Wasteland Or Where A Little Boy Wants A Bike Instead Of A Smartphone

smartphone trash

The scene: The entire story is shot in black & white with maybe a little silver superimposed here or there. It’s also a time period where the earth’s atmosphere can no longer sustain atmospheric high pressure. This climate situation is caused by a perpetual state of atmospheric lows. This is referred to as climate status quo (as opposed to climate change1). Put another way, clouds have become the sky for at least two generations and although there’s not much rain, a blue sky is rare.

The protagonist of the story is a pirate-like character that wears a jalopy suit. A jalopy suit is a suit made of remnants of other suits. This would be something like a suit jacket that has been pieced together. The arms, the lapels, the pocket trimmings etc. don’t match. Of course, the pants do not match the jacket and are held to the protagonists waist by a string–a belt being a rare item. A vest would also go well with this outfit–something perhaps with a bit more colour than the jacket and pants. Our protagonist wears two different but very fancy patent leather shoes and he is often attempting to keep them clean or unscathed from the rough, almost moon-like dull silver terrain. He also wears non-matching socks, which can be seen due to two different legs of the pants that were sewn together.

Our protagonist is the head of a gang of young people that call themselves the Interfacers. Nobody knows anybody’s real name; each is addressed with a variety of pronouns. Pronouns include:

  • standard: his, her
  • new fangled: sie, hir, s/he, xe2.

Every once-a-once the protagonist is called Depp as he has somewhat of a Hollywood swagger and the others thought it reminiscent of a Pirates of the Caribbean movie poster they once saw.

The sole purpose of the gang is to salvage smartphone junk. Discarded, broke and junk smartphones serve as a form of currency on the black market that makes-up their eco-system. Most of the gang act subservient to Depp because he’s found a way to break down smartphones into its components and thereby extract the rare earth elements that are used to make them. This is a much more profitable form of smartphone scavenging. There are other gang members that aren’t so subservient and they are a threat to Depp.

The gang is pursued by other gangs not only in search of Depp’s cache of junk smartphones but also his secret to getting to the rare elements inside them, i.e. the metal used to make the innards of the phones. The gang has never seen his secret method. Instead he shares the wealth he’s acquired with them–as long as they find smartphones that he can use to breakdown. To keep his gang small and unique he turns away most stragglers even if they bring a good smartphone in exchange for getting into the gang.

Depp has a price on his head set by local eco-system administrators.

One day while showing the gang around a newly discovered heap of smartphones, one of the gang makes an unusual discovery. An actual working smartphone is found in the heap. When this is given to Depp he promises everyone a bonus and a special evening meal and then goes on a tirade imitating Steve Jobs as though, using the found smartphone, he was giving the original iPhone introduction from the year 2007. During his tirade, though, his attention is drawn to the phone. On the phone a video of a little boy–assumed to be its owner–has made an old fashion video blog, i.e., a Vlog. In the Vlog the boy is doing a mock unboxing and review of a bicycle. Depp realises that the video is current. Then, suddenly, in a fit of desperation Depp struggles to turn off the smartphone. Not understanding what’s going on, the gang becomes restless. For some in the gang this is the first working device they’ve ever seen.

Depp has seen many functioning smartphones before but after struggling to turn this one off he realises he’s made a big blunder. Before he can deal with the situation he’s gotten himself in another group of young men appear in the wings. Moments later Rival appears. Rival is the leader of another gang. Depp deals with his blunder toot suite in an act of technical prowess that his gang has yet to witness. Even the other gang is in awe of what Depp is doing. (What is Depp doing?)

Rival explains that the phone was a setup, that he placed the phone to be found and he set it up with a tracer. The only problem is, Depp, knowing that he screwed up and should have known better, also realises that the smartphone was just a find by his rival and begins to question the video of the boy in search of a bicycle. Rival is confused by the video–because he never saw it which tells Depp that Rival is probably working for someone else. Depp finds a way out of this predicament (blunder) by resorting to an old trick that fools Rival and his gang. To the surprise of those around him, Depp smashes the phone on the ground and refuses to take it with him for salvage. Depp’s gang is shocked.

Keep in mind, dear worst-reader, Bicycles no longer exist in this eco-system because all available metal is used only for upper-class consumption. Since children are exposed to technology from birth there has been no interest in outdoor activity or actual playing outside. The video of the bicycle is more than a curiosity for all.

The trick Depp uses to get rid of his rival has two parts. First , as previously stated, he smashes the phone on the ground. This, of course, destroys the device but more importantly makes it no longer trackable. It’s also a gesture on the part of the current possessor that he forfeits his possession (of the device). This shocks his rival who subsequently falls on the phone with his whole body and Depp’s gang watch in wonder. This scene is an example of the fundamental rules governing this eco-system. This is a system where finder keepers, losers weepers or possession is nine-tenths of the law rules3.

Also shocked, but still loyal even though the gang assume an evening’s meal has been wasted, Depp’s gang anxiously follow him as he leaves the scene while Rival worships what remains of the device. The second part of Depp’s reversing his blunder is that he managed to copy the video from the phone he destroyed. And not just the video but also the contents of the phone that his rival used to track him. Here it is revealed that Depp has had a working smartphone on his person unknown to his gang. As Depp studies what his Rival did to track him, his gang watch in utter amazement.

Using that phone, he was able to copy the video of the boy mock-unboxing the bicycle. In a grand gesture, he actually gives the precious phone to his gang to watch the video as he’s seen enough, adding that the battery is about to run out, so they should enjoy it and remember it as best they can. There is no way to recharge batteries of phones in this eco-system.

Once the battery is drained, Depp wants to take it to break it down. The gang members, although appreciative and submissive want to 1) stop Depp from breaking down the device to get to its parts and 2) want to know more about bicycles. But Depp insists that in order for them to survive they must break down the phone. Having sacrificed the other phone to get the rival gang off their trail was a great cost. “Times are getting tougher,” Depp explains. “There are issues of consumables,” Depp says. Is this a moment of mutinous behaviour from a few gang members?

The moment of mutiny is broken up when a straggler comes along with a new boxed smartphone. The straggler, being so naive and unintelligent, doesn’t realise that the phone he carries is so special. He only wants something for it because the box is so pretty. The gang and Depp of course are skeptical, thinking that this too is another trap from their rival gang. Depp concludes that something else is going on. Two phones in one day–this one still in the original box! Depp tries to convince his gang that a functioning smartphone is not as valuable as the rare metals inside of it. Reason: 1) they have no means to charge the device and 2) there is no cellular network for calling. Or is there?

This new phone amazes Depp. Reason: it is actually a new phone. He questions where the man found it. The man points off and says like: …there, over there, near a pile of wall remnants. Although it does have a few scratches and some other wear & tear, it is the most beautiful phone Depp has ever seen. But before becoming obsessed with it, Depp also realises that there is something even more special about it. It not only has a full battery but it is also showing a connection to a cellular network. Depp has lots of experience with these devices but has never made a call with one.

Depp begins to investigate how the guy came across this phone. He wants to know everything about where and how he found it. The guy says it was just lying on the side of a road, near a wall. What does the boy/man mean by “wall”? “A wall? What wall,” Depp asked. “Was there a car?” The boys start rambling on about the cars they love that they’ve only seen in pictures and posters.

Depp has two great fears. One is facing up to the untruths he’s told his gang. The other is the upperclass. He’s faced them before when he was a child. And so, like new-fangled Robin Hood Depp goes on a quest to find a bike. The problem is, there are no more bikes because humanity reset its priorities and gave up on the simplest inventions when the smartphone boom took over humanities mind.

All known resources are now only used for smartphone production.

The irony of the smartphone name. As the devices got better the ones using them got dumber.

Or something like that.

-end of idea-

Rant on.


  1. Find the opposite of climate-change or make it up? ↩︎
  2. https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/Appendix:List_of_protologisms/third_person_singular_gender_neutral_pronouns ↩︎
  3. There is a codec of sorts in this eco-system where bartering and trading are considered best behaviour activity. The consequence of cheating has harsh punishment dealt out by sanctioned vigilante justice ↩︎

Almost Defined: Creativity

Dec. 16, 2012

Installment #38 – Almost Defined – Creativity

There is a (inner) battle to understand creativity. Below is a recent email exchange with a “friend” that gets a bit into the what-is-creativity thing. Due to the mention of female genitalia, this post (and how many others?) is NSFW.


Dear Old-Friend,

I spoke to Colleague this morn via Skype. Obviously, due to certain quantities of wine that I aggressively consume on a regular basis, I misunderstood Colleague’s recent email where he mentioned you and I should join him this summer in FL for sailing. The fact that I thought this a most original and creative idear obviously overwhelmed me. Colleague was kind enough to set me stright. He told me that his plan is to sail between Jan and March and not June and July as I initially mentioned to you. Of course, everything is dependent on if anything happens at all. Anywho. Sorry for the misguidance.

Regards, WW


Dear WW,

I envy your desire to continue participating in life’s adventures. For me, these desires exist no more.

C u, OF


Dear OF,

Boo-Fuckin’-who, Ebenezer! Lingering economics have caused you to become a humbug. But just wait. I’m on my way over to straighten your ass out. Won’t do it sailing, though. She’s got a ticket to ride, baby. She’s got a ticket to ride and she don’t care. So. Hang in there, OF. I assure you, adjusting to this new way of life and having no regular pussy in bed is not the end of all ends. Or do you have some regular pussy? Nomatter. Gentelman don’t talk, eh? Let’s skype soon.

Regards, WW


Dear WW,

No regular pussy my friend. I’m single now. Remember? BTW, have to work a few hours. Remember those days of working for a few hours? With that in mind, give this article a read. It’s staggering the number of people employed at these retailers and yet between 1978-2011 there was no more than a 6% increase in income. Man, no wonder we are moving so fast to the 2nd world and  government is in debt.  Where is govt. revenue supposed to come from? They get paid shit and many pay no taxes, just like Mitt Romney said in that 47% video.  But why are we focusing on them not paying taxes and not on what their measly salaries are?  Could Obama have rephrased that statement about 47% of Americans “taking” from the system instead of paying into it? No wonder he lost.

C u, OF


Dear OF,

Good article. And. Hope I don’t veer too far off topic. There’s a saying over here that I’ve lived by for some time now: it’s not worth it to work. Europeans on a massive scale know this. Why Americans don’t seem to get it is a mystery to me–especially since Americans and Europeans are basically the same globalised zombies. Does anyone refer to what they do for a living as a McCareer or McJob? People in Eurowasteland have used such terminology since I got here. Even when I made money at those dipshit jobs for corporations and consulting companies, I knew from the get-go that working for a living was never going to get me anywhere. But beyond the issue of earning money, there is one other very important thing that no one talks about: the human cost of desperation. America seems to be choosing to become poor, or, as you put it, resort to being a 2nd (if not 3rd) world country. That means that America is literally being transformed into a place of desperation and I wonder if anyone has even noticed it. Of course, I attribute this to the conservative mindset that has ruined everything with the advent of perpetual wars of choice, empire building, deleting the manufacturing base, false morality, etc., etc. Say what you will about the working poor and their measly minimum wage jobs, but in my opinion the problem hasn’t anything to do with that. Unless, of course, if one considers how so many live beyond their means. Indeed, Ameircan’t is a place of entitlement through and through. And last thought: One would think that imminent demise (sinking ship) warrants some humility.

Regards, WW


Dear WW,

Interesting how you say there is no point to work then you say people live beyond their means and are living in a place of entitlement. I would need to know what you mean by entitlement.  As for “work” it is human to create… Work associated with creativity and the desire to do something is just fine and what most people aspire to. It is just that the compartmentalization of work has removed most of what the average person would think of as enjoyable productive work they aspire to.

So it goes.  But work in and of itself is to generalized a word to explain the desire to do something useful and productive.  Once upon a time nearly all “work” was just survival.  Iindustrialization changed that.  But just cause we don’t farm or milk cows or grind grains or perserve and hunt meat for our “work” does not mean work has no usefulness.

Being outside of “work” at this stage of life, I must admit I don’t understand it as I used to.  But then again, my “work” was very different then most, including my employees, but as a small company everyone did play a direct role in our success/survival.

C u, OF


Dear OF,

Obviously you and I have a different perspective here. Let me address “entitlement”. This is an issue that really gets under my skin. Look at it from a macro point-of-view. This started with the baby boomer generation. No generation has been given more and paid so little for what they have than the boomers. The whole political discussion today about the need for government to reign in on its debt thereby taxing the rich, the only source of revenue there is as the US manufacturing base has been eroded, is really an issue of entitlement. Most of the boomer generation both inherited their wealth and of what they earned beyond that they did so not by, as you put it, being “creative” but by riding on the laurels of their predecessors, who it just so happens were the owners of the industrial revolution.

I have always admired your achievement in business and your ability to run a business for as long as you did. But I do not equate your achievements with those who, in the parlay of our times, “work for the man”. There is now a generation of Americans who must follow the boomers and these are the least creative people(s) probably in human history. The only thing these people do is consume. Hence, they have perverted the whole concept of “work” and most certainly none of them have anything to do with creativity. In fact, I like to call them Behaviorists because that is the only thing they know and it is all their parents, the boomers, were able to teach them. How to behave. Now to bring things full circle. We live in times of consume-to-survive. Those who survive better than others are the ones that don’t, somehow, rock the boat, they behave properly, go with the flow, they hope, they are optimistic and in the end, as we are seeing before us, they create nothing. This is where my attitude of valueless work comes from and, hence, is best explained by understanding human behavior. And, btw, it is not innate human behaviour to create or be creative. It is human behaviour to survive. Creativity has nothing to do with work.

Missed you the other morn on Skype. Will try again in a few hours but it will also be late here.

Regards, WW


Dear WW,

Ahhh, I agree with much of what you say except the last line.  That is totally incorrect my friend.  For those who have a passion for what they do, creativity has everything to do with what they do.  It is others who define it as work, not them.

Behold the truth.

C u, OF


Dear OF,

Ahhh…. back at ya. But you are barking up the wrong tree here about (who is) right or wrong. There is no opinion to what creativity is, my friend. Perhaps, though, you are confusing it withingenuity or enterprise. Obviously, people think that creativity grows (like ingenuity or enterprise). How wrong they are, eh. But here’s a thought. Try to think about creativity as a female thinks about love. Oh, that love could become so misconstrued. Modern females have convinced themselves whole heartily that love is something solid, has mass and physical property and all of that because of it being officially sanctioned by law and institutions. Ah, no wonder the feminine is so lost and her only recourse is to emancipate from the ignorance and incompetence of males. Ok. Maybe I’m stretching things a bit. But what the hell. Set me straight. Tell me what creativity is. Until then… Creativity is only known after it has been done, my friend. That means, you can’t wake in the morning and say I’m going to be creative. What ever it is you do that day, if it is creative, it will stand on its own merit.

BTW, we have had this conversation before, I think.

Regards, WW


Dear WW,

It is quite unfortunate you have such a rigid definition of creativity. I can say without hesitation, there is NO “merit” behind creativity, none whatsoever. Creativity is undefinable in narrow terms. The most valuable thing humans can share is their creativity, both “what” they create, and the “process” of creation, on an individual level. For those who “create” and love what they do, they do not use the word “work”, those from the outside with narrow viewpoints of what it means to contribute in life may try to frame everything in the terms they are familiar with and it is very likely those people don’t have a creative bone in their body. There is NO connection between creativity and judgement by others to determine “merit” or value or anything else.

I could give a million examples of what I am trying to explain, but if you insist on seeing the world from the lens of whatever it is that forces a perspective of life where all people are working for nothing and that work has no meaning, then there can be no discussion because if this is your view of work and creativity, there is no point for existence at all.  Everyone should just commit mass suicide and end the planet of us useless creatures of meaningless pursuits.  Although I consider myself in this last category, I don’t assume you do.  Maybe being locked up over there in Europe (what do you call it now, “Eurowasteland“?), in a large machine of mass production for export around the world by cultivated and well-dressed zombies, all existing in their own blind bureaucracies, has snuffed out your ability to perceive or understand there are people out there who exist on their creative endeavors and refuse to have their lives directed by the bureaucracy.

Just adjusted my collar, gettin’ warm here. You?

Give me a few days before we try to Skype again. I’ve got a lot of running around to do during the hours you’re awake. Have two appointments during the next two nights, as well.

But I await your response with gusto.

C u, OF


Dear OF,

Ok. This is now an issue of semantics? Not between us, eh?

And. Touché, Old Friend. Your comments about Eurowasteland and zombie bureaucracy is spot on. Thanks for that. But…

Come on, dude. Creativity is something sacred. Don’t put it out there like an advertising catch phrase, you know, like the word entrepreneur. This sentence you wrote best encapsulates why we don’t understand each other on this issue. “There is NO connection between creativity and judgement by others to determine “merit” or value or anything else.” What? Are you saying the people that pay millions of dollars for a Picasso painting aren’t being judgemental? Are you saying that the people that invest in (some, not all) silicon valley start ups aren’t being judgemental? Obviously, venture capitalists cannot afford to rely on pure judgement, due diligence is an important part of their investment decisions. Still, companies like Instagram–a silly little photo application for smart phones–was fairly creative in figuring out how to socially network picture taking. So you see, I reckon there is some creativity out there. (BTW, Instagram has been subsequently gobbled up by FaceBook because, IMHO, Instagram was a threat to FB’s creativity.)

So you’re saying that a person can just wake up in the morn, do something, and claim he/she is creative? And no one has the right to judge that, not even markets? Ok, then. And hey, why you’re at it, high school Arts & Crafts is part of being creative, right? And what about the plague of amateurism that is now synonymous with professionalism which is synonymous with careerism, etc., etc.? This is all another great example of a new level of bullshit referred to by some as a “distortion field”. Everyone lives in their own little distortion field, man. (Except me, of course ;-). Steve Jobs, btw, will most likely be credited with putting distortion field into your vocabulary (what historical irony that will turn out to be). What nutcase do you think gave us the bullshit word entrepreneur? I’ll bet he was creative, eh?

Would love to hear a few of the millions of examples that you refer to as creative. Do tell, dear Olf Friend, who and what in your world is creative? And try not to be too judgemental.

Regards, WW


Dear WW,

Once again you do nothing but judge here then tell me not to be judgmental?  Once again, your entire point is a complete contradiction. Sorry, but yes, all those things you shit on are creative, HS arts, somebody creating a new basket weave. That is creative.  Why are you thinking only like a banker?  That is pure BS. And why do you bring up the word Entrepreneur?  What does that have to do with creativity?  Taking money from one person and giving it to another and keeping the difference?

Yes there is creativity in technology, but big fucking deal. That is just one element of where creativity lies. Those “entrepreneurs” that exploit that creativity are business people and creativity also spurs innovation in business. I.T. is everywhere man.  But it does not define creativity. A fucking painting that sells for millions is fine, but that is subjective as well. There are thousands of good bands out there at any given moment, but the industry will decide who is “great” and you damn well accept that “great” to them is nothing but what they can press out of the machine to make lots of money, not unlike a painter (i.e. the art world). What on earth does the price of a painting have to do with creativity? Nothing, nada, shit! Unless you are a banker or an art dealer/broker. Where did you start valuing everything on what it’s value is in the “market”?  The “market” in the US and all capitalist systems drives EVERYTHING  to the lowest common denominator. That is what pure capitalism will do. Look at America, the perfect fucking example of when all of what is put out there by the capitalist machine is shit. There is a very very very old concept in economics my friend and it is “bad money drives out good”. Google that and get back to me on what the capitalist system and the price of something has to do with creativity.

Still hot under the collar?

C u, OF


Dear OF,

Ok. I’m a walking talking contradiction. But I’m also simply questioning how you define the word “creative”, which borders on banality. I threw in the word entrepreneur in the discussion because, like so many other catch-phrases, it no longer has any meaning (although I’m skeptical it had any meaning from the get-go). Another word that has been rendered meaningless because of it’s marketing value or it’s ease of use is the word amazing. Just count how many bimbo-brians use the word amazing out there. They throw it around about stuff that isn’t anywhere near amazing. But that’s what happens to people who like to hear themselves talk. I guess. (And as opposed to people, moi, who like read their own worst-writing!) Anywho. I don’t want this trivialising happening to words like creative. Even though I’m sure being a creative entrepreneur must be amazing.

No. Sorry, dude. Basket weaving is not creative. But if you convince yourself that it is, and then in the next superficial conversaton you have is about Salvadore Dali, and you don’t know what to say, well, then all I can do is look to the heavens, roll my smart-ass eyes and mumble: whatever floats your boat, rocket man.

Ah, a distortion field is like a warm comforter and hot coco, eh!

If you put the effort into it, then you could probably better serve your beloved basket weaver by calling them a busy-body or, if you must, entreprenurial–I’ve long since given up on that word anywho. Yes, dear Old Friend, I’m taking the high road here, I’m being very arrogant about this. I do not see any validity in belittling people who are truly creative with those unable to get out of their own delusions.

Btw, would you like to try and redefine what the word “subjective” now? You write: “A fucking painting that sells for millions is fine, but that is subjective as well.” What the fuck are you talking about? Is the money being paid for the picture subjective? Is the picture subjective? Is the man on the moon riding the purple unicorn subjective?

Also, the price paid for a painting isn’t what makes the painting creative. But I’ll also bet you that the painter that painted the painting that some was willing to pay a million bucks for didn’t run around spewing to the world how creative his basket weaving is.

Yeah, hot under collar, as well. But it’s kinda reinvigorating.

Thanks for the exchange. Can’t wait for the next one.

W/love, man, WW


Note: this is the end off WW and OF email transaction. Names, places have been withheld to protect the innocent. Follow up is possible. Looks like FL sailing is out for next summer.



Rant on.



Traumatized Race

Is it possible for a white man to be traumatized by the civil rights movement of the black man? Or was the movement by someone else who only wanted to profit from movement? How a movement can be misunderstood.

Idea for… (?)


Character expresses his indignation for the results of the civil rights movement. He is traumatized by race. The race.

Sabine = Raissa
Jamina = Nyla
Iris = Drag
Anna = Windfeder
Peter = Secondmaus



Action Reaction Action

LH418 (>IAD). Outrageous and ludicrous the entirety of security one must now face. Entirety the word? Such a colossal waste of time and resources. The largest US government expansion in fifty years? To even imagine that politicians cannot see the wrong of their leadership and lawmaking fits perfectly to the silly-ness of airport security in 2005. The only “Trost” I give myself is the knowledge that US airports are even more stupid. Example. Of Stupid. A sixty-odd year old woman, caucasian, was frisked so thoroughly that one would/could think it was all some bad TV series. Yes, the few who rule are so stupid and inept but they many who enable them… When we people wake out of this dream?

Always amazed at the frivolity of others. (Not that I’m any better.) Especially when those others conjugate and become one. Scary. Indeed. Automaton. Lemmings. Guess more, t.

Just finished Eugenides chapter on Henry Ford in Middlesex. What a wonderful piece on assembly line workers. Although I’m still not convinced this isn’t a bore, I’m a bit (more) motivated to continue.


Tainted by a smell. Or. How a smell is tainted. How smell travels. Is smell and it’s structure related in anyway to gravity? The smell of it all. As though the answers of the ultimate question(s) in the mathematical understanding of the universe were really about smell. But. How does the universe smell? “Stink” like the speed of light. Mass and energy is relative? Time is relative? Now there’s a break thru for you. Quantum physics for understanding gravity. What is the science for understanding smell?

I always heard about Leni Riefenstahl but never learned anything about her. Does that make her an enigma? Do I even know what an enigma is? Nomatter. Has there ever been a story about LR? Her life, doings, would make an interesting play. Or? Recently came across an article by Susan Sonntag about LR. Fascinating. Fascism. Article written in ’75. Great summary of controversy behind LR.

Self realization. Knowing what you have gotten yourself into. How could I know, for example. The negative I would face after going to Germany? (But is it such? At least for a boring story it is.) And the connection to a past that I truly know nothing about. Those fucking Nazis are even haunting me. But why? Because people do not–or they willfully fail to–realize that action always has reaction. And now that I have realized my fate–FATE–how do I react? It goes like this. Or maybe not.

Action > Reaction > Action > …

This is why life is so short. The realization between action and reaction. You are born (action) and you must die (reaction). What happens between all the two? No. Not life. Not realizing that it is not life. Wait…

I need to go somewhere with this and LR. Check whether (or not) there’s a been a play about her. Oh, how to focus on one thing while so many others are sucking the life out of you. Can I bring LR into LOP? Perhaps something with the cyclops chick. The fact that LR never had children. She’s the crushed eye. Did she have children? How can aesthetic as she was someone adhere to so much beauty and not have children? The idear of the beauty and the woman and the children. And bad sentences.


To add to the story? How ’bout killing off (character)? A plot twist? Reason for doing this:

1) (Character) needs to get out from underneath father dominance
2) (Character) needs to become one of the anonymous–that’s how you can get away with anything, even murder, yeah, join the anonymous!
3) (Character) is running from the FBI or the like.



In LOP define and re-define conspiracy. Turn the whole conspiracy theory krapp which people are craving upsidedown and inandout. (Character) is fanatical about conspiracy. He comes from his past. Is his past connected to Chad? The liberal or the conservative conspiracy mindset confuses (Character). “Don’t make it so complicated to understand, man,” he says.

Question for LOP. Has USA ever had a radical leftwing faction? I mean one that has attained real political power? Make one up, if not. Why has this always been suppressed? Because the constitution was already liberal but with a twist for the privileged. US conservatives want nothing than, at the least, remove a few of the declaration made in the constitution. Wait. I’m mixing up declarations with constitutions. That’s why it’s been easy for the conservative wing to keep anything left at gaining real power.


Colorless Green

2005 09 28

Idear: a couple plus one. The one is the ex of couple female or vice versa. Couple male (or vice versa) is rich guy for some odd secret reason is willing to support couple female ex. Get that?

The only way to allow creativity to blossom is to avoid the compulsive behavior of planting plants for the sake of having green.

And while I’m on the (brief) subject of green… How ’bout a perfect sentence that makes no sense:

“Colorless green ideas sleep furiously.” -Noam Chomsky

Or something like that.

So much tie passing. Wasting. That is what wastes, isn’t it? Nomatter. What is time? The question of the day. Will (they) prove it to be a particle someday? Or at least to have (some kind of) mass? My excuse? For so much ineptitude? For so much inaction? I hate these periods where empathy is like shroom. So dizzy from its effect (or do I mean affect)? This doing of absolute nothing. To believe, fathom, I have read twenty pages of anything in over six weeks. My better half, this sweet thing, has no clue to my…

Stop. Move on.

LOP. Thought/idear: (Character) when he starts his cross-country trip will be given certain instructions from (other character).

1-no hitchhikers
2-no one but authorized personnel are allowed to drive the car, the pickups are not allowed to drive (because they have no drive license)
3-not allowed to use a mobile phone (how can (character) communicate)
4-If (character) driver decides to quit it is his responsibility to leave the car at a designated area otherwise he will be quartered with three legged horses. No. Will give (character) too much suspicion of…

Most of (above) rules (character) breaks. This is reason why (other character) is sent to see (character). This is the cause of (other character) conversation that (character) has lost his marbles. “What happened to your business acumen?” Rule. (Continued.)

5-never use a library (because of govt. checking books)

It is not god you question. You must question the authority that is using god to surpress you. Authority must forever be questioned. What right does authority have to exercise itself?

Idear: It’s the middle of Jan in New York. The weather is perfect. Eighty degrees fahrenheit and everyone is in beach wear, partying. Minimalist partying. There is a secret. (Behind what’s being seen.) Come on… Eighty degrees fahrenheit in NYC in January? Not a story about climate change, please.



Sharing On Horizon

LOP. Steroids. One of the things (character name) does after ENGAGEMENT is get back in shape. Taking care of his physical being. He also uses steroids which he acquired in Europe. This the idea that he has been surrounded by illicit drugs all his life. Whether in America or Europe. When driving the anonymous across America he stops to go jogging.

Kurt Vonnegut wants to help stop the erosion of one of America’s greatest but dying-out resources: imagination. No one wants to pay for tedious work. Sharing is only done when profits sit bright on the horizon. The only problem is people believe they are being told what sits on the horizon is real when it is really a sales pitch and a pyramid (scheme). The salesman is perfect at his task convincing everyone the illumines figure its on the edge of a flat earth, too.

Presupposing Opposition

The act of doing presupposes opposition… (see William Burroughs).

Cronyism, partiality, nepotism, favouritism. Stop.

How to get to a fascist state? You make the people want it. Is that what Italy did? Curious about those Italians. What is it, more or less, that western society does with its citizens? (Should I call them sheople? No. Later. Maybe.) It enables them to be individuals. But individuality by itself is not enough.Society must have a means to sustain itself. Right? The so-called rulers have the task of providing those means. Right? (This btw is not a democratic choice. Right?) How does one rely on individuality (alone)? It gives that individuality a cause. Purpose. If the proper psychological components are in place in the individual then the natural process culminating in individual initiative (can) emerge. What was once unpalatable has been coerced and can now easily bypass tastebuds.

Food you drink = soup
Soup you eat = stew

And so.

Create your own truth. You do so by alleviating alternatives. In this sense the content of a painting doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is the frame. Once the frame is made (and the painting committed to the frame) there is no changing the content. You cannot reframe a picture of the mind when you have given the mind only the picture to think about.

Nonsense, indeed. Dry. Needs vermouth. Needs something. But that’s why I’m worst-writer. Now continue. If you dare.

What alternatives have been alleviated to give us the truth expelled by neo-conservatives in USA? Their truth is to assert the individual through the soup of society. Their truth is also to have the individual float or sink. Like the drowning of the witch in the Middle Ages and if she weighs more than a duck (see Monty Python). Swim or die. If you need something as an individual then you must take it upon yourself to be able to get on the backs of someone else or just plain outbid someone for it.

The problem with individuality is that it can impose itself on the family. This is manifested in the father and/or the broken family. Stop. Try again. Again. (This is going nowhere. Feel nothing with this subject matter.)

The femmes fell upon the dark times and all they had was spore machines to produce their sustain-ence. Just like the humans the femmes were given a chance. They too were told by the (their) creative forces that love was the answer. But as all others in the varying universes, such calls will never be heeded. Stop. Nowhere. Try again. Fail again.

What does “progressive” mean in the context of political orientation?

You see. You’re obnoxiously preoccupied. Get on somehow.

What the conservatives with Ronald Reagan started is the idear that reducing government would benefit the individual (in society). What has now occurred via this dogma (and it is a dogma, right?) is that there is no longer responsibility required of individuals. The Reagan dogma got the ball rolling and now it’s rolling over everyone. Break.

Antony and the Johnsons.

Move on.


Anonymous People

LOP. Letter of Proposal. A silly title for a book, I know. Nomatter. The premise of (main character) meeting (another character) at (random airport) to change. The other (main) motivating factor for him to go to (another random airport) with (another character) is the “job” offer to drive car from coast to coast. (Main character) has no clue what waits him. The anonymous people! This is where/how the issue of good & evil melt. (Other character)’s family is also split, like the whole of American’t, but they have recognised the enemy. The civil servants and the politicians. Anonymous as they get. Put them on a pedestal and watch them fly. Or the one making the drive-car request. Stop

Are you bored enough now, Tommi? You’ve got to be kidding. Because you have nothing to say about a book you’ve been working on for years doesn’t mean you have to write shit like this down. The above is krapp. Scrap it. And scrap the compulsion to write if that’s all you can come up with.

Enter The Stones

Another solution? LOP. The reason (character) drives across US (from San Fran) is NOT to just bring car somewhere but also to pick up someone. The anonymous people who live in America. Either those born there but never registered or those smuggled in and never registered. (Character) (Stone) is given directions where to pick up who and when. The people will be waiting.

America has invented repressed civility. In this context is repressed unfree? Or do we have “free”, “mostly free”, “mostly unfree”? Repressed. The titles of modern life as opposed to un-modern life.

From some of my recordings or otherwise known as transcripts from/of my voice:

  • two lanes is not a choice when you need ten
  • the problem with advertising is that it’s become like or taken on a presence such as that of the human voice; the problem is, unlike a human, an ad voice cannot be deadened
  • inherent in a woman’s truth of the lives she’s lived and therefore she could never tell another woman a truth–for example getting married, marriage, what women would ever tell another if that woman were married and divorced and in a miserable relationship what it really is/was that she went through–there is no way she could tell that truth–but I am not saying they (women) are born liars
  • examples of dysfunction in society–if you watch traffic, how cars move and flow, one can easily see why, how the function or dysfunction of mobility was created first
  • traffic in USA moves just like traffic in Germany; how come no one has ever used traffic as a metaphor for showing how/why things are as bad as they are?
  • every-time I see/read advertising it’s pushed to me–what can I do about it? I guess I just have to wait. It can’t keep going on like this. Until others finally realise that it ain’t worth a shit
  • the film (ineligible text)–mediocre but good German film
  • I never had the pleasure of hitting a woman–probably because I’ve learned so often of the pleasure of hitting a man–and the pleasure factor is nothing if not something real, as in reality, but it’s is far from any truth or consequence of violence–mitigate your pleasure and … (keep it to yourself)
  • about the (ineligible film)–good idear but boring and atypical umsetzung–what could have been about a boy was instead turned into being about a girl–that’s not special as is immaculate–what is interesting is the punishment dished out for the young woman’s–I mean girl’s–crime–she has to give service–and what service and does so at a home for the mentally impaired (retards)–I think the ineligible film is “Krokos”–but I’ve forgotten–does that say everything about the film from this critics perspective?

Move on.

If there were only a way for the soul to find the body. What is the process? The process is there. Right there. Right in front of yours, dear worst-audience. It’s transcendental–or something like that. Metaphysical. It is a process. Not unlike… finding yourself. Or the quantum to the (what is it’s opposite–a word for relativity theory?) big picture world. Jaybe that’ll be the answer physicists eventually find. That things really aren’t as complicated as they seem. As science make them to be. (And) By understanding, going through the (a) process of acquiring knowledge, we (humanity) will eventually learn that the soul finding the body isn’t just a theory. It can be done if man tries, however minimally, to learn–because inherent in learning is the process.

How ’bout a story about men and women. Now that would be something new. A country is experiencing negative birthrate to the point of implosion. If things don’t change within only one generation the demise of the society (life) will be inevitable. So the society decides it must finally take matters into it’s own hands and promote… wait for it. Promote sex. (As opposed to the suppression of it.) How would society go about actually doing this? Import women. Reduce the amount of men so fewer men can spread more seed? Promote propagation. Annexing poor neighbour countries. And what to do when the women rebel? But what can they rebel against. It’ll never be a woman’s world. Why then are all the countries women not having enough children? According to studies there is enough promiscuity going on. You know, that hold hat trick. The answer also is not in having children at a later age. Gotta be young, a vibrant. Able to fuck. Able to promote the fuck. It’s the attitude that must be addressed. The bureaucrats. The B’s. Even the female B’s. Who is for the “import” of women? Annexing neighbours?

When did it start? The loss of romancing her. Must I conclude? The idear that is springing around in my head. It started with the film (ineligible). See previous note. My idear is that someone, somehow, get’s caught up in a crazy house. A place where retards are thought, considered to be… This place is also recognised, although it is privately funded, by the state–that is, it is considered to be experimental. Get it. Exper. I. Mental. A person has to go  there as part of their payment to society for crimes committed. Part of rehabilitation. Is that the word? As the criminal is doing his/her requirement a certain reality sets in. The person, acting cocky and arrogant, meets his7her match. One, two, more, of the so-called crazies, turns the tide by show revealing their truth to the person. They return the cocky and arrogant–give it back*. A PLAY about who is crazy in this world. What is crazy? What is normal, what is abnormal? Suddenly the two-bit hoodlum is caught up in a world that controls him, owns him, the stuff that turned him into a hoodlum. What a thing to suddenly wake up to. AND GET THIS. *They give it back when someone, form the institute, leaves the room. The petty thief (hoodlum) becomes one of them! And was he a thief? Perhaps the leader of the institute has one rule which he lives by. What is that rule if someone is put into his institute unfairly, unjustly? What if the tides are also turned on the evil, the founder of the institute? Where will it all lead? The crazy leading the crazy. Take turns at crazy. Where will it all end? Is there a speck of originality?

Stop. Move on.

Speaking of which.

Is a beautiful woman original? Of course not. Beauty is never original. Just like ugliness. Which one is there more of? Not in this constellation. The stars are aligned because of the dark matter. What is the dark matter? Consider the solar system. Sun is our star and around it go blindly ten (yes, as of 2005 it’s ten) planets which are, unless reflected upon with light, dark. That’s a ratio of 9 to 1. What about all the aother stuff? Asteroid systems, comets, moons, etc.? Considering that, what does a constellation mean? “It’s not in the stars,” goes the saying. Oh yes, it is. You’re (I am) just a bumbling idiot. nature choice was never in the (a) constellation. Take that and blow out your pipe. And try, for gods sake, to move on.

Here some words from (I think) 2/03 on a lineless three by five card of which I do not know the origin. My only little reprint.

Somber Wanting

Rust of winter peeling from the tusk

It’s beginning, a leaf, buried still under Pale moments not convincing the wise man

Eruption need

Beyond his grasp he believes, like all others, what he sees

It is you that sends my winter away

You that I place a hope of somber wanting

I place the finger between us ascending to your command

Oh wise man

Let her be by me, let her in, I can let her in, I can love, and winter will pass

And she (you) will dance till summer ends

Our (this) somber wanting

What about products for mature people? The products whose producers laugh at customer service. What about those who cannot give in to the ultimate paradigm shift in this lie called capitalism? When the consumer takes over. Theoretically it must be possible. Like the Stones waiting till the end of the century to come out with a best of album. When all their music was a best of. I guess. Yet another trick in the capital bagsters rucksack. The consumer realises that to get ahead you have to be either one sloppy step ahead or one elegant step behind. Just ask the CEOs or Keith Richard. You know, nothing against the Stones, but what a great example of how the west can begin over-coming its ills. The consumer takes control by making the producer pay up–not just profit. So the world figures it should start with a Stones concert. Boycott it. Why? Because the follower (the gatherers) have organised and they’re going to start with the marketing. What better example of marketing than Mick and Keith and their world tours.

The reason the neo-cons do not want evolution, as opposed to creationism, is because evolution, to understand it, would cause people to (have to) think. Goodness forbid. How could they do that? People thinking.

Stop. Nuff.



Renunciation. Have no idear what that means. Would like it to mean something opposite of what it already means if it means anything and mean… what? Nonsense. Perhaps. Or that German word that carries with it connotations of meaning that are beyond anything human. Like… something about the devil, Lucipher, tired of competing with God and giving up on man…. There it is! What if the devil were to give up on man? What motivates Satan, btw? He obviously failed in the 20th century. His last ditch effort the freeing of women. Imagine him thinking: I can’t get these men to do anything right so let me try it with the women. I wonder if he might have succeeded. Look at these women today. Misogyny magnets. They are everything the world needs. Yet they are somehow hated as much as loved. That’s where equality breaks down, I’d say. They’ve achieved it all in a period of history so short–comparatively worst-writing.

Where is Satan in the bible? Is he some place we can easily find him? Or… is he behind ones ears because that’s where the dirt-smell best hides from the nose when we don’t wash them?

The recent BS on CIA leak is a story. Something along the line of whacky exec gets into oval office and tries to rule/over-take government by taking advantage of fucked up (American) democracy. But. Ironically. After the govt. executive branch gets practically every branch of government under its belt the only remaining agency is the CIA. Which isn’t really a branch of government. It’s a private company financed by government money. The CIA has to be a biblical agency. Right. I mean. Compared to current republican krapp.


Thought about becoming an importer of Jura coffee machine to US. Made a few contact.

What was/is the first terrorist tactic I learned about? They set off one bomb only to be followed by another in order to cause more casualties from the onlookers and helpers and passersby.

Now go look up renunciation.


Titles and Ownership

Watching “Poker” championship (don’t know why). A Stevie Ray Vaughn look-alike battling for the championship. This guy looks like Dr. Bad Ass. But then it is learned he is, like all other players, a swing dance instructor with a degree in mathematics.

Do I have my phone turned off? When is, if ever, such a sentence appropriate? At times like this, just before take-off, I regret everything. But can never remember what I have done. It just feels like everything (done) is (has been) wrong. If only there were a customer service department in my brain to service all the requests (for service). I wonder thought if I would manage such a department (or would it be managed by someone, something else) like most corporations manage theirs. The outsourcing of everything has to fail. Efficiency. College grads are trying to implement cannot continue in this capacity. What capacity? Are we/am I in the discussion once again of content and context? Content=rock, context=Mt. Rushmore. Is such an analogy correct, does it work? How far off am I now? Perhaps as far as I have always been. Far away from everything. In the middle of nowhere I have been these past four months. Four months that I had only hoped would never come to an end. It hasn’t really begun as we taxi away in an Airbus. The flight brings me to my other home–it makes me think, briefly, a quick thought, about how things would be if my father were (the) German.

When you return, though, you must put more effort into title and ownership to clear up that stuff.



Amazing Tears Listening

Lydia Fairchild. Woman with three children on welfare. In mixed marriage with black husband. Another example is Karen Keegan. These women, under whatever circumstances, were DNA tested and it was found that their children had no DNA commonality, which is usually at least fifty percent. Now. These women were the mothers of their children. The fathers tested DNA positive. Karen Keegan also had three kids. She needed blood for operation. How can one argue this? Can the/a woman have, for example, in vitro fertilization and then fool the tests? What is it? Chimeras. Part goat, part lion, part snake. There was a child born in two parts, split down the middle. Hermaphrodite. Chimera. The DNA for a woman and the DNA for a man. Two embryos fuse together. There are people with checkered board skin. Light and dark. The woman on welfare can#t win a case because prosecutors cannot win against DNA proof. Lydia gave birth with state/court people watching. Is that proof? This also means that certain pars of the body, e.g. hiar, thyroid, could ahve two different DNA. Two people in one. Look this up more. Fusion of two fertilized eggs. Chimeraism (sp). What do people go through in this situation? Blood testing only the first test. Testing of internal organs.

Def Poetry – HBO?

How am I gonna write about this room. Motel 6. It stinks. It reeks of sweat and rotten dew. The best thing about it is the TV. Almost perfect it rests on something between plastic and wood. Talk about/thinking about Chimera this day.

M’Rage. Find her in “love”.

Amazing Tears Listening.

(Good) Brothels also serve woman. The (new) trend.

Nuff. Fly soon.


The Taboo Stuff

Start with this (thought). For a play/story? Not sure.

German American Bund.


Before WW2 the GAB organized large gatherings in US promoting Nazism. They even had a gathering at Madison Square Garden (I think). Who were the speakers? McCarthyism was childs play compared to the roundup of German, Italian adn japanese people.

Fritz Kuhn – head of GAB.

George Lincoln Rockwell was the Nazi counter to ML King. Rockwell was killed by fellow nazi who was angry about Rockwell’s belief that lighter skinned whites were superior.

Skokie, Il., outside of Chicago–most jews who survived German concentration camps.

Turner Diaries by William Pierce, pseudonym Andrew MacDonald.

A racist named Robert Jay Matthews read Diaries and took action to make it (the Turner Diaries) happen. He was founder of The Order. Allen Bern, radio host, Jew, was murdered by David Lane. See info about life in jail of Matthews. Also see:

  • Ruby Ridge
  • Davidians, Waco
  • Tim McVieh – obsessed with Turner Diaries, Oklahoma bombing, exhibit 1 in his trial

Break. Nuff. Move on to self and other forms of loathings.

Have grievances. Only a pride blocked up with arrogance. Is there a plumber to fix it? My diarrhea. I return in two days from this farce of a soul-searching. What a useless endeavor/trip. Return to what? To a woman that loves me? She says and I believe her that she believes in me. But what is there really to believe in? Failure. Should have never married in the first place. At least not until I knew what I wanted. But why didn’t wife1 know what I wanted. Coward. What will I take away from this trip, though? The visit. The knowledge that I can’t stop living in my past? Is that why I am unable to heed? The advice of my American brethren and just “do what it takes”. Sounds and feels like the nike swoosh. How superficial. What a turn off. It’s all too late. Everyone here is so indifferent–as though America were a battered divorcee who might still look good on the outside but inside is one big fucked up emotional mess. Some fellow last night yelled across the bar that politics was taboo. That has really become engrained in the psyche here. We live an swim in that taboo. We eat it. It is/has become us. And we can’t talk of it/about it. Indifference is the easiest way out. But is my imagination running wild when it thinks there is a solution? Truth, wisdom & passion (see previous post, by date). Is that the solution? All the people in their cars, he sheople mobiles. Nothing left to say. Just survive. But how can one do that if one can’t consume? Annoying how that all works out. But I was trying to talk about me. As always. This is my place to do it. The fact that I’ve been here for more than four months and am not the better for it. Just more wasting of time. Times wastes after a certain age, after certain qualifications run out. Does this feeling I have drive me back (to the old country) to my (new) dear or is it the offer of love and vacation? Silly trinkets are certainly not my motivation. If only I could write. And. Why would such a woman



A Night Out

What matters is the big picture. That’s why so many things look best when viewed from afar. Paintings, for example. Or large orchestrated gatherings such as those from the Soviet Union, China, North Korea.

What I hate about women (hate being the wrong word), especially girls. Wait. Just because you read-up on the meaning of misogyny

It’s about the chemical. Like life itself. It’s about the chemical. In the case of life it’s about the chemical reaction. What would the female be like if she had a different chemical? I know it’s not all chemical, certainly a lot of it is social, but still…

Get away from the hate. It’s not hate. Is it admiration. They can be everything you can’t.

Why are they the brunt of so much, why do they carry so little? Is it the weaker thing? I ask you what is the difference between the ovary and the womb? (Assuming there is a difference.) Is it the same? (Including the same difference?) Is it the same between testicles and penis? The confusion.

Polyester = Polly Esther. (???)

That’s why they ask so many questions–because burried very deep within is the wrath of their future to be played out and they do so. Really. Just like Billy Bob Thornton. What did I read in the paper given me by mother? That silly but oh so profound declaration/statement. Like something funky out of the seventies. We all miss those days, eh? Well not all. “You can love it–but it won’t necassarily love you back–just like dating a German chick.” (Thanks Billy Bob!)

-Du bist ein Schwein.


-Guck nur wie du dich verhältst.

-Nicht wie ein Schwein. Hast du schon mal ein Schwein gesehen.

-Natürlich. Und zieh mal her…

-Nein. Du sollst ein Schwein sehen. Wieso hat es so ein Ruf? Du muss nur ein sehen. Die kümmern sich mehr um einander als Menschen.

-Was soll das Heißen? Du willst nur immer das Theme wechseln. Aber du bist ein Schwein–das kannst du nicht ändern.

(Pan out to messy room.)

Friends father died yesterday. Friend left in his emotional rush in his cheap Toyota-made new car with his ear piece mic attached to his ear. Was it a picture of loneliness or one of organised loneliness? “I could write a book on my son,” his mother kept saying. Yes, this friend left me with his mother and she spilled her guts. I can’t believe she spilled her guts. Between “I’m not a racist” and the story of her/the rape and subsequent matrimonial bondage to the father of her three children. It’s not at all like revealing something that is and should be very private. People of all ages have discovered the fascination of revealing everything at the bottom of their soul at the tip-nip of a button pressed too hard by some lost inner sacrificial lamb-thing on the edge of a volcano during the never before reached year of the goose-swallow for Maya unfound calendars. It’s as though I was put in front of her movie that she had to re-run because of the death of the father of her children. What does it take to bring that out of a human? That which should be secret? To bring the old/the past celluloid that should be lost. Somehow. Her way of dealing with it? Is it the answers we seek or the question we (wish we could) ask? Nomatter. Either way we are opening up human parts that should remain closed. Thank goodness for armchair psycho-therapy, eh! The terrible things that happen the past. Some of them are brought out because of current events. Like the death of a father. “The asshole,” some would say. Others would defend that he is no such (a) thing. Ah, the reality of divorce. Or is the rape? And then then the ex-wife will start to tell all, drawn out by the loss of not just the man in death but also of the rapist who terrorised her. I have had epiphanies before but this one was quite (the difference). The epiphany became feminine. Feminine’s epiphany.

She had huge boobs and blonde hair. It made no sense. She was stupid but that was Ok. Her beauty was in the simplicity, just like a succulent rock formed on the seafloor or shore. I tried to fight her away but eventually gave in. She is simply too strong and beautiful. Wait. What about those tits? I gave in after only a short battle. For there is no war to be fought here. She went on and she went on and my epiphany faded. COME BACK. I barked. How he raped her and she was only seventeen. (Or did he say nineteen? Not older than that.) She finally admitted to the ignorance of it all–how stupid she could have been. If she were more than imagination. The detail about how sick she was and how the tyrant made her wear a garter because she couldn’t show she was prey… pregnant. OMG, there are more in this world. For the life of me I cannot figure out where they come from. Which has a consequence: I have no idear where I come from.

They say if I can make it there than I can make it anywhere. What’s the problem with that?

Charlie Daniels‘ The Devils Song–or whatever it’s called. Some young bloke just explained to me in rough English that Charlie Daniels always wrote country songs that told a story. Somebody’s god help me.

Uh Oh. Drunken stupor. Listening to The Beatles–hold me, love me, eight days a week… Is this song about getting chicks?

They are the Donna’s from hell. Oh so afraid to become the dikes they should become. But when they say “like” so much… and their eyes move so fluently with their every gesture. They are eighteen.

His name was Norm. My last bartender. Across from him was… I don’t know his name… will call him… Hank… I ended up buying Hank a beer. He worked their. He spoke of Charlie Daniels.

It’s as though they’re all made to melt. Beyond some kind of song. Some rock song from nineteen… whatever and the kids all think that the writing in this book is some kind of… enigma. But I’m only drunk, I say in my defence. And. Little to they know. This is worst-writing at its best. Indeed. In a drunk stupor. The know so little. I have to give my (new) friend Norm a hat–take my hat off to norm.

There’s a bartendress with a slight belly who/that wants to makes me ask the question if she is pregnant. But don’t ask it, Tom. Don’t. I did. Could she, should she? The innocent look she has. Not so innocent underneath, eh? But where will it take her and the one to my left has the cartoon look of an Elvis progeny. The peaches song is on. All the young men are trying so hard. Talking of the places they will be. My belly is starting to sour, though. From the drink or this spectacle? And the girl that was twice on my left has halved, the second part is now on my right.

Between this and that they all ramble with their mobile phone. Mobile phones are everywhere. And I don’t care what the eyes see–they all stare so intensely at me with greedy eyes–proof that humanity wants wisdom–even the girls. My old favourite. John Cougar sings about chili days and Jack and Diane. Bobby Brookes. Those jeans that contain the thrill of life.

Closing time. The last effort. The guys are all trying. I looked at Joylanda and told her what I thought she looked like. “You look like Elvis,” I said. She was utterly devastated. She went her own way. I tried to tell her that it meant nothing. Like I cared, really. The words, “You look like Elvis,” should be compliment to anyone. Maybe anyone not of this earth but have listened to earthly radio airwaves. The words sprang from me as though she were made from teflon. And all I can add is that I’m glad I have no daughter. Would or could she be in such a place? Joylanda? Like those chicks left or right–one and the same, split in two. So desperate. And when asked given a good and honest truth fiight it as though it were an ugly beast.


Protect The Seed

To make a purchase of any value you have to take a loan. So how do you feed the consumer hunger when they can no longer afford the loans?

Story: person about to run amok. He’s obese. Unemployed. Wife left him. Wants to be father to his son but doesn’t know how. Calculates it all and buys a gun from Wal-Mart.

What if we lived in a world where the fruit is the protectorate of the seed?

Rant on.


The Commodity

Shroeder’s – German beer hall restaurant near hotel off Market Street. Finance district SF? Drnking a beer, the wheat beer from Germany?, tasted bland, I switched to Anchor Steam. When in Rome…

Getting drunk on beer and small-talkin’–can’t help listening to two yuppies talk about making money. (The sucess(ful) (of) fools.)

What was the dialog between god and Lucipher? When Lucipher fell, he must have accepted his fate at some point–some moment. It is when Lucipher became “the man”. The man of all men. What were the trials and tribulations of Lucipher at the moment of his becoming (im)mortal? That is what happened, or? And he became so… successful. And there’s the key. His success. How? His first and greatest achievement? He turned love into a commodity.

Bonnie Without Clyde

Stone notices all the military recruiters around mid-west America.

Do you have to call him “Stone”? It’s used too much.

It’s ok to be dumb as long as you keep it to yourself.


Young woman, middle age man. Crisis situation. The two are in a (kind of) corner. The first things audience hears is: (Him) “Do you believe me?” She responds that she does believe him. Then he goes off, like a hero. Break. That was the end of the story but the beginning of the play. Scene. The real story begins. Getting inside the head of a madman. A (our) middle age man manages to (choose) 1) hold up a bank, 2) hold up a government office or take hostages or 3) hold a wall-mart hostage. He at first only wanted his voice heard but then all the money started pouring in–it was given him in the hopes he would commit his crime without harm and move on–and, well, his psyche kind of let things get out of hand. He finds himself on a kind of Clyde (without Bonnie) crusade until he meets his Bonnie. A born again girl, a single mother of a small boy who our (Clyde) confides in and eventually convinces to continue his quest when/as he passes on. But he’s already killed every-body else. And so the play leads to the end we already saw plus the aftermath, result of what the born again woman experienced. During the story the man confides that the devil made him do it–in the (ultimate) end the same happens to the born again woman–depicting the evil is in us all.

Or something like that.


The Gift


The son of a rich man bitter that he can’t make it one his own finds new ways, criminal ways?, to get rich. What he learned from his rich father is that you just have to be tactical with the truth and when being tactical is too difficult then you just have to find a way to push it along. For example. He recently had an affair with a woman who broke up with a man who she thought really screwed her over. Our protagonist finds out that her ex was also her dentist. She feels that In order to get him back our protagonist suggests they sue him for negligence. But she says he wasn’t negligent. Our protagonist says they can easily turn that around by fudging records or breaking one of her teeth RIGHT NOW. They can do that because our protagonist can get access to dental office because his father owns the building.

Be tactical with the truth by giving your truth a bit of a push.

A man giving woman gift and she asks what it is. He answers: I don’t know. What we don#t know is that he really doesn’t know. So what’s the gift and where did he get it?

Is there a truth about the gift?


Matti's Therapy

A mother and her (crazy) sons (or son). Two male characters. One a boy, the other a young man. No. Just one son. One son. The mother has to deal with the problems of her son because the father is absent (died, runaway, etc.) The young man is also troubled. The young man and the boy are the same and the mother and the audience has to find that out.

What is the only thing that can break a woman from the love (natural love) of her children?

After losing their father it can only be his (his love) replacement.

They don’t care. These creators. Moved to infinite corners of deja vu block houses that line their highways and byways. It’s as though every life they’ve ever lived has been the same. This is substantiated in (their) mediocrity. At least they’re friendly–and as long as you’re buying, willing to talk or listen, depending on your prerference.

Let’s now turn to the maternal and the son. “Maternal and Her Son.” Or. “Matty and Her Boy.” What is it that’ll cause matty to neglect her son so much that he will die? There is only one thing stronger than a woman’s instinct to protect and love her children. When, for whatever reason, she is so strung-out from not finding Mr. Right (from which the last one she had a child) that her desire to be desired and cared for, according to the social dogma that reared her, she once again falls in love. M As is the case with so many broken families, the woman falls or is obliged to take the first man who even happens to meet part of the criteria set by social dogma. Of course she can never know what this man, due to blind love (purposeless romantic love), is really made of. Whether he’s a good man or a bad man makes no difference when it concerns the welfare of her child. All that matters in this social dogmatised world is the man feels (knows) he has an object and the woman feels (knows) that she is the subject.

Purposeless Romance.

“Matty and the…                ?

“Maternal’s Lost Boy”       ?

Her name is Matti Baybee?

A play about a woman and her son. The two live alone and Matti had done a good job raising her son. So it would seem. Matti, lost her son’s father in the oil war, so she says. Could ahve lost him in the many other wars or a drunken altercation with an armed man, etc., etc. The son doesn’t really has vague memories of his father (and these too, like Matti’s with the loss of the father, could conflict). But Matti, it appears, has her shit together. While raising her son she acquired a degree in psycology and, to put bread on the table, provides therapy but also dances for money. And she does so in unorthodox way. (Fill in blanks.) >What does unorthodox entail?

The whore-wife. The whore-mother. Morality run amok–inside Matti’s head. The world run amok for sticking this to her. Nature… is not mother.

The play takes place in her home. That is also where she has her therapy practice. There is shinny poll in the middle of the room/stage. Her son is applying for college. He and Matti are excited about the future. Then Matti receives a new client. He is a middle aged man and works for the local government. He is the head custodian of the community. During the story two/three of Matti’s patients appear. All men. Her son narrates why they are all men and Matti can’t therapy (other) women. Perhaps there is room for one (two?) females who represent the female camaraderie? For someone, other than the son, must question (or not) Matti’s profession. But one of the men does, who turns out to be an investigator (or sorts) who is checking up on her practice. It is an odd practice. What or how does Matti practice therapy (on men)? Always question the poll in the middle of the room. Matti claims she uses it to keep fit. And what does this have to do with her son? The application process to college turns out to be a problem. This causes a negative reaction in the son that causes audience to question his motivations. Matti has battles on all fronts. Son. Authorites (regarding her status; how she’s affected/effected the community). and the fact that she misses her son’s father. The son gets wind of his mother’s problem with authorities. He too begins to question her. In the mean-time Matti is overwhelmed with work. The status-quo, authorities, threaten to close her down. The conflicts (battles) become too great for Matti. When she says she’s gonna take a corporate job her son freaks-out, as though he’s connected in someway to her therapy. We learn that he wants to (that he must also) study psycology. He has to be like his mother. She’s surprised. She thought they talked his study of engineering–something manly–or math or computers. It is learned they they really didn’t talk much about anything. Typical parental neglect? In the mean-time Matti is unable to get rid of her (male) clients–especially the head of custodial works for the community. He turns out to be a real whacko–who normally Matti, through screening, wouldn’t allow as a client. (What’s that screening process?) This is the first patient to have slipped through. His actually a person that really needs therapy, psychological help. He thinks he’s a janitor–but he’s so much more. The janitor is demented, schizophrenic, (which is how he got through screening) and becomes a threat. When the son gets word of this he thinks he’s going to help, defend his mother. This leads to a final show down. The show down takes place and it turns out that the janitor (custodian) threat isn’t as high as anticipated. But in the process the son changes–as though the janitor had an affect on him. This causes a few more questions about Matti and not just her therapy but her life. Here the authorities show up and here is the first encounter with authorities and the son. But do the authorities see the son? Does the son see them? The sub-climax is that the son doesn’t exist??? Nor do any of the patients. The climax is that Matti is the one in therapy because she lost her marbles in love.

Just a though.


Horatio Or Frank

What is the opposite of happiness? Of suffering? When I think of JC I wonder of his choices. Of course they were choices of ideology but perhaps they were choices of or between happiness and suffering. (The two things humans inherently now, like instinct.) The choice, for example, to go into the desert for 40 days, 40 nights. Who is to say that this choice of suffering was of any worth. And could this choice have had an opposite? A counter? 40 days and 40 nights of bliss, perhaps? What would be the consequence of that? A religion NOT of death?

The mockingbird cried over Heratio and the investigator don’t want to know why. Instead. Where do they go from here in their investigation? Places they will never know, for Horatio was not loved. Hated also not. But where does that leave the mockingbird? He cared so deeply for Horatio. The two used to spend their evenings in bars in George’s town. A quaint place but somewhat unruly to outsiders. There are many, even among the investigators who laugh at the mockingbird. Others say the mockingbird needs to readdress his (her?) attitude. The investigators are good at reminding M of that. It was the thrill that would solve this mystery, was the unspoken word. And what a mystery it was.

The only time she knew to let herself go was when he was drunk. She thought it realized it was the most real time to try and get what she wanted. His staying power more than enough and perfectly numb. Woman knows the real, true purpose of the alcohol.

The bet. Now reality TV. Wager. Of a different sort. For example. Someone bets that within first season he will place in the top 20 of nascar championship with only six months of preparation. (Stop. Lord do I hate reality TV.)

America(ns) has to many choices.

Frank Stone. The new American leader. But who is Frank Stone. Where did he come from? it is said that he visited every house west of the Mississippi to the Rocky Mountains. And now he is not only popular but at the tip of power. And as the cameras/eyes close in on him, the questions really start to emerge. Scars in his face. A slight limp. Imperfection rules, old wounds that barely healed, dire history of getting to where he is now. From Stone. Where is he from?

>Who made Frank Stone?

“Wars legitimate object is more perfect peace.” -William Tecumseh Sherman

Another war memorial out of (Frank) stone. Engraved in the American psyche is war. How do you counter?


The Perfect Machine

Images of this and that. Like the new fangled death machine. How to kill and bury yourself. It’s an all-in-one machine. Get’s it all done. Get rid of all the evidence, too. Rid of the deed. Talk about disappearing act. And, yes, it does involve a mechanics, which is the most freighting part of it all. But it is THE PERFECT MACHINE. A machine killing and doing away with a human–because it was made to do so. Wait. Can’t you call that machine… humanity? Nomatter. A machine that, after the act, the (my) body is buried in a hole that it dug but once the machine buries (my) the body it catapults itself into oblivia (I know: oblivion). Perfect.

Think Future

I have not been true to you my dear. Notes and thoughts have made their way to other books. And as you can see, you have not been forgotten. You’ll be happy to know I’ve taken steps to move on. Of course this could be temporary but for how long I do not know.

Remember it’s always about the context.

He: You want me to pay you?

She: Yes.

He: But I’ve never paid for it.

She: Which is probably why you’re here. There’s always a first.

He: I don’t understand. You have a job.

She: Please. You try living in this cit on my salary. Look. I told you to … that we should just be friends.

He: Yeah, but…

She: I need to know if this (can) ruin(s) our friendship.

He: But We haven’t done anything (yet).

She: Oh yes we have. I am dependent on your discretion now.

He: I don’t kiss and tell. So. You have done this with… who?

She: You don’t actually think I’m going to tell you that?

He: You can… I was just curious.

She: Well get that under control.

He: If I pay you you’ll really…

She: Don’t be so surprised. More do it than you know.

He: I’m very attracted to you.

She: I can tell. You need to get that under control.

He: Who else does it?

She: Enough.

He: Ok. Here… (takes out his wallet.)

She: This changes everything.

He: Like what?

She: You’ll be dependent on my.

He: I have nothing to lose, except a bad job, I’m not an elected official.

She: Think about your future.

You know, highschool gave me everything I need for life–but it could not prepare me (or anyone) for what America would become.

Years Aplenty


Seven years of plenty, seven years of famine. The biblical cycle played out on the floor of the stock market. Say, maybe this could be scene from previous idear about multi-dimensions?

There are chanting oxen led by a wizard-merchant who sells their chows songs. The magic of the wizard-merchant is not to become paid for showing-off his oxen but instead to coerce money out of believers–of which there are too many willing to give too much and too little of nothing.

It is the eternal past, much longer than the eternal future only because it has happened already, all the salvaged souls rest until the proper symbiosis occurs among the opposites.


Play Of Dimensions

The days are long and slow. The nights becoming more frequent with less happeing. But sometimes, just sometimes…

Idear (play): story taking place among inhabitants of multiple dimensions. To show this (the dimensions) a still picture represents the gateway where beings can move hither and tither. The would require that actors remains still while multi-dimensional scenes are played out. The play could be about the beings in/from other dimensions. (Ok, work on this one.)

Just a thought.


Reptilian Brain Codes

2005 01 11


A small crowd on stage. Every once a once a man appears from the crowd directing it. Then he disappears in the crowd. This goes on several times. Eventually a different man appears from the crowd as if chosen. He is congratulated by the first man who was directing things. This is new man has won whatever the crowd has to give: In this cast it is his job. A career. (So many should be thankful but this guy is clueless.)

Where is my lover’s quarrel? We need to live in a convict that is good, inherently good and not dictatingly good.

William Sloan Coffins

-War can be called a necessary evil but we have to remember that most necessary evils are for more evil than they are necessary
-About a/the free country in the world because we can drink beer and watch baseball, etc.–that is cheap patriotism
-patriotism is a deep-deep love of a country. It is a lover’s quarrel.
Unity is a beautiful thing but unity in folly, cruelty and stupidity, what’s virtue in unity in those things?
-Axis of evil is the environment, pandemic poverty and a world awash with weapons.
-We live in a world of limousines and beggars.
-We’re (Americans) being told we have to follow our fears not being lead by our values; we’re imposing on the world, not leading by example. You have to have courage, imagination…

See book by Coffin “Letters To A Young Doubter.”

See French cultural anthropologist G. Clotoire Rapaille. He (seems to be) founder of “cortex” and “reptilian” in people. The rational and irrational, I suppose.

-Rapaille’s work stresses appeal to the reptilian brain and codes…