BEGIN march 31

Hang on!

Today I am getting married. Then I will mow down all yer souls. Radio dole queue. You have only the right to remain silent. Speak now or forever hold your peace.

The Church of the rusty bicycle saved me. Killed by a car, reborn by a bike, that is the story of my life. (thanks Bicycle Bob) I attend a Critical Mass. The most efficient of all the machines. Believing in motions, circles or rebirth and steel. No: Rusty Steel.

My legs carry me great distances. My mind will fix that flat.

Did you ever drive through the suburbs and wonder what all those people in all those little uniform houses were DOING? with their lives?

Me, I import plastic disposable paper towl holders from communist liberate slave children workers in china. I give them to people who don't want them. I sell them to people who say NO.

Yesterday I went into the story to by a sturdy rubber doormat that was on sale in the hopes that it will mean I have to sweep my floor less if people wipe their feet. I said that I don't need a plastic bad and pointed at my empty backpack. They said however that the rubber might make my bag smelly and so the wrapped my rubber feet map in plastic so I could carry it the 5 blocks to my house without stinking up my backpack.

Then the revelry stopped abruptly as we swearved the car to try and miss the large obstacle which had fallen into the middle of the freedom highway. At 100km/hr we could not avoid the obstact in time in the dark but we did because it was in the other lane to start with. We sped up and kep driving. "Whew, that was close and dangerous... At first I thought it was a large moose or elk or something but obviously it was some kind of fabric bag... I wonder how it got there... hope no one crashes into it... hopefully someone with a cell phone will call someone... lets keep driving."

Non, the religious shrine at Rocamadour is on Day 7. On Day 6 we visit the city of Belves, the bastide at Monpazier and the remarkable Chateau Biron.

Support crew will sweep up that mess for you later, no need to cut your hands on the broken glass. Enjoy the meal, you are the customer!

BEGIN THEDATE

Two die in Guatemala free trade protests

sis 21.Mar.2005 07:50

It appears that the Guatemalan government is doint their best to keep this incident out of the news. Pictures, video, and an account of the protest are available at - http://www.freedomsojourn.com/Naranjales.htm
See also - http://www.fhrg.org/mambo/index.php

Two die in Guatemala free trade protests
17 Mar 2005 16:13:00 GMT
Christian Aid – UK

Two people were killed and many injured as violence broke out during protests in Guatemala on Tuesday 15 March when President Oscar Berge ratified the Central America Free Trade Agreement (CAFTA).

The deaths in Huehuetenango follow days of violence as people across Guatemala joined the biggest demonstrations ever seen in the country. Protestors argue that the CAFTA will make Central American countries more dependent on the US.

As the anti-CAFTA rally ended, police and soldiers launched a violent attack on the crowd using batons and tear gas. Two protestors were fatally shot.

Police surrounded the headquarters of Guatemala’s trade unions under orders to capture trade union leaders.

The violence followed similar protests in neighbouring Honduras when anti-CAFTA campaigners stormed congress when the government signed CAFTA on 4 March a month ahead of schedule.

Honduras was the second country to sign up to the agreement following El Salvador which signed in December 2004 and now Guatemala is the third. Panama, Costa Rica and Nicaragua are still under negotiation.

Trinidad Sanchez, Director of Comal, a Christian Aid partner in Honduras, said: ‘We have raised our voice to denounce the danger that comes with this free trade agreement.

‘This is going to increase unemployment, it is going to increase the crisis of food security in the country, and it is going to make health and education less accessible for the people in Honduras. And this is not only for Honduras, but for the whole of Central America.’

CAFTA follows the North American Free Trade Agreement signed in 1996 between Canada, US and Mexico

As part of a coalition of organisations campaigning against CAFTA, Comal has logged the impact of NAFTA on Mexico. It has argued that overall NAFTA has increased inequality and reduced incomes for the vast majority of Mexican workers.

Comal argues free trade with the US is going to bring misery to the poor of Central America who will be forced to compete in an unfair market. Agriculture will be the worst hit and peasant farmers are at risk of not being able to grow and sell beans and maize – Central America’s staple diet.

As the world gears up for the Global Week of Action against unfair trade, Central America will continue pressing against CAFTA. Trinidad Sanchez was one of at the World Social Forum in Delhi in 2004 when the idea of a week of solidarity campaigning was born.

Señor Sanchez said: ‘We have been opposing the CAFTA treaty for many years. What we wanted from the international campaign was the linking of movements. We had not predicted though that the Global Week of Action would coincide with the singing of the treat in Central America, it’s a good coincidence.’

BEGIN march 25th critical amass

This is not over yet.

I think that the blueprint is written in that novel about the cars. i think the blueprint is written underneath the sunshine on the smoggy day. I think the blueprint is there to build up the house underneath the last tree of the decade.

Decadance-ence-pendance:

I will not go through with it.

We had a critical mass ride and the wind is now blowing fast shaking the streetlights hard. It was a good ride and we had lots of fun riding and the cars were angry and happy blah blah blah. We will be having a bicycle wedding july 16th and we will pull the old people with a bicycle rickshaw. My god isn't the god.

History is subjective there are all these little fish swimming around and underneath the leaves is the truth but there is nothing under them because the ground you are walking on is an illusion the leaves make the soil green and happy.

Rocking on the sea change of the last 500 years. We rowed up the hill to the North Korean War Camp. I don't think we will make it after all she said to me under her breath. "Oh come on you can do it baby..."

The general was standing on the edge of that snowy cliff and we approached he slowly came into view. As we got closer we realised that underneath his feet was not a small step ladder but 5 men in pyramid formation and the general was standing on the sholders of the top two with three at the base. The mean immediately under his feet were oriental looking with black hair and flat noses. The three men at the bottom had dark brown skin with dark curly hair. The general himself was purple coloured, a sort of UV phosphlouresence. He was unbuckling his pants at the belt. Mary watched as the lofty man used his left hand to unzip his fly and pull out his throbbing limp cockadoodledoo. I woke up and ate cornflakes.

She was vomiting blood. Again. I told her that she should not have gone to that restaurant and that you could tell that they didn't like her by the cut of their jib. She said she thought sailing was a pompous irrelevant sport and would I please hold her hair back so as she would not soil the strands with flecks of upchunk. I walked up behind her and noticed how her voluptuous ass quiverred as she leaned forward and her body retched violently. I saw the pant creases folded neat and suggestively at the apex of her thighs as her pelvis rocked forward and back. Quietly I slipped my penis out of the sock supending it out straight in front of my stomach and then I tucked my penis down into her pantyhose. Can't have it getting in the way. No room for error here in this tricky operation. I am going to have to leave my penis there bound in place so that I am not tempted to use it otherwise: I can't really trust myself these days.

So I said: "There there, it will be all right now." as I rubbed the small of her back in minute circles and lifted the hair dangling precariously in front of her face back around her head behind her neck. There was bloodvomit on the strands and smeared over my clean fingers. I could smell the shampoo of her newly washed hair overwhelmed by the acid ferric smell of the excretions. She heaved just one more time which caught me off guard and I flinched slightly. I had become transfixed on the syrupy dripping of the syrup in the syrup store window up over yonder when the retch sound startled my revelry. I looked to see if I had pulled her hari to hard when I flinched but my hand was lifting up high as the weight at the other end was gone. Dust everwhere and she had become ash blowing away in the windstorm and all I was left with were dry hair strands and the colour of her hair. Her clothes were crumpled at my feet in the cremated dust remains. I sad down and made a sand castle out of the dust which stuck together much better than beach sand - as would loamy fine soil - but it refused to mould.

I consulted an archiatect in the Concord Pacific devolment corporation on how I ought to be beuilding my condominium sand castle so that the building materials would remain affixed to one another and that [crucially for the building permit] I could create an earthquake proof building on a tight budget.

"First you mahst build a scale model." He uttered in his delicious Swedish accent. "I will use little plastic people walking their dogs in the model. This is sure to please the planning department. Plus of course we will put in a theoretical bicycle parking room and 35% social housing [5% more than manditory]. Of course once the permit is approved we need not even build any social housing mixed units, and of course not the silly bike room, but until then let me do all the drawings and model making. My secretary will take your umbrealla."

I gave the swedish woman secretary my umbrella and she shook the rain off of it before placing it in a rubbish bin especially designed for the purpose. She took me by the left hand and softly led me into a dark room with sultry mood music coming from unseen speakers. She asked me to remove my shoes and sit down and lay back in the comfortable chair in the centre of the room. She flicked two switches and one after the other a spotlight focused on my face then my chair began to recline extremely until I was lying almost straight with my feet raised slightly above my head. She asked me to open wide as she sat on a stool and attached a medical bib to the front of my breast.

A smalle buzzer rang out and this sultry vixen left quickly excused herself from the room with "I'll be back in a moment Mr.Adams."

It took a very long time, in fact, before she did return. I could hear the man in the next room screaming in agony as the drill losed the bacteria from the cavity between his rotten teeth. There was that nauseating flouride flavoured toothpase smell and the drill whigned such a shrill deafening wail that I almost sat up and walked out of there. However, the Swedish assistane returned almost immediately before I had resolved myself to get up and go and stilled my anxiety with her soft manicured fingernails trailing lightly across my shirted navel. I stereched my mouth wider open and she reached in with the spinning tooth scrubbler and began to give me my 6 month cleaning and check up. I tried to hold still at the discomfort of the mouth cleaning combined with my saliva build up that I could not swallow. She noticed the glandular fluids presently and inserted a slight vacuum tube into the back of my food hole and ordered: "Spit!" A long mucussy strand of saliva was sucked from my mouth. It was a pleasant feeling if you did not think of the vulgarity.


I was prostrate beneath my orthodontic goddess and she pulled my wet dang out of her pantyhouse which had been uncomfortably stuck in there since mary faded into oblivious. After my teeth were satisfactorily cleaned and I had had enough of the sweet swedish busom gently glancing across my cheek the dental assistant pulled back and put away the cleaning tools. She stood up and walked across to the back of the room and bent over to retrieve a small plastic container from a low shelf. I noticed her voluptuous ass quiverring as she leaned forward. I saw the pant creases folded neat and suggestively at the apex of her thighs as her pelvis rocked forward and back. Quietly I slipped my penis out of the sock supending it out straight in front of my stomach and then I tucked my penis down into her pantyhose. Can't have it getting in the way. No room for error here in this tricky operation. I am going to have to stop doing that to women because I may one day get slapped. However so far I was more likely to attend a funeral than get my cheek bruised so I hazarded the manouvour. Opera was now playing on the PA.

She straightened and turned to face me then walked forward with her arms outstretched holing the small plastic cylinder. She sat on her stool and untwisted the cap. I did not see exactly what dark object she pulled out from the container but felt the cockroach legs wriggling and squiggling on my tongue soon enough. She swithed on a TV monitor and adjusted the suspended camera to focus in on my mouth and now i could see more clearly the two insects sparring within. They were kickboxing and I could hear the sports announcer yelling our the progress of the fight. Four long rounds and it looked like the fight was a fair match and neither bug was winning clearly. I was tired and felt that perhaps I ought to close my mough, spit out the foul invertibrates and end the whole business. However, i felt that the fat man sitting smoking a dark cigar between his two brawny bodyguards might not like that.

"See here chum feller" he said, "I think I know what you are thinking now and I reckon you best not be thinkin that there thought for much logner then. I've got a lot of MOOLAH riding on this here roach fight! Moo you, boo shoe."

The bodyguard on the left grinned menacingly and chuckled an agressive laugh in response to his employers pun. The right side body guard simply fingered the sidearm at his right side.

I made a show of staring straight at the TV monitor and nodding my head in appreciation whenever the announcer commented on a perticularly vicious blow. This was a good fight and I would stick it out to the end. Perhaps even this plump mafiadon might see it in his heart to share a small cut of his winnings with the man who had to hold his mouth open to have the bugs fight to the death on pay-per-view TeeVee. It was willful optimism on my part, roachcock gamblers aren't known for their charity, they are known for their hairy vaginas. And was a wet pussy it was!

Slices of hot sharp wax burst under my nipples and my body exploded into Ten Thousand peices all over the walls of the Swedish dentistry office and roach gambling telecast new centre. The sports announcer anchorman got into a fistfight with his beer thinking that my exploding corpse goo was some kind of fraternal prank send by the losing team. The gambler and his body guard each pulled out a different type of revolver but did not shoot the swedish nurse because she had a condom on and men don't like condoms up their vagina.

The soft flesh yeilded to my muted agony and I thrust up under those pretty red fingernails. No more need for nailpolish removed. Brass and steel do not mix well. "You cannot refrigerate our coleslaw, it will dampen the crisp flavours."

It's not that I don't love you reader. I think you are two of the most beautiful people in my world. Don't think that I don't know who you are saying is doing this because I know what she said to you last night and I want you to know that she told me today that it is as if we had never mentioned it.

Maple syrup in your gastank George Bush, sugar carbonised the pistons til the engine seized up to hell. Fuck you baby bear. We ain't in Florida no more baby. This is no african AIDS love child born into a world of western TeeVee loving name droppers. Your daipers are not going to be full on Tuesday so lets have a make up dental appointment for then, I'mm sorry that we were unable to complete aLL of the bridgework this afternoon. Don't eat or drink anything for at least two hours.

This I wrote Today

BEGIN marching 156hth

there is an epidemic of mental illness. There is an epidemic of 'obesity'.
fat crazy people walking the streets eating everything in sight. EAT THE CARS EAT THE CARS.
there is no such thing as obesity. overweight? over-what-weight? that's just a sales gimmick. As is the craziness. That's just a trick.

crazy people are unhappy with the crap and can't take it anymore. that is sane.
EAT THE CARS. you've only got two sylabbles: HONK! HONK! FINGER! FINGER!

don't mean to be yelling it all because I am not and you are not and I am not and yee aren't neigher has she done that for he hast neign dee hast und neber neber say never no naa naa nee nee noo noo nell nell nnnn.

4 "N"s only. 4 N's Only. The last testicle peabody was under the influence of one man and yee were it yo. The death of the dead is dying over over over. Polka in the cemetary. There is nothing more that I can say that is absurd to you because it has all been said and we have exhausted our suppy of truthful imaginary absurdity because the real truth is so insane that we ought not to think about it for fear that it will make us all CARAYZEE!

Before he loses his mind. before he loses his mind he was a fine upstanding citizen the president of the student council and the top of his class. I never saw a man so superior. Blond and blue eyed with a big big cock he knew his place and it was on top. He was there to fuck the world and I don't think he took it up the ass except from the finest.

I've always known that I would turn out to be a crazy degenerate who lived in the woods a hermit that shunned society. But then I realised: the hermit is obsolete. The hermit has been rebranded. You cannot be a hermit anymore since all the land there is to steal has been owner before and since there is no more air for you NO you can't sit on top of that fine spacious hill that is tresspassing. I am going to hunt the man in you and walk it down into the stubs of the feet feeling under the beats of the break rhythem bitch-mark yearning under the forecast and straight from under the tantrum police. BEEEEEEEEEEEEatch.

I knew I would grow up to be a hermit but I can't be that anymore because that paradigm is now over. They GMOed yer ass and you are taking Xanax to cope. Valium was too much for contained use but we got something better that only rots out the soul and leaves the rest in a well situated obediant stance of servitude to the master. Fear god, fear this.

So since that was over we are now the hermit now we all live at home the typical male on the computer alone typing words into the nothing mad at everyone and everything isolated and alone from the sound of the rhythem xcept for the occasional pornagraphic flirtation the underworld that is so painted up the ladies ain't men anymore and only the real is wrong.
We should never be like that but you are. I am p3erfect I blame you for all of it and the crew up topp. you are wrong and I am right it is that simple. We are all the emperor of the blind cave. I was under the impression that we were going some place that was a little smell better but my eyes were gouged out when I wasn't looking into the sun so then I noticed that this was the same as the dark ages except this time we aren't even here. Suffering is redemptive and redeption is bullshit. I am going under the water to the ocean to be with my car. We are going to be alone and sing songs together into eternity forevermore. I will have the airconditioner on and shampoo the outside of my hariy beast. My raw red fire burning steel and aluminum and plastic car engine is the only thing left that isn real anymore. nnnn 4 Ns are remembered and the memory is what the old people lived on for many years.

I built a memeory so we can have fun this is the best chance for me to get off and do my thing rockin under the table drinking rum for breakfast but the 80s synth sound tells me that it is all going to be over under the last time for the reast of the night . We humbele.

I sent an email to the whole group and She said to me that it was over for me. I said no way hose this ain't the place to for all of that kinda sheet. Yes well, I don't think you said that to her anyway except last time. Never never.
Weee
Do you like words?

Church bleeding. Church bleeding underneath the left side. Church bleeding over under the me side setup. We is that.

YEsterday I wrote this

BEGIN march 14 -2005, you are not allowed to write on the calcutypwriter anymore because maybe you broked it.

1. I can't stand up thtere is too much sandpaper in my lungs now. I don't like to write about the real things. The computer is not as fun as the. I U me she together come on baby lets go. jetsco was an airplane company for cheap but then it died.
2. my business is no business.
3. your business isn't only yours.

sharing should be taught in kindergarten like the rumba. Copyright should be taught in preschool. death schould be taught at birth. I can't write anything but nonsense anymore. I can't be kenneth patchen no matter how hard I try because the crazy world is crazy and it aint over. Who cares. Everything is said now all at once. Everybody has a blog. Surreal writing is less surreal than real writing.

The tiny little bubbles on the inside of the glass are formed by bacteria that is poisenous and will eat your guts out.

I don't talk normal I have bad habits and I am not going to change I am too old at 26. I'm a 26er and I'm 10 years older than 16. I like to break the rules but where does it get yee? Where does the rule of the wrath lay?

George W Bush. There I said it. Whatever that means?

Art is over. Marrige is over. Sex is over. Life is over. Words are over. Air is over. We don't care about the environment because we don't care about anything.

Slavery was good because it was simple and you worked hard and hard work is redemptive.

Love is the only answer but what is the question? Voulez vous couchez avec moi ce soir? I've got the hots for every woman. I've got the hots for janes friends. Ive got the hots for not being in this room anymore. Ive got the hots for not spending so much time on the computer. Ive got the hots for not doing anything and being as lazy as can be. Ive got the hots for hot heat. Ive got the knots for the sheets. I have no talent and I'm a hack. I'm a stubborn know it all slowpoke.