23 April 2010
just made my friday
18 April 2010
sunday night
I had a mostly pleasant weekend until a couple hours ago. I don't know… something happened. I should have known better; much of today burned with a manic glow, and whenever that is the case, the crash is inevitable.
Panda Bear and I looked at a one-bedroom apartment Friday and submitted the security deposit Saturday. We will probably make things official and sign the lease this Friday. PB will be moving in May 1; I'll be joining her when my current lease expires at the end of June. The new apartment is certainly a positive development, but I do have some anxiety about it. Things are good between me and PB, but living together is certainly a huge step forward, and it moves our relationship into a different phase. I don't know… it's strange, because sometimes I feel as though I'm not living my life, it's as if I'm watching someone else experience these things – my evolving relationship with PB, and the winding path of school, ultimately leading to a new and exciting career. Renewed concerns about sister and mom's recent health problems have added to the surreal haze. I have moments in which I don't recognize family and friends as family and friends – I see them as people who exist in an unknown plane of existence. They sometimes feel like strangers. Which they could have been had things happened differently. Strange that our mothers, fathers, siblings and friends are affiliations only by accident.
xx
16 April 2010
nirvana
UPDATE: Easily the best recording on YouTube:
Here's another vid, with slightly better audio:
14 April 2010
awesome
"[Sarah Palin and Michele Bachmann] are attractive, especially to the Republican Party, which is not known as the party that does well with the opposite sex. Usually they are doughy white men, and I think they look on Michele Bachmann and Sarah Palin as MILFs, and I agree -- they are Morons I’d Like to Forget."
Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy
Also, on Countdown with Keith Olbermann, Joel Hodgson, Trace Beaulieu, and J. Elvis Weinstein discussed the Cinematic Titanic live tour. Cinematic Titanic is, essentially, an updated version of Mystery Science Theater 3000, minus Crow, Tom Servo, and the outer space backstory. My first reaction upon seeing J. Elvis Weinstein in this interview: "OMG, he even looks like Tom Servo!"
13 April 2010
update
08 April 2010
twenty-five words
07 April 2010
up
Just got a phone call from mom. She sounded even better than yesterday. No slurring whatsoever, just a slight unsteadiness in some of her words. She said her memory and ability to concentrate have vastly improved from Monday and Tuesday. She may be discharged from the hospital tomorrow; if not, she'll definitely be home Friday.
Understatement of the day: I'm so relieved.
xx
06 April 2010
today
Anxiety and a thunderous heart beat limited me to only two hours of sleep last night. I'm exhausted, but today provided a glimpse of hope. Earlier I spoke with mom, and this is what we know:
- She's been upgraded and is no longer in critical care
- Her speech and general demeanor on the phone were much improved from our Monday conversation; I cannot state how relieved I was to hear her recognize my voice
- Aside from pain meds, she is also receiving a liver cleansing med; this med, apparently, is being blamed for her confusion and slurred speech, NOT brain damage
- The extent of her liver damage is still unknown
I'm cautiously optimistic about her present situation. I have to be. I can't take much more of this, this being mom's health, sister, and my fragile mental state.
On the edge of delirium (and always prepared for the worst),
xx
05 April 2010
question marks
This morning at 10AM I called mom's hospital room, and stepdad answered the phone. He told me she would begin a soft-food diet, and later in the day, she would be moved from critical care to a regular hospital room. He also said that she may be going home tomorrow. I then spoke to mom, and I immediately felt free of guilt for not seeing her – she sounded as if she had just woken from a 100-year sleep and shot a syringe full of methadone. She had difficulty understanding me, and I could barely piece together her slurred words. If I had visited her today, I doubt she would've been coherent enough to acknowledge my presence.
Later, sister calls me to update mom's situation. She obviously hadn't been told that I spoke to mom and stepdad 30 minutes earlier. And this is when things get really fucked up. She claims that the reason mom has been in critical care since Friday morning is because she's been suffering from severe alcohol withdrawal symptoms. She says that mom is delusional, unable to answer a simple math question asked by a doctor: what is 100 – 7? Sister claims mom insisted the answer was 97. Hallucinations have been troubling mom, sister told me. She claimed she saw her attempt to give an invisible hospital form to an invisible nurse. Sister says on Saturday she spoke to a nurse who informed her that that the odd behavior she witnessed was attributable to severe alcohol withdrawal syndrome, and her symptoms should subside in 2-3 days.
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Just got a call from sister. Now, apparently, mom's behavior is not associated with alcohol withdrawal syndrome but brain damage. I don't know what the fuck is going on right now. My conversation with sister was bizarre. She discussed preparing for an intervention for mom. She then proceeded to tell me she, she being sister, has been sober for "nearly a year." I talked to her for nearly 30 minutes, during which she repeated many things. And then her husband, of whom I don't have much of a relationship, got on the phone and told me sister has been clean, he's been watching her closely, making sure she isn't doing drugs.
I'm so lost right now.
xx
"look at those dead bastards"
How many killings of innocent civilians have escaped the question of accountability?
(The text below is taken from the wikileaks.org site [deemed by the Department of Defense as a "counterintelligence threat"] collateralmurder.com; video below)
Overview
WikiLeaks has released a classified US military video depicting the indiscriminate slaying of over a dozen people in the Iraqi suburb of New Baghdad -- including two Reuters news staff.
Reuters has been trying to obtain the video through the Freedom of Information Act, without success since the time of the attack. The video, shot from an Apache helicopter gun-site, clearly shows the unprovoked slaying of a wounded Reuters employee and his rescuers. Two young children involved in the rescue were also seriously wounded.
The military did not reveal how the Reuters staff were killed, and stated that they did not know how the children were injured.
After demands by Reuters, the incident was investigated and the U.S. military concluded that the actions of the soldiers were in accordance with the law of armed conflict and its own "Rules of Engagement".
Consequently, WikiLeaks has released the classified Rules of Engagement for 2006, 2007 and 2008, revealing these rules before, during, and after the killings.
WikiLeaks has released both the original 38 minutes video and a shorter version with an initial analysis. Subtitles have been added to both versions from the radio transmissions.
WikiLeaks obtained this video as well as supporting documents from a number of military whistleblowers. WikiLeaks goes to great lengths to verify the authenticity of the information it receives. We have analyzed the information about this incident from a variety of source material. We have spoken to witnesses and journalists directly involved in the incident.
WikiLeaks wants to ensure that all the leaked information it receives gets the attention it deserves. In this particular case, some of the people killed were journalists that were simply doing their jobs: putting their lives at risk in order to report on war. Iraq is a very dangerous place for journalists: from 2003- 2009, 139 journalists were killed while doing their work.
Shortened video
Full video
04 April 2010
piece 1
I was already in a bad state before mom's hospitalization. Now things are especially disjointed. I'm experiencing rapidly shifting moods several times an hour. One minute I believe I have a firm foothold on the mind-body existence, and literally minutes later, everything is obliterated and I've no idea who I am. Right now I feel like the freshly blown body of a suicide bomber – my pieces are everywhere and it's chaos chaos chaos. Nothing makes sense.
"Don't forget to breathe."
For the first time in months, maybe years, the urge to cut is tingling my finger tips. I need to penetrate this madness with something defined, a sensation that cannot be ignored, a feeling that cannot be doubted, something that will resonate, something that will stay. Cutting concentrates the weight of the universe into a single slice.
As I type these words I know that later, when these seconds are memory and everything is clear, these words will shame me. But this is my current location. And I'm scared. Lost. People in the clutches of Alzheimer's don't know who they have become, which is a good thing, because if they realized what has become of their memory – the mechanism that forms the structure of their very existence – they would be terrified beyond comprehension. Moments like this I feel like I know just what that terror is.
xx
iso a protocol
I wanted to write something beautiful. Something with the flaws subtracted, reduced to invisible fragments of dust that float in the shadows and under the beams of sunlight. Note that I equated "beautiful" with "flawless." Also note that this will be neither beautiful nor flawless; it will simply be. But things are never that simple, are they? We seem to be incapable of untouching that which comes across our frame of existence. We will fuck it up. And if we lack the capabilities to alter its physical existence, we will mangle and distort the idea of its being so that it rests comfortably inside our heads. Over four years ago I wrote that I should "be a faucet. Let the water pour through. I guess this is our purpose on this planet. This rotating mass. Let these things flow, pour. Should I be worried that the water is collecting and the drain is clogged? A faucet isn't concerned with where the water goes or what the water does. But it isn't that easy. No – unless I convince myself otherwise. What if I convince myself that it is easy? Am I lying to myself?"
And now a dilemma: mother is in a hospital 100 miles away, and I feel as though I should be there. To see her. To be with her. Even though she is going to be OK. Even though she will probably be home in two, maybe three days. I need a protocol, some menu of guidelines that can instruct me how to respond to such crises. Years ago when sister began to show cracks, I found myself 100 miles away, pacing floors like a trapped lab rat. I didn't know how to be. I didn't know where to go. All I knew was that my presence or lack thereof wouldn't change anything. Be the faucet. Let the emotions and the reality of the circumstance pump through your body. Let this complication run its course. No control exists. Hands away.
The reason I have stayed away thus far is that my presence cannot alter her situation. Could she, through the haze of Demerol, interpret my absence as a lack of love? Really? In a sea of idealists, the pragmatist is a heretic. So, do I stay 100 miles away and accept the judgment of others, or do I travel two hours northward, hope to penetrate her fog of analgesia and wish her a speedy recovery? In a sea of idealists, the pragmatist is a heretic. I wish there were a protocol for these situations.
xx
03 April 2010
american consumerism at its worst (behold holy capitalism)
This morning whilst reading about the iPad's launch and viewing the accompanying photos of consumers waiting for product, I began to channel Tyler Durden.
Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our great war is a spiritual war. Our great depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars, but we won't.


