saw a doctor finally about the stomach thing and he put me on some retrinaline or whatever, designed to cut down on the amount of stomach acid that is produced, and hope that stops the burning font that’s been spilling for six years now but i wonder. i often feel as if i am ready to burn, am burning, need air, room, to burn hotter, brighter, fiercer, cut loose from the restraints all the world and my own body place on me…i sort of thought the condition was tied to my emotional/mental self but despite my poetic imaginations of psychic immolation, i’m excited to think these pills may help. i’m so sick of dealing with these symptoms, been dealing with this since 2003 in brooklyn when i was commuting 20 hours a week, three trains each day to westchester and got so stressed my stomach began eating my own body alive. i wondered tho if it was the espresso. i was never sure. either way, its been a long time i’ve been living with it…acid threads in the saliva…constant wash of stomach acid ended up weakening a tooth of mine until one day i bit down on some damn nutty bread and it broke right in half, weakened another crown til it broke and also made a filling fall out…it was a scary time i was like what is going ON??  felt like i was jeff goldbloom in The Fly til i figured it out. after all, i used to hit on a mylanta bottle like mekhi phifer in Clockers hit the yoo hoo. if you are kicking up that much stomach acid, its floating around your mouth nearly all the time which is sort of exciting to think about. does it give me superpowered bites? i know it does. one of my teeth is sharp like a dagger. laced with acid, even. and i have pretty strong jaws. i think i like to freak myself out with thoughts like this. i mean that in a good way of course.

life is always fitting together. even when you are not contemplating it, it is reaching around to your roots and reabsorbing the whole. connecting itself and unearthing itself and burying you if you are moving too fast or too slow as compared to yourself and all the paths you use to walk forward and find yourself in the entire hot blizzard, you, you are a unique snowflake swallowed by a steaming mound of compost and at war even at peace, and as we grow and reach up, parts of us fall down and decay and separating the two is a line as easy to find as the one that splits night and day. organisms and viruses and bacteria constantly clamoring to drown you, to eat you alive, to burn you down. and then there’s you, warring right back. burning right back, cellular membrane transporting right back, leukocytes swarming to the attack, a double helix unzipping replication and lipid sorting triple stack. we are at peace even while we war. peace is winning. and peace is losing, too. and there are always rebels within the empire’s galleys, rowing the great ship forward while they make little flourishes with the oars with all the heart and hope in the world that together they can bring her that much closer to a new shore. even sailors on leave were born to fight. and we’re fine with killing, just gotta be the right ones. nobody’s gonna argue for peace except cyanide, and the breakdown of the chain, system shutting down cell by cell and very quickly, all is still. until. the bigger body turns toward you to get its fill. tongue of mold and bacteria and virus, lick your lifelong wound, absorb you back into the womb. there is no world free of murder and war and if for no other reason that given the entire equation, most human beings desire a properly confirmed, blessed, and ritualized kill—not peace. just like the germs in our belly and our guts. they war night and day, sprawled on the muddy slippery banks of our biology under the heat of a heartbeat, flowing gently down the acid stream, living only for their miniscule dream and dedicated to killing the right ones.

i felt happy yesterday because the sun was shining and the law served me with papers

happy not because of being served…that’s never fun, but because the person who brought the charge was sneaky or confused or desperate enough that they lied and then swore to it and signed it and i don’t know if they realize, but i can easily disprove the falsehood they have sworn to. hell, i even have documentation from the state i can use to do so, and while i’d rather hit myself in the head with a piece of wood than waste time on court and lawyers and law, i was pretty relieved to see that i won’t be the one coming out of this one looking stupid and i don’t know what it is about people lately coming after me in public using lies i think this person thinks i’m the same now as when they met me (about 23 years ago?), when i’d just throw papers like that away and refuse to legitimize them with worry or action, but they are in for a wake-up

i hate when fools smoke cigarettes outside my window. hate cigarette smoke in my face when i’m not in the mood for it. these people are like forty or fifty or one hundred feet from my window. and yet, the twist of ammonium cyanide snakes right up and into my room. ugh. to think i started smokin butts at 14. actually, more like 11 if you count those ones i used to pick up from the grass in the park on my walk to school. but i’ve had enough of that particular drug. it’s been over five years i think by now.

i’m going to have to do some more exercise. i’m sitting too much and i need to lose five pounds. it’s the ghostly five pounds that haunts me. doesnt seem like much, but it knows just where to gather to make me unhappy. i wish i had a treadmill. i really do love running out in the world, as the sun comes up. but sometimes you’d rather just sweat in the comfort of your own home. i need a sunmill.

the primary madness is a cluster of mosquito bites on my ankle. my self control is expired calamine lotion!

anyway, that was some dumb shit to say bout rfk.

let me not get into that here. or again. i’m closing in on an illo. they’ll be glad to see stuff again.

JA! 

or for those who prefer an english spelling, BWAHAHAHAHA!

and specifically: nunca.

i just think its a shame when energy and creativity go almost solely into furthering negativity or attack or casting derision. propping up a raw, hot, irritated little cluster of self-pity and envy and anger. go ahead, dress it up as healthy or helpful or cynicism in the service of doing good…but honestly. i hope you’re at least having a little fun or bringing a little beauty into the world somewhere along the way! and the rare posts about baked breads don’t really count, given the proportionality of everything.

my visits there get fewer and less and more spaced apart. because even the fun i get from seeing them sulk and grumble and fume lessens as time goes on.

ah, baby…nothin’ lasts.

obama vid halfway done compressing. just do a little edit and then you have to recompress/bounce down. and then a long wait. it will be exciting, the day i can get a Power Mac (doláres!) because they have massively more powerful processing ability than this iMac. tho i love my iMac. it’s a very stable and pretty and smoothly running machine, almost always. aside from the normally expected glitches which are not long running or troublesome overall. i bought it with money i got from my book getting pubbed. if you want something special, sometimes you have to take advantage of a rare situation when it happens. just like i bought my recent “expensive toy” the iPhone with the money my nana left me when she recently died. i even felt that she would be happy with that choice, seeing how much fun i had with the new apple gadget. which is why it so disgusted me when recently someone tried to claim that i bought it with money i stole from them. please. anyone willing to disrespect my nana’s last wishes with such lies—ESPECIALLY after they were told the truth of how i got my phone—is really fucking with their own karma.

took a break. i’m back. the obama vid is online now.  i’m sort of annoyed that it looks so compressed. it skips and all the hours i put into tweaking the cuts JUSt right are lost in the browser’s dipshitiness and lag. agh. i’m getting off this internet thing. it’s starting to piss me off.

anyway, regarding your judgment of me: why would i take lessons on being Xicano from a non-mexicana who thinks a) they are white, b) there is no “white”, and c) who also thinks white people make us less “brown” when they are in our lives? to adopt your logic one would have to be….oh. right.