curvature of the knob, review of rosemary and thyme, austtistic children, their parents...

ok, so, can check off elliott's boy(zzz) as been there and done that, the residue grief of departure sullened by the sticky way in which it was accomplished (they do lurk in the trees don't they) however, found an empty white fairly new van out in the woods with apparently no one in it (didn't get out and look because I didn't then thought when I got home, perhaps there was a body in it, it did look abandoned but recently)...skipping thoughts around like stones across the lake because there's an upcoming meeting and ummmmmm...talked with gwennie this morning and told her yeah, I'm finally not scared for rusty anymore and the neighbors can take a hike...well we'll let my most immediate Japanese interface handle that part I think...want some definite R&R like Hawaii but well yeah grieved that the kids had their hopes built up yet again that they'd be stable state and darn if ol clamchowderhead caused brad to ftttttt
well, I was doing some excellent cooking and baking although I shoulda known that last set of oatmeal brownies tasted like they'd already been eaten...
so...prim and proper is going to 'vestigate self...feel the word should be changed to castigate...have to remember was worry over spouse that caused those alarms to go off but he sent me word this morning he's in the DOS for the thing that bothers us so...relief...
celebrated by taking a hot shower, eating three hot dogs and deciding after all to come to the CAT meeting which then we'll go over wtf happened to Buttons who was on his last legs (they'd be chopped up apparently but his last meal was a wonderful can of catfood all to himself and he was always inmy waps...)
so other than that, my story 'curvature of the knob' is coming along and a great load is off my shoulders because now Iknow where my sweet heart has disappeared to...thank God...

on the reef, generally speaking

well, this is a fine day (no rain) cindi has already had me chauffeur her home because her son's truck is sitting at Spreckels' house with no gas and a dead ignition.  Cedar the golden lab came along, she's babysitting him as well.  Feeling very conflicted about the latest episode of foster kidding..this time the girls at the gallery have given me the business, so has the gal that runs the liquor store.  One says that I am to have no more to do with fostering because the kids I get are a blight on the community (this latest one I discovered had a gallon of Bacardi tucked in my sewing trunk.)  The gal at the liquor store thinks I should have just marched him over to the store and returned the bottle immediately but that's not what I did.  This kid came to me with the proviso that his hand was bruised from ramming it into a wall.  I advised myself to caution when discussing the matter and was proceeding with that plan.  Having a sidekick with him most of the day did not enhance my caution, merely quieted it to a dull whisper.  I thoroughly searched his room, found two empties, decided that he had actually been involved in the heist at the liquor store, debated calling the police immediately, went to my TOPS meeting and at 4 pm that afternoon, after his room had been totally overhauled, was preparing to bring him home for the great interrogation.  He was, instead, already in the hands of the police.  The cocky little policeman, one who once read me my Miranda rights over a missing ten dollar, asked me 'when I was planning to tell them (him, the police) about the alcohol in my house.
"Hmm," I said, "You must mean the gallon bottle of bacardi I found in my sewing trunk, huh?"
"were you planning on keeping it?" he asked point blank.
When someone comes at you with that kind of accusation, and bear in mind that the kid was a notable violence potential candidate, you forget to say, when he 'doesn't look like he's going to knock my block off' I'm going to deal with this.  My plan was, because he'd already turned in a bottle of vodka found on the grounds of the art gallery next door, that perhaps he had this alcohol on his own, somehow.  I didn't know, it was my intention to find out.  There was a great potluck in an hour, our annual Christmas feast for the firehall crew.  As it turned out, I didn't make that.  Instead, the police came to my house, the Bacardi, the two empties were taken into custody and so was the foster son.  He had started to call me "Mom".  I never really did get a feel for this guy's personality, rather that he was some kind of 'cover' for himself.  And with that in mind, my daughter read to me last night over the phone the comments that were made by the liquor store lady about 'certain parents in the community not wanting to come forward with evidence'...which is sitting like bile in the back of my throat.  The whole experience was unfortunate and now I'm on the outs with the ladies at the gallery because of it.  They told me in no uncertain terms they would not tolerate another foster child at my home because this one had stolen from them, cadged food, telling them I hadn't fed him..  That's the way it goes with these guys, they learn a certain set of behaviors and there's no stopping them in terms of how they exploit the caregivers assigned to them.  That's probably not the worst of it either.  They come with no resources, no clothing, no goods and services in hand, and in the words of the Port Angeles licensor, who sent me a spelled out list of what the monthly allotment the state provides for them is intended for...you're supposed to just wing it until their allotment comes.  Supposing the kid took my last twenty bucks as a matter of form, along with the giant bag of cheese puffs that I had intended to share with him and a good movie...supposing I did feed and clothe him, chauffeur him to places he wanted to see, and did all I was supposed to do for him and then he robs the liquor store in the middle of the night while I am sound asleep.  "But he's supposed to be supervised.." was the proviso...we knew that, not only was he registered as a pro forma matter of record, he was not allowed on school grounds according to the school principal, who apparently spent the entire week drumming up the injuction against his presence on the school grounds rather than getting him enrolled...which is what we had been working on the entire week before.
I can't really focus on where blame should lie in the situation.  I want to say it's the usual cosmonaut bungo palace and trading suits is what they do.  Thats what I want to believe but soehow it keeps coming back to the girls at the gallery and how they were in the house teaching him to cook while I was at a ladies' luncheon which took several hours and during which time he told me he would be at the library facebooking.  I think I'm hating facebooking at this point.  I'm supposed to be going out the door for a Christmas luncheon as I write this and after the disastorous luncheon previously...do I really want to do that.  I've kind of let things go around the house, although the fire crackles nicely the chimney cap has imploded and needs to come off when the fire dies down.  I'll have to get another one of those and I'll have to measure to see the size...thinking of daily routines and how this has disrupted my world, actually housing someone that committed a crime.  Having it rubbed in my face by people I thought were my friends, who come over days later and ask for a ride home because they're stranded.  Who give me a couple of bucks for being their maid and then ask me to get their coffee after I'm off the clock (for hours at a time they do this...)  It's not really relevant, I help the one because she's done me plenty of good turns, I help the other because I've learned thanks to the likes of Herr Policeman dude that if one has a job, one keeps it no matter what, but in this regard, they've told me that I mustn't be a foster parent anymore and while I might have reached that conclusion on my own, being told to do so makes me dig in my heels and want to refuse.  I doubt I'll have much say in the matter anyway.  The roof leaks in both bedrooms now..I can't fix it myself and Julius is not here.  The gallery girl's son is a a contractor but he ain't touching my projects.  He's filling up the backyard next door with tons of dirt while my backyard sprouts Lake Crescent and Lake Sutherland, in addition to the Mississippi River!!
So, there it is, a few days before Christmas, my mother is sounding like there'll be no generous card from her with a check enclosed.  I'm pretty sure she's not going to hand out presents to myself and my brother this year because she'll think she did and then she'll buy some more beer.  She's gotta have money for that.  She claims to have Parkinsons' but it's the morning after shakes that she's got.  So that's not good but I think what really decided her about Christmas gifts was when I told her I think she's maybe turning into an alcoholic and I'll be happy to take her to AA.  She got this venoumous look on her face, although we did take a trip to Neah Bay for a little jaunt, and closed her cover before striking, hehe...I'm pretty much resolved that last year was the end of Mother's generosity.  That and the eighteen dollars the state wants to give me for keeping this little burglar and the sum of my Christmas holiday experiences is about moot...bah, humbug to all that.  Won't be going in the liquor store ever again for boxes or whatever, not welcome there.  Although that lady sold a bottle to a guy so drunk he drove down a street sign leaving the front of the store..she says 'legally she has to'..hehe, right..and I'm to be condemned for not confronting a brutal child without backup..she wouldn't want to hear my side of the story I'm sure..she has her opinion and she's stuck on it...As far as the gallery girls, well I know they're paid pretty good, they just went to see the Nutcracker in Seattle...and I know who pays them so their money is going right into their pockets and it seems they need more, somehow.  Be nice if they took a trip to Oregon about now...I'm about done with them as well..which leaves me friendless and alone, staring at a little tree, watching the fire burn.  I do think foster parenting is probably behind me..but not because they say I can't do it anymore, but because Ivar's clam chowder is finally ready (huh??)

guess he must be busy

friday the 16th..other numbers...its a great day in our household..Im in Phoenix...thinking about Han Solo flying over fleece white clouds, rippled softly in the cold sunlight of the high sky atmospher...redundant that, sky/atmosphere but still...what it was...woman asleep next to mee, mouth wide open, whacked into slumber by fatigue, rattling breath of deep sleep...extremely bad breath upon waking...not quite sour as 'decomposed'..beside her 'hair on one side' woman..and I think of the Indians below us, their beliefs..a set of wind turbines in a neat little patch..right at the top of the valley...oh the birds are trapped in it...looking as though the birds designed the spot it is in to catch the updraft of the turbine thrust and lift off for the further reaches of South America at times like this when most of the flocks are already on their way to Guatemala and points south..  in my backyard they stop for a bite on their way out from up North...goodbye till next spring they say...cranes staying behind to catch up on the reed weaving, nest building, tide coaxing...come this way little waters...I think about the Indian influence, earth keepers, what they do...the religious/philosophical outlay of their projections and that they did come here first from other worlds, not evolved into it as our legends would have us beheve..our evolutionary theories, what are they? darwinian sciences quite objectively involved to convolute a more intense history...but then, not my problem all that, I live near a reservation in the Pacific Northwest and what it relates to my subject this morning is that the water provides the earthen freshness needed to reconstitute the very old spirit of Han Solo the traveler of other worlds as a renegade from the overpowering sources of the Empire...did we have one of those?  well, there was the tobacco god and the wine god and we asked them please substitute grief for the places in our minds where you would build homes and when grief has sustained you past your welcome there take another road, and so far those spirits seem to listen...some of us need reborn, little solo is greatly sustained by his 'slept like a baby' encreaturing...and the grandson that represents him, another entity entirely, not unlike my own grafted children, whom I would hope are sustained by having been my own, forever after...there is a strange wind howling for the moment...it is phoenix, mesa actually, wherein I am contained by the lights of dawn and wonder wouldn't I rather fall back to sleep..I didn't bring a book, I miss my little white dog and my little brown dog but they'll be with me soon enough, I've missed my children so much that I've come to them for the holidays but this is what we do...disturb the song cycles of the Hopi just to give Solo a birth...but that wasn't what happened in the end...there came another in which the spirit walkers were disbursed by the old stick broom by my fire...off with you scary one, you like to be called scary because you find humor in our fear and we agree, absorb those memories, diviniations, elements that were animal that were contrived to manhood for the hour that they were, give them back to the sleep of night and walk no more where there can be life...but of course, if you would, join us there and we will show you through our eyes, the light, the dawn the new child..the full heart, the love of parents and where the baby starts, the fresh egg, the catalyst of the lightening bolt..and your ground will be our old fear because you will absorb it..we ask you go away into the freshness of our waking hour if you do not begin with us this day...and there's an amen to that..
it was a hard row to how..the solo entry..Mr. Muswanger..hehe

alan mckelvy and udders...

once upon atime I was in the market for a new apartment and I found one in Mt Pleasant on a tree lined street that turned out to have a giant great dane living upstairs who pooped all over the back yard which was about five feet by ten feet and through which I had to walk in order to get to my place in the basement which flooded like a river the first time it rained heavily because the drain at the front door was covered by big leaves...
the apartment was rented to me by a law student who asked me out...
then another friend of mine tells me there's unmarked cars parking in the alley by my place and do I know why there are unmarked cars surveilling my little crappy abode?
I say no...he says
because that guy you're seeing...his dad used to run the central intelligence agency
no way I say...he says ask'm
ok  so I do...and yeah...like a little squealer standing on the piazza at the Ecuadorian embassy...which the law student was also trying to rent to someone (a greater disaster on a larger scale than my flood prone, poop smelling hacienda)...because it was across the street from the Soviet Embassy..now how did I know that was a scary place?  Idid not...but there it was in black and white and living color...and even today..how many years later...I'm t hinking there's a story in this and there was...and it's not aboutbeating around the bush ...although when you're in bed with a politician you realize...hey, I could be one of those...and I would like to but I rather like to theorize, that's mygame...the what ifs...that embassy had the most beautiful twin ballroom where I got to dance a time or two...jete in a perfect world..
I don't think this computer will add the proper accent to that word but what do I know?
meanwhile...the lawstudent became ancient history and then I was in a steambath downtown with my sixfoot two friend with skin like Barack Obama...oh yeah, smart black cookie lady whom I felt safe walking the streets of the District of Columbia with...although we had a falling out the day I discovered her getting out of bed with a woman...she maintained she was not gay but she was, inevitably...we were pretty good buds until that day...and I never even had an opinion of her actions...I just was there and opened the dorr and she knew that I knew so then she was mad at me for knowing...but then, the steam room day, we're sitting in the sauna with these other chicks...all of us wrapped up in towels and hottern' you know what...and this blonde lady somehow I find out...she is sitting next to me and she is MARRIED to the law student from former days who by now has passed the bar and agreed to a little lunch once upon a time when I was desperate for money for some reason (we were always the very far end of the spectrum politically in those days...still are I'd guess..and never enough bread spread...of course... the now lawyer wants to know why the f I think he's going to buy me a volvo...hehe...I guess I know why he thinks that way because he's got himself a Ludmilla...she was from Ruskya..she said so...and I thought, that's about right..we'll h old all the dollars in the worlld in our little macro applications sponsored through our treasury and it will make sense to discredit us because of that...my hip hurts...and so on into the night...I get a little battered and bleary at the retelling but the gist of it was...there's Miss Eleanor doing those fool jumping jacks and I'm looking at her laughing because her face is getting red from the exertion so then we're in the steam bath and this Ludmilla chick is talking about her husband whom she married and there it is in black and white when he tells me he owes me absolutely nothing and I shouldn't even think about what I could do or would do and don't have a job but have this odd bodyguard for running into Ludmilla?  it's funny...I could make a funny story of it but it is funny anyways see Wesley Snipes as a tranny in that exercise routine and you've kind of got a picture of how I saw it...but Ludmilla...I didn't find that funny at all...talk about a sachet in the underwear drawers...nah...now it's the greatly overweight former administrator of a certain coast guard station who's run off with the paraeducator from the reservation school and conceived a daughter that's now about four...they do seem to love one another

to be continued

from the source...the mermaid on the reef

this is a good day...the sun is out...of course, I have tobe upon theroof doing a bit of this and that, buteh..it's ok..big news isthat I am goingto Phoenix next week..tosee my little grandson, who will be one year old.  he has begun to take steps..he's learning to walk..he's also  saying a few words,  this is so exciting...I'm planning what to bring, what to wear on the traveling part of the trip...and it's also coming around to thanksgiving.  i hope I'll be home in time to cook a turkey for my family..not sure about that though..I'm coming back on standby and that's always a big 'if'...right now I'm at the library waiting for children to appear so that I can do the literacy action campaign we've been encouraged to initiate by our district governor for Lions Club.  I t hink kids must be outside playing today because there's only one young fellow here and he's on the computer..I thought that one had his own but apparently not..
on the other side of the matter, I'm no longer going on calls for the fire district 5 responder service...I'm still considered a student, therefore they think they have enough of a crew to do without the likes of me whodoesn't get on the calls often enough to remember where everything is and goes out in themiddle of the night halfawake without the proper what?  proper..hmmm..I did brush my teeth that last time but you know, I had 'bed' hair and it wouldn't lay down when I brushed it...so, then James of our  last class who was in the coast guard is taking off for a transfer to Florida...and there's a couple of new faces in the new class one of whom is a policeman living out here this could be a good thing for our community, however we like the low key aspects of policing as it has happened here to now...I also got a call yesterday from Childrens about a new young man at my house they were going to call back yesterday afternoon, they did not..I'm leaving next wednesday for about a week and I told them that so maybe they'll get back with me after my return..we'll see...I think also that I'm a little frightened by my financial picture...I want to be brave and know that it will all work out buton the other hand..there are no jobs here, it's comlicated and you could do something over the internet butI haven't figured out what that is...how to do it...I like to write stories, Iw as telling them last night to drewbie and she was saying, well, heck...you should write that down, I know I should write it down but do you kiss and tell?  I don't know that I actually 'kissed' but I didn't tell either, like the time I saw the body being welded into the car at the Wilson Center...guy had a blow torch welder cap with glass visual and never looked up into the dusty window where I was peaking in...the body was laid out behind the steering wheel and it looked like the singer, 'pink'...kind of , that brassy blonde hair...sort of the same body weight...thirty years later I'm being put on administrative leave by my two workmates who I finally told the story to...I didn't say anything to anyone for thirty years and then I do and they think I'm nuts...well, I assume they thought I was nuts because the next thing you know I'm being hauled off to the Intelligence and Investigations exam room, I don't think I had a union rep along and if I did it was probably the one person who wouldn't be very representative (he's more of a mouse than a person??? you get me?)...so I had to tell the story again about the body...how I and my two small children were at the community garden behind the Wilson Center, going to water tomatoes and such...I climb up therickety platform and peak in the building where the autobody business is doing cars and what I see is t he body  being welded into the car bya guy with a blowtorch...that one mailroom worker, her husband committed suicide because she came back from Guatemala enciente...he loved the little boy, Mikie...but ...I guess she was pretty mean to him about the son's origins...so he did himself in...I remember him walking his dalmation up and down the street in front of Michelina Haus...the other person...she was the first one I knew to read Twilight and just raved aboutit like it was the best thing she ever read...she was pretty thick with  Guatemala girl...I imagine they are still holding court in the mailroom...while I think about a good way to describe a body being welded into a car and not get roasted for saying it happened...why I didn't speak before now?  no doubt it was a mob hit...although the Soviet Union was just up the street on 16th...their m bass 'e'...not a friendly atmosphere in that one would th ink...so I didn't speak because I had two small children with me...I never told my husband what I saw...but we moved later that year...or soon, I forget what the timeline was..but to lose my job over it?   doesn't seem fair...not that it was much of a job...and yeah, I did sign to the guatemala girl...'your evil ways frighten me' but she didn't understand that, merely had the intelligence and investigations office record that I had made some kind of weird sign to her that well, that must definitively prove my instability...which, after reading how people were living in their cars, skidding a quarter mile over gravel from a bike spill...showing their unclothed selves to one another...I guess...I'd be a little less prone to be sensible about what it was I was about, giggling, compassionate...something...hard to say...Guatemala girl was busily buying houses and cars from the insurance of her spouse...what I saw...butth en...that's why I didn't see much, because I did...I suppose...it works out t hatway...and now I'm on my way to phoenix in a few days to see little Harrison start to walk and talk...how great...balance the one disappointment with the great joy of the other...what I do..what I'm good at...
I made a deepdish apple pie this morning while I watched a movie 'Legend of Sasquatch'...animated for kids...and meanwhile, still no kids showing up at the library...so I'll go soon,  have to attend to  the roof issue and bring the pie to the Den for the Veterans' Day dinner there on Sunday (tomorrow) at 4...promised to help serve/clean up for that but we'll see if we need me, hehe...
should write something funny about the hilarity of working with people you suspect were cloned at Chernobyl...well I think they were...pretty sure the 'horses' mouth' would fit one of them if not both of them...talk aboutdreading to be around someone...well, there's a can of clams I haven't opened yet...s'all for that and more to come...when I finally feel as though this new kerchief we have...I guess DAd would have said something about it butSpider don't...and the newly repaired roof still leaks so go figure what Frankie Lloyd might want to observe about those marbles and t hat bag...when it gets creaky assume the wooks are in charge, I always say...doubt and fear and lusting over a native american in Neah Bay...about two blocks short of driving a hybrid again I wish...

kATONAHOTTINROOF

IF i ever figure out the caudal element on this laptop I'll be a little more fluent on it...kind of one of those again rainy days and the new roof is leaking as the proverbial sieve..trying to be resilent b ut I actually sat down and cried about it the other day...well, I think it was that I realized I had a crush on someone I saw at Neahby and there he was sitting across from me going like 'yeah, come on' let's do this, so I felt but I was so nervouse and stupid feeling, squirmy, have b een warned this one is a violent dude I guess, who knows..I think I can wrestle my own demons by now and I was sgtupid to kind of ignore him but I didn't ignore him, he's like I dunno, I realized it, that my heart was going boom boom boom hehe..stupid of me, keep saying gthat, I even have his phone in my directory, duh...like for why...but I guess I also think eh he ' my friend who isn't my friend anymore too so thart was something she didn't like him, she doesn't like anyone much but therehe is in living color and I'm very able to get up and go sit in his lap but I don't because I realize what? chicken...could make a year's worth of soup out of how I am...and yeah, he's like wearing the Hillerman hair...so he's going to know about dry places, what?  I don't know...I think stupid, like has been hit on the head by the caveman so all that remains is to be dragged off to the cave, right?  right...and there goes my what is it now 05 to 12 fetish about Russell Crowe duh...I think I hate this keypad, very sensitive, just cause the little pad of my palm is resting on some access feature here the text shrinks and shrinks...so I'm sitting there and trying not to look at him and looking, glancing, you know you get up close and there it goes, he gets the notion, you would want that, I went to his house and there's beer bottles everywhere and he's got a towel wrapped around his waste and his truck was repo'd just like mine...his had a rack of elk antlers hoooked on the back kind of looked dumb but that's what he had now driving a weanie little scotter while mine sits inj the garage going on four years, unassembled...and yeah, that's why I was crying when I got home, because I let it slide right on by me and didn't get into the groove, like I knew I could, man the text has shrunk agvain...

The Gruesome Disfigurement of the Incidental Hind

well...I hear myself say the word...it's a comment, I pause to open the door for my Maltese, Gracie...whom...if truth be known is an irritant to me...rather than the doting upon little pet dog whom I adore (I do...but it seems as though we must vehemently disparage that which we love...in these times)
Gracie has had a bath and yet she'll be dirty quite soon...but, that isn't what I want to talk about...my prone to filthy dog that has no elegant bearing when she is...and quite much when she's had a wash...like
The KiteRunner..I read the book a few years ago...was quite put out by it...ready to go back to DC and raise some more hell like I used to do with Dana and Tommy and Pilco and Alice...well...Alice I guess I didn't because she was a pill...Pilco was a skateboarder...went all over the place on his board...like a hand of the clock he held it in his arms when we'd meet up with him downtown...anyway...see that's like the 'well'...
I am well
I am not well knowing about the troubles of being a border country such as Afghanistan...I don't think anywhere along that line, Germany, the Checks...sorry don't spell out the name of Cheklosovokia because I can't...I won't...Afghanistan...now that really, really troubles me...I'm bothered and angry and my brother who was in the Air Force was there...he sent a family snap of a ruined palace-type place...well, that's my own home from what it once was and I'm restoring it bit by low budget bit (I'm about penniless so what the f does it matter if I talk about a mideast country with indignity?  not that I'm a stickler for proper English although it was a major in college, such as THAT was...you'd think, I do...that we're singled out...those of us who give positive input towards world peace...to be subjected to the most begning beeNINE..see spelling is giving out on me and the thesaurus..eh...
no I don't know that it's tripped...but anyway
the KiteRunner...I've been on the verge of tears since I woke up this morning...well maybe it's after thirty or forty years of political activism  I can let down a hem or two and be real instead of beading around George Bush?  the indians are great beaders here, they make barretts, key holders...clothing, it's great...but that kind of beading...eh...as it seems there is a great deal of it in Kabul and so on...you'd tell me, I suppose, oh, that's done now and I'd say I hear it on the news..I can't listen to the news, what would the news say of some tragedy in flesh like the KiteRunner's Assif...hmmm?
hmmm...he was a butt?  nah...won't say the author's name...the dude who wrote the KiteRunner...he's all about learn to fly the kite boy...focus elsewhere but he don't give a rat's ass about his best buddy Hassan...as he watches him be raped by Assif...why is that?  is the culture inherent?  is this what we do with those who look a little different than we do?  we're not homogenized...a direct operating system approach to being in the wild...car named Cougar crashes up car named Coyote?   I know that's reaching..I'm indignant, man and the words come fast...been telling people I'm joining the peace corps and asking to be sent to AFGHAN
is STAN...
Stan died a few years ago...his last name was HULL and he had pretty darn bad diabetes
his mother and I became better friends after that, because Stan was gone...she is old and doesn't get around so good...ok, cracking heart, really thumping heart and watery eyes
read first about little orphans from Asia...good book Ann Tyler, Digging to America...and then I watched the Kite Runner...
are we different in this time?  the things aren't about classicism...class is schizm...schism...I don't know...I am sad that there are people like ASSIF
he's an ASS if...he behaves badly toward such a noble creature as Hassan...
I sob...I really do sob..we did this to Jesus didn't we?  don't we ever learn by our christianity...this guy was down here with the rest of us doing amazing things..like Hassan and the sling shot, blopping up the Assif's...what a name, what a perfect name...am I a hater?  nope...I just want to know how those kinds of people get into the real world and aren't one of the missing tree frogs we used to have by the boatloads here in the Pacific Northwest Rainforest...I'm really sad there are victims of people like Assif...and it's supposed to be a story...it's a fiction
but I know there is strife in Afghan is STAN..now...I know this.....I don't know the particularly gory details of the STAN macro...I call it that because our STAN HULL is gone...but a macro to my way of thinking is not unlike a maggot in the way it parsecs information in computer engineering...so the AFGHAN...well
that's the other part of it...to play the dummy
hehe...I could do something about this situation? and how..be a martyr..well, yep...
I hear the very voice on the radio...SPRUNNNNGGGGspringggggSPREECH...like it isn't  hovering beside me in so many what do you say the timber of a person's voice becomes
I think of hot chocolate and how I have to wrap myself in blankets to stay warm in my house in winter...I could be home with my mother and brother and not freezing and being broke in my own house...I could, but I'd never think in that place because when I tried it my brother told me to 'turn off the tv'...because it was 8 am...and I guess at 8 am he thought he became in charge of things in that house...well
not unlike Assif...and it's not no dog we're talking about here...we're talking about the theft of the German's biological engineering discoveries by the Russkaya...I guess I call them that...I felt quite the student of Tolstoy back in the day when I was getting my English degree, which I didn't get...no doubt because I DID read Tolstoy...oh yeah, my name
hehe...oh, what's his face LaRoche?  who
who's the one that's the conservative of the day...the finger pointer?  wouldn't he be telling the truth...no, this goes much deeper than that...this is about a discovery in the Urals in 1900..nuff said...it's the ASSIF's we're (I'm) discussing here...how such a monster is craven into an image guaranteed to evoke despair...I don't seem to be able to spell...I feel that angry...I feel that characters in the manner of ASSIF...sounds like 'a thief'...we have a few of those...walk into your house..take your things...oh
and never speak of it...then and again..and you help them, try to understand the motivation...because
it's just like all those AK47's, with voices in the same mode...the very voice
same thing I guess I can't really describe it so much as I see that while some of us are elsewhere in terms of 'where we are'...some others of us are 'that person' for us and that guy is a variation of ASSIF in creating his own brand of monster...something like that
and the kid hates HASSAN when he sees what ASSIF has done to him...he does go the mile for it in the end...gets his face rearranged to rescue the nephew...that sort of thing, but he's never the guy his dad was...maybe that's it...maybe I don't understand that part of the struggle...but I sure did get it in Jane Austen's books...they were polite and slightly prejudiced about the bounty of wealth, well, you know...you are content with what you have...like my house was mine and then the bank had it and now the asking price is HALF what what it was worth and my truck has been REPOSSESSED...that sort of thing...can you blame that all on AK47's? 
when they're being manufactured next door, I think so, mmhmmm, yep
well I knew this when I went back to work up the hill...I knew the autoexecutor state because I knew the transits and so on...(how it is done)
I know because hesheit showed me a coat...I won't say beautiful because it was cheaply made but it was shaken in my face  MY BOYFRIEND GAVE ME THIS...HE GAVE ME TWO OF THEM...you see...it was a Kabul special, that coat
that was the smug weasly little child molester pushing it up my nose so hard it smelled like somebody pooped in there (sorry little Maia...grandma borrows your expression..well not sorry, it is funny how the baby girl said it).  But it's true...indignancy..I am indignant that such farces of human flesh still modem into operation and flush us out of our humbly held perches when all we wanted was to be left alone...really...but they have us now...they are ensconced N sconced
skonz..the candle thing...they get the new cars..the trips...the what? heat in the HOUSE?  mmhmmm...totally
oh yeah, the great tvs..the full subscription DISH...well, granted they HACKED that
mostly
but, the Afghan Is STAN thing...now that truly and utterly takes the cake...and I know...I don't have to be told...well, the big building in new york, the three hundred and twenty storyer...the one I stood in with Scott Jordan and looked over the Atlantic, well it was a day like today...geez I get all teary eyed again...like I was sent here by the CIA or something to do just what I have done...STATE FARM IT...
bee a gut neighbor...and my house was repossessed...they finally got over the smell of gore I guess, well they didn't know they were nothing but...and walked inside it.
I Remember the day Diana Townsend died...was it Spender Townsend...something like that, Prince Charles' wife, the accident
and guess who told me?  you know, they say if you expound on these topics they'll 'getcha' I guess that was Jesus' big routine, don't be a purist man...(see Tommy Chong in the old days...hear him say this...don't be a purist man..)  You know, you can't be anything BUT a purist...really...you can't...not if you're dedicated to the process of art and use it solely for the purpose of making life a better world for the rest of your fellow men (oh GOD and I ain't say the wimmin folks too because you know darn well I mean ALL of us...)
jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj
I think about what's his face..the protagonist in the KITE RUNNER...the fact that an inmate correspondence to a counselor in the prison where I worked was called a KITE...who knows what that stood for...once I read a KITE from an inmate and it said "I sent you THREE KIKES already)...and that's going to make me double over with laughter even now when I want to cry because I feel so helpless about the ASSIFs of this world, having lived next door to one who made it possible for my house to be repossessed...well, it's not like I was raped, but certainly I have never known the sensation of that which it is that is the part that is RAPED so I might as well have been although I'm told this is merely a hmmm, matter of loving the right person or as Freud would advise, get your fingers out of there...hehe, I like the KIKE joke but I also like the
hot chocolate I just made and am sipping and the fact that when it becomes cool enough to need a fire...the big rocks I keep on top of it are hot enough to ease the kinks in my back when I feel stiff, which I do now, though I haven't been up to much in terms of this that and the other physical energy wise working on the house and so forth ( I haven't skill I haven't SKILL..such a stupid mantra...)well...
and I'm not rereading this...I've stopped for a moment and had my tears, they were threatening since the book reading...the Kite Runner...how dare they, nothing has affected me as much, in contemporary literature...I must say...except that perhaps we created the solution here, even if it meant I lost the Michelina Haus...now I've got Mermaid's Reef and it's my big chance to sit down and talk about this book and all the other stuff it took to create the solution to the ASSIFs of this world...just give them their own roomfull of children and let them take their pick...oh yeah, that's the foster kid routine...and the last big one I had here...he was a real dough head...slow, ummm
the phone rings...it's the lady I gave the rainbow earrings to
we talk for several hours...I make dinner, beet tops, hamburger gravy with mushrooms and yellow peppers biscuits that don't rise that I pour the gravy over, a salad it's hot and I burn my tongue
today I helped paint the Lions Den a sage green...I am so thirsty with my dinner, what shall I have to drink...I am sleepy as well...it was a long night
I realize I have an entourage even if I don't want one...the husband I imagine for myself has provided it..along with my living status and so on...in a way to keep me happy and not apart from the things I love...this is kind of him...and in return for this...he is not here and I do not know him...but I do know the maker of the AK47s and I do not joke about this...it is not about the misuse of the word KIKE...or perhaps it is