bring myself to swallow

any bite when it was made for you yet you’re so...

This is where I leave you.

I wish you peace, respect and discipline.

No, I’m not laying it on thick.

No, I’m nobody’s nigger.

This is an honest to god modern apology that truly needed to be made.

Peace be with you.

And also with you.

And with thy spirit.

Peace;

Sincerely;

Gabriel

P.S. I’ll actually write a short, short-handwritten apology note, post it and send it to you directly by post because that’s what Social Elite gets you; honesty, integrity, respect and civility when one is wrong.

You can do whatever you wish with my short handwritten apology.

I don’t expect an apology from you, ever, because that’s not how this apology works. (Please, don’t think that I’ll hold my breath.)

I don’t live my life that way.

I don’t expect anything from anyone.

I’m real.

I have empathy for others.

I care.

I love.

I cry.

I laugh.

Moving on.

Next.

After today I shan’t ever write about Robbinsdale for as long as I live.

You already know how much I hate it here.

I’m making an apology because I think it’s the correct thing to do and because I was raised well however I still think that you are also wrong.

I’m sorry.

And if you ever were to take physical vengeance upon my person,

over petty miscommunication

then I’ll sue you

until you bleed from your eyeballs in debt.

I’ll leave you destitute for seven generations

until your line dies off because it’ll prove

that you’re not worth anything as parents.

Have a wonderful life.

Ciao.

El Fin.

The End.

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

“It is better to be embarrassed than ashamed.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Soiree: (evening party, gathering)

The soiree at the fraternity house was the outstanding social function of the year.

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Disclaimer: [(The following were my true sentiments about how I felt about the entire ordeal. I’m not going to censor myself here after making a public apology for being the better man.) I do have empathy however I must guard and protect my literary works, and if you don’t like it then take it up with our attorneys. I don’t have time for stupid remarks about literature. That’s a lesson that’s licking you dry, isn’t it?)]

--- --- ---

Factual research is in: The number one petty thieves in stores are indeed police officers and nurses. What a shame.

That’s a fact according to research so the next time a cop’s riding your ass in a store it’s most likely because they’re thieves, themselves. What a sham.

--- --- --

Okay, I’ve spent hours at research and time speaking with attorneys, other police officers (other than Robbinsdale,) child social workers, child psychologists and experts in the field of neurosciences (brain studies and research) and such, about screaming / shrieking children who continuously shriek at the top of their lungs, and most likely it means that they’re either brain damaged or sociopaths which one-in-every-eighth person is a sociopath. (Holly shit! Oh, my Gods! How scary. Brain damaged or sociopath children are creepy to say the least because they look normal but they’re damaged for life.)

A child who continuously screams after anyone in authority has respectfully asked them not to scream most likely is considered a sociopath and willing to kill someone in their sleep, and show no remorse whatsoever because they don’t have any sense of moral obligation or other responsibility.

I guess that children ought to feel sheepish and remorseful about their misconduct and if they don’t then run because most likely that’s a future arsonist, killer, robber, rapist… you name it.

Yes, yesterday’s Robbinsdale’s one abusive police officer’s opinion and viewpoint about screaming / shrieking children is all wrong and outdated by thirty years. (Hold. Keep the formation. Keep in step to modern culture.) Welcome to the twenty-first century, beware of sociopaths because they’re true and real aspects of society.

Most likely his demeanor portrays that he supposedly could’ve been and is a bully as a parent just as he was to me at my front door.

An out of control police officer means that he’s most likely a bully in his duties as well as to his professional peers which they all know perfectly well what he is, nothing. A big fat zero.

I’ve been told to stay clear of such an abusive unprofessional Robbinsdale police officer and to go with my gut intuition that he’s ready to strike the first blow at anyone who gets in his way because he just needs any reason to strike and kill someone for the sheer brute force of it since he portrays himself as a bully. Pity.

The simple supposition and hypothetical indication that this Robbinsdale’s police officer’s children were screamers as he, himself, relayed the information is an indicator of a supposed darker and deeper hidden abuse in the home.

There was something sinister and evil about his misconduct.

A man so out of control that…what a...

He’s what’s considered a “loose cannon” by definition that is quick and willing to abuse his power at any turn in the same manner and fashion in which he did yesterday at my front door by calling me names and telling me what I was to him which I guess isn’t part of their training.

I guess he was extremely out of bounds with me and he should’ve been the better man but instead he was verbally abusive. He’s ill advised and ignorant at best and possibly brain damaged as well.

I was told that he’s probably “scum” and not to concern myself with such an unprofessional officer whose neurological profile fits one of a sociopath, himself. (I left this in so that you can understand my apology in later entries.)

He’s probably someone who’s tolerated but not liked by his professional peers and no one will speak up because his peers all know very well that he’s one step away from possibly murdering someone just for the sheer fun of it because that’s what sociopaths are; they like to taunt and torture anyone in their path.

Yes, I’ve been informed by all, that children who scream / shriek on a continual basis are abused in one form or another or greatly neglected in parenting especially in ways that a distant observer might not realize which way or how.

Yes, I’ve been informed that the police officer’s rude remarks were indeed incorrect and thirty years old of misgiving culture; I’ve been informed that shrieking children are either starved, brain damaged, sexually abused, sociopaths and / or traumatized from years of neglect.

In other words; this police officer’s viewpoint about screaming children is one of the 1980’s, and outdated as far as parenting is concerned because shrieking children are a sign that someone in the home supposedly; (god, why do I need to spell everything out for you guys? Please don’t be so lazy. Think. I would like it if Americans weren’t so dense about metaphor in the realm of the Literary Arts. It makes for a boring audience who can’t laugh at the most tragic aspects in / of life;) fondles their vaginas or penises or starves them. Period. (No, I don’t believe that sexual abuse is funny. I’m referring to the tragedy at hand.)

Most likely the reason as to why the police can’t do anything about it is because it’s close to impossible to prove which type of abuse or duress the child’s under unless they’re professionally evaluated which costs big bucks.

Yes, the police don’t want our neighbors (on this block) complaining about the shrieking sounds of one particular brain damaged (correction) child because the polices’ hands are tied behind their backs however I’ve been informed that it, too, is my prerogative to call the police as many times as I wish even if they hate their jobs, are underpaid and can’t seem to understand the gravitas of the situation.

Yes, I’ve been informed that cops are ignorant about the deeper psychological misbehaviors of children, and that if children are screaming / shrieking on a daily basis for the entire world to hear them then most likely it’s because either they’re brain damaged, or they’re bullied, or abused at home, just like supposedly (in translation of what the officer disclosed,) the police officer admitted that his children were screamers in so many words.) (Which by modern standards that’s just weird and creepy;) (the world’s changed since 1980). Let’s move on. (This lesson’s getting old and stale.) Yuck.

(The world’s passed by Robbinsdale in each and every possible way because they’re lazy thinkers, passive / aggressive working class-wage slaves, and don’t abide by social contracts (thus all rules go out the window and hang on for the ride of your lives because it means that the neighbors abide to live amongst, with, and alongside chaos even though they pay exorbitant taxes,) and...)

When others silently sit by, do nothing and live amongst chaos then anything goes and that’s when anarchy settles into the bowels of villages, conquers and destroys.

I love anarchy.

Who doesn’t?

It’s so melodramatically mischievous, cold hearted, and downright rude in the politest fuck off and now. (Oh, god; I’d love to sell the house to a family of twenty gutter-punks. God, they’d love it here and piss off the neighborhood just enough to the edge but never over, but just enough to drive one insane into old age. And if one were to ever fuck with a gutter punk then they decimate everything in their path. I love that. They leave nothing in its place because chaos is dumb and everybody knows that.)

How wonderful.

All bets are off the table when it comes to gutter punks and everyone gets harmed in the process in one form or another if neighbors are ever to overstep social contracts.

Gutter punks, are the grandchildren of German immigrant Catholics and many have been harmed by the Catholic Church in many forms or other, especially 1980’s priest / child rape.

These are people; not with a vengeance but rather with a vendetta to take out the world and disappear when push comes to shove because they can.

These people win each and every time because they are truly anarchists and that means destruction at all costs when people don’t know the rules to social contracts. I love the concept of gutter punks and their anarchy.

[You have no idea how tragic it is to live amongst brain damaged children or terrible parenting and indifferent villages.]

It’s hell and yet hilarious.

I can’t help but ‘have me a great laugh’ once in a while which is a sign of high intelligence.

I love to throw my head back, burst into laughter, and mock the entire world for the shithole that it is. It’s a dump. It’s a toilet. You have no idea how much fun it is to make fun of, but I don’t because I’m the better man for it, ultimately.]

I could mock in ways that the world would burst into tears.

I could mock until one gets down on their bear knees, gives thanks that one’s alive for your miserable dumb monkey brain damaged existences and ask Your gods for forgiveness that the human race is just one dumb animal even though it can read, perfectly, just fine.

Sons and daughters of whores.

I tell you, get back, get back. Get way back.

Nothing but broken dreams and quiet lives of working class desperation in Robbinsdale as a forgotten block of neighbors. Robbinsdale unprofessional services and un-neighborly passive / aggressive misconduct makes one… (I’m not going to spell that out for you.)

North Minneapolis is only about twelve blocks away from our home and North Minneapolis (which I love) and Robbinsdale don’t mix, and neither would I if I lived in North Minneapolis because Robbinsdale is the ‘Bucket lady’ putting on airs that they’re not working class-wage slaves when they perfectly know that they’re working class and that’s all that they’ll ever be, and we’ll eventually retire to quiet space as in a spaceship. Get over yourselves. You’re so dumb and melodramatic. (Don’t you know that people live in spaceships?) Please. Get your heads out of your butts.

Eat that for melodramatic Nordic dinner.

I do wonder (in supposition) if this Robbinsdale police officer fondled his kids’ vaginas and penises in the 1980’s while in their sleep, or hit them until they saw stars, or bullied them and made them feel just as bad as he feels about himself? (What. Just a melodramatic question.)

Indeed, I’m a royal cunt when push comes to shove. I shove.

(Metaphorically, of course. Yawn. Yawn.) (Why are so many of you mentally handicapped when it comes to reading and interpreting the fine literary arts?)

In general; be careful when it comes to out of control cops because they’re nobody special and definitely not above the law.

Just remember 1-in-8 people are sociopaths just like this police officer portrayed himself to be and this seven year old neighbor. It’s not every day that I meet two sociopaths. Wow!

Sincerely,

Gabriel

Disclaimer: [(The following were my true sentiments about how I felt about the entire ordeal. I’m not going to censor myself here after making a public apology for being the better man.) I do have empathy however I must guard and protect my literary works, and if you don’t like it then take it up with our attorneys. I don’t have time for stupid remarks about literature. That’s a lesson that’s licking you dry, isn’t it?)]

P.S. No, officers ought to never come to your door and tell you what you are by insulting you. It’s unprofessional and out of control on their part. What a fucking freak.

Yes, the guns are coming back into our home.

I don’t feel safe in this neighborhood but now I feel less safe knowing that some Robbinsdale donkey’s ass for a cop is running around showing off his prick to the world. What a small dick he must have. I’ve been informed that if he so much as laid a hand upon me then we could’ve sued, sent him to jail and left him homeless for the remainder of his life and his supposedly sexually abused children’s lives. (Now, I got bitter, mean and cheeky here upon the page and I’m not going to apologize for that form of expression.)

The donkey’s ass for cop got all worked up and what’s so weird is that the other two officers, who also came to the door, slowly backed away when he became heated, combative and a complete bully. They slipped away unnoticed because they know perfectly well that he’s a “loose cannon” prepared to lose his wits about him.

I’ve been informed that first of, it’s bad policy and protocol to leave an abusive officer alone however it’s a sign that the other officers know perfectly well that he is a donkey’s ass and they know that he’s abusive in his duties because he thinks he can get away with it.

I can call the cops each and every time I hear shrieking and there’s nothing that they can do about that. They can be irritated with me all day long but there’s nothing they can do about it.

It’s my right as a citizen to call when I see fit. Okay.

Otherwise, let’s get some attorneys in there who’d love to uncover all types of Robbinsdale cop abuse and sue the city for everything its worth which isn’t much.

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