Electric Cucumber

Yep, I was right there where you are. O_O Fuck, so now they did a cucumber shaped dildo? Funny thing is, this is an entry generated after reading an ARTICLE in a NEWSPAPER. So yes, I was a bit... surprised to see this in my daily Le Figaro. I thought: "Well, I guess the Euro is just fine, if they can spend their time mixing ten year-old killed kids with 220 W cucumbers." I still believe that the Euro is just fine, as fine is my Europe, regardless of what all her detractors try so hard to say. I love and believe in my Europe and anyone who has a problem with that can go elsewere. (My Eurocentrism might be in the same level as my Narcissism. Then again, I have loads of reasons to be proud... on both accounts.) Anyway, so I clicked onto the cucumber thing to see what was that about. Hurray, an article hat has nothing to do with charity, economics, telecommunications, politics, welfare, war, currency... and all the usual stuff I normally click on and read. It didn't go better then I read the first line of the article saying that no, it was not about legumes. Hell yeah, it was "that kind" of cucumber! Dude, the way people is, and why does it even get to the papers? It was like this one time I misread a headline in a paper in Costa Rica which said "Moscoso Amenaza Estados Unidos" (Moscoso [the then Panamaian President] Threats U.S.) and instead I read "Mocoso Amenaza Estados Unidos" (Brat(or any really bad derrogative for child) Threats U.S.). Hyne, I remember staring at the headline and asking myself, "why don't they call him child or kid? Why brat?". Well, to your relief, I didn't misread the headlines (I hardly misread in French, since I'm not fluent enough in it...), and it really was about an electric cucumber, only it was not a dildo or a massage thing, but something faaaaaaar better.

The reporter said they went to know the electric cucumber, tried it and loved it! Well, It does sound like something I would love too. It's a cocktail. Basically you need:

- 1 part of cucumber syrup (where the hell do you get that???)
- 2 parts of green lemon juice
- 1 part of curaçao
- 6 parts of vodka

Oh, I can see your eyes, you drunkies! Yeah, anything with 6 parts of vodka is my friend or a friend of a friend, and any friend of my friends is a friend of mine. (Save people I dislike.) I doubt this fine cocktail is available here, but I will soon start scouting the bars for it. Definitivelly will go trying to score some cucumber syrup, or try and make it myself, and then try with the cocktail at home. I already have all the other ingredients! Besides, it's a green cocktail, and everything green I love... except people I hate and a certain neoliberal political party of Costa Rica, which I resent for using my favorite color as their signature color.

So, at the end, it happened that this electric cucumber do was something designed to give ya pleasure.

Now, slowly I gara go, since I have a lunch appointment and then a large task to tackle. Pfuj, I'm so good!

Help Outside, Ignore Inside

The key words for this might be: indifference, lack of priorities, lack of interest in what matters, wish to "make believe". Truth is, this is not a new phenomenon. I'm talking about the case of black people in the US who have AIDS and yet receive less aid than people abroad. It's not really making headlines in the newspapers, though it will work as excellent racist matter for white parents who wish to keep their white kids from "fraternizing" with those "infected monkeys". Oh yeah, racism is still heavy in some of the most developed parts of the world. In the brink of an election where there is a candidate who's said to be black, and really, I would have never known if someone doesn't tell me, and even so, I don't see him black (then again, I don't think Beyoncé or Halle Berry are black...), there are harsh differences made between citizens based on flimsy matters such as skin color.

In an article about the efforts made by the US Government to aid in the fight against AIDS, the reporter mentions that there are more black people in the US with AIDS than in some of the "target nations" the Government is helping. Why is the Goverment spending $19 billion in these people and let their own black citizens struggle? The article says that if they were a separated nation, the US would surely help them, and that the percentage of adults with this virus comes close to that of Uganda. Dude, that sounds bad. Why, oh why is it so? The American black population is at risk with this virus due to the fact that many black men have several sexual partners, and so the percentage of people infected among them is higher. Okay, first of all, why talk about "Black America" and "America"? Let's start with the unavoidable FACT that AMERICA is not a country, but a continent, mainly LATIN, so you are screwed. Then the U.S. is the U.S., same and only to all its citizens. It is, at the same time, rather interesting that different politics have to be issued for different groups of citizens based on the skin color. Does it means that in the US there's a "white law" and a "black law"? Or is it that you are to help the black in detriment of the white? Or the white in detriment of the black? Segregate straights from gays, Republicans from Democrats as if they were not the same? The Government should be one and only for the entire population, helping the poor and establiching the conditions for dignified living for all citizens.

For me, the schism between citizens and the aid they get separated from skin color is just another veil upon a larger fact: the people who elect the Government, and finance it with taxes, is the first neglected. It's not a matter of black or white, but a matter that good American taxes, paid with the working effort of American citizens and residents is shipped abroad to fund wars that give little to non to negative benefits for the taxpayers, and now, on top of that, after education is crumbling into abismal medicrity and there's no "health" or "care" in the taxing American Healthcare, a good chunk of that tax money is spent in other countries, to help people that did not elected the Government and didn't pay the taxes that fund that aid. All Christian values fade here. Hell, one thing is to be a rich country aidng with its excess to poorer countries, but the US has long since been a real "rich country". Wealth is concentrated in a few hands and the large portion of the population is slipping into poverty rather fast. Arrange your home first and then help others later. Stop with this campaign to get the favor of other nations, pretending to be the Big Rescuer and for once, rescue your own people.

Fwd: FW: Getting to know you

A little something because I have nothing better to do or to post... so far.

Welcome to the new 2008 edition of getting to know your friends! Here is
what you are supposed to do, and try not to be lame and spoil the fun.
Change all the answers so that they apply to you.



Then send this to a bunch of people you know, INCLUDING the person who
sent it to you. Some of you may get this several times; that means you
have lots of friends.



The easiest way to do it is to hit 'forward' so you can change the
answers. Have fun and be truthful!



1. What is your occupation right now?
Economist

2. What colour are your socks right now?
They are stripped. Several shades of green and white. Kinda cool.

3. What are you listening to right now?
"Szállhatsz a dallal" by Nox. (duh...)

4. What was the last thing that you ate?
a cup of apple& cinnamont oatmeal and a pear. half of which I had to throw away because it was rock hard. But I'm intending to go on with my Good Morning coffeeland mug o' coffee, some pecans and a Reese's peanut butter cup.

5. Can you drive a stick shift?
Sure dude. What's a stick shift?

6. Last person you spoke to on the phone?
How the hell would I know?

7. Do you like the person who sent this to you?
Who sent it again? Oh yeah. Yeap, I like 'er.

8. How old are you today?
Well... fuck.... like... 417 moons, give or take, but I could be wrong...

9. What is your favorite sport to watch?
Waterpolo and Rugby!

10. What is your favorite drink?
Coke, particularly the cherry-coke

11. Have you ever dyed your hair?
Like everybody else.

12. Favorite food?
This question reminds me so much of a very hot French Flight Attendant and a conversation that ended up ever so good..... ^//////^

13. What is the last movie you watched?
I dunno. I wasn't paying attention.

14. Favorite day of the year?
Well, there's a fix day, which is my birthday, and then there's the day I arrive at Hungary. I LOVE that day!

15. How do you vent anger?
I have several methonds that range from writing in my blog, in my journal, calling a friend and telling him or her, or I go to the motherfucker pissing me off and tell him or her what should they do to contribute more to society. Now, this is the good part, because if I don't vent and look all calm and gathered, it's because I have cooked up a very nasty revenge plan.

16. What was your favorite toy as a child?
Dolls and my journal

17. What is your favorite season?
Fall

18. Cherries or Blueberries?
Cherries. But the real ones, you mind.

19. Do you want your friends to e-mail you back?
Absolutely no! do you think I have time to read all those answers? Like I have nothing better to do? Do you know how many of these are on Internet? and for what? Will you uncover the deep-dark secrets of people? P-Lease! for instance: "cherries or blueberries"? What does that tell you or someone? Fucking nothing! And what 's the purpose of this question? "duh, duh, I would like my friends to reply me back". Geez man, the bonkers-question. Nah, me filling this for my friend Sandy and sending it around for those of my friends who would like a lil' bit of a laugh and some spare time. If they wanna answer, they do. If they don't, they don't. I don't measure the love of my friends by the mails they send me. I don't measure love, I live it and enjoy it, as everybody should.

20. Who is the most likely to respond?
You mean after that last answer????

21. Who is least likely to respond?
Like you mean, after the last answer???

22. Living arrangements?
Oh, no, I do not arrange anything. There's people paid to do that.

23. When was the last time you cried?
Well, I guess it was last month. Nervous breakdown. Nothing some benzos can't cure, you mind.

24. What is on the floor of your closet?
My latest victim. He might be still alive. I mean, I have not yet removed the vital organs, and this morning he still had a pulse. I did remove all funny things like eyes, tongue, some hair, his left index finger because it's really pretty and so I took it to a close by jeweler to have it curled up around a black pearl and plated in silver. I've been thinking about removing his pinkies to have matching earrings, because, really, it's to beautiful!- What the hell would I know!? All that stuff that doesn't float in the air and has no hangers to hang or have no space on the shelves.

25. Who is the friend you have had the longest that you are sending to?
... say again?

26. What did you do Last night?
I was reading Henry Miller's "Tropic of Cancer" and mulling about why there was no Supernatural on TV. Every two seconds there's an episode of the L Word or The Sara Connor Chronicles, or something I'm not interested in the least, but do I see "Supernatural"? NOOOOOOOOOOO! It's so unfair. Everybody at Warner Channel should be fired.

27. What inspires you?
Supernatural, particularly Jensen Ackles (Dean). Then again also---- never mind.

28. What are you most afraid of?
Neoliberals taking over the country and selling our national assets to private hands, profitting of our patrimony and destroying us as a country. Oh wait, that already happened.

29. Plain, cheese or spicy hamburgers?
A veggie Subway with bacon and LOADS of olives and avocado.

30. Favorite dog breed?
I don't like dogs.

31. Favorite cat breed?
Mine.

32. Favorite day of the week?
Holiday.

33. How many countries have you lived in?
2

Introduction by a Snob, Ignorant Sycophant

You may think anyway you want, and I'm sure you do, but there has been no worse decision made by an editorial house than to let Mr. Karl Shapiro write the introduction of Henry Miller's «Tropic of Cancer». Through Anais Nin's diaries, I have come acquinted with Henry Miller and his rather interesting, "naturalist" approach to life. I wouldn't say that then I loved him and I thought all his words were made of gold, but I stared at him and watched him from a safe distance, as through Anais' sometimes affected, sometimes shaded, sometimes rebelious and open words reflected this hard eyed, German descendant, who would barely write but devoted a great deal of his time to take tons of notes taht would rest in heaps all around him, would be irresponsible with money, speding in whores as if they were a basic necessity of importance only surpassed by breathing, whines about his relationship to June and then simply stares and let people do his life. From love to hate to disappointment, to soft love and a fading sense of friendship soon replaced by other characters, you get to know a given Henry Miller that raises yous curiosity. So you wonder:

"Okay, who the hell must he be?"

Anais' diary is, after all, a diary plagued with the most subjective observations of the world, and after all, what is a diary or a journal but the very concentration and intensification of the subjective view of an individual? Perhaps the question of the diaries, or journals always tends to divert me towards this story I was writing a while ago, a fanfic, a Snockhart that broke the boundaries of NC-17, truth to be told, and where there's mention of three journals kept by a character, three that were kept with different purposes, but weren't even those subjective? So, from Anais' words to Miller's, I thought it was about time I found out the Miller in Miller, so I checked upon two of his books, which I ended buying. The question was indeed fascinating, as you have been watching him from Anais' eyes and you imagine vividly a true procrastinator, who gives so much to a way of organization, the building of a work environment that applies to his European roots, so fond of orderliness and structure, which he yet can't comply with as he's immersed in his Americanism, prone to temper tantrums, and chaos and lack of discipline by claiming "freedom" and the destruction of structures that "enslave the human" and so on, and with which the final result is the nothing: a lot of blah and no result.

But so he wrote a book, pushed and pulled by two women: Anais and June, though... was it so? Did June's endless lies did feed the story so he would write it, and did Anais' motherly persistence allowed him to finally materialize the book. Was it so? Was Anais' hand in the letters, guiding him to put together a decent book and not only a pile of notes? It was time to turn to Miller and see what does he has to say for himself in the book that was supposed to be the portrait of June, a counterpart of «House of Incest», where June was protrayed through the eyes of her female lover. Orderly, as I try to be, I started on the first page of the book, Miller's book, and read my way through the Introduction. >_< Pfwaaaaaaaaaa!!!! You do better skipping it! Put together by Karl Shapiro, the words of an ignorant sycophant rain over you profuse of lists of authors and books and turns and turns around flourish that say nothing, anchoring in profuse quotations of the author himself, is a clear attempt to imitate Miller. Disgusting.

Why do we need to know the list of books Miller or Shapiro have read or the artists that lived or accounted Miller among his friends, or have snippets of Miller's passion for the phenomenon of Rimbauld and then ADD the list of poets and artists that lived in the time of Rimbauld? I stare in the book into the words of an ignorant, no better than the people who surround me on daily basis, who pretend to know by puking long threads of memorized snippets of great names with big words and self-important attitudes. Through thirty-too-many pages this ass-sucking dickwad vomits gouts after gouts of showy phrases that hardly connect to a point, but try unsuccessfully to encompass Miller, his work and present his love for Rimbauld's work and life as an "amazing parallelism" that do not exist if not in Miller's aspirations and half intended desire to imitate. Yep, I see Miller giving up women to fuck men in the ass and pretend an adolescence way up in his 30's and sit down to write poetry. Admiration is not reincarnation.

Shapiro misses all the signs and in the swirl of it, he misses also Miller and his work, spinning words and attempts to show his own "intellectuality" failing so miserably that ends up giving the book a sour, regurritating taste of bile. Anai's prologue smothers it somehow with delicated words and soft praise of her friend, with a shy apologetic smile on her lips, lowering her head and seeking to fit him in the frame of her dream world, imagining the crowd composed by an endless number of clones of herself that would not understand raw words if there's not a prior love for the writer. She might be looking back at her diary and guiltily thinking: "I wrote it was ugly... I tried to make it right, but the truth in me is that I hate it because it is so unaesthetical."

I'm amused. I snort carelessly, frown and face him:

"C'mon dude. Do your worse."

New Addiction: Supernatural. New Slash: Supernatural

Time and again, I guess I can't escape it. I started reading slash of Supernatural. Well, what can I say? It certainly pushes my buttons since it invariably includes my fave kinks. ^_~ Then again, just look at them! Ain't them the hottest thing since warm, spicy wine in winter? Sam and Dean Winchester. They hardly get any hoter or any better, and the story!!! Oh my, oh my, oh my! That story, those scenes are to DIE for! They scream loud for hard slash to be written! So.... will I write Supernatural? Nah.... I'm taking a Sabatic period from that kind of stuff... with the eventual exception of the Krumggory, that needs to be taken care of by someone, and that someone do seems to be me. I don't know much of them yet, but I'm willing to go deep into research and know all of their lives and miracles, pulls, stunts and stories.

This weekend, then, I was blessed by Warner Channel with a lovely 6 hour marathon of Supernatural. What a blast!!! Of course, 6 hours are only 6 episodes, and I would have loved at least 48 straight hours of Supernatural!!! Would that be too much to ask? So, after the "micro-marathon" finished, I turned Omi on, scribbled some entry (it's in the other blog, so don't bother unless you speak Hungarian) and then went searching for slashy Supernatural. So far I had read only one fic, and it was before I knew who was Sam (the one with the long hair) and who was Dean (the blond). Now, I knew them better, so I was able to enjoy story after story of "Wincest", as the genre is known. I know, I know, many out there do not like this and find it particularly nasty, knowing that Sam and Dean are brothers, but:

1. Get real, it's just a story.
2. They are both totally hot, so why not?
3. Mind your own business.

So, now I'm off to read more fics.

Turn and Turn

So, I don't get Faux-V, BUT I just have a drinking date with a friend from the University, with whom there's a "feeling" going on. ^_^ Life goes and goes and turns around and tells us:  "It wasn't the best and this isn't the best, but wasn't the whole point to get a bit of fun?" Kids, please remember: "Do not get a fuss over the tool, but keep in mind your GOAL."

Oh... and I just got Faux-V's mobile phone number.

Mwa-hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha...

I'm So Efficient... I Just Ensured Myself a Boring Day

I complain if I have too much work (not true), and I complain when I have notthing to do (not true), who can understand me? (I can. Duh.) This is Day3 on the miraculous "Start the Day with Oatmeal and wash it down with sensational Good Morning Coffeeland", drink which I'd like to improve somehow, like with Bailey's or heated Red Bull or something just as crazy. Well, for your general information, this coffee-craze has been doing it's voodoo magic on me. Like I gonna stop? No fucking shit! (Wasn't I trying to cut back the swearing? Bah...) Really, not only is delicious, it's creeping up my mind and taking kontrrol off meselff... Mva-hahahahahaha--- ^_^ No, it's just really pushing me up, no coke needed. (Coke as in Coca-Cola!) Then again. I really would like to have a sip of Cherry-Coke. Damned, why do I have to live in a country where it's hard to get because every ignoran peasant populating it thinks it tastes like cockroach? It's CHERRY, you undereducated MORON! CHERRY! Not like you would know what a real cherry tastes like, for you believe cherries are those hyper-colored, ultra-sugared concoctions (Maraschino cherries, but I know you, ignoran peasant, don't know that either) that surely grow in trees already bottled up and swimming in juice. For real.

I'd love to add a lot of pictures for this entry, but given the fact that I have to post from my e-mail, that ain't gonna happen. Yes, the Websense is still fucking us up all. (And I keep swearing like a sailor. There's an interesting simbiosis in all this.) Anyway, I enclosed a picture of cherries, for general culture.

It's odd how I have tourned twice already to think about András, my former fiancé in the past two paragraphs. I know Livinsári (a denomination slowly washing into one entity, like Samenerick in "The Lord of the Flies") would be crazy about it soon deterring the topic to their obnoxious questions about: what was the first time like? Was it wonderful? Did you love him a lot? Did he loved you? Was it magical? Was he careful? Boy, these older teenies can be so annoying, but above all, so closed and embarrasingly corny. No wonder so many are going EMO or killing themselves these days... or both. The order is really irelevant. The order of the factors do not alter the product. ^_^ So, back to the ex, I was remembering, when I was typing away about people thinking that cherries come in bottles from the tree, that once I had a very interesting conversation with this "brilliant" sample of mankind. There's this thing, "túró", which I'll attempt to translate as "cottage cheese". Given the fact that in the land of no-cherries there's no túró either, my family had to learn to make it from milk. When I was in Hungary, once I made this... cheese from milk. When I was about to, Dear Ex stared at me and said:

"But cottage cheese isn't made from milk!"

... and cherries don't grow on trees in a state different that in the bottle. That particular "túró" scene has been an eternal joke for my family and me for already 12 years now. The cherry also reminded me of András. They had cherry trees at her folks' place. Man, those where great cherries.

But today's entry wasn't really about túró and cherries or coke or stupid people. It was about something else.

My right arm si hurting, and pain is sipping from my bicep to my elbow. Could it be for yesterday's work out? It's odd, but it feels different than when your muscles hurt for excercise. This hurt the way a muscle hurt when you have slept in a bad position. Hell. But then again, today's entry isn't about sore body parts, or this chick I almost captured with my phone camera yesterday at the gym while I was doing my abs, and she was on her aerobics class, and I certainly was in a position that would have given any of my straight guy friends and lesbian chick friends a raging hard-on. Nope, it is about yesterday and something I did, my job, and something I did not: Faux-Viktor.

After smaking up with my coffee, yesterday I set to work on the toughest part of the brief I gara do. Man, I was BORED of it! I hate it, hate it, hate it, as I so accurately put it in yesterday's entry, but with my coffee in me, I felt like rolling up my proverbial sleeves and get to the matter, work it and have it done. Now, I was supposed to leave this bit for tomorrow, but suddenly I found myself FINISHING the entire brief! I was astonished! Eyes wide staring at the brief, I couldn't believe I had done the toughest part (which usually takes me two days) and the last, easier part ALL in one day! OF course, a stack of CDs lended by Marie-Julie with romantic French music remained on my desk unheard because I was so concentrated on the brief I couldn't do anything else. And don't you think the brief was easy! Though I made a template, analysis can't be made only filling blanks, and so I had to go over it and explain engineering things from the statistical point of view, and jump to the ned to add to the conclusion the observations of the case, pastethe new tables of info into the Annex part and so. All in all, I finished it, to my utter astonishement. June is DONE! I was feeling all happy and wow, thinking I would have an easy day today... yeah right. The coffee was great, and I'm counting on its black magic today, because I just realized that I have nothing to do!!! Booooring!!! What am I supposed to do now? The Websense is still on, so I can't go freely roaming the net and looking for fun and stuff to amuse myself, such as commenting on my fave blog entries. For instance there's this guy (real pretty, from what I can see from his picture), who commented my last entry, Sprizouse, who has this very fun blog, which he believes hectic and boring, while it is not, and which reminds me some of my own rattlings. Then again he doesn't use "bad words" like I do. Imagine him like a "political" me free of swearing. Then there's Dragonfly, who comes up with better and better entries every day and YET AGAIN I can't comment on her stuff because this fucking shit ain't letting me. Oh, I can comment on Boeg's entries, though the biggie there is that my dear and beloved friend, whom I love and adore like crazy (oh, you can smell trouble coming, right?) hasn't been posting NOTHING since APRIL! I mean, COME ON DUDE!!!! Throw us something! Okay, okay, he did threw me a bone through the Facebook. Yeah, the same fucking Facebook I can't fucking reach thanks to the fucking Websense. (Oh yeah, I'm doing so good cutting back with the swearing!) So... then what?

Well, I could start the Excel part of July's brief. I certainly have already three weekly reports on line I could start getting into the grids...

ehhhh... like I said, it's so boring that I have NOTHING to do.

Well, ACTUALLY my "working -ant" side got the best of me and I WILL start the excel sheet for July. Damned, why do I seek so much work when everybody around me seeks for ways to get the less possible? There are people who actually specialize in sneaking other people's work and present it as theirs. I get horrified each and every time these human work leeches open their ignorant mouths and throw carelessly around bits of information chewed around by others, not knowing whether the info is pertinent or not. Newbies usually get lost thinking that this is all such a higher and complicated shit and that they don't understand because they don't know "the ropes", but after five years in the biz I can tell you that not getting it means you are SMART because all they say is nonesense, ilogical bullshit. I'd gladly give examples but I can't, however, trust me... it's soooooooo stupid, and sometimes even kafkan. Remember "The Process"? You know, where this dude is acused and sentenced but no one ever told him why as he being judged? Well, imagine asking for strategies and way to work together with other areas, seeking expert consultants and not once defining clearly what's "the matter". Put a pla plan and have no goal, seeking to unify without a unifying objective, without something towards which to tend. Now you feel my pain. (And my arm still hurts. Could I have pulled a muscle yesterday?)

The other topic then, is what I didn't got: Faux- Viktor. Hyne, this has me so pissed off! Worse is that I would like to know why I let it affect me so bad, when I had made up my mind that this was a futile pursue with which I wouldn't not waste my time. I mean, the guy doesn't really hits the measure with me, and his attitude really pissed me off. But then again... well, yesterday we had a sort of chat through the IM, and then, when I went to the North building, I was thinking "Maybe I could see him", and I did! But he didn't see me because he was otherwise busy talking on the phone. His face ain't the prettiest vision in the world, and really, he doesn't look like Stan Ianevsky, has dark eyes, is shorter than me, shy... and fuck, as I saw him go by, slim in his nice jeans, shirt tucked in showcasing his narrow hips and slender waist, the cute swell of his ass, his long legs... shit, I'm made of flesh! I tried to call him to tease him because he had to go out of the parking lot for his car (if he was on car), but guess what? His number was no longer his number!!! That little vermin! Lust and anger mixed inside of me dangerously, and suddenly I couldn't stop thinking about him. Naturally, it ended up with me doing today a small follow-up, though I still don't have his new cell number. Well, it seems he took today as vacations, so he's procuring himself a four-day weekend, and all while I'm fuming, frowning my nose and thinking: "Stupid little clit-teaser. How dare he not throw his worthless self at my feet?"

Yesterday, I was more.... "Werther" about the whole situation. Today I'm more... "Miller". And all in all Faux-V don't leave my mind. What does he has or what strange property to I give him that keeps me like this? I should write a story around him, the character I see in him and so exorcise his imprint out of my system.

I Fucking Love Mocha!

Good Morning Sunshine! ^_^ Can you see my big, big smile? I have a workload ahead, one of the longest, hardest, toughest and on top of all, most boring parts of the monthly brief, but DO-I-CARE? Noooo! I'm HAPPY!!! And you know something? Coffee mix while still good (when it's still best before) is SO MUCH BETTER!! For once, you don't have to lend a tractor to get the mix out of the can. That's a big plus, specially if you rather not have your desk covered in "Swiss Mocha" or "French Coffee mix". Trust me, it can be most inconvenient. shit, my fucking chair is so uncomfortable.... I would really, really press for a new chair, anatomical, ergonomical and the whole deal, up and down and moving all around once I get my hand on the "Process Budget"! Yeah, baby!

I was e-mail-talking to a friend of mine from Malasia through the Facebook, and he mentioned he reads me every now and then. Talking a bit more, he tactfully told me he kind of finds my writing "colorful", which later settled for "raw vulgarity". No shit! O_O So I'm... vulgar? *thinks a bit on the matter* Well, I would rather go for "raw" or even visceral. My emotions lead me, truth to be told. This takes me to Sandra, with whom I was having a meaningful conversation about the emotional relationships. Emotions. What are they and what do we mean by them? The world seems to constantly place them in a box that can be opened only at the right moment and withing a socially bonded relationship cemented through sex and the uncomfortable ties of imposed commitments and promises to behave like "respectable" cells that would add more "human cubs" to the expanding, represive social fabric.

"Vulgar". Vulgar I define more as a sickening tendency to lower, muddle, degrade something perfectly fine through a given mix of lower, mocking, debasing words and lewd, mocking, unrefined tones. What sets the difference between "honest" and "vulgar". Cyn usually tells me that I'm too raw and I have no talent and no tact whatsoever to held a polite, diplomatic conversation, and that all my mailing should be supervised. I simply think I'm honest and I refuse to kiss ass and save all negative comments to myself, pretending the world is a fine, perfect, well working place. No shit, it is not.

I hold my mug o' Good Morning Coffeeland coffee and I inhale the rich scent of perfect beans nurtured by our gentle sun, strengtened by our blessed land and toasted by the soft, ancient wisdom of the people. It reaches, me fills me while MIDIval PunditZ floods the room with Mercury. Relax me, Revive me.... Shimmy Gin, my friend, you have given me a GREAT GIFT!

Perceptions, perceptions, perceptions.... The world is full of them, and while some think me playing with the raw vulgarity, unleashed in harsh, unpolished outspokenness, funnily caught in the krrrrrazzzy coffeerush, I smell my coffee and enjoy another day full of energy and joy.

The Answer

Remember the question about the substitutes from yesterday? Well, I have found the closer substitute to my Precious Coke, which also helps me keep it from the maintenance and cleaning crew, by not being prepared, but needing preparation. I have rediscovered an ancient secret of the gods: fucking strong coffee. I dunno if I can manage to send a picture thought the mail, this fucking shit sure gets to my nerves, but the thing is, this ain't thge first time I have leaned on the "power of the golden bean" to ensure my survival. Of course, the last time I did it, I wasn't a fucking asthmatic, and so I could combine it with my delicious, long and satisfying smokes. Fuck, you have no idea the ultimate experience a smoke can give to your life. Second hand smokers: stop bitching you hos! Light it up and suck it! Oh, the wonderful good ol' days when Skylar n I had nothing but capuccinos and smokes for lunch, and the rest of the time was reserved for good, intelligent, outstretched talking or upscale shopping. Life was gooooood, wasn't it, My Friend?

Anyway, I needed my boost, and since I'm still keeping my oat meal everyday, I thought: "Fuck, I can get a bit 'unhealthy', for Fuck's sake! Ain't no gonna kill me to take some real nourishment into mah systemizzle." So I went, brew a cup of gourmet coffee in my French press until it became ink dark, mixed it with Vienna Coffee mix (which was best before June 11th, but oh well... I threw out the rest, so now it's only Mocha until September) ---- yes, the one you are supposed to mix in water or milk, not in coffee because it already has coffee ---- and I'm sipping it. Yummy, I may say, it's fucking good! The picture I've added contains the way I used to prepare the "Good Morning Coffeeland" cup. Today I do the same but do not add the sugar. The mix has enough already. Plus, I'm trying to be healthy, right? So fuck the sugga and just gimme tha brew... with the mix to tone down the "evil" and the "unhealthy" of a cup of caffeine charged ink. N ya know sum-sum? Me already feeling like pumping bitch! (And me hood-complex is all up and going krrrazzzy! Hey yo, dawg! Dis is anotha dogg-house productionizzle! And me no clap back, bitch nigga.)

How much coffee is too much coffee? There's not too much coffee. A dude from Hungary, sweet dude, quotes Süsü and all, but a bit too fucking homophobe and ignorant for my liking, sent me a list of "symptoms" to tell when coffee becomes too much coffee. They are in Hungarian... duh, but some of them are:

1. You run 200 miles before you realize your running threadmill is off.
2. You help your dog chase his tail.
3. There's a picture of a mug of coffee on your mug.
4. The only moment when you can be still in one place is during earthquakes.
5. You know you can easily resist four heart arrests a day.

The rest I forgot. I laughed my head off with them until I realized... fuck...that's me! (One of my favorite mugs say "mocha" all over.) No fucking shit. Then again, and frame this because this might be one of the very rare times I go on claiming my Costa Rican roots, but as a COSTA RICAN, native of the lad that produces the BEST COFFEE in the UNIVERSE, from reach mountains and plains of perfect weather, excellent and rich, fertile soil, made of the very bossom of Gaia, Hera, Juno, Freya and every representative of Mother Earth, the land God has selected to grow the ultimate coffeebeans, well... from the heart of coffee perfection, and all of you out there bow to our supreme perfection, I was BOUND to love and enjoy coffee and drink it as it is supposed to be drank: with gusto! Now go framing that, because I usually pull towards my Hungarian roots so strong it is easy to over see the actual reason of my darker complexion. Yep, I'm a Hungarian woman all coffee, all Sun and all Pacific Ocean and Caribbean Sea. Yes, I know: I'm perfect. I was made this way. ^_~ As a matter of fact, I could say that Brother and I were not merely "made" or "created". We were "designed" and "engineered" to supreme human perfection... but I do not wish to throw in your face your own inadequacies... ^_^ (Yes, I'm so full of myself, but what can I say? I must keep up my 108 Narcissism, which I hope to elevate to the full 115 for my next test.)

Fuck, no shit, but coffee is making me feel so fucking good! I'm about to stand up and sing "La Marseillaise" with Edith Piaf, or hop on the desk and dance "This Boots are made for Walking". Weeeeeeeee-heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

11:07. Shouldn't I be working? Yes, I should. Bah, nothing another cup of coffee can't fix!

11:09. Okay, okay.... I'll go work... and read "What Starts Bad Ends Bad: Second Fact"! I'm really, really amazed at the things I'm capable of writing. No, really... I have a very twisted mind when it comes to torture... I really hope I'll never become an adviser in torture matters.

Oh, one last comment. Regarding the oat meal, watch it when you eat it because it really gets to your stomach, and keeps you going to the bathroom, but oddly, it does have quite fast and visible results. I'll keep you posted but so far, this the Day 3 of the "Quaker Dare" - regime: one oat meal meal a day, and... today I'm feeling and looking "thinner". People has noticed it and all, but I notice it mainly in my belly going flatter. It is cleansing my system of "stuff", "toxines" and all those "bad and unhealthy things"? Oatmeal is all fiber, after all... Fuck, but what have I eaten that is not "bad and unhealthy"? O_O I'm made of sin-food and... well, "cum" is natural, though animal origine protein product... ^_^ Bah, that's sin-food too. Maybe I should stop the oatmeal before it eliminates me entirely! I am not made for the healthy and good food and lifestyle. Healthy is bad, but pleasure.... oh fucking boy, I'm all PLEASURE! (And profuse swearing... which keeps my dear friend Sandra from being able to access my Facebook profile and probably this blog too from her office for ... "obscenity"....)

Substitutes

Due to a series of reasons I will not go detailing in here, I've been changing a bit my eating habits. Bad idea. So I was lying off coke, fast food, most sweets, snacks in favor of water, tea and vegetables, as well as oat meal. Like it has been proved, it's killing me. I don't have that much energy, my stomach is upset and I'm less focused. Well, I can't blame my stomach, he really has the right to complain for not being given his daily share of coke. However, I'm trying to keep this "experiment" a tad more (at least until after the maintenance crew leaves my turf and I can secure my space against aliens who would come for my Precious Liquid), so I have been thinking on ways to keep my system up to my usual leven and away from this endless need to take a long nap. It has to be something natural, healthy and inexpensive (my physical health is usually bound to my financial health).

1. Ginseng teas don't work
2. Water doesn't work
3. Healthy snacks don't work.
4. Sitting on the floor and working on the floor doesn't work. (Just don't ask...)
5. Walking a little around doesn't work
6. Distracting myself with ... O/////O .... I can't believe I wrote all that... doesn't work
7. Hot cocoa. Hmmm... this seems to work... somehow. (Fuck it, it has milk and the cocoa grows on trees, so it is healthy!)

Oh, I can see you are puzzled, my child. What on EARTH could make me swear off coke? I mean, not even the harshest poverty could keep me from my bottle, right? You are right. I might rather WALK to the office than miss my coke. Then what on Earth...? Well, first I just want to state whether I'm really addicted to it, which I am, but I chose this particular moment because there have been a quite constant series of minor steals at the office. Not stuff like money or equipment... so far, but someone is praying on other people's food. I eliminated my candies and am slowly reducing my vast food inventory to whatever dry thing that would need to be mixed and worked on, to avoid the little rat from profiting from it. People have been left without lunch, desserts have been eaten, breakfasts, mugs used... This is one of the top levels of the company, and really, someone is acting like a common burglar. So, will I leave my Precious alone and unprotected? No Way? Why don't I purchase cans? I've been thinking about it, but I would need to make space where I can safely store them away. I must find the way to keep them save where no one would reach them, and hiding them is not a solution. They have to be locked down. So, can't count on my faithful 2,5 l bottle... which lasted me usually a day.

Have I mentioned anyone how utterly bored I am with this fucking brief? Usually I love it, but I am getting sick of it. Perhaps because I feel it was escaped my hands and I can't turn it into something decent. This is not going the way it should. It is not turning into something to which I could add value, real value, and I can't understand why the only person able to give it the value it can have (well, theoretically able) is not doing a thing to improve it. I'm fucking tired of thinking for the crowd. Really. I don't mean to be mean or anything, but why do I feel like I'm the only one pulling this cart forward? Why am I the only one who can see we are not moving nowhere, the only one pointiong at the root of the problems and the only one able to put a finger on what's missing. Lack of coke, too much coke, lack of coffee, too much coffee, call it whatever you wish to call it, truth is one: I am not crazy. I am not disentangled from reality. I am not fooled either by titles and big speeches: this is REALLY not working, and I have six months of work to prove it.

On other news, I've been having fun with my latest blog. Yes, yet another one. But this one is different! Every time I think of something riduculous or mildly funny, or Woody Allen-ish, I write it down there in a few lines. It's in Hungarian, since the server or whatever is Hungarian, plus I just love my native tongue. It's in the same place where Márton has his... in which he hasn't written since APRIL! Really, even I'm picking up with the GSM Network report, and Márton has access to wireless Internet in the train, so why oh why he doesn't drop a line or two for his readers?

Hey, hot cocoa works. It's not like coke because it doesn't have the cool bubbling that seeps up your nose and tickles you into an outworldly sensation that can take you in a gout into a muted rave party where sound disappears from around and only the carbonated popping sets the rhythm of movement. prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrp! a mild expotion that travels up and loads your body and mind with wordless shouts making instant-blossom life and ideas inside you... and while the popping of the drink lives, you are the king, and you mind is open and all great ideas flow in abdn remain silent and expectant while you savor the ultimate joy of a gout of good coke.

Family - Rebound

I was reading my friend Katty's blog, "Dragonfly" (such a cool name!!) and I found this very interesting article about "Families". For a few seconds there I thought in posting this entry in Spanish, in clear answer to my friend, but Spanish is an alien language for me, even though it is my second mother tongue or maybe my "father tongue" if such exists.  Ironically, it's the language I speak and write the best, but I'm working hard to make my real mother tongue superior. Anyway, set aside from my linguistic preferences, I decided to respect the general line of this blog and keep it in English.  Now, I should be brutaly honest and admit that I do not understand the actual context of the entry since I have no idea what's going on in Ecuador and what's this thing about the "types of families".  The last time I heard about "types of families" was in the Alliance Française when we were made learn about the types of families that exist in France. Composed, monoparental, traditional... yadda-yadda-yadda... Honestly, I have no idea why the Government has to get tangled into what kinds of families are out there, unless they are going to give them some kind of support, or help them somehow without giving place to prejudices and unfair treatment.

As I read my friend's entry, I realized there were people defending the monoparental families, the families composed by grandparents and grandchildren, aunts and uncles and nieces/nephews and so on, but some other important families were left behind. I'll start with my "bagde" case, the homosexual families. If a woman alone can raise a kid, or a man alone can raise a kid, why can't two men or two women? I myself had doubts, and I feared that kids that did not have both roles female and male in their family life would grow up alienated by the not represented role, but that would go not only to the gay parents, but also to the single parents as well. It is my personal doubt, my unfundamented believe, but does someone had actually made a study on the case? An objective, scientific study of the case? Not to my knowledge. So who am I to judge them? Who si anyone to do so? How many straight parents, married straight, church going parents produce the most fucked up kids? Lets not go too far: remember the case of thge Internet Hoax? There where a girl, Megan Meier killed herself because she thought that this guy, Josh hated her, and so a big chunk of the MySpace cyberverse? There you go: one mom, one dad and one fucking fuxked up girl who commited suicide, based basically on really, really low sef-esteem. Shit, that chick's sel-esteem was so low, she took the Bottom-Esteem title from Daria! Recently a daddy, who has a wife (so there was a mommy and a daddy) left his six month child in the car all day and the baby died. Daddy forgot the baby. Oh, but I guess it was okay, because the kid was some "surplus kid" from Russia, so he was already excess baggage, right? But, wait, exactly the same happened also in France. Daddy went to work and kinda forgot to leave the baby at the Daycare and so the baby died in the car. This Daddy was married to the Mommy of the baby.

Straight couples can have a family and they "create" the family, regardless of how adequate they are for the task. Do you think that the right sexual orientation and a legal and religious paper declaring a bondig makes the family perfect? Is that all it takes to make a family? No wonder so many fucked up people is walking around.

But let's step down of the gay issues for five seconds. What about familes that are not tied by blood? What about when the kids are raised by their godparents? What about when the kids are raised by an older, adult friend? and why does the family has to be composed by "kids and grown ups" or people with generational differences? If, by some reason, I decided to go live with a friend of mine and we take care of each other, no romantic relationship in the mix straight or gay (my friend could be girl or boy), don't we make a family? And I don't have to live with them, as it is, just by caring for my friends, loving them, being attentive to their needs, always ready to help, knowing that they love me and will do what's in their power to aid me when I need help, doesn't that make us a family?

I will not give names, but how many families do we know where the friends are more family that the blood family?

If you ask me, there are two kinds of family: the blood family and the emotional family. They can be one and the same, or maybe the emotional family is bigger than the blood family, or the blood family bigger than the emotional one... whetever. I don't know what do you think, but I believe that the important one is the emotional family. (Though I still place a lot of weight on my blood family for personal reasons...)

Customer Service

I don't live in the U.S., so, in order to purchase stuff from Internet, I need a "smart address". There are some companies that offer this service, and among them Aeropost, a company in which I keep an account. They basically give you an address in the U.S., in this case in Miami, to which I send all my purchases, and from which they further ship the received packages. Very convenient. Last month, since I was getting a lot of packages, they offered to upgrade my account. My account was the "Basic" account, which meant that I paid $20 per year, and got the higher rates. The new account type was the "Golden Account", in which there was no yearly membership fee, but there was a fix monthly fee of $12, which was deductible from the packages I received, plus my rates were lower. Yes, $1 lower! Add to it, suddenly fees went up and they were charging (additional to the fee) shipping, fuel, insurance, taxes and customs! Question, what the fucking hell was I paying IN the fee? Lunch?

When I moved to the new account, the guy told me that I could move back anytime I wanted, but I had to do it before three months or I would be charged an "account modification" fee. After they free handedly slashed $60 from my account based on "automatic charging", I decided I didn't want the account anymore. The struggle started then. They said first that it was IMPOSSIBLE to undo the automatic charging because it was a condition of the account type. I said that then I did not want the account type. They said I couldn't change it until after three months. When I complained and said that wasn't what I was told, they started arguing that that was the only way it was possible to do it, blah blah, blah. Finally I've got to the guy who made the upgrade, and he nicely undid the undoable automatic charging. He told me that the account must remain for at least one month, which was done between yesterday and today, and after I could downgrade the account. OK.

I called today. Some BITCH went again saying that it was impossible to undo the account before three months and that it was a lie that I would be charged... whatever. I tld her, that was not what I was told, and she said I was lied to, because there was no way I could walk back from an upgrade before three months that that was a company policy.

- May I talk to this guy from Heredia who attended me back then and told me it was possible?
- No, I told you it is company policy.
- Well, his last name is "Angulo". May I get in contact with him?
- José Angulo. He's here in Escazú... hihihi

Yes, SARCASTIC laugher. The bitch.

- Well, since he's there, may I speak with him?

Why was I being so polite, you may ask? Because I was getting really angry. Screaming me means I'm angry. Polite me means I already have a very evil plan of action. She talked to him, and then suddenly was all serious and a bit concerned ("I may have fucked it up" voice) asking me for my name and my account number. Then she communicated me with the guy, and guess what? It seem it was possible to downgrade my account! Who would have thought that would be possible, right? Certainly not that fucking WHORE who should be forbidden from contact with human beings. Stupid whore.

You know, the problem with Customer Service is not as much the "customer" as the service. Call it "Customer Service", "Customer Care", "Customer Experience" or whatever other fucking shit. It's not a matter of fucking names, its a matter of fucking putting here fucking people that fucking care for the fucking clients and have the fucking disposition to be fucking nice to them. That fucking simple.

E-bay's win a win for customers

My first thought was "fuck, I really should improve my French, because that sounded so wicked". But then, after reading it a tiny bit more carefully, I realized that, no fucking shit, e-bay actually claims that winning this trial against Tiffany's for letting people use the name of the brand on fake jewelry, and not be punished IS a step up for the rights of the customer. Fuck yeah! We are entitled to be taken for fools and cheated with cheap knock-offs in the name of fucking capitalism. Fuck dude, this makes my day! There's a company on the Internet, where trust is vital like air and fragile and expensive like a beautiful Lalique glass pendand, that ensures our right to be sold a lemon, to be tricked, cheated, robbed, misguided and subjects of forgery and fraud. Really, how can I thank them? Oh, I know! I'll never buy from them!!! Geez, that would be awesome, don't you think? ^_^ It would be just great! And since they lost a similar case in France, where those "stick-up-noses" pretend to protect the customer by forcing the enterprise to punish knock off sellers and disclaim faux products,, yet in American soil they where given the right to let their customers be cheated, well... would I buy something pricey or of a good brand from any Internet company? Oh, you can sit and wait for that to happen! Adidas sportswear from Internet? Not in my life time. Out of the cart!!! Lovely Swarowsky glass pendant ring? Give-It-Back! Lalique pendant for Christmas? Hahahahahahahahaha!!! Yeah right.

One case won sets a precedent, which will be brought up over and over and over in each long case, and meanwhile Internet companies, which should be the first ones to ensure the up-most quality and the most precise information (since you can't actually see the product and properly inspect it before purchasing it), let the veil of doubt fall upon their merchandise. It is easy to shake off their responsabilities and say that "the customer should know better", or that it a provider is bad it will eventually disappear because people will notice how bad business is with him or her. Suuuuuuuure! And rumors do not affect the stock market because eventually brokers will realize it was a rumor and they won't listen to it again.

I would like to say that the world, and the market, is not like in the books, so please don't be as stupid as to think that the perfect competition can be made a reality. I know there are a lot of imbecilic people out there, many of them product of purchasing their degrees or grouping up with "the right people" to get a job or get the school projects done instead of studying of Hyne forbid, "working". I mean, yes, I am a 108 Narcissist, but I am not stupid, and all in all my results are perfectly normal (someone as smart and hot as me NORMALLY will turn out to be narcissistic. Or what? Do you EXPECT ME to consider myself equal to my peers and just as STUPID? HA!!). So, I know about morons and imbeciles. I work at the very core of their civilization. Yeah, lazy and ignorant people, like those who think that "maths" have no use, and "history" is a waste of time, or that the "literature and language" class is a bunch of useless crap, and so, are likely to think that "perfect competition" is duable. However, the ones pushing these ideas into people's mind, pretending to have the key to get there, are not necesarily imbeciles, but rather corrupted people who need a smoke screen to ste their crooked business. Open markets so they can have a share of a former public enterprise. Sell State assets so they can get a "bonus" for it. Sure, they are imbeciles but that's not the matter. Their imbecility is shadowed by the smashing magnitude of their corruption. At least in the past, in the Ancient and Medieval times, these corrupts in power claimed to have a Divine Right, but what do these claim to have? The aproval of the people? The people they are squeezing into poverty and death?

World, where are the daughters and sons that once stepped up in France, in America and around the world in revolution for their right to be human?

Astonished

Yesterday I worked hard on cleaning my closet of all unnecesary stuff, excess baggage, space consuming things... basically "clutter". After some rather unapropiate messages, so to speak, I have been wondering what else do I need to clean up. What are those things I'm keeping simply to avoid the hassle of getting rid of them? Attitudes, habits, contacts, friends. For once, I'm not one that would be caught dead with a buddylist shooting over 100 contacts! Hyne no! Become an "I say yes to everybody" kind of person? I love my hair long, and my list of friends short. Trimmed close to my heart, so I can keep a close account of them, watch them, care for them, and pluck them out of my very selective flock the moment they simply stop being my friends. Like flowers in a vase, you remove those which wither, and from time to time take new, fresh ones into it. My heart is a vase and my friends are the flowers in it.

Recently I've been pondering whether I should separate myself from one of my friends. There has been distance gaping among us, and thouth there have been a felt touch, I'm growing more and more intolerant towards his offensive and ordinary outbursts. In the past I sought to let him know I was upset through soft and discreet ways of speaking and behaving. Have always known he wanted me, but I believe he never noticed the forcefull pulling I did when he held my head close to his, almost as if to kiss me, and I nearly broke my neck in my attempt to free myself from his grasp. To his last remark, I decided not to let it go, but to tell him that I find his words not only out of place, but disgusting. His answer was dismissive, as if it were some minor glitch. I would have hated an intensive, dramatic apologize, but some thrown there "ok, ok" really doesn't help much. I'm sad, because I do loved him and I do adored talking to him. He told me he really needs to talk to me, but I dread this encounter. Will I be ready to tell him what's going on in a way he will be able to understand? Will he actually understand? Will he react in a mature way rather than shielding his unprepared, child psyche behind the masks of dismissive carelessness or overdramatized appologies? What am I looking for? What can't be dramatized. Sincerity, honesty, understanding, maturity. The connection present in the soft tones and the measured words.

Over and over I remember this thing I read in a cheap gay novel. Problems must be talked over. Ignoring them won't make them go away. It sounds stupid, but that's so hard to manage! How do you tell a friend that you really like to spend time with him as long as he avoids talking about sex or making sexual innuendoes because those things coming from him makes you sick? How do you tell him that you love him, and despite all the role-playing and all you two engage in sometimes just to fool strangers for fun, which really makes you happy, you are not attracted to him, and no matter how much he tries, he will never become attractive to you. It's not his body, it's some inner thing, his self what makes him so unnatractive.

I don't want anyone to change for me, and the world "commitment" and I are as incompatible fishes and WiMax technology. I won't take tacky comments and embarrasing, unpolite behavior from my friends, or anyone, and if those things are part of who they are, I believe it is best if we part ways. However, if it is so, I must believe then that the guy I liked and called my friend had never existed, because how could such a clever guy have such a rotten, immature side?

I'm holding this one flower in my hand, and I hope against hope that I won't have to throw it away.

--
« Every schilling you save puts a man out of Work for a Day. »
- John Maynard Keynes

How Must We Take This?

I'm really at loss. While I was cleaning my closet (and kissing good-bye so many old animé videos!!! ^_^) I put on one of my favorite channels, mainly to keep me distracted when teh work got too heavy or too much to cope at once (and you have no idea how many times that was!!! There was a point where not only I couldn't see the floor, but I wasn't sure about how could I get down of the stool I was standing on and put my foot safely on something without sliding and breaking my head open!). Oh this quite G rated channel, there were A FUCKING LOT of advertisements directed to Americans asking them to donate for different causes. All advertisements brought tears to your eyes. The poor African kids that had to sleep on plastic sheets, the mistreated animals that needed help to be rescued from abusive owners, the poor Polar bears were Mamma Bear and Baby Bear were about to die of hunger and so... and what do they requested from the viewers? Money. Send $X per month and help this or that. Two things struck me:

1. These advertisements seem to tell that Americans believe that money solve all problems, so they can literally "buy" piece of mind by giving money, but not involving themselves with the problem.

2. All these causes are directed to something "foreign" to their actual, human reality. Kids in Africa, polar bears, abused animals... but none of them were requesting help for the poor IN the U.S., the abused kids, the drugaddicts' rehab programs (charity programs and all those that should be ran by the Government), single mothers, orphans... because there are American orphans too, only they are not as fashionable as the Latin and the Asian orphans, or the tiny Russian babies you can let die in the backseat of your car. After all, when you get a little orphan, what's more cool, say that it comes from Alabama, or that it comes from Vietnam? Say it was born with the name "Katie" or the name "Soledad"?

Money is not the solution, not for this problem, and I can't believe how people can't suspected of getting ripped off with a thing like this. Do you really, really think they are going to help those kids? Those animals? When they are making such expensive advertisings? Yeah, right. Like the money from the Teleton's all go to the children's hospital to buy that cardiac-something machine they are using as an excuse for already ten years IN A ROW???

If you want to help, GET INVOLVED! There are things where muscle and will can do more than money.

Getting Annoyed

Okay. It's been two weeks now. Can we have our Internet access back? Who the fuck is fucking with us??

I've packed all the bunnies but Igor away. Still considering a few things here and there, and I believe I must pick up some other "overcharging" stuff. Unclutter, unclutter, unclutter... get rid of all surplusses and overly distracting details. Air, air and water. Ten thousand things are missing and ten thousan things as cluttering.

I have this feeling of being somewhat... "dead" towards certain things. Caroll too waay too long with her answer for a "Secret Admirer" game we had between hands and now I've lost my inspiration for it. The last letter (of four) I wrote it while in a tumultuous state of creative-mind, where everything was dark and bleak and death-soaked. (Too much Lermontov again?) Now I feel untouched and pretty much like composing a letter saying "Dear You, so I came to my senses and decided I rather go for someone much more amenable, but it was good while it lasted, right? Have a happy life." I guess there will be a time of waiting until I get my "muse-pour-le-jeux" back. I must confess though, that I'm a bit disappointed. I really, really hoped to have the shift and so I would pick the "admired" one.

Work is going, going, going... and I should be going back to it.

Outrage

Twice a day and I don't have access to the Blogger's ACTUAL editing and posting dashboard! Well, why, oh why amd I writing "so frott'n much" today? could it be because I'm just a tiny bit FUCKING PISSED!!!!! But why, oh why would that be? Well, because the U.S. has been repeatedly insulted MY dear Europe and the European Union of which I'm a proud citizen, but requesting certain data of us in order to grant us entrance with no Visa. But let me quote an article from today's Washington Post:

«The United States is negotiating deals with European countries to exchange fingerprint and DNA data in criminal and terrorist cases, and in some circumstances to transfer data on race or ethnic origin, political and religious beliefs, or sexual orientation.

Such agreements are a condition for granting citizens of newer European Union member states the right to enter the United States without visas, and for maintaining that right for older E.U. members. U.S. citizens already enjoy such a right when traveling to Europe.

Senior Bush administration officials said the data exchange is crucial for spotting dangerous people before they enter the United States and for furthering criminal and terrorist investigations.»

Go get fucked sideways. How can someone be dangerous merely by his or her political beliefs, religion, RACE, SEXUAL ORIENTATION or ethnic origin??? Perhaps they think all Skandinavians are barbaric Vikings that will go "Pathfinder" on them??? Oh yeah, gay people will go ... forming a new Holy Thebas Army? Our balck people will hunt them down and canibalize them? (No one would be that gross.) beware the entering of gypsies! They might place a HEX upon the country! Yeah, 100 years ruled by the most stupid Government ever concieved by the most stupid and twisted mind. I must quickly inform all my Lutheran friends that we are being considered terrorist. Yeah. God forbid we go again nailing our heretic thesis on the doors of Catholic churches. Who said that people must be able to understand the Mass, read the Bible and on top of that, that they are all forgiven of their sins by the Blood of Christ rather than the permission and absolution of the Church? That God's world is the Bible and not any other pamphlet written by popes and priests? Definitivelly, we are so dangerous, they should deny us entry to any country...

Bigot, control-freak Governments are the terrorists of the countries. Those who seek to know everything and use every bit of information they can steal and hack against people who excercise their rights and wish only to leave their lives, those who pretend to rule everybody's lives, rip the people from their rights, from their dignity, who judge them, label them, close them out on pity basis, disregard their HUMAN RIGHT to be different and live their difference are the true dangers.

You know what? All countries should team up and demand the U.S. citizens to get visas and make the process a motherfucking bitch, the same way they do it to us! All the whole wait-for-an-appointment and pay-€300-in-advance-non-refundable. That would teach them a lesson!

Quick Notes: Surreal Awakening. The World of Feelings Anais Pioneered. Hatred is All Consuming

The access to the editing and creating of entries is still blocked. Why must it be so?

I have not yet ordered my next volumes of Anais' journal, and I'm already missing reading her. « House of Incest » is beautiful. Someone talked about surrealism and The Clockwork Orange and 2001: Space Odissey of Stanley Kubrick were "too surrealist". I can't but pity him. What kind of poor sould, lacking of the skills for insight and meditation can't enjoy the lax embrace of surrealism? I have found that surrealism wraps around me, and that I can touch meanings embedded in the flowing, liquid words, where emotions, actual feeling and emotions and internal turmoils are finger- and brush painting upon pages with overflowing aquarelles that run over the lines of material definitions, make semantics escape the closeted, solid world of "things" and "facts of the matter" and become the giant array of meanings of the emotions. The warm ignorance of unknowing things, of learning them from books and words, but not by the rubbing on the flesh, the touch, the gust of air trapped midway in the throat, the flaring of nostrils and the widening of eyes. The dropping of eyelids and the tingling od the skin. The feelings that surpass fear, joy, apprehension, aversion, happiness, hate, excitement. Travel and travel into the dreams, past the meaning of Atlantis to the meaning of the water surrounding and engulfing the dreamstate where the turmoil swirls and reigns.

I feel understood.

I miss her.

Ma belle Anais.

Sunday I finished a journal book. I'm carrying a new one in my bag, which still bears no words. Not yet. My thoughts are growing and becoming ripe. I'm filled with so much deception, so much hurt and anger, and I do not wish to start a journal rattling about such things. It took me seven days to complete my reccount of such terrible happenings, and I cried every second for giving my dear journal's last, innocent pages to such wrath. It felt so bad, but I had to take it out of my chest. My words, like poison ivy, ran up the inner covers of the journal and stopped short from pasting additional pages to complete in full, hateful and painful detail the entire length of my deception. Like a Book of Judgment, a reminder for the next time I place my confidence on someone, the next time I allow someone to reivindicate past mistakes. There are flaws of character that shall never be forgotten nor forgiven, for they have no cure. Immaturity is one of them. Hyne, such hatred keeps eating up my heart, as my mind places a finger on that page of my life. There have been others who have poked my tolerance this week. Impertinent proding into my personal life, details that are not as starstruck as outsider, ignoring eyes would hope them to be. Sucking for inexisting words, for concepts and stories that would match twisted, sick, preconceived. misogynistic ideals of unnatural, primitive, deceiving, selfdenying romanticism. The anger again, the hatred. What do you think? How many times must I ask you to wake up and smell the coffee! The youngsters rush head first into their own deception. Old I am and I stand on my mountain, my rock after smacking my staff on their hard heads that would never listen the words they wish not to hear. Misplaced goals and grandeur. "Talk to us about life, Master". "Feed us with your experience on sex". I keep my tongue. Words are futile for those who wish not to understand them. Even silence falls on deaf ears.

I understand now why so many youngsters commit physical, intellectual or emotional suicide.

I look around me then. Yes, I could have been diagnosed as psychologically unhinged, but I am not dead. When I walk among men, I walk among walking deads, zombies by choice. The stench of their death, rotting upon their skins and minds chase me with the disgusting tones of imbecility, ignorance, irrationality, uncare, shamelessness, corruption, immaturity, unawareness. There was a mind in each of these heads that was widely awake once. I weep and mourn the death of so many ideas and believes. I mourn the death of human sincerity, the honesty towards oneself. I weep for the loss of touch with teh self, and in each corpse I mourn the mangificent, delicious person that could have been, from which I could have learned and which I would have loved so dearly. From close and from distance, I love violently those few still alive. My fingertips touch my lips and I mutter a prayer in deep gratitude for the glimpse of them I have gotten. Their live minds are the lanterns that light the dark waters of this unforseeable river of life. Lo there, they make it so beautiful. I love each of them, for they make life this beautiful river of floating lanterns and dragonfiles that draw upong the factual and material world a beautiful surreal universe of delight. From my high, lonely, snow capped mountain that baths in thescent of shy, fresh grass and tiny wild flowers, and the scent of nocturnal jasmine, I find tremendous joy in the beauty still alive and drawing such excitement on life. I pity those who let themselves be dragged by the darkness that miss the glimpse of such a breathtaking sight.

30.06.2008. 9+10.19.9+1.10.1+0.1. I have started my Year One. Numerology once taught to us by a professor at the Economics university. Meaning? A hard year. It is strange though how this year has started for me with enlightment. I wrote to Sandy how I felt rooted in light and filled. Sense of purpose, direction, balance, style... all have flowed to me. Rocky economical start, but that can be easilly arranged, right? Practice simplicity, wisdom, selfcontrol. Rationality. My closet is bursting with clothes. I don't need any more. There are books that gather dust, which I don't like and have no purpose taking precious space of my so scarce shelve-space. Seek to sell them to a used book bookstore. Shed, shed, shed. My year is starting, and it is time to clean out all I have no need for. Save the sweet memorabilia, but let go of the clutter, of the excess that drags you down. Let it all go and start fresh. Weekends of sorting and throwing away and giving away, selling and dumping and keeping are ahead. So much work... it is time to tune and align everything in my life with the new premises that rule my mind. Time to institute changes at the office as well. Let the bunnies go? It is certainly I possibility I've been considering. Seek a more green&glass approach. A flow between the soft decontracté and the elongating, curling, stylized art nouveau. There's a world of posibilities open and I'm eager to fill my mouth with them, dip my nose in them and have them sting my gums. Like a wolf biting into life, a cat eating the soft flesh of light.

Life is Magnificent.

-- « Every schilling you save puts a man out of Work for a Day. »
- John Maynard Keynes

Sadness

Has it ever happened to you? When you have this account you have not used for a long, long time, mainly because it's so unconvenient? Perhaps you have several other accounts with the same mailserver, and there's no way to integrate them because... there's no way. You can't open several users at the same time and to login and logout is so very, terribly, completely inconvenient you simply decide not to use that account again? But you have kept important e-mails, mails that talk to you and get to your heart in it. Well, one day you decide to go over to this account and all you find is a notification: You've been out for so long, they have taken the liberty of erasing all your e-mails. O_O How... could they? Memories, heartfelt words, whispers, small confesions of human feelings. "I cried on the plane for you". Gone forever.To never come back.Gone. Erased.

How can you save meaningful e-mails? How can you keep them from fading, from being ripped out of you? So far I have never found in these e-mail servers the way to save my e-mails to my harddrive, or pendrive... to keep them other than print them, for the printing of some of those words and some of those memories is all I have. So painful can this be. I told him I loved the ß. Why? I dunno. It looks so pretty. So he made me a huge ß made out of ßs, all in green. That mail is lost and gone forever. Thank You www.mail.com. I would have never suffered like this if it weren't for you.

Christian is definitively slowly fading away from my life. How terribly and painfully sad.

--

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Not Working Work Wires

Again from this not-so-smart solution. I'd like to know what the fuck do they think they are doing? I can see my blog, but I can't write in it. Add to it, I haven't figured out yet the way to be able to post this way to Hókisasszony, which really upsets me. Yesterday I made a post that was left hanging in the limbo because that's the way it goes, and then, when I added another post (yes, somtimes I write two posts) it put today's date on it. What the fucking hell? Does this crappy network thinks I'm in China? Talk about annoying! I can't either access my Facebook profile due to the jackasses of IT fucking with the blockings. Hey, that's what they do. I can't stop but wonder how empty, meaningless their lives must be. I mean, it's annoying, but I can always go home and check on stuff from there, so what's the point?

Anyway, I wasn't able to go and check my Facebook, answer all the lovely and dear greetings I've got from my friends and family, because I was getting sloshed. Someone gara do that too, you know? So I hope Roo, Ana Kuka, uncle Jón, Lova, Elizabeth, Danny, Ana Ericka, Michelle, Jácint and the rest can please, please forgive me for not answering sooner! Then, if you could all please help me kick this crappy network and the IT-s working with it, it would be groovie.

So what was it like yesterday? It was great, well save maybe by the rude way Mario behaved with Caroll. I know people have their way of joking, but I did find a lot of things he did offending. For instance, there's no way you can interprete giving the "finger" to someone as a joke when you are not very close to that other person. Ignoring someone is also rude. Disregarding someone, not having the minimal polite manners, such as opening the cab's door for the person you are close to, but run around to help someone else, it down right rude. I was not falttered, I was entirely ashamed! Cutting into other people's talking, force your voice upon someone else, is rude. You do that in a negotiation when people is being rude and they are not giving you your space, and even there is rude. You don't do so at a drinking table. You don't talk about "normal women being dirtier than whores" and then quickly add "no pun intended". That was offensive. Okay, where you are from and how long before you go back home? I certainly didn't need to hear that on my 32nd birthday, or ever, for that matter. I've been retired from animé for ages now, so going on and on about why some series is bad compared with another, non of which I know or care to know of, is rude. I mean, my boss bores me to death and back with his jabbering about cars, but at least I have some idea about cars, even if I can't tell a Mercedes from a Hyundai. Offending my friend by letting her know that you thought poorly of her, but that now you consider her smarter because she agreed with you on something (and I suspect it was mostly to get you to shut up), and then insist in this absolutely debasing attempt of a joke of make her kiss your hand.... Oh dear. I wanted to grab my friend, a cab and leave the hell out of there. I was trying to igure out what was happening, and at the same time was feeling so grateful to my poor and dear Caroll for keeping up in such a nice, dignified and leveled way. She smiled graciously and pretended it was all a joke, even I believe she was far more offended than I was.

It wasn't very pleasing either that he kept leering and making leering comments about a newly purchased outfit. Yes, I know I look good in Benetton. There's a reason I've chosen this lovely Italian brand (and make sure to wear ONLY Benetton, and not their other brand, Sisley, which I find so ultimately cheap-looking) to wear. It's nice, decent, clean cut and pretty much out of the top fashion tendencies that produce short lifespan designs. It doesn't need me to be toothpick thin or Eiffel-tall or inhumanly deformed to use it. The inspiration is always very European, which I appreciate enormously, and the fabrics are very comfortable. Soft and washable. I have my share of Benetton clothes, as everybody knows, and I'm happy with them. They look all good on me, flatter me greatly. So yes, I know how to pick my clothes, how to wear them and what to wear. This is, however, not an open invitation for seedy behavior, or furthermore, insist on it. I rather have a simple "you look good in that" than hours going on the matter "you disturb me", strongly hinting that you've might have gotten a boner for seeing me. There might be women in the world who like that kind of comment, but I am not one of those. I mean, I could take it from a guy I want to fuck, and I'm close to, but certainly not from a friend I don't find remotely arousing, in whom I've confided, I've trusted and I regard as a good friend which whom I share common interests.

I've many birthdays to come, but none again one like that. I love Mario and I adore Caroll, but I can't have them both at the same time. I'm still thinking about what to do now, how to proceed with things, but one thing is for certain: I've been forced to choose among them. I'm certainly not stopping talking with one fo them in favor of the other, but I'll never go out with the both of them together again. Thing is, I know I can go out with Caroll and other friends and have a good time and not to be absolutely humiliated. If I go out with Caroll AND Kate, then I better have someone else with me too, for the moment Kate gets caught in the unforeseeable webs of Mu and the rest of the Saint Seiya world. Don't get me wrong, I do love Kate like crazy, and I look forward to her birthday, but there only so much of Mu that you can hear, and sometimes her stories are so incoherent, or the way she tells them are so unstructured, it's like half the story is being told telepathically, and I don't have the Mind WiMax installed. But other than that, we are cool. We have gone out with Caroll and Roo, Lau, Skylar, Jules, so I'm confident with Caroll. We have gone out with lovely people like Gabs too, and we also have a great time just the two of us. With Mario, on the other hand I have a spelndid time when it's only the two of us, but when there's someone else he tends to behave in a disturbing way. Maybe once, when we went out with one of his Go friends, he was behaving within the range of normal, but other than that, he shows an extremely high unability to behave with other people. Need to be the clown? Race to win the prize of the most disturbing, immature person present? I don't know, and I certainly don't like it. I do want him in my birthday, but I do want Caroll too, and I might want other people too. Who knows? Maybe next year I'd like to have Pilar over to celebrate? No, no, rest assured, I'll never have Marie-Joséphine over for celebration, or Mari and the "gang", but I could want to celebrate with someone I haven't seen in ages like... Goyira for instance, or a cousin of mine, or a friend from school or... who knows what happens in 365 days. I might have some significant other of sorts (unlikely, but let's get along with it as an example), and I would really like to be celebrating in a fun, polite, grown-up environment. Unlike with other people, drama and fights do not make my day. I do not enjoy to be in the middle of controversy and quarrels, so I must decide which is the most healthy way to do it.

365 days are a long time and a lot of things can change. I hope I keep my friends, but they could be gone by then. I REALLY hope, however they don't, though. I love them. But if things don't change, if today is my next birthday and I have to decide what to do, CETERIS PARIBUS, I'll choose to celebrate with Caroll for the long-shot celebration, with the shopping and the drinking, and will have the pre-party or the post-party alone with Mario. I'm simply refusing to expose my friends to discomfort, and I do not enjoy being the object of fight, as I believe I have made if clear over and over.

Well, from my previous post you have an idea of what it was like when I was still at the office. When I left, I went to Multiplaza. There I did some rounds, not buying everything on sight because my resources were limited, unlike in previous years, where I bought anything and everything I liked. I had a clear goal in mind when I entered the mall: Carpisa bag, if I find something suitable, which I didn't, something little at Benetton and then a purchase of French books from Lib. Internacional. I went into Benetton first to check things and found a lot of so beautiful things! There was a whole great collection of raw and brick coloured clothes made in natural materials. Soft cottons and linens. I brownsed a little through them checking out some pants and dresses which I postponed for later. Went more for the whites, since today I always dress in white and I don't have enough white. I'f I had been budget-free, I would have certainly packed up with the raw colors, but instead chose two skirts, a white and a red one of the same style of a brown one I bought in April. It has a nice flow and a great cut, so I wanted to try it in other colors. Needless to say they are wonderful. I didn't bought them at first, since my priority was the books. Unfortunately the book area was rather poor. I couldn't find a thing that would have inspired me. I was following the readings mentioned in Anais' diaries, but found no books. It was also upsetting that a large portion of the book in French were translations. Lesser novels, stuff translated from Spanish... why would anyoen read that? Well, who knows, but if you are on the French senction, it would make more sense to keep at least 50% ofd original French writers. Got a book on goth symbology, which I hope will aid me complement my Middle Ages studies. A small diary to continue the one I'm sharing with Caroll, and then I was off to get my clothes.

I must say that my private celebration was beautiful. Alone with my thoughts, smiling and floating in happiness. the world was perfect, my mind was filled with thoughts and I whished it to last forever.

It has been a kind of dream for a while now, to celebrate my birthday entirely alone. Maybe one day. I know I can't do it when I go back home, because my aunt is there and so my uncle and my grandpa and my friends, and I want them to be there too, but mybe one day, maybe just for a few hours, I'll be one day able to celebrate all by myself. It must be the most beautiful thing in the world.

--
« Every schilling you save puts a man out of Work for a Day. »
- John Maynard Keynes