hey livejournal

you musta figured by now i dumped you like rachel. i be writin to a friend i call 'blog' now, she lives at www.myspace.com/realgreenjuniper
there there be history

ah man, it has been too damn long since I written anything. currently wrenching out an essay, whawt they call the damned 'personal statement.' i'm like, what the fuck i gone go and say y'all. hm. guess i'm not used to the idea yet. i've been studiously doing nothing; things have just become more, well, vivid. ah not thru mushroom eating or anything exciting like that, tho the reefer helps. just, there is these powers in moments, and that shit can really fuck with a young black man. or any kind of fella.
Wow.
I wonder if I'm still going through that phase where not having seen TV in English or any TV much for that matter, however football is providing ample entertainment.
Al: "Look at this! It's a sackfest!"

http://groups.msn.com/GoreanHIDEOUTofMasterLW/yourwebpage22.msnw

goddamnit!!!!!!!!!!!!111

when i haven't written for a long time its best to start with teh very most recent first. i work in a small building with a foyer that smells like an ashtray and when i aentered the one topper bathroom to drop an urgent load there sits in the shitter that shaven headed hummer driving fuck from the ad place down the hall.

i didn't do nothing cause my brain is so worked up and confused by poisons and well meaning advice and raspberry scented hand lotion all poured in my ear from al lsides, the hummer driving fuck is reading a magazine, i can see it. i wait a minute, then say 'hey you going to finish up in there? I have some urgent business of my own!' and all i hear is the lackadaisacal sound of a page turning. i go outside come back in, he's still reading. 'hey you going to finish, i got to go! I got business' he says 'me too, I'm takin a shit here' and i'm like 'ok' of course because here i am a weak man after all.

then i got zen and took the advice of motherly sherryl who does the payroll on thursdays - i dropped a stinkin load in the women's room.

that fuck is getting his hummer keyed.

here i am working at this job where they pay me squat, ijust found out how much squat cause i checked out sherryl's payroll. ahhh the boss just took me out to lunch to congratulate me for landing a sponsor for asian moon festival and filled myhead with grandiose talk about how to save the world, he's decided the best way is for him to become filthy rich.

this is too much agitation for my brain. i took this job to get me ourtta here, and i am getting it may 5 i'm gone. i buy a ticket this weekend goddamnit.

tihs decision haunts me sometimes is it right? am i hurrying too much here? all i can say is fuck em all. my nuts are so big and blue you could use em for pilates balls. the girl here who smells good and flirts with me, i am leavin her by the wayside, i'm leavin hot nurse kelly to burn on a slow back burner, fuck em all i'm going back. Sveta is my fir tree.

i want my music back. my practice time gets compresed into an hour at the end of the night, inside the basement room i have created, sanctuary and hermit hole. weather is warming, time to fly bird-boy.
when i play i am attacked or seized by visions sometimes these days it is becoming like some kind of dangerous astral travel. it really exists and it is really happening despite my resistance to the idea. there are demons that try to get me in the mind but i found how to fly and i met the astral steed, but i am very new and the whole thing is a great big ball of wax.

i know i need to have a plan, i even pretty much know what the plan is but the execution and articulatoin are held back by the ancient enemy doubt vile poisoner of good intentions.

i'm makin a hard choice hard choices make hard men. i don't want the terribly bad things to happen anymore. i want a neck to sniff, my nose + a smooth skinned clavicle, i am a man they say who has a good mind and great talent but all i want is a fucking HUG.

ahhhhhhhhhh

ahhhhhhhhhh

i am going to go camping in northern wisconsin in april. or maybe southern illinois would be better. anyone know a good spot?

kill them all
dump them in the sea

life is too much, just give me music women and weed and i'll be ok.

let me out america i command thee!

here i am in madison, slightly buzzed. going to sleep n the mccann house, but i find sveta on my mind. this blows out the ass. seems to my soul that i done found t h e lady and she gotta be in a spot with no phone and sporadic email. still i haven't got an email since 2 weeks ago, when she talked about her mom bein pissed cause she thought i done run off to america. nothing of te sort, i came back cause i had to, and now i'm tryin to getn back (kelly moran be damned) and it it ain't happenin til at least february. why do i miss her so much? many women in america be pants-off hot, but i ain't bitin. i'm in love with both sveta hersalf and the idea of sveta. that, i think, is awesome. oh girl, please wait for me. we was meant to be, i can see that now. baby, i'm comin back, i wish i could say that to you on the phone and i wish you could understand it when i say it with that sweet southern accent, but you can't, so i'm gonna say it in my livejournal instead. damnit, world, i know i done a lot of shit worthy of punishment, but don't take this one from me.
i miss her, and it ain't cause of tuva. i just miss her.

a fellow can look at a computer screen for only so long. a fella can sublimate his violent urges in only a few ways, those being sexually, artistically, physically by exercisin, musically, or by jackin off. a fella can genrally find time for all of that and still be left with enough energy to choke the guy who spilled his mountain dew on a fella's knee at oakland gyros.

a fella can just sometimes say 'shit.' moran told me the other night that intelligent people got it bad. i said sometimes i wished i'd a settled down with her and been a house painter, had irish children. she said 'you can't have it all,' and i a greed, and in the end its too bad for everybody. i have at least seven to six more years left on this planet and i plan to use them well and produce some offspring.

its just that i am very disconvinced of the human race in general. i know failry well that the bullshit people seem to be pullin off these days is not an innate product of the human condition and rather a particular result of a series of culturual fuckups going back to the rise of agriculture (cain vs. abel wit da cable) but the fact is its sort of revalent these days. its so goddamn prevalent that i find myslef having fucking nervous breakdowns while watching TV, reading the newspaper, or drinking orange juice.

there's something i've got to do, but sometimes the only thing i can think of is grab a shovel and start swinging.

well i think i'll always remember alden's white face. poor alden, baldin' alden, the sweetest man on the planet. he was so pale and drawn when he drove my drunk ass home last night, couldn't interest him in a gyro even, he knew it was inevitable.

and we all should have really. the people in matt's apartment were screamin' 'freedom' and getting drunk on a barrel of stein, right in front of the damn television where it was all going down. i guess it's good that they weren't watching when i think about it. someone threw a rock thru jason b's car window, because jason b had been stealing bush signs from their yard. the note said 'jason bartz, 4645 maplewood dr, you steal my sign again i will FIND you' so then i got worried about the seeming idea for vengeance, yes, good old vengeance.

first i was thinking about being upbeat, like, well, okay, nonetheless we should heal the divisions in our society. now i'm kinda like, fuck that, you know, if you're stupid enough to fall for the mind control you are a zombie and i am sean of the dead, and i have a cricket bat. think about this: top 3 issues kerry voters were concerned with: jobs, iraq, and health care. bush voters' 2 issues? moral values and terror.

MORAL FUCKING VALUES? WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU????? WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF HUMAN BEING DID GOD CREATE THAT YOU FUCKING BELIEVE THAT WHAT THIS MAN REPRESENTS IS ANYFUCKINGTHING MORAL??? because, think about it. even if you believe that the invasion was necessary (which already marks you as seriously mentally deficient) think about it this way: this man ordered an action which was 100% likely to result in the deaths of innocent people, with fucking husbands and wives and cute children. that is an immoral act. a terribly, terribly immoral act - could you ever consider me moral if i was responsible for the death of your child? and that the death of that child was recompensed by less than nothing, recompensed by 'freedom' -- people killing your neighbors, no power, no water, basically occupation and war, violence and an uncertain future. WHY??? to keep us, US, the United States, safe from Saddam motherfucking Hussein? How can you believe that garbage?

And maybe that's just it. it's not really a matter of believing this or that story, of letting things like critical thinking or allowing the meaning of words to actually enter your consciousness. It's the fact that the fucking cabal has gotten so good at mind control that it doesn't really matter what you do does it, because this is a giant soceity that's full of millions of people and i'm convinced some of them should just start calling themselves 7 of 9 and shit because they are already plugged into the borg, aren;t they, and their brains resemble something that might result from the fermantation of a dairy product.

i went to bush country when i was CA one day, to the ancestral ranch of a fellow Fulbrighter, Miss Brown. It was in the produce producing country outside of salinas, beautiful mountains with flat green farms in between. their ranch was up in the hills. Katie's parents are ardent Bush supporters, they were wearing pins proclaiming their faith when i entered. They were utterly rich. Katie her self is fairly open minded for someone from tihs background, she was intelligent enough to get the Fulbright. Nonetheless, she did believe that Russian commandos had entered Iraq and stole away all of Saddam's WMDs before the war. now her dad was engaging, very nice, bluff man; he had been in the produce business was retired at 49, came up with all these innovations for transporting/preserving produce efficiently, has 12 patents, probably a pretty smart guy. they never pushed their bushian beliefs on us; and i found myself liking them.

and that's what fucks me up, because they're people too and i'm going to have to shoot them all through the head for being so fucking out of touch with reality. they are dead to me, i'll explode their heads with buckshot and make them go away.

oh wait, that doesn't work. you can't make them go away with guns. you can't really ever make a problem go away with guns when you're talking about a large scale of people; because you can't really just wipe them all out, unless you are a genocidal fucking maniac.

so what's left -- how to fight the insidious advance of pre-apocalyptic orwellian social trend? how to wake people up and unplug them from the matrix -- there's no program for it; and i dono't know what the answer is, i know it's the right way to do it but right now all i feel like is going out and getting the cricket bat and splitting some fucking zombie skulls like rotted fucking melons, melons grown on blood meal of the oppressed...

ohhh, rusty, feelin, creaky, feelin good. feelin sunshine, want to run around, up and down hills. i sprinted up a hill the other day but i had had a couple of beers and felt pretty woozy afterwards. today i visited the university of california at berkeley and although the professors of ethnomusicology were busy, they made time for me, which was nice. i think if i apply to any program anywhere i got a good shot, i am qualified. never really thought about that before. but it bringsd up a lot of questions, most of which point in the direction of further study. it would be good for the development of training one's brain muscles and would most likely allow travel to tuva under an academic purpose. could be some interesting shit, because the thing is i don't just want to travel there i want to live, there, and do you really need a phd to be a herder? in my case this may just be true.

saw igor, aldar, and mongun ool here, sasha keeps them on a tight leash but we played texas holdem with lucas, it seems to me that folks be gettin into the poker since i been gone. folks been gettin into a lotta shit since i been gone. been weird to experience tuvans in US inside theh apt. felt like tuva and i felt so happy and at home, eating soup and talkin the crap, and igor and lucas getting to meet (as igor is lucas's tuvan counterpart), so that was awesome. hoping to steal them and take them to the woods on sun, and them maybe to see halloween in the castro district. the place here, cali is as i remember it, in th emiddle of the berkeley campus is a large white ivory tower, go figure, but the campus has this 'nature area' where shit is all wild. natural, get that, huh. hot women also abound at grad school; which of course is neither here nor there, there's no crime in a fella just sayin.

happy in SF, want to do more, bike, move around like an electron some, my costume for halloween will be zombie bike messenger. it will be great.

head hurts. hard to get drunk on miller when you've been drinking gasoline. dropped the ring at the wedding, but other than that all was well. drop the ring cause the priest made a grabby motion and i fumbled like ahman green, luckily landed on the riser and not in nearby drain. wedding vets got little brother drunk, currently upstairs dealing with it. sleep coming. america, milwaukee, world, ach. happy bozo's wedding big and very wedding like and full of people, a whirl of relations dying to ask 'how was tuva', but no time, ponytawiled in a tuxedo hiding bozo round the corner from the bride. ah, awll right, very good, had there been scotch probably would have climbed up the neighbors tree again, nonetheless still one of those things you don't forget.

oh. well i tried to wrote last night but i was foiled by technology. i'm really suffering from this culture shock thing i find myself in this weird stasis, ahving landed in whitefish bay with my parents giant finbar cat on my lap etc. rode the bike for the first time in a year recently, that felt good. everything i've been doing i've been doping for the first time in a year -- beer in a can, watching a movie in english, bacon, real coffee, lettuce, soft toilet paper, traffic jams, air conditioning, football on TV, politics, speaking english, all this shit.

been readin the journal entries i wrote last year. i come to the conclusion that i was really happy as a bike messenger in chicago, in the middle of the city, but i think my life is on a different course now. i am glad that rachel and i parted ways, twas a delusion and her conduct and mine after departure proved that a good idea. hers being dogging me constantly, mine being choosing to deal with that by bedding young local women. well now i'm in the reverse situation, i've got sveta waiting for me back there tho she couldn't more different than rachel -- a couple nights before i left she said, 'you know, sean, you look happy in those pictures so if you get back to gether with her when you get back i'll understand.' rachel would have never said something like that, altho first i made sure sveta wasn't just trying to dump me.

so my life is on a difficult course and i find myself at a crucial moment -- it seems to me imperative to get back soon (within a couple mounths) to not forget the language and culture (ie not revert to being an american); to keep things good with sveta and to really work on all the crap that i got started over there but did half assed because i was drunk all the time. i am a dirty drunk man, i know that now.

well, i is gonna rest for the weekend, finish gettin over jet lag, and get to work on monday like the shaman said i should -- gotta get workin right away he said, that shaman did. i believe the shamans sometimes, they is interesting. want to see colby i think, just picked up the phone to try and call the uncle but my mom was talking to my aunt pat about me, so i eavesdropped for a minute. nothing bad there.

america, my friends and family, please forgive me for wanting to be a herder in another land's taiga.

hi journal
back in usa
keyyyyybarsd ot wrking\

ohhhhhhh
i have moved from my home. i am ready for tuva. tuva is ready for me.
except my rotator cuff is not ready for anything, being torn from my shoulder.
i am to have surgery. they all tell me this is a good thing to do. it will delay my departure once again.
i am dying, i am dying, please god let me leave this country.

well, the packers lost bad today and my calendar has been turned from brett favre to nate wayne. nate wayne doesn't even play for the packers anymore. hot damn.

things seem a little better after a nap. changed the tuning on the guitar once again, now there's a third in there. allergies getting to me, daily consumption of weed cookies left me strung out.

for those of you who don't know, i was supposed to leave for tuva four days ago, wednesday september third. thanks to the fucking OVIR this fucking organ of the russian govt. however i am STILL WAITING for my new 'invitation,' the document i need to get a visa and the document which was issued in error back in april. i mean, this official fucking branch of the russian govt. issued an invitation which was invalid according to their god damn embassy here.

i need some smoke. i need to do laundry. i am letting al lthis little shitt get to me, i can't think or fuck or do anything with this intangible russian shit hanging over me. i am supposed to be planning to get to tuva, dear god how badly i want to be there but at this point it's so fucking frustrating due to this bureacratic bullshit. there's this fucking evil russian sort of spirit hanging over my head, laughing and saying, well maybe you'll NEVER get there, asshole! ah-hah-hah!

house situation is fucked up. angel sits around in his room all day, everyone's shit is everywhere. it's like i shouldn't even be pretending to have my shit together because it's all over every fucking inch of available floor space of my apartment.

goddamnit! this place is a fucking raisin in the sun -- I'VE GOT TO GET TUVA THIS TIME I'M NOT FUCKING AROUND...THE CHECK IS IN MY DESK GODDAMNIT THERE ARE PEOPLE THERE WHO NEED MEDISON!!!!!!

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Eigth Level of Hell - the Malebolge!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Moderate
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very Low
Level 7 (Violent)	Moderate
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Very High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Moderate

Take the Dante's Divine Comedy Inferno Test

it is called elmer t. lee and it ain't that grate. it's too sweet and it burns in the wrong way going down. i'm going to enjoy finishing it.

what a mood i am in today! left alone to my own devices for the first time in a while, plugged up on a large coffee from ann's and feverishly reading herodotus.

what is going on here? Yesterday was an odd day. after returning here from rachel's i got an earful of angel. angel is my 37 yr old cuban salsa singing roommate who plays a mean guitar but will talk your ear off for hours about atlantis, vegetarianism and yoga. yesterday everything was connected, baphomet, pentagons, clintons and bushes and husseins, great white, oh my god, ufos, atlantis...

this is a delicate afternoon for me. I don't want to say it but i think i've gone a little crazy today. everything is a bit too much when you have time to ponder it. i want desperately to take a breath, but i know that's what i've been doing for the past two months.

shit! I'll tell you, this is one of those days that i have to beat myself about the head JUST TO DO LAUNDRY, precilesiy because it is NCCSSRY and I have the time. The laundry has become a bit more of a bitch thanks to the dryer no working, giving us option of either walk to laundro mat or hang up on rope on porch. I've been doing the hang on the porch method but i fear that it will rain today.

last night I went with rachel to have a barbecue with james, her best friend with whom she at one time attempted to have a relationship. this is a fucked up situation. I like james well enough and am confident in terms of our respective relationships shipe with this woman -- in other words he does not make me jealous. anyway, james is living for a month at yuvi's house (yuvi was my bike messenger mentor as it were) whileyuvi is in brazil. james is having a barbecue, the place is a warehouse type loft thing very interesting, barbecuing out back in parking lot. but a cozy parking lot.

I tried so hard to not make the situation awkward but rachel was freaking out about this and that and I have no idea what's going on in james's head, then james' former roommate mike came by with briana, both messengers and briana had once said disparaging things about me to rachel.

enough of this. suffice to say that the food was good, i manned the bratwurst but i could have done without all the awkward social interactions.

i feel that it is a tough thing for me to right now grasp the importance or magnitude of the relationship i am currently i -- it is ike standing at the sears tower, the messenger center. you can sort of look up at the building and feel it there but you do not grasp how huge it actually is until you see it from far away.

so be it all. i am happy and i am excited to get to tuva. i have cut the hairs and am ready to travel.

oh dear goodness and gorn. it has been a while since the entering of entries. too much has been happening. my energy goes to my woman, my bike, my guitar. I built a god damn bike all by myself. it's still not perfect but it is old school and italian. i just got back from washington DC where they had my fulbright orientation, I met a Jr. Bitzenhofer. The woman and I are coming to some serious shit. we are going to try and stya together while i am in tuva. she has offered to wait for me. she has offered herself to me. what a great weight. how did this happen? she came to DC with me and it was good but the impending fact of my leaving made here frisky and there were words. i was drunk at times, barely slept and coffee by the gallons. nonetheless i think it's a good idea. she fell asleep in my lap on the plane on the way home and she was beautiful. lord save me from hurting her.

i am doing all sorts of things to get ready for russia. well, i am thinking about them while working on my bike and eating and cleaning and shopping. i'm always working on my bike even though I quit my job in three weeks. colby i got bourbon. i am doing shit like making reservations for the trans-siberian railroad and sending the results of HIV tests to the Russian embassy. they're negative.

i haven't been throtsinging much. am i stressed? afraid? tweaked? it seems that the only place i find myself singing is the windowsill at 53 W Jackson where I drink coffee and read the classics. the other day I actually sang the city's song, I mean I was a part of it and understood it. it was beautiful. I was talking to the mountain in Telluride, I told it about freight elevators so when I came back I told the freight elevators about mountains. I have been playing my guitar a lot, every god damn chance I get. took it to DC with me. need new strings, several sets before departure. DPARTURE.

i cut off all my hairs.

Date:	2003-05-26 13:50
Subject:	hey hey hey
Security:	Public
Mood:	moody

i'd like to say that my life has been turned upside down by recent events, but it really feels moe like an alligator has leapt from the thrashing water to submerge me in its teeth. now i am the drowned man, learning to swim.

it's like i've beaten the boss, and now i have to start all over again with a wooden sword. sure, i've learned a few new spells and lost some members of my party but i have to go through all the same trials afresh. it is exciting. it is sobering. it is unknowable.

my life was perfect for one night, tuesday may 13th. it is the day i found out about the grant, the day i drank with my dear friends the sweet barleywine of celebration, the day the weather was perfect and there on the sidewalk near bicycles i googooed with a woman. a good one. that night was the credits: congratulation!

seven flat tires, one lost cat, one car door, one wipeout, one smashed radio, no sleep, and ten pounds of cookies later i am saddled with the immense and awesome responsibility of transporting myself to the middle of nowhere. before that i have to perform my secret music for the people of milwaukee including my family members who are proud but have no fucking clue what's going on. i have to bid adieu to all the people i have ever known, and let them know that when i come back i won't be the same. that's a certainty.

the fulbright people call it a 'life-defining' experience. they are absolutely right. the blue pill awaits.

is very much into me, and from kentucky.

how the hell did this happen?

she loves the grass family (i mean the biological family, not weed-loving relations) the way i love tuva and last night put me through my paces regarding the iliad, talked faulkner and conrad and SRAM. and then she kissed me.

hot shit. hot shit. everything is up in the air

Ha! I just ahd a B thought. I was looking out the window soaking up the sun and sound when I thought about traffic. I watched two cars come from perpendicular directions at the intersection of Leavitt and Thomas. There is a stop sign on Thomas but no stop sign on Leavitt, both are one-way. The car coming down Thomas was a very large hasty van. It was rusty and sped toward the stop sign. The SUV coming down Leavitt was making great speed. I surely thought they should crash. The rusty van effortlessly and aggressively slowed imperceptibly as the SUV shot on through, maintaining its bullish presence and course. The road clear, the van immediately picked up as it left off – speeding.

I thought about this. Everyone says “Chicago drivers are assholes” and road rage and that kind of shit. But really, the majority of people are driving in a fast but predictable manner – in a way that works.

Now I’m not saying that Chicago traffic ain’t fucked up and I’m not saying cars are great, but the majority of people are driving around in the manner that is most efficient for the level of traffic at that time and the current conditions…stop signes, lights, parked cars what have you. There is a level of variation within the behaviors of the traffic but this works out…you have a large statistical number of drivers, it’s a bell curve…the grannies on one side and the Jakeys of the world on the other. Now there are only a few grannies driving out there and lord knows there’s only one asshole who drives like Jakey and that’s Jakey but the point is traffic works out. There are a lot of accidents but there should be a shitload more, given the number of cellular telephones that are out there melting our brains from the passenger side.

So it works. People are not intrinsically bad! How refreshing is that…see, it’s because the overall PATTERN of traffic is something we have no control over…everyone makes a seemingly individual choice – to be a Jakey or a Granny or somewhere in between but the system works…I mean in it’s own fucked up way. On the scale of the city of chcago 2003 AD it works. So this is what’s interesting…the fact that traffic WORKS is proof that we are not intrinsically fucked up. It is a reflection of our human, intrinsically non-fucked up nature through the lens of our intrinsically fucked up cultural vision.

Hot shit on a plate.

p.s as i copy this from word to on-line version a car screeches outside the window from sudden braking. sweet home chicago.

i feel calm and hungry although the tension carried in my jaw belies this. i am hungry althoug i feel like i am always eating. i am having some whiskey and weed and writing in the livejournal, and very much trying to make sense. yesterday i saw a man on lake street with the gutted carcass of a pig. it was awesome. it was a big ass pig.

i think about a lot of shit while i'm on my bike but the problem is i'm a little too busy be writing shit down. i keep thinking i should get a notebook to bring with me, i do scribble headlines on my manifest. but on rainy days, well that's not really practical and it's been fairly busy with opie hurt.

so i eschewed all obligations tonight in favor of relaxing although i still have not showered a thing which i very much need nor have i eaten dinner. now i'm not obsessive bust sometimes i feel like i waste a lot of time. i have a habit for being exactly eight minuetes late, every day. i read in favor of much needed eating or cleaning (apartment or self). i refer to it as puttering. i just learned from daniel quinn that 'bricoleur' means to putter about in french.

oh, vonnie holliday! so i have a packers calendar, each month with a different packer except brett, who gets two. it sort of dictates my attitude for the month, or rather i read it like a tarot to assess my situation. in february it was marco rivera. offensive guard, blocking all who would sack brett. march was mike mckenzie, safety, tracking down and punishing ball carriers, searching for the ever elusive interception. april was bubba franks catching a touchdown.
this month is fuckin' vonnie holliday.