The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 22, 1:04 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 22 Oct 2004 13:04:55 -0700
Local: Fri, Oct 22 2004 1:04 pm
Subject: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Never thought I would have to get involved in such an egotistic
exercise as writing a small autobiography, but the events of the last
months definitely call for a detailed explanation, at least as
detailed as to be interesting. Anyway there will be doubts, but I`ll
try to anticipate them and provide some answers...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 23, 3:09 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 23 Oct 2004 03:09:42 -0700
Local: Sat, Oct 23 2004 3:09 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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1997 was a crucial year, I was like on vacations, waiting for Belinda
to finish her career. Mexico? In crisis, now financial. My grandmother
was defrauded by Banca Confia, the marshmallow of the banking system.
My computer was crashed by the NATAS, but I got a brand new black
computer. I wrote Alive and Human and the principle of biological
closure (now partially lost). Luis Bistrain reappeared to bring me bad
luck, the ill omen bird. I saw a UFO! Watching from my bed through the
window were I have seen any conceivable flying object, a *something*
like a gyrating lighthouse flashed twice in the space between the two
buildings that were my view, dissapeared to the left and then flashed
thrice far away in the same space, after describing a long curve; I
can write a simulation to calculate speed and distance. Two days later
the sighting was independently confirmed by a neighbor. There was
excitement for a while but soon it was forgotten. I tried to make a
living trading FOREX but the climate in Mexico was of mistrust and I
got myself out of the situation in time to avoid a massive crash. I
also made a big business plan, only to find out that my grandmother`s
money was lost precisely when I convinced her of investing, and credit
was, like always, available only if you didn`t needed it. When it was
obvious that I wouldn`t be able to get financing Belinda broke the
relationship, leaving me free to emigrate but eithout money to do so.
I was going at the time to philosophy courses in the UNAM with Luis,
mostly to entertain myself and try to find a new girlfriend, though I
was still in shock. We would then go to a cafeteria to discuss the
world and make a show with our conversation. One night Luis arrived
with the idea of establishing ghamac, an NGO we could use to generate
funding and live from governmental grants, as many people in Mexico
do, and it was really exciting to plan all the projects that could be
realized once we had tax exemption, which according to Luis was the
main point of charities in Mexico.
It took us almost one year to get the $400 needed to formalize the
association, obtained by my selling an old computer and started
planning the first event, with the idea of organizing a big congress
in Acapulco to promote environmental ethics, basically to expose my
document Alive and Human. It was 1998 and was clear Belinda wouldn`t
be back unless I got an income...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 23, 5:15 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 23 Oct 2004 17:15:06 -0700
Local: Sat, Oct 23 2004 5:15 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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That same year I was meeting with friend Alberto Espinoza. He was
working in a state`s representation to Mexico City and was a no very
reliable source of coffee invitations, but enough to be worthy of a
city. At some point he mentioned Barttlet, his adventures, his uncle
(can`t rememebr the name, though) and the possibility to *help*in his
precampaign as presidential candidate to Mexico, Barttlet`s that is.
And I said, lets start working. I prepared a presentation for a plan
to enhance the candidates reputation and ake contacts, etc. It was to
be presented to his uncle and well, it would be a source of income,
maybe enough to go and see Belinda again, someday. We were in that
negotiatio when one night we were walking to my house, one block away
from Reforma, when we saw a motorcycle with two guys go round the
corner against the traffic, none at 11 o`clock in the night. He
commented: `a pair of gays`. I said nothing, though I felt a thought
slipped away...
Just before reaching the corner were his car was parked, the same
motorcycle came against us and the guy in the rear approached us with
a gun. It looked like a cop`s gun, as well as his jacket. Espinoza
went very scared. I? I can keep cool, and try to distract them with
chat. It was a disaster... for Espinoza. I had only my veteran
nailcutter, a basset from many years ago and my keys. Espinoza had a
bunch of keys and his wallet and a cell phone. I was trying to chat to
appease the guy. Espinoza told him that was all I had, after
presenting my belongings in my hand for him to snatch them away. I
emptied my pockets, smiling. But the guy was nervous and Espinoza was
complaining. The gun was moving dangerously. After getting all we had,
(almost, Imanaged to conceal my papers in the back pocket, and maybe
Espinza did the same), the robber started pointing with the gun
telling us to... what!? It looked like he wanted Espinoza to *show*
HIMSELF. Really. We were both shocked, but I started moving to the
side to, I don`t know, trying to do something. Espinoza started
walking backwards... and the guy, who barely knew how to speak, kept
ordering... But no, he wasn`t gay, he was telling us to go away, but
with one of those phrases and dirty words that mean everything for
people without culture.
We started walking back to Reforma while the guy mounted the
motorcycle and they went away. A few paces and we went back. Espinoza
was very angry and upset. He lost the keys to his car! He lost the
keys to his house! He couldn`t retrieve the keys to his office from
his house because it was alone! Deadlock. AND, he was angry with me.
As if I was to be blamed!
That night he stayed in my house and next day had to come and go to
undeadlock himself...
When the day to present the project arrived, things didn`t go well.
Nothing happened. Some days later I went to his uncle`s office,
admired a nice picture by the sculptor Sebastian, presented him the
project, received congratulations and that was it. We stopped seeing
each other. Nothing happened. At first I was upset with him, but later
I forgot...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 23, 6:18 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 23 Oct 2004 18:18:05 -0700
Local: Sat, Oct 23 2004 6:18 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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In a way those years were great. I would go to the UIA and get
computing boks with Belinda`s account. Then, while I waited for her to
come to my house after school, I would program and program, one system
after another, many times up to three times until I learned all the
dead ends and architectures (some would call hem patterns), available
to true OOP. I still feel the excitement of creating a new class after
another, knowing that what I was creating was but the begining of ever
increasing possibilities, my basic libraries as I would call them. And
with a MIDI program and souncard, finally could express my music in a
better way than mixing my old Casio miniorgan with a foot-operated
cassette recorder and a guitar. At least I could get sure I was
writing what I intended. Also would spend hours singing out loud in my
empty living room, very spacious, watching life flow, from the all
window walls to one of the biggest avenues in the world: Circuito
Interior. It was great by night! And my cats would sorround me
watching with love eyes and anticipation for the big game, when we all
would run with a rope while they took turns to `catch the rpe` and
balance from it. Very exciting.
Belinda would come from school, sometimes to sleep and recover from
the early rising, we would go then to have a coffee and the eternal
ritual to deliver her to her home and go back walking, all the way
from downtown up Reforma to save a few pesos and maybe, if it was
early, go to Sanborn`s and read a magazine (for free, as it is used
there). And the rest of the night more downpouring of C++ ideas...
But things were nt going well in our relationahip. It had been
fractured after all the possibilities of a bright future soon were
broken by the December error. She was restless. I was ust waiting for
her degree to force her to emigrate with me. One night I offered her
marriage. Bad mistake. Very sloppy, walking in the street, and her
parents wouldn`t help her with the school fee. So it was waiting til
she finished her career and then lets see. I was confident then. We
didn`t make me. In that 1997 year she said goodbye suddenly before my
birthday...
Unfortunately we were assaulted coming out of the cafeteria, on a
pedestrian`s bridge. I managed to lose only some bills and keep my
electronic agenda and papers, but she lost her purse with agenda and
papers and everything. And was slapped. Two `pelusas` (like white
trash, only really worse), very small and mean. I managed to notice we
were going to be assaulted but couldn`t get hr running in time and
escape was caught, both between them. She went hysteric and was
slapped. I believe the guy had only a pair of keys but am not sure.
After they went away, the way we were coming from, I started running
aftr them, while shouting her to stay were she was so she could tell
were they were going to, as there was a bifurcation in a big car
bridge. But Belinda didn`t understand and started running after me.
She didn`t want to be left alone. And I lost sight of them when I was
just about to catch them.
After that we walked dazed, to where the pimps and whores had the
tolerannce zone and I complained and boasted. They were sympathetic,
tried to help and a few dys later she received the phone call were her
papers would be delivered, in a metro station. They were found. That
night we had sex, but things were never the same again...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 23, 7:11 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 23 Oct 2004 19:11:46 -0700
Local: Sat, Oct 23 2004 7:11 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Luis reappeared about the time when it was evident my relationship was
beyond repair, a few days before the actual demise. I didn`t tell her,
but I would spend hours telling Luis about all the advantages of
Belinda... I even tried to finish the symphony for her, from a theme
in one of my cherised old notebooks, but didn`t finish it on time. She
left and I just managed to finish addio and end it in a note (actually
a chord) of hope...
But Luis was helping with the transition. And so in 1998 I was very
excited about the AC (civil association). We visited several notary
public to find the cheapest deal. It is supposed to cost $1050 as the
approved rate, but we found all kinds of deals, from the guy who would
charge $5000 for an SA (enterprise) without the required $50000 of
initial capital to one who would charge $11500 for the AC. After a
while we finally found the notary who would charge $4000 for an AC
without the requirement of having three associates (the notary that
formalized the ANEE did charge $1050, but wanted to do nothing with me
then...).
We needed the money and it was a matter of getting used to the idea of
sacrificing my old, old 486 computer for $4500 and finding a buyer.
But by May we were already formalized. I would spend the coffe time
ideating project after project, all based on our all-encompassing
social object; Luis would would give all kinds of tips on how to deal
with an AC, particularly how to get tax exemption.
The second course with Prof. Herrera was just finished and I was also
very excited about the possibilities of Alive and Human. The critique
to Arne Naes` deep ecology, for instance, was devastating, as the
point of view of Budhism (they want to become plants!). But money came
first since there were... ah, pressures in home with my mother...
after my grandmother ran out of money because of the Lankenau fraud
and only had the war pension my grandfather left her for his
participation in WWI. Bad affair.
The AC was salvation. And armed with our brand new papers, we set out
to organize a ball.
Luis found the place. A teenage dancing place. The people there
offered almost all but some work and we had to sell 200 tickets. I
didn`t want Luis to feel imposed, so I let him decide and plan. Wrong.
The scheduled was no good; time was nearing and we had no more money
than at first. Luis` idea was to form a political party, get
signatures and get financing from the IFE, and between that idea and
the ball we tried to get people with us. Without money? No way! I
would make the flyers and some propaganda but was not enough, and as
time neared the date of the ball, Luis dissapeared.
Nothing. I still had the tickets. I *wanted* to meet girls, find
another girlfriend, I felt useless without a woman, and so tried to
sell tickets. but damn money, I barely had for myself. I knew Luis was
living with a cousin of him, a she-cousin, in a so-so zone, so I went
and published posters asking for volunteers. Maybe he would feel
bad... Nothing. Tried to look for him in the address he gave in the
papers... Nothing. 25 years living there and never heard of Bistrain.
So, I did the reasonable thing: forgot the whole business and went
back to my computer. I didn`t dare see that people again, but they
wouldn`t lose, those places can`t lose, only have a bad night.
My hope then was to finish a system and sell it. In Mexico if you want
to be poor you have to work. But I had a better idea, an automatic
music generatr I devised in 1993 before Valero went to Oxford. I was
very excited programming it and asking myself where to get the money
for the patent. Excitement was in part due to a visit the IRCAM made
to Opus94, radio station I called to ask what was the state of the art
in genetic programming composing. The veredict was that that
technology was ahead in time 10 to 15 years...
I went to the Arts Center and met briefly a Dr from that institute.
She gave me her address and I dreamt of getting a scholarship and go
to Paris... They didn`t give away scholarships but in Opus94 I heard
about an event where Dr Tovar y de Teresa was going to be the guest of
honor. A homage to Revueltas. Just what I needed! Only a matter of
preparing a document, Synthetic Musicians and Automatic Compositions
and present it to the head of culture in Mexico to get the funds for
research I needed...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 23, 8:06 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 23 Oct 2004 20:06:23 -0700
Local: Sat, Oct 23 2004 8:06 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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I went to the Revueltas homage in the National School of Music, a
place I didn`t really know existed. There was Tovar y de Teresa with
lots of VIPs. In the saloon, while I was admiring a score and waiting,
the wall suddenly started falling toward me... if I hadn`t been there
to an old lady would have been crushed by the very heavy pseudowall.
Of course, people looked at me repproachingly, as if it was my fault!
They turned over the pancake.
At the end of the exposition I neared Dr Tovar and presented myself:
`I am Fabrizio Bonsignore (still bearing that name) and want to show
you this paper. I want an scholarship.` And handed him the document.
He was very impressed. He gave me the card to his particular secretary
with an annotation. The secretary was very impressed (particularly
after I broke her printer; I was excited); she couldn`t hear the piano
sonata, though. Se sent me to an office in FONCA where they give the
money. They were *very* impressed. I was sent to a subdirector`s
office. He was very impressed. He handed me the requirements to apply
for an scholarship. *I* was very impressed! Couldn`t meet the
requirements. Years later Luis told me how to handle the situation:
print a flyer and say you gave a concert...
Then I went to the National Arts Center, armed with my card. Had an
interview with the Director, italian name, can`t remember. He told me
of all the wonders they were doing in the multimedia center and the
money you could make when there were special projects and I told him
of my idea to deliver vector graphics through the wire to simulate TV
in cell phones and it was wonderful that we met, but I could not be
accepted...
So back to the drawing board as some people would say. The system,
genemel, was temporarily forgotten to give more importance to
balan/obalan, a language modeled upon neudl to handle neural networks
and provide interpreters and macros to my programs and finally
integrate the tseries with neural networks and the IA architecture to
create a trading system including SFAMS... But we didn`t have money to
pay the rent...
So, against my will, at first, I looked for a job. Time was upon us.
We had to leave the appartment, and it was then when my mother and I
finally agreed to come back to the US. For once in her lifetime she
paid heed to my advise and didn`t sign a paper. If she had we would
have been thrown out right away without consideration. We started
packing, sort of, while I searched for money. I went to Reader`s
Digest and met Espinoza`s mother. Presented exams and all but ended
third... Got a Jesuschrist Superstar album as a gift. And then, luck.
I found the agency that opened the door to ISOL, company I started
working for the day immediately after my birthday... when we received
the eviction demand and knew we would have two years at least to move
out (it turned out we were owing like 35 cents a month, instead of
$3500, he he, they were not fair).
Just in time...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 23, 8:25 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 23 Oct 2004 20:25:25 -0700
Local: Sat, Oct 23 2004 8:25 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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ISOL. My first real life job with schedule and all (actually the
second, save for three months as helper (confidence, consultant)
analyst in the City Treasury, forced by an acquaintance of my mother).
The interview with Hector Candia, boss and partner, was very OK, after
I passed a three pages exam. Incidentally I din`t know about
COMponents, but I structured my code in components and my insights
were valid. I also failed in solving a sorting algorithm exercise that
was `mala onda` (like in what an asshole the guy who wants *this*
exercise here). The mala onda guy was my immediate boss, nicknamed the
mountaineer (very rude), with whom I had trouble right away after I
told him I was profficient in AI. Instant hate.
They wanted me to do a SQL engine and language in Java that would work
with a javacard. Easy. I was not really profficient in Java, only knew
it was simpler than C++ and so, without knowing the language started
programming. Life was hard. But the only booboo I made was the day the
mountaineer and the money partner told me, very serious and very
scared, that I had programmed a bottleneck, that I had to throw a
thread. I got the idea righ away and in no time I was on my way,
working on the Javacc compiler compiler for the bytecode compiler and
the gateway (interfase) to ODBC. Fact is I was quite advanced with
features and got the important task of writing... The Proxy!
The mountaineer would make life hard to me. After all, he was
protecting his 4 year investment in schooling against a `self made`
programmer, though in all it was not that bad to work with him. Except
for the shouts. Except for threats. Except for his need of power.
Except for the `what do you prefer, A or B? `A, I already have code
for it and it is more efficient and...`, `Ok, lets use b` (!!?).But I
did enjoy working with (for?) him. I think we made a really good team,
I mean, a *really* good team. Except he couldn`t make the card engine
work, surely because of the technology... But his interface was nice.
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 23, 8:36 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 23 Oct 2004 20:36:34 -0700
Local: Sat, Oct 23 2004 8:36 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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That year, 1999, Valero came visiting from Oxford. And I learned about
Isabel`s death. It was a SHOCK. I could not digest it, simply deleted
it from my mind and suplanted it with several attempts to go visit her
to her house or try to call her to her old phone, though always
somehing happened that I didn`t...
Life was a routine coming and going from job to home and in the nights
sometimes go to read magazines to Sanborn`s. I had to learn and study
a lot to keep my pace but I was happy. Had money, even after spending
lots in taxis and paying the rent to the judge (that was the outcome
of the trial). I sort of flirted with I. and then when my old girl
neighbor announced she was moving suffered a light infatuation when I
realized I did like her (a little) and never made friends. Such is
life. And the apartment was in such state of chaos, without the
constant pressure of having it presentable for Belinda, that I started
thinking in moving to my own appartment...
...since sending my mother to the States was not going to be an easy
affair. She was accepted as a green carder (she had been a resident)
but I didn`t match the requirements to give her the affidavit of
support. I had to wait two years... at least. A lot of wasted time for
her and for me. I could no longer live with my mother and I needed to
meet someone to hide the void Belinda left...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 24, 5:04 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 24 Oct 2004 05:04:40 -0700
Local: Sun, Oct 24 2004 5:04 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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(This is a big departure from chronology, but I just remembered. When
I was in primary school, my school pack was stolen. I had there two
esgrafiados; a crayola base overpainted with black gouache, then
scratched... I was thinking of Miro. Didn`t have a chance to show them
to the teachers. Also, in high school, another school pack was
ransacked; I lost, or was robbed, a platinum watch with one of the
first digital clocks, one of the red ones, and the TI calculator with
which I learned statistical correlation. Oh, and a beautiful italian
blue parka that was taken off me crossing Chapultepec, near Ruben
Dario in Polanco, on my way back home...).
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 24, 5:27 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 24 Oct 2004 05:27:28 -0700
Local: Sun, Oct 24 2004 5:27 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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(This follows 5. I am *sure* I posted it after the first post. Maybe
another bug?)
Truth is that life was not that easy. I was making $10000 a month
(like $1000 dollars, all my figures are in pesos). But in Mexico
payroll workers and professionals are taxed before they receive the
money, so net I was making $700. Not really enough.
And thanks to the moutaineer I eventually got isolated in the office.
I know I can solve any computing problem no matter what technology,
but the mountaineer`s agenda was to prove I was inept and shouldn`t be
there. So instead of being recognized by my skills I was always
doubted. The first days I didn`t have money to eat, so I would stay
the whole day til 6 o`clock and then would leave famelic to have my
daily tuna fish sandwich. It wasn`t very well seen, though any
scruples went away when I discovered that around 7 o`clock the main
programmers would stop everything to play starcraft til nine or later.
Anyway, I was making 8 hours a day, so my conscience was clean. But
the shouting of the moutaineer made me feel so out pf place that save
for a few months, the two years I stayed there I was expecting to be
fired...
Though I understood the guy. There were some rewards, like business
trips. When the system, the SQLMachine wsa ready to be shown, he was
chosen to go to San Francisco to an expo. It was my nightmare...
Almost before going out I received an urgent call. My code was not
working! And thhad the show the next day. My part was precisely the
SQL table join. No results appeared, and to make it even more
difficult, I had to debug it in the FULL system, which meant finding
my way in a Linux system, the mountaineer`s, first time I used that
OS.
I couldn`t understand. When I tested it in my computer it was not
working! But I did see it working... Tragedy! The card engine was not
working and the join didn`t functioned and they expected investors.
The whole night I traced the bug. Never found how to change vi to show
line numbers instead of file percentages, so I would go up and down to
check the line numbers in my computer. It was desperating. The data
was there, but didn`t show up in the end result. At one moment, when I
was amost *there* I wanted to clean the sreen from useless windows. I
had one side modified files and on the other unmodified ones, so I
could revert changes easily. Then I closed a console... And all
windows went away! I almost give up, but couldn`t leave them hanging
so I delved further to the innermost secrets of the code, to find that
the data was there and suddenly wasn`t. No bug apparent.
Because it was not a bug. One day the mountaineer came desperate to my
computer and without asking permit he started `optimizing`. By then I
knew better than to oppose so I let him do whatever he wanted, not
really paying attention. That night though, I understood what he did:
he deleted an overriding comparison function in the cell objects,
precisely where results where compared to decide whether they should
be included in the result set or not. I was hunting the phantom of a
bug...
By seven that morning the debugging was ready and the received the
code on time.I didn`t take into account the time zones, otherwise I
would have had at least three more hours and less pressure. Such was
life in ISOL.
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 24, 10:15 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 24 Oct 2004 10:15:06 -0700
Local: Sun, Oct 24 2004 10:15 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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It was that incident what convinced me that I was making a mistake. I
proved my worth and got as reward programming the wincard (pity Cesar
Bolanos didn`t let me solve the javacard; his engine worked fine in a
PC but in the card went dead and he couldn`t *see*, when it was a
matter to know how to program blinded). In a week the wincard was
solved but I was anticipating more sleepless nights and I like to be
comfortable. Having a somewhat steady source of money, why not look
for an apartment nearer the office? Less expenditure in taxis, and
anyway I didn`t want to wait til it was time to leave my mother`s
apartment. Had too many things, three full rooms.
And Ledezma happened.
I already spoke about him in another thread, the one of the animation.
The first day I saw him was the day of the Christmas dinner. I didn`t
like him, I don`t like people who use boots with something else but
blue jeans and flanel shirts. Toni was boasting of her famiy jewels,
very happy about the party and was telling something about the
payroll. I saw Ledezma very introspective; then he made a phone call,
one hand supporting the wall, low head, very quiet; he was an
accomplished phone speaker and chat flirter as I learned later when he
chose to sit in the available seat near mine. My place was behind a
wall with a series of windows were I could see the whole floor and the
stairs leading to that floor. It was like a small open room. Behind me
was P. and it was a very nice space. Ledezma was working in a client`s
office in a project called the Titanic. Guess why. Though after two
years it didn`t sink after all.
We were in the party when Toni arrived with the bad news that she was
robbed, that night precisely...
And then L. appeared. When I saw her I said `Oh oh`. Blonde, slim,
nice, pretty and happy. She was going to be the receptionist. But I
was having this little trouble with I. though it was more because she
wanted to flirt than because I wanted to flirt. I was used to a stable
relationship and then I was already set up to emigrate, didn`t want a
freeby, though I did proposed her to come with me to the US, if she
really wanted something with me, and she didn`t. End of the story. L.
was another thing though...
At first I was shying away from the cliche of enamouring the
receptionist. But she was happy. The day I saw her jumping down the
stairs with her ponytail going up and down I felt something... and she
was warming to me too. I started arriving even earlier to have time to
chat with her; my own schedule didn`t llow me to have time but to
program and I would not engage in conversations. Fortunately, she
would sit down to play in the place in the corner opposite my window,
and THAT was irresistible. Yet I. was around, was her friend and I
didn`t want to look like a womanhunter. What a pity.
And after my Acer was stolen while I was doing my best effort to
impress L. with my conversation, the day I had the chance to get lost
with her instead of going back with the group and my Ledezma-arranged
`compromise`, it was absolutely obvious that I had to move out from
that apartment to some place where I could keep a good watch upon my
newly acquired ducky computer (which by the way depleted my $5000 in
savings).
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 24, 11:08 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 24 Oct 2004 11:08:40 -0700
Local: Sun, Oct 24 2004 11:08 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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One day going out of the office I saw the sign. Apartment in rent.
Building next door. Perfect.
It was the middle apartment in a three floor building, two rooms,
windows leading to an inner patio, high ceiling, two closets, cozy and
small, the kind of place you don`t mind leaving at all. Perfect. $3500
a month. Perfect.
The porter was an old man, 75, quite nice and a little gossipy. I
thought at first I wouldn`t get it, it was too good to be true and in
Mexico if something matches it is reason to make it fail (so`s
culture), but the manager was a lady with rather bad character but
well educated and since I was working and my boss, Candia, was the
cosigner, she had admit there was no problem with me. The apartment I
was living in with my mother was in an awful location, full of vulgar
people despite being near Reforma and being really ample; this place
was in a much better street without football players where I was
already being noticed and greeted by the neighbors and the multitude
of mothers in the kinder on the other side of the office. I would save
a lot in taxis and food, eventually, AND I could invite somebody,
since the other apartment was already too chaotic and messy. I felt
what it feels like to belong to a neighborhood, at least for a while.
I rented the apartment beginning November, immediately after my
birthday, but from the very beginning I had trouble. I started my
power contract with a $20 debt from the last owner, which proved to be
the excuse to have my power cut every two months.
The first months I didn`t occupy it, it was too cold and I needed to
recover some money to make few adaptations, particularly the bathroom
was violet! Imagine a single man with a violet bathroom... And I
needed courtains, affair which took over two months to complete, even
when the store was on the corner... They took so much time that I gave
up making more adjustments, above all when I discovered that the
doors` knobs were not working. Too expensive for a temporary place.
Because at that time I was certain that in 2000 I would be in the
United States. The plan was to send my mother first and then she would
help me after getting established and meanwhi I would send her money
to help her get established. But the process took so long and there
were those requirements that in the end we had to abandon the plan...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 24, 11:21 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 24 Oct 2004 11:21:50 -0700
Local: Sun, Oct 24 2004 11:21 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Meanwhile in the office I was fighting with GINA. Graphical
Identification aNd Authentication, the series of windows you see when
you turn on a Windows computer and when you press ctrl+alt+del. Great,
a mistake and you have to reboot in another OS to reboot again and
change the GINA and try again. Incomplete documentation. Not enough
for serious development. Lots of unknowns about its relation to the
rest of the NT kernel. In fact, a really tough job.
But I solved the problems, particularly its dependency on the services
manager and the infrastructure to make COM work. Unfortunately, for
ISOL, just when when we were about to integrate my GINA with P.`s
javacard in card database, she quit. Actually was forced to quit after
trouble with Candia. Simply put, design and requirements by Candia
were conflicting with the state of the art in javacard. There was not
enough space to store data and P. was to blame. Of course, bosses tend
to approach the Pope.
And then Escaldante, I mean, Escalante, arrived. Since P. was out of
favor, he simply said `her code is no good` and we had to start all
over again. I ended up with THREE versions of GINA in the same file
since Escaldante couldn`t set up his mind and ever understood that
GINA was not a toy. The system and the company never recovered, we
were almost asked to reduce our wages! But Escaldante had the saying,
and while I could have finished the whole system before February 2000,
by October we were still unable to integrate, much less finish it the
way it was envisioned. But Escaldante was an expert: he helped in the
gnome.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 24, 11:39 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 24 Oct 2004 11:39:48 -0700
Local: Sun, Oct 24 2004 11:39 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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So, having solved my main needs, roof, clothes, food, the moment came
to have some fun.
It was Saturday and I went downtown. I came back with an electric
guitar on four wheel skates. Exhilarating! Been looking for skates for
a while without luck and that day I found them. The fact is that I was
trying to show L. how wonderful I was. She used to use overalls, so I
started using overalls. We looked like man and wife. But she didn`t
understand. The yoyo fad came to the office and I would go out on
skates, overall and yoyo to make an impression on her. Nothing. I knew
it was I. behind this... The day I suggested I need to buy a bed, she
went very offended! Eventually she yelled at me and stopped talking to
me. Nothing. Impossible to recover... (I tried to hire a whore but
looking at her manly buttocks was like cold water; you see, I need to
be in love). So I kept burning energy with my skates, fighting
depression, particularly after I discovered she is a great poet and we
had chemistry...
It was 2000 and I was having trouble with the new wincard release.
They changed an inner format without documenting it! But I was blamed.
Candia didn`t trust me and gave me only one card to experiment. We had
to go to Microsoft help desk to learn that the card had to be
formatted before using it, though THAT information would only show at
the END of the formating process. Once the two details were solved
everything was working as before. We were waiting for Escaldante to
finish. Yet I was the one blamed. And after the money partner was shot
in the hand and decided to emigrate to an inner city, it was obvious
the days of ISOL were counted...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 24, 12:49 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 24 Oct 2004 12:49:33 -0700
Local: Sun, Oct 24 2004 12:49 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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I couldn`t care less. Even found another job with thrice pay but still
had hope with L. I needed to attract her attention so I needed an
amplifier, a small one battery operated to take it to the office. What
I found instead was the GR 30. And it all began anew.
I did find my small amplifier but on impulse I asked he store owner if
he knew how to connect a guitar to the computer. I wanted to have a
big organ with lots of sounds to simulate a real orchestra while
composing and I was already prorgamming the MIDIDevice library. But he
told that his son was precisely experiment with a divided pickup GK 2A
and I could buy an Axon interfase. The pickup was unexpensive, $2500
and didn`t doubt. But he couldn`t get the Axon, so it was either get
my money back and feel empty, or pay $5500 and get a guitar synth.
Obvious. I still had yo buy a SoundBlaster with MIDI interfase but
once started...
The day I bough the synth went to the office right away. I already had
this piece that sounds like symphonic rock and wanted to show, but
alas, Escaldante snatched the manual, connect it all and pronounced
the synth not working. I went again to the store (three blocks away)
and of course it was working. Went back to the office, H., a partner,
was not really happy, but the guitar sounded and Escaldante complained
it was playing alone. I couldn`t play, the noise level suddenly went
up, but who cares!
Connecting the equipment and handling volumes was another trouble. I
registered myself with the users mail group but in the end it was
experimenting by myself. Started recording. Then bought a very heavy
and big amplifier and played. And played. And played. And played. The
children in the kinder were astounded, wanted to know who was I, where
I was. I found my voice.
L. would look at me with wide eyes and inward sight, office`s
atmosphere rarefied, I lost my beautiful place and was sent to do
boring things in the middle of a hallway. I couldn`t care less, by
then my mother was already trying to arrange my passport and I knew it
was a matter of time. And I was earing little more than twice thanks
to corporate magic on a bankrupted company.
I had my lasik surgery on the left eye; went to the dentist to solve
my dental problemas once and for the rest of my life; I found this
flyer to the AcaFest and decided to go to start networking. even L.
started talking to me, very upset though. It was October 2000, had a
very nice birthday in Acapulco, even saw Belinda, though I still was
unsure because of the surgery. I was finally making a decent salary
with which to save and emigrate, though the passport required first to
invalidate my birth certificate and was not given to me in a few days,
as it should have been. The company would last at least six months and
that would have been more than enough, but...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 24, 4:11 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 24 Oct 2004 16:11:37 -0700
Local: Sun, Oct 24 2004 4:11 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Life in my apartment was so so. The cats didn`t have enough space to
run and had to do a lot of cat management. Didn`t buy a bed, was
sleeping in two coaches in the living room to avoid bothering
neighbors if I stayed too late. And there was more privacy. Power
bills were outrageous. I was at top consumption: computer, B&W TV and
a bulb 24 hours a day, but I was meant to pay 5 to 6 times more than
when I was living with my mother. Later I was offered a free phone
line and finally got a number to connect to the internet. Only the
line was installed one month late and fifteen days later service was
suspended for lack of payment; the bill arrived fifteen days after I
made them reconnect service. From then on I would wait til I get a
message to go and pay, the bill was always out of date.
My neighbor downstairs, Froylan, couldn`t resist the music and started
a friendship, except that he was 16, so well, you can imagine. His cat
was rather crazy wanting to meet my cats. No way! Though Liza did try
to explore one day. The neighbor upstairs V. (not *immediately*
upstairs) was rather pretty but arrived in a bad moment and later she
played inaccesible. So besides some good afternoons and good nights I
was living my life as a stranger, ready to fly any moment soon. It was
a temporary place.
I started the routine to go to a big cafeteria to have supper instead
of dinner, in the bar (not the alcohol bar). It was before L. arrived.
One night I was there and a strange group appeared. A tall, brunette
man, all in black and a hat like el Zorro was standing to my right
besides a middle age woman, green eyes, who had known better times.
There were two young women a little farther, in long coats and texan
hats. Couldn`t see her faces. But when I turned and saw the man`s
hands I felt my jaw dropped, you know, ehn you recognize that the
ringhe is wearing is actually *real* gold and the stone is actually a
*huge* ruby. Instant respect against my will.
When the couple left the two girls were visible and one of them was
looking at me. She looked like a doll, with a fantastic body. My
surprise came when instead of leaving the restauran they entered the
bar. They were the show! Who can resist having a little gin while
watching a show?
It was very funny indeed, and she was really nice. Even the waitresses
were really nice, and the variety included customers invited to dance
in the stage. Wouldn`t say no. So we met.
But circumstances were strange. She didn`t sing nor dance but it was
supposedly a big group of entertainers. The lady was the main singer
and the musical group was hired. The other man wsa nowhere to be seen.
I couldn`t pick up her phone and there started to be a lot of
opposition, you know, like somebody in between. The man was actually
nervous the times he appeared and this girl was also rather nervous.
Her mother came from the North to see her dancing one week, and the
other girl`s mother came the next week, though they didn`t meet. She
was willing, but there was opposition, and she was going to Japan to
promote her show! (Show? What show?).
One night the group didn`t come. I was just about to take her with me,
there already too much excitement in the restaurant, but they didn`t
appeared. I asked around and they just left. I went to another
cafeteria of the same chain and nothing, weren`t there. Started
visiting the bars of that chain and nothing. But they were a big group
and there were somme of the girls in a contest show on TV. She wasn`t
there, they knew nothing about her or the other girls. The last time I
saw her girl friend, I told her it seemed suspicious, ut she just
looked at me dumbfounded and knew nothing.
I asked the musicians. They came accompanying another variety, very
different. I asked the other group, a rather established act. Finally
got hold of one group of musicians whoknew about them, but they were
out of t circuit of the bar`s chain,thoug they would pay well. I got a
phone and address, after making them a little bit more than
acquaintances. I went to that place. A wel kept house in a low class
neighborhood. I tried the phone. Never got any reply but an answering
machine in japanese... Never saw her again, though I did go to the
Japanese Consulate and they knew nothing about a permit for a group to
go to Japan on a variety...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 24, 6:39 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 24 Oct 2004 18:39:46 -0700
Local: Sun, Oct 24 2004 6:39 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Aca Fest 2000! Four days in the best hotel! Transfixed! I was really
happy then! Not much to say, though. Two sleepless nights in the
lacoon traveling from glow of light to glow of light between dark
sands to taste a little of the new sounds smoking a cigar (after 12?
14? years listening classical music). And evenings full of oil and
coconut spent playing the guitar in the terrace...
I hired a van and driver to avoid having trouble with taxis. Ufff! The
last night the man showed *me* to a bunch of drivers. Obviously had to
hire a taxi the last day with all my stuff to avoid being kidnapped
(`this is the man I talked to you about...`, idiot). Didn`t go to a
disco though, it was enough to go to the Aca Fest!
But I was on a mission: to meet people and find out what it meant to
be a DJ. Wasn`t lucky. I did meet a guy, but he was so drugged that he
could hardly speak and spent a while talking with an American girl
from security. Didn`t go to my hotel, she said she was married, but it
was nice anyway. On my way back a group of policemen stopped me. Of
course, they thought I was smoking dope when in fact it was a cigar.
Very easy to confuse when people has never smelled dope. Or maybe they
were confused with the sea odors. After a few jokes they let me alone,
embarrased. I was feeling like a king!
And very probably it was then when I was first plagiarized, by some
guys with a sampler when I was calling whales with the heavy sounds of
wath ended being recorded as `In the Womb and Things to Come`.
It was a very joyful trip, totally relaxing and came back with a
wonderful tan... to the gloom of the office.
I was hated. Thouroughly. In fact, if I went to that festival was
because they arranged going to the moovies and didn`t invited me. So I
made my own enjoyment. And very likely too it was then when the
thieves living in or visiting the same building I was living in made a
copy of the keys... I wouldn`t leave there the computer of course, it
was with my mother, but maybe they took something, I don`t know, I
didn`t expected to be rob in that place.
Now that I remember there was another incident. The day I went to buy
tools to install the pickup I came back from the store and didn`t have
the keys. I called a locksmith and when he opened the door the keys
were on the floor just under the door. I assumed I dropped them, but
now that I think of it it is improbable, I would have heard them. In
Mexico youdon`t need to provide proof of address in order to make a
locksmith open your door and make a duplicate, that`s why I assumed
they got the keys in October. It was June or July then. And I had this
engagement ring that dissapeared one day. I blamed the cats, who by
the way must have enjoyed my trip a lot, since I left them with all
the food they could eat. From then on I would leave the food for them
to self service. One problem less >8{>
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 24, 6:59 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 24 Oct 2004 18:59:30 -0700
Local: Sun, Oct 24 2004 6:59 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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One month later I was fired. Unexpectedly. Thanks to Escaldante.
There were new partners and new people, all was influx. I was being
mistreated, though I had some hope of getting a position as CTO and be
sent to the office in LA. That was one of the reasons I remained with
them, besides L. and the appartment.
It was Sunday night when I came back from buying cigars and found a
note from Candia. They were having `serious trouble` with my card
module and the next day they had a meeting in Aeromexico (or
Mexicana?). It wasn`t working. Ha ha ha!
I called Candia and ended in the office working with Escaldante. The
trouble was the guy didn`t know how to install the card libraries. He
knew nothing. But he was invited to the new office to prepare things
while I was forgotten. I should have avoided the call. Even then he
almost forgot the codes to the installation (btw, the suite had a 1024
RSA key generator). After the module was installed and we found that
it was taking too long to load the card (I already explained in the
other thread), Candia rushed me out of the office in the early
morning. Pity, I could have found the problem then.
I did find the problem that week. Escaldantes interface was badly
thought out. When you program a manager of objects, you usually want a
method to retrieve one object AND a method to retrieve a collection of
objects. That is a pattern. Escaldante provided the single object
method, not the collection method, so the module had to go through all
the security in the card for every profile (usename/password). Too
slow. A single method would have retrieved all the information with a
single security check. Security would run in constant time (same time
every time used), instead of lineal time (time augments te more times
it is used). But he entered in a discussion of `your code is not
reentrant` after I proved to Candia that my profiler was showing very
small times for accessing the card. I was unable to tell that to the
new managing (money) directors. I was fired.
Was fired VERY unexpetedly. He just called me to come down ad didn`t
let me go back to my computer. My mail was closed, with the patents
attorney address and the last Valero`s mail. Couldn`t find them again.
But at least the new director was kind enough to give me severance
payment and allow me to make copies of my files in the computer. The
next day I spent the whole day backing up files. My computer was
reformatted right away (two years of accumulated thinking...). Coudn`t
see L. again, she was in an event in the WTC, three blocks away from
the office. And a new guy who just arrived made me an appointment with
an agency to fill a position in EJBs... Bad moment...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 24, 7:48 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 24 Oct 2004 19:48:03 -0700
Local: Sun, Oct 24 2004 7:48 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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It was disastrous. I went to the appointment, nice girls there, I ven
found an acquaintance from a chat (mysterious mail from code name
Africa, actually a very cozy girl), the begged me to accept... and I
accepted.
But I wanted vacations! Needed vacations after two years tugging with
difficult people. I needed to decide whether to stay in that
appartment or not. It didn`t make sense anymore and I wanted something
less expensive, $3800 was too much. And the bathroom was blocking.
First thing I did was buying myself a new computer. That poor computer
ended up in service seven times. I was very, very upset with them.
Thieves, they leftmy computer without half RAM. After Luis made a
comment to the technician criticizing his boring and somewhat abject
job.
Because Luis was there again. I sent a tentative mail two days before
I was fired and he replied right away. One day later and I wouldn`t
have met him again.
The job was very far away. I was making three hours coming and going
and was temporary. In December, during Holidays. It was good to learn
a few things, but unfortunately my bathroom blocked and that
determined that I stop going before making too much damage. I didn`t
get paid. But I told the girls that I was available til January and
they didn`t respect me. We all lose.
During that december my mother met an English Lady who wanted to
invest in an animal reserve. My mother said we could help and that was
the reason why I resurrected ghamac and started making the site. The
fact that Luis reappeared reinforced the good omen; I thought Luis was
already mature.
That month power was cut again, though it was paid. I took advantage
to go and stay one month withmy mother who was just about to leave her
appartment. I still had my books unpacked. So there we go, computer,
guitar and cats.
It was that February when I improvised Isabel`s Death. The year
before, Valero returned a few days. His mother, like always, started
the gossip and it was then when I finally realized what happened to
Isabel. She insisted that she had told me but I didn`t remember. It
was devastating, all the year wanting to see her and she was already
dead. Valero`s stay was ruined with my bad humor and that determined
that we lost contact til 2003. I let all my grief be spent in that
composition...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 24, 8:00 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 24 Oct 2004 20:00:05 -0700
Local: Sun, Oct 24 2004 8:00 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Luis started coming almost every day after returned with all my books
packed. My mother was already going through the certificate`s
invalidation trial and I was expecting to be out of Mexico by June.
Luis was conveniente in that there was this beautiful waitress, maybe
French, with the profile of the girl of Oil of Olay. I wanted to meet
her but she didn`t serve my table! Luis was supposed to help making a
bright, attracting conversation, but he always switched to how bad
things were in Mexico. The reserve project? Luis didn`t help at all
and the investor wanted tax exemption and mature people. Then Luis
arrived with the idea of Buenhotel, a site and free bulletin
advertising cheap hotels in Mexico City. Excellent idea. I started the
site (in http://ghamac.org/buen_hotel), but again Lui was not really
helpful; we couldn`t plan the bulletin and even though we got people
calling as sellers there was nothing fir to offer. I could have paid
the bulletin, but I was doing all the work and Luis was wasting my
time. Another failed project. And Luis was so gloomy that we stopped
going to Sanborn`s to see miss P. Later she left the job. It wasn`t
for her.
It was then when I found another job teaching Java. Tough. They wanted
a tight team by pruning programmers without enough `galleta` (like
resistance) and so I was very hard on them. In the end seven survived
the course, but it was obvios it was another badly managed company
without a real future as I wanted.
And then Luis arrived with the contest from the Mexico City`s Equidad
Social department (Social fairness). More trouble...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 25, 5:18 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 25 Oct 2004 05:18:20 -0700
Local: Mon, Oct 25 2004 5:18 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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At first the idea looked good. I had this project from the time when
we formalized gham ac for a guitar workship involving old street
guitarrists receiving some income for teaching free classes to poor
children. I presented the project after Luis abandoned the ball to the
PACMYC and of course was rejected, even having support from Delegacion
Iztapalapa. I wasn`t interested in writing another project so I
suggested we could use it. Indeed, I was not really interested but I
complied mainly because I didn`t think we would get the project.
It was the excuse for Luis to turn into a sticker. We agreed that the
project would have to be centered on children and established several
details. I don`t remember if I added the harangue about a new musical
educatio or it was alredy written, but we needed to search prices for
the budget.
When we went to ask for information the project was defeated. The
person in charge, Veronica didn`t approved of us frm the beginning.
All our questions were answered with no. It turned out that *nothing*
could be justified with those funds, except perhaps paper if it was
going to be trashed after the six months the projects would last. Even
then I insisted in gathering prices for I was lost about how much it
would cost. But Luis` approach was to just put in some figures. After
all, the budget was a mere `tramite` (a bureaucratic requirement). We
would spend the rest of the day talking and walking.
After a few days the document was sort of ready. We proposed $250000
to establish a permanent address and a serious musical school that
would be able to last without asking students to pay a fee. As an
absolute minimum we asked $70000. And we never intended to follow the
budget at all. Luis was very absolute about it. By then he had already
told me that his uncle was head of the subway union, so it was obvious
to me that all the wealth of information about how to deal with
government and ACs had its origin in that source. Incidentally, funds
were not governmental, but came from a British charity association,
were administered by Fundacion Vamos and the role of the government
office was totally unclear. I was already excited about the idea,
because I had in mind this teaching method for children to compose
music. And I had a composition that sounded like `Alhambra` that could
be played by several children following simple melodic lines. We
presented the project and then I found a job. GHAMAC was forgotten.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 25, 7:14 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 25 Oct 2004 07:14:05 -0700
Local: Mon, Oct 25 2004 7:14 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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It was not a good job. I was an external, which meant I was a
worthless slave supposed to work from 8 O`CLOCK in the morning til
9:30 in the night with half an hour for a meal, two hours away from my
home. I accepted because I was supposed to be out before 5:00. I even
considered moving nearer as it was supposed to be a stable job. It
sound interesting because it was supposed to need artificial
intelligence. I expected to be there a few months only because once
the trial to invalidate my birth certificate ended I would get the
passport right away; they said so at the embassy. But the big company
was being bought by a transnational and the boss was under pressure to
prove he was indispensable when all pointed that his department would
be trimmed by the consolidation.
The first days I couldn`t go into the office. Well, the first day I
sneaked into the office but then I hadto wait for somebody to fill out
a form and permit, so I was there at 8:00 and nothing. Were it not
because I found the boss at 9:00 I would have been home by 11:00. My
place was in a hallway in the basement under the air current of the
subterranean parking lot in a desk too small to stretch my legs,
without support for my arms, working in a computer connected to a
mainframe that was even slower than my first 386. The boss` helper was
a young guy feeling god of the universe because he had a pseudo
cubicle and who would play on his superior knowledge of a thoroughly
proprietary system, which was indeed a mess. Every bit of information
I needed to perform my job was a conquest, though the problem was
fairly simple: to data mine a distributed database to consolidate
dispersed records belonging to single clients under different
accounts. The cmpany didn`t know who were heir real clients, to the
utmost distress of sellers.
I complained about the schedule. I didn`t like being yelled at. I was
sick of tricks like leaving urgent job at 9:00 menat for tomorrow when
it was needed for the next weekend. There was only one place to eat
within the allotted half hour. The agency couldn`t deposit me in my
bank account, had to open an account in their bank. Had to visit seven
offices of the bank before being able to open the account. The payment
arrived late. I left them owing me a week`s pay...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 25, 7:21 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 25 Oct 2004 07:21:53 -0700
Local: Mon, Oct 25 2004 7:21 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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It was a moment when I said `what the hell is going on!`.
The bathroom was thoroughly blocked. It was embarrasing to call the
plumber, I had been calling the plumber almost every two weeks and
each time I was paying enough to survive three weeks, maybe one month.
The situation was untenable. I was holding a tricky job consuming all
my time to please and help an agency that wouldn`t pay on time, to
sustain an apartment that was unusable, where the two old ladies next
door were doing small petty things because of the odor and the porter
wouldn`t pick up the trash because he wanted a small bag a week
instead of my big black bags every two weeks. Oh, and the power
company would cut power every two months, very likely expecting me to
pay another $100 tip for the reconnection...
I said ENOUGH! It was then when the result of the contest was
published. We won. And I dropped everything to start a new stage
teaching music while I expected my passport to leave once and for all
Mexico...
Reply
Tiny Human Ferret Oct 25, 3:02 pm show options
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From: Tiny Human Ferret - Find messages by this author
Date: Mon, 25 Oct 2004 18:02:18 -0400
Local: Mon, Oct 25 2004 3:02 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore wrote:
> Life in my apartment was so so. The cats didn`t have enough space to
> run and had to do a lot of cat management.
Meow.
--
The incapacity of a weak and distracted government may
often assume the appearance, and produce the effects,
of a treasonable correspondence with the public enemy.
--Gibbon, "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire"
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 25, 3:54 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 25 Oct 2004 15:54:00 -0700
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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So I quit the job and gave thanks to the agency. I also stopped paying
power until they sent somebody to investigate why was I paying so
much, as they promised while ago; simply started reconnecting power.
Also stopped paying rent until I had a working bathroom. It was simply
impossible with all the cats to be without a toilet and it was ruining
my working life. The only thing that was working OK was the boiler and
the gas supply, a real life problem in the other apartment but a joy
in this one, for the loader (cargador) was a nice fellow who made a
small effort to make my life easier. And the boiler, a small one, had
a trick with which I could enjoy long hours without running out of hot
water.
What came as a hit was that, after having my birth certificate
invalidated, the embassy asked FOR ANOTHER LEGAL PROCESS, this time to
make my name match. I didn`t solve the problem, it was my mother who
was leading the whole process, first because I was working, then
because she had more experience. The fact is that I didn`t have the
passport, so I could not leave Mexico but with a Mexican passport and
I could not get it because my birth certificate was invalidated.
Deadlock. It took til December to find an attorney willing to handle
the lawsuit (against my mother, just imagine it!), case which was
denied then so that we had to go to another tribunal to start all over
again... All this to change my name, actually to rotate it.
And management sent the plumber only to tell me that very likely the
pipes were rotten and *I* would have to break the wall, the wall of
the apartment below and install new pipes! Or the bathroom would block
again.
I gave them one month to see if the toilet problem was solved. I was
treating it with more care than a china cup. Three weeks later it was
blocked again. I asked my deposists back, three months. `give me back
the deposits and by next Monday I am not here anymore`. She chose to
let me stay til the deposits were wasted...
And Luis was an everyday presence, `preparing` the music workshop.
Reply
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The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 25, 4:32 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 25 Oct 2004 16:32:38 -0700
Local: Mon, Oct 25 2004 4:32 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Now I know my toilet was not blocking because the building was old,
but because it was being actively blocked, either when I was at the
office or when I was with Luis the whole day in the street. You`ll
see, in Mexico the victim i always guilty, nobody is responsible but
the sufferer, like in that very popular psychiatric and psychological
explanations where everything depends on you, when in fact the world
in general always has something to say. The building administration
tried to blame me, she even suggested I didn`t know how to use the
toilet! I know otherwise. Then they advanced the hypothesis that I was
blocking it with cat litter. Error. You don`t want to waste cat litter
because it is heavy; you use a special spoon to clean the cat`s shit
after the litter has absorbed the odor and the humidity. Then of
course they wanted to say that I was blocking it myself, as if I
wanted to sabotage myelf and live in a place where I could have no
guests, for even Luis would complain (obviously he *had* to go to the
bathroom, against my will, and then complain). Making management send
the plumber was in itself a victory, but they didn`t know Ihad been
caling plumbers for the last seven-eight months.
So I was the sturdy pole against which everybody else could be
irresponsible. When I said enough, everybody went upset.
I also know that power was being stolen by my neighbors. One Sunday I
found a neighbor speaking with a relative wearing a t-shirt from the
power company. The power company, a governmental monopoly, is very
inefficient and usually charges historically not according to current
consumption; I was paying the vices of the last tenants. And trash is
another inefficient mafia. While in the office the trashman would ring
and I would go running to my apartment to pick up my bags and give
them to him, with an expected tip. Once out of the office, it was a
matter of waiting for the trash car, which can come at any time at any
day, and then walk at least a block to deliver the bags. It is illegal
to deposit bags in the street and there are no trash cans anywhere. So
if you are alone or you work, trash is a huge problem. The porter
wouldn`t pick up my bags. He was very upset because I dared to
accumulate a big bag instead of using small market bags. I would pay a
maid, but the toilet and bathroom were reason enough for them to come
once and not return again. It is not that aesy to get maids in Mexico;
you need to have a contact and be careful for maids are usually the
entry point to their boyfriends, like te guys who entered my
grandmothers apartment and assaulted my family IN THE APARMENT with
guns, just when my grandfather was about to leave for Italy, where he
died the first of November of 1985. He almost suffered a heart attack
that day. And Zenaida, that was her name, dared to demand my
grandmother! Initiated a lawsuit which had the unexpected side effect
that my grandmoher didn`t by me my RadioShack computer! You have to be
careful hiring maids in Mexico, and I ran out of contacts.
As you can see, a very big BUT.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 25, 5:52 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 25 Oct 2004 17:52:44 -0700
Local: Mon, Oct 25 2004 5:52 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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The workshop would solve the te problem. I was confident it would be a
success and Luis kept bringing ideasfor making money from the
workshop. We chose Santa Fe as the zone needing social services. It
was an in other times times very dangerous neigborhood from where
armed gangs would spawnt to assault the classrooms in the UIA, the
college we both attended, though it was rather pacified maybe because
of the cardboard houses that were recurrently washed down the gorge to
the river below or because the new Santa Fe, the most expensive
neighborhood, was more urbanized than when we started school. We were
used to the zone because it was the way to reach the Ibero by public
transportation, and I just needed to walk one block to catch the combi
that would deposit me anywhere along the two way highway.
But the project was defeated from the beginning. We were assigned
$50000, $20000 less than the absolute minimum we planned receiving.
The first thing they asked us was to modify the project to reflect the
change in funding. I wanted to drop it all but Luis was kind of, well,
he is very closed but he looked like he really needed it, so I let him
take charge as treasurer and modify the budget. By then I didn`t
really wanted to read that project again.
When we presented the project again they told us that we needed a bank
account under the name of the association to receive the monies. We
assumed we would get a personal check! After all we were in the
documents as responsible so it was the same, and they didn`t advised
us from the beginning. They had had some... difficulties and the
projects were starting late, but for us it was the beginning of a new
saga...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 25, 6:10 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 25 Oct 2004 18:10:31 -0700
Local: Mon, Oct 25 2004 6:10 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Opening a bank account was almost impossible. I should have known
better but I still couldn`t believe. Within one month we visited THE
WHOLE BANKING SYSTEM. There were lots of impossible requirements, like
depositing huge quantities of money or having old accounts in the bank
or needing signatures from two or three account holder with more than
two years in the bank, plus the big deposit that cuould not be used,
or the absolute need to live withing two blocks of the bank office...
you get the idea (no wonder one of the banks dissapeared within the
period). I was about to drop the project, but Luis would insist in
making an appointment for the next day because he didn`t have a phone
to call me nor money to make the phone call. He didn`t understand that
I had things to do, needed to solve my apartment problem, make
decisions, etc. I didn`t understand he couldn`t make phone calls (now
I understand). So things would chain and after visiting a bank we
would go and try to some other idea. We even tried to establish
ourselves as a credit investigation bureau, we had the infrastructure
and pooling our experience could initiate ourselves in that business.
But of course, the industry was closed and we just wasted time coming
and going making proposals nobody accepted, though almost, almost...
And just about one month later we found the *last* bank, a little
known reginal bank with an office five blocks away from my apartment.
And they didn`t go into impossible requirement! Our kind of bank (in
the bank I had my account I had had three incidents where once money
dissapeared, then the machine teller didn`t give me the cash but made
double charge and another time the card just stopped working, leaving
me without cash and a pending taxi bill... twice; so it was no
choice).
We went to see a school teacher friend of Luis who would contribute
with the initial deposit and would help in the project. Another small
saga, and finally we opened up the account...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 25, 6:29 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 25 Oct 2004 18:29:57 -0700
Local: Mon, Oct 25 2004 6:29 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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...only to learn that we would get the funding split in three parts.
What was really preposterous and disgusting was that we would receive
no less than 10% *after* the project was completed. That means that
people who asked (and received) $500000 would get $50000 for
themselves just for participating in the contest. I convinced Luis
that we should ask little money to go safe, but not that little money.
I could hardly speak with Veronica, the coordinator. I was upset.
Because we didn`t ask for prices when preparing the budget so we
didn`t really know the level of rents. While trying to find a bank we
were also looking for a place to rent. Luis supposedly knew we would
find something adquate given the budget, and indeed, we fou a perfect
place. It was perfect because I planned to move to the workshop, to
have my things thouroughly packed to move the moment I got my
passport, to get rid of that apartment and to take care of the things,
for it was obvious that we could be burglared there.
The place we found was a second floor of an old restaurant that was
rather silent and cozy, where the cildren could be easily controled
and spacio enough to hold my boxes, my children books as a library and
could even be closed in case I had to keep with me some of the cats
(the rest would go to my mother`s).
But from the time we found place to the moment we had the money, it
had risen in price three times. A lot of wasted time and money. We
even were planning to rent the whole building eventually, but the
owner wsan`t really flexible.
So we had to conform ourselves with an old beauty parlor, one block
away from the highway, without visibility, in front of a mechanic
workshop, that needed modifications, next to the building`s parking
lot, cold, with two entrances, a heavy metal courtain and a very bad
distribution of interior space, costing much more that we really
anticipated. But we had no choice. Time was running out and the help
we would get from the institute of culture didn`t arrived...
Everything was going exactly the opposite way we expected...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 25, 7:28 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 25 Oct 2004 19:28:17 -0700
Local: Mon, Oct 25 2004 7:28 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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The fact is that Luis and I were having frictions. I was spending the
whole day with Luis! It was difficult to leave him before one in the
morning. I would go back to continue the ghamac site (automatically
generated through my own XM technology, it would involved a lot of
programming), then would sleep in the morning and wake up just in
time to... see Luis. He would go upset because I would arrive late and
a few times we didn`t meet. We always met incommon ground, glorieta
Insurgentes, just at the entrance to the Zona Rosa.
The workshop was supposed to be fun! I wanted to call L. or Belinda
and tell them I ws teaching music and giving classes. Around that time
I found Candia outside of the old office. He told me he had separated
from the compnay and was trying to start again with some people from
his team. It wsa as I knew would happen... I offered him my services.
Didn`t accepted them. Pity.
We were pressured because we had to give a report and nothing was
happening. We already had some thing, for the main computer in the
workshop and books and things like that, but Luis was opposing
resistance to actually go and start the workshop. He wanted to look
for more ways to get money from ghamac. We tried to organize a
congress about music teaching in primary school with the Instituto de
Cultura but they just made us go to some meetings and nothing happened
(Luis had a contact in the Congress printshop who could print for us
the advertisement). There were also the meetings in Equidad. We were
busy. When the time to make a progress report came I wanted to go into
a long complain of how badly administered was the program. But Luis
knew better; the program was supposed to have continuity, so it was
better to tell them that we were going perfect than admit all the
problems. In the end he prepared the report and all the papers. I was
still upset with Veronica, and there was the fiasco in the big
meeting, where Luis postulated himself for a small team, blocking my
way to the big league team overseeing all the groups. Grrr....
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 25, 7:50 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 25 Oct 2004 19:50:13 -0700
Local: Mon, Oct 25 2004 7:50 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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One weekend we finally agreed to go to the beauty parlor and turn it
into the workshop. Big moment, you know, painting and decorating and
generating interest so we could start filling it with things and
furniture, etc. It was a very difficult time. I was very excited, but
Luis was totally uncooperative. We didn`t advance much and we ended
being mad at each other.
But it was better than having the place empty. We got some support to
move things and books to the place, but Luis wouldn`t help organizing
things. I was in a home improvement mood, he only wanted to go ahead,
as if the project was already finished, a failure and ghamac had to
pass to some other thing.
The fact is that he lost interest and I was unable to convince him
(subtly) to go and start the workshop. Most of the money was going to
be used paying rent but the next deposit wouldn`t arrive on time;
actually it was uncertain when it would be deposited. Meanwhile, we
were already investigating another project for the IFE and consumming
time in it. A simulacrum of elections for high school kids so they
could learn electoral law. Nice. It was easier to research and I had
this idea about teaching teachers to teach teachers to prepare stages
for high schoolers to run simulated elections.
It was my birthday`s night. We had to finish the project and I was
writing like crazy. Last day would next day. That night Luis and I
entered into a serious argument about money. I gave him $1200 but he
needed another thousand more. We had money to pay the rent and buy
other things. The workshop was quite usable then, having most things
but the really valuable stuff, as we were not staying there not going
regularly. Luis couldn`t accept that I wouldn`t give him money. I
don`t remember what we said, but Luis didn`t tell why he needed more
money and at some point he made a tantrum and left. He had to come
back because the building`s door was closed, embarrasing, but he chose
to leave. I completed the project as we agreed and the next day sent
my mother to register it. I was too tired and it was my birthday.
I assumed Luis would get over his rage and come back next week. There
was a compromise, and he was supposedly more mature. And there was the
final 10%, he could keep it all if he wanted, I was interested in
getting over that project and resume my life. The passport was not
arrving any soon, though it was just a matter of months at the time
and I still had to solve my apartment`s problem.
He didn`t come back. Next week I went to the workshop and the
amplifier was missing. Also the monitor for the default computer (Luis
wanted a monitor for his (his cousin`s?) laptop). And, most telling,
the microdyne he insisted to buy for the water. He kept the keys. My
mother had warned me but I didn`t pay head. I didn`t care if smething
else was missing, but I knew it was Luis. And he kept several
documents with him, necessary for the reports. Other papers were also
missing in the workshop, but I didn`t know exactly what was missing,
he was taking care of the paperwork, a difficult task for me.
And so I lost my amplifier, (easily sold in a pawn shop), and though I
could give a guitar concert, the concert I was preparing for the
Glorieta Insurgentes never arrived...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 25, 8:17 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 25 Oct 2004 20:17:59 -0700
Local: Mon, Oct 25 2004 8:17 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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My mother was very angry. She fell in a bureaucratic trap that was the
excuse. The project didn`t win, though one year later it was executed
by th IFE. I learned that first through the TV and then my mother
found a newspaper article about it. Another stolen project. Though in
a way it was not their fault. I had lots of expectations about the
ghamac site and the workshop site. I even printed full color carpets
(a more difficut task than it seems) and again I supposed I could go
forward alone. I tried to convince a guy from the place I lived all my
life to help me in the place of Luis, Roberto. I had been preparing
him for a while and then insisted more, but he wasn`t interested... at
all. When the time to renew the site came, I simply let it go. I
opened it up in December, on Christmas, but by then it was really
obvious Bistrain`s tantrum was permanent and the workshop was a failed
dream, (more or less).
So I finished equipping the workshop and since the equipment was
incomplete I decided to take my computer with me. It meant living in
that place, for even though during the day it was relatively safe, in
the nights it was a place you wouldn`t like to be in the street alone,
nor accompanied as a matter of fact. And it was a test to see if it
was really livable so I could leave my apartment.
I would wake up in the mornings and go to feed the cats, feed myself
and then resturn to open the workshop. I needed help, I was even
unable to open the metal courtain alone! Then I would wait for the
children. Who wants to take children to a weird guy playing the guitar
like crazy but alone? I had two uniforms, my overall and the red
magician suit (all brick red, linus).
And then there were children. Some interest at first but it was
difficult. Yet the GR30 guitar had audience and at least two high
schoolers became regulars.
Then finally the mandatory meeting. That day arrived a new student, a
little girl, but couldn`t pay attention. The people from the program
stole my time and started discussing. I was angry, they were supposed
to support us with at least a partial techer but nothing. And it
became evident that there would be no continuity. They were a mess. No
future there. I tried to stirr them up a little before Luis left by
preparing a critique (available in ghamac.org) about the program and
its assumptions, for nothing.
After that I waited til it was December to close the workshop and move
back to my apartment with the computer and the guitar. When I next
returned to the workshop the door was opened and fou th landlord and a
policeman, inspecting things. Somebody entered the workshop! I though
it was Luis, he didn`t return the key though they insinuatedI left the
door open. No way! A whole life taking care of cats makes closing
doors an automatic check up before leaving. They also got the idea
that the guitar and computer were stoen. I did nothing to prove them
wrong, as it was better the rumor that I lost them than having
somebody following me to my apartment. He insisted in that I made a
report, but it meant displacing and lots of time. I wanted to finish
the workshop affair ASAP. And I didn`t want to engage Luis I trouble.
I could afford losing an amplifier.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 25, 9:01 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 25 Oct 2004 21:01:37 -0700
Local: Mon, Oct 25 2004 9:01 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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So the workshop had been a fiasco, but more because of the Equidad
Social office`s mistakes and errors than because of our (my) fault. If
they have had an organized program I would have applied for funds to
be received on January and I would have funded the workshop during
December and just let the voice go around. Nobody likes free things
and even though I said it was for free people were willing to pay for
the classes.
I moved back my things, most of them unpacked (the children books
library) on December. It was supposed to be a stable place, where I
would live my library and Luis would manage it, while I would look for
charity funds in the US to turn it into an hospice, a musical hospice
(this is in the site). But Luis opted to sabotage it.
And it was not over yet. I was really infuriated. Luis kept lots of
papers and prticularly the AC`s receipts. He could receive donations
with them. And I had to present the last report. We were supposed to
receive the last 10% but I didn`t care at all. Had to locate Luis.
Started looking for him in the Glorieta and around the place I would
leave him before going home. Nothing. Then started calling all th
Bistrain`s in the yellow pages. They either didn`t know him or would
deny it, and I knew that Luis was not very welcomed with his family. I
even tried to find him in the zone where his cousin, the one who would
lend him money and meals, was living, without success. I was really
enraged telling people that I needed Luis to give me back the papers
or I would file a repot for burglary. Nothing.
But there was an address that matched the zone where Luis was
supposedly living and nobody answered the phone. It was a very ugly
building near a metro station. I asked around to see if they know him
without success. I loitered for a while to try to catch him. Nothing.
Finally I asked a neighbor to let me in. I recognized the inner public
phone of which I had the number. Then knocked and it was Luis`s
apartment indeed. The encounter was brief. Nothing happened. And it
was then when Luis became just a bad memory. No new chances.
I filled the report with the papers that were available without much
interest. The date had passed, but I was trying to recover what I paid
the previous year for a CD burner that would actually *burn* discs and
I was barely on time to go to el Consumidor to file the complain and
get the money back. Another piece of equipment that didn`t work, like
the sound card. I also had filed another project, the illustrated
didactic musical composition poem for children, which I filed in the
Center for the Arts (where the multimedia workshop is), but of course,
after all the trouble printing and preparing the project it was not
funded. More time with Luis asking for info that was ultimately
wasted. My papers were invalidated and I had to get new receipts to
finish the report. Another visit downtown, to the printshop. And I was
already owing rent, when originally I was supposed to have the
passport, get a permit to work if necessary and find another
programing project to finance my emigration, which of course was a
failed plan thanks to the new requirement form the Embassy. And so,
the very last day of December I was in the Equidad Social office
living te final report. They were on vacations, never though of that,
but I was received and was done. It was the last day of ghamac as
Grupo Humanismo Ambientalista Mexicano AC.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 26, 4:57 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 26 Oct 2004 04:57:01 -0700
Local: Tues, Oct 26 2004 4:57 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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2002 and the adventure begins.
I wasn`t aware that the thieves were coming and going from my
apartment as if it was their house. And no wonder they didn`t steal my
computer: it was more profitable to let me do the work. I am sure Luis
met them at some point but don`t know when. Maybe around March, after
I was already a little tired of him. There was already a lot of
trouble with the neighbors. At least those around me, namely, the two
old ladies from the next door and the awful woman living upstairs,
right above my apartment. She was the friend of the thieves, a short,
stocky woman with angles features and a hypocrit smile. At first she
was nice and would greet me, but around the time I was skating I would
find her and she would act with a very disgusting attitude I know
understand meant `I know something you don`t know, that I am visiting
your home`.
The apartment was already a mess. I would spend a whole day cleaning,
that is the whole day, flooding the stone floor with water and pulling
it into the bathroom. But I was too busy to really engage in home
cleaning and when I was there the computer and my programming came
first. I was using a very heavy scented aromatizer, an electric one,
with a strong sweet odour, but trash was accumulating heavily and cat
wastes too. The ladies tried to annoy me by putting newspapers under
my door. Very welcome. They didn`t notice they used an ad with a pair
of eyes under a mechanized head; the eyes were nasty looking and the
way they folded the paper it seemed like a pir of eyes under a machine
head were staring from some space *under* the floor. The day she put
the newspaper she waited for me to notice; weird, I did notice, but at
the same time *she* noticed too and I will never forget how her jaw
dropped in surprise nor the hate that her eyes reflected when she
looked at me... And the newspaper was respected til I left. At least
you wouldn`t arrive and watch a small hand trying to reach under the
door (Liza...).
My sleeping schedule was also a mess thanks to the long walks with
Luis after midnight. I would usually wake up past noon, and since I
was not paying the rent and was feeling embarrased I would immediately
go out to avoid meeting th manager or the porter. What I didn`t notice
was that the bell was no longer working... And of course I didn`t
notice the thieves had the keys.
Even though my birth certificate was voided and in consequence the
rest of my papers I kept looking for a job. But it was useless. In
Mexico you are an old retiree when you reach 30. I went to some exams
and delivered my last resumes and even visited some agencies, but it
was obvious I really didn`t want to work, basically because I would
have to explain my migratory condition. And I was almost hired to go
to a project in Miami! The human resources manager actually accepted
me, a rather big programming company, but the immediate manager, after
giving me two long exams decided I was not worthy. The reason? Didn`t
have experience with Aruba. Search for Aruba. Funny, it looked exactly
like one of the projects were I was translating objects in javascript
to XML. It was going to be part of Roler, a role playing game language
to develop RPG games, and the first version was being tested in
javascript and the browser (Ankheega, he he, an adventure).
On the 14th of February I went to the old (new) company to ask them to
be reinstalled. Actually I did try later to see the old CEO, without
success. Iknew Candia wasn`t there, but the damage he did was too big.
I saw L. who thouroughly ignored me... in a feminine way. Clashed
emotions. I regreted it. Later that year afer having the passport,
which nobody believed I would get, I tried to visit her again only to
find that company was no longer inxistence and had turned into a
medical supplies company. Guess I will never see again. And she
doesn`t I started writing poetry next year...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 26, 6:42 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 26 Oct 2004 06:42:16 -0700
Local: Tues, Oct 26 2004 6:42 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Around those dates I stopped reconnecting power. One thing was to move
a wire to have service again, another one was to call an electrician
and have him install the missing connector. Besides, while I had power
it was hard to stop using the computer and I had to repack my stuff to
leave that place. I was already in low consumption mode. The cat party
had been over for a while and they were subjected to strictly enforced
cat rations, much to the distress of fat Luca, (precisely!), who had
grown fat and tame on piscolabis. Also Liza was so fat she could harly
move. I had enough clean clothing to go by for months without paying
laundry. Still had the phone line which I used mainly to connect to
the internet. I was used to surf by bursts, downloading all I could
and navigating all pages with a big cache for the time I would be
without a connection and could revise at leisure the newly acquired
loot. The TV was mainly to accompany the cats and to prevent people to
know if I was there (to avoid burglary, silly me!), but I had a
battery operated walkman. And light was solved with candles. I could
go to bed early and rise first hour in the morning.
It was then when I really noticed the guys upstairs. For the last
months there had been a low, sordid, deaf rumor I could hardly make
out above the TV but which even then made me wary. Without my noise
source it was clear those gus had a grudge against me. I was also used
to spend hours thinking out loud, an excellent exercise to prepare
speeches and practice fluidity, in the three languages. The TV would
help swamping my voice, but without it I started going very sigilous,
trying not to call attention, to hear what was going on with those
guys. It was more a gut feeling than a rational thought, but sometimes
I could make words like loco (crazy), rent and such. It`s not easy to
organize the stuff of a whole life and I had to make a lot of
repacking to have a more rational distribution of boxes than what I
achieved when I packed from my mother`s appartment.
It was also around that date that the incident I wrote about in the
thread `it was not the FBI...` happened. I needed time to think and to
say goodbye to Mexico. I was doing a lot of Sanborn`s visiting to keep
demand on the Insurgentes up. There are about 40 or more stores and I
had within my reach at least eight. Then I would come home, buy my big
torta, pack and go to bed with an old SF book read under the light of
the candles. Very cozy.
Until that night. The Ides of March.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 26, 7:16 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 26 Oct 2004 07:16:51 -0700
Local: Tues, Oct 26 2004 7:16 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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That night I arrived more late than usual. I was already trying to
spend the whole day outside to avoid meeting the porter, who would ask
me when would I leave, and the manager, with whom I had had a small
argument, and the old ladies (more like wiches actually), who would
complain about the odour more than before now that te aromatizer
stopped working, and V. who was not missing opportunity to show me her
disdain, and the neighbors downstairs which I never liked and were
trying to be obnoxious. Also the cats were grumpy and Liza was even
more a stciker than usually, used as they were to feed
indiscriminately. In fact, I was trying to avoid everybody, since not
paying rent usually has a devastating effect on the jealousy of the
neighbors who still pay rent. I had already quit my struggle with the
toilet and had to walk *several* blocks to go to the bathroom in
Sanborn`s, which was a real nuisance. At that point in time the
lawsuit to have my name match my papers was walking fast and I had to
meet my mother often to sign papers. I still assumed that within
weeks, not months, I would have the passport. Ha ha.
The guys upstairs had a raucus. They didn`t hear me arrive and so I
could hear perfectly well their conversation in the kitchen upstairs.
They were planning how to steal my computer! And my guitar! Four
voices, the woman, the two thieves and a deep voice who at some moment
identified itself as `the young Fraunhofer`. They where also
discussing things like weapons dealing, death matches and dog fights.
That`s why when they said they would shoot me through the window I did
pay heed. I papered the windows with newspapers and later I painted
the windows. That would make it difficult for them to shoot me and I
also planned to sleep in the inner room where they could not see me. I
could cope. Other neighbors were listening through the windows, I
could see their silhouettes like phantoms behind the kitchen windows
(six apartment had view to the same patio, three from the kitchen
only).
But when they switched the conversation back to me and started
planning how to poison the cats, it was too much. They could do it,
even if I had them locked in the inner room (that window could be
reached); they could enter my apartment!
So I went to the street, called my mother hysteric, convinced her I
had to leave that place that night and went back to pack the most
indispensable stuff, computer, guitar, some books, clothes (already
packed), and of course cats, three cages.
My mother arrived in a taxi. I was enraged, shouting maledictions and
within minutes I left the apartment. But not for good, not yet...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 26, 7:56 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 26 Oct 2004 07:56:07 -0700
Local: Tues, Oct 26 2004 7:56 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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The fact is I was both both scared and furious. And very tired. I
wanted to go back and spend the night there, now that the cats were
safe, but next day I had an appointment and was arguing with my mother
about ironing a shirt (the italian character shows being with my
mother...). And she didn`t believe me. Not even now believes me, but I
know it is a defense mechanism.
I spend the night there in great havoc. Not all cats can be together,
there are bully relationships and t place had a single room, though my
mother chosed to sleep in the living room. Next day I went back and it
was the tragedy: several boxes with books dissapeared. Also the other
computer, though the hard drive was not installed! I was switching
hard drives often but since Luis lept the monitor I didn`t reinstalled
it again. In fact, it stopped working suddenly after Luis left... I
don`t now what else was missing, it was still a mess. All the boxes
were stuffed in the last room, and I was piling them near they door as
they were being closed and sealed. Error. They didn`t even had to go
inside, just take out the boxes near the door. They were very heavy,
so heavy even I had trouble lifting them up. They contained my notes
of my whole life, lots of paper sheets without order, my C/C++ Users
Journal collection, my AI Jounal collection (precious, they were no
longer imported), and I don`t know what else. I was angry and started
telling everybody that my apartment was burglared. I mean, EVERYBODY.
Who cared if I didn`t pay rent. They must have had the boxes in the
apartment upstairs and went to call the police.
I had been calling them to tell them about the death threats. Can`t
remember how many times, but did called them and they did nothing.
That morning I was hysteric, wanted to recover my notes (I still miss
them) and they must have noticed the edge in my voice because they
sent four patrols.
The policemen arrived. They went into my apartment. Made some
questions. Saw it was a mess, smelly, saw the bathroom dirty and
decided I was crazy. Damn! They left with me trailing them, doubting
between begging or going indignant. Couldn`t stop. And that gave those
guys the green light. To hunt me.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 26, 8:20 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 26 Oct 2004 08:20:43 -0700
Local: Tues, Oct 26 2004 8:20 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Te next week or so was nightmarish. It was obvious they had the key,
so I had to keep packing as fast as I could. They left many valuable
things in their hurry but it was just a matter of time before they
regained confidence again. That day I packed all the rest of my
valuables and took them to my mother`s, in taxi. The guys had been
very quiet while the police was there, though you could hear the low
voice conversation. After the police left they were obviosly happy.
Kept plotting. All my senses and more where quite awake. I started
discussing with them in a loud voice. I insulted them, telling them
their truths, that they were just a bunch of thieves; I mocked them,
pointing out that they stole a computer without hard drive and left
many CDs and other things; I gave them an exit: I could arrive one day
and find the boxes waiting for me in the door, no offense taken; I
gave moral advice to neigbors: once I leave who would they rob? it was
better to give them away; I threatened them with calling inluences
(none I would waste in them), calling the FBI once I was in the US,
even send them marines and gangsters to recover my books (they
wouldn`t throw them away, would they? they though I had collections).
Nothing. They kept plotting and following my wanderings in the
apartment, no matter how silently I tried to walk.
And they were coming and going.
I would go out briefly, leaving the door locked, and would come back
to find the door unlocked, and viceversa. I would find the window
alternatively opened and closed, and the guys upstairs mocking. My
science fiction collection, still in a box filling up, dissapeared. I
don`t know how many boxes they stole. I still had a dirty wardrobe
that I was washing in the bathtub. I would pack, wash, then take a
bath and go back to my mother`s with what I could carry. I had to pack
for an indeterminate period of time, with boxes as solid as I could
make them. It was a tough job.
And then I tried to entramp them. I would fake going out but remaining
in the apartment. I spent nights in the inner room, waiting for them
in the dark; I spent nights standing up in the door where I would make
no shadow; I would go into the closet and wait for them to enter the
apartment; I tried to wait for them in the hallway. Nothing. Could not
catch them in fraganti...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 26, 8:58 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 26 Oct 2004 08:58:45 -0700
Local: Tues, Oct 26 2004 8:58 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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I believe it was Wednedsay when I was there packing. It was almost a
hit and run job, I wanted to be back in the computer programming the
MIDI sequencer. It was time to take a shower and I turned on the hot
water. The bolier started. At that moment Id the guys upstairs very
excited because I was going to take a shower. They rushed out, so hard
I culd hear th steps, as if they were planning a frolic.
I thought they would try to go in while I was bathing. A good moment
to try to deceive them by faking I was in the shower. Let the water
flow, put something to make the noise sound as if I was in there, wait
in the door... Nothing. After a while I though it safe to shower. It
was a very anxious bath, feeling naked and vulnerable, even left the
door open. Nothing. After I came out instead of going home, I decided
to wash some more clothes, better leave them wet. After a while I
noticed: the boiler was still working! It should have turned off
automatically after I closed the shower, maybe even before. I touched
it and it was *very* hot. Tried to turn it off but the flame didn`t go
out! Closed the valve completely, and the flame was still there! They
broke the boiler to mae it explode! If I killed the flame there would
be agas fugue and the tank was almost new. Damn. It was then when I
knew it was not the porter who was doing frolics. He couldn`t lift the
boxes, they were too heavy, but above all, he wouldn`t damage the
building. He felt almst like the landlord!
I told the other neighbors. I got no answer.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 26, 9:49 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 26 Oct 2004 09:49:32 -0700
Local: Tues, Oct 26 2004 9:49 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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It was in those days when the evictio lawsuit was delivered under the
door. Of course. I was no longer staying there so there was no reason
for the lanlord to bear with me. In Mexico it is known that once an
evictio lawsuit is started the process lasts six months, no matter
what, and then the tenant has at least three months to stay, no matter
what. I was counting on that to get my passport and maybe even a job
to pay the rents if they solved the toilet problem (and the kitchen`s
sink; there were flies coming out of it even when all my cooking was
hot coffee and tea).
It was another pressure. My mother was not convinced of what happened,
couldn`t make her go and stay there for a while to take care of my
things while I looked for an attorney and answered the demand. I still
had a mess in there, but Iwas determined to finish packing in order,
specially since in my mother`s apartment there was not enough space.
It was already a real problem to keep the cats separated to avoid
fights, something that was no problem in the old, big apartment, but
in these small apartments it meant lots of cat management,
particularly since they became used to be separated into the two
communities, my mother`s and mine.
It was not easy, but I found an attorney from a Universities office;
lots of nice girls there, though I was in no mood to flirt, I was
feeling depressed after so much adrenaline spent in that place.
Because these guys were following me. Or at least tried to. I would go
out in the night and leave the outdoor door closed to help them
detained. I would take detours to the metro station. In one occasion
they were waiting for me in a red car I seen before; they were cross
the street, in the entrance I would use because I had to cross the
avenue. But I came out one blovk before and crossed the avenue! They
had to move, I have already seen them, and in the metro instead of
going direct I spent a while goi from station to station to avoid
being followed, even commuting to take a longer route...
But one day they did catch me up. Went out of the destination station,
which was in the same line as the station I would take, walked up
another avenue, going in the way of the car flow, and just when I was
about to turn to the right, *contrary* to the flow of transit, these
guys appeared in a golf, I believe, compact car, white, and when they
turn to the left they dared yell at me! Damn.
I could no longer come and go. They were approaching... Almost at the
end I took a convoluted path to go to my mother`s. I had to walk a few
blocks to arrive and there it was: a gray car I had seen many times.
The plates? 186 MPU, almost like 486 CPU...
I felt defeated. I had to be visible because my mother and I were to
meet to go to one or another lawyer and I had to wait for her... Don`t
know if they saw me that day or not.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 26, 10:05 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 26 Oct 2004 10:05:28 -0700
Local: Tues, Oct 26 2004 10:05 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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But when I went really scared was the day I was coming back and just
before arriving there I felt a *very* strong, burnt odour. The
workshop that was under the old office building would sometimes smell
very strong, like chemicals, so strng that even I would notice, even
though my sense of smell is somewhat lacking. That day my heart
bumped. They could put fire to my books and blame me!. I didn`t stay.
I did call the fire department and left. Don`t know what happened.
And at last, being already so dangerous, I decided toput the rest of
boxes and books and everything under the bar furniture, barricaded
everything so that it would sound if somebody entered there, annouced
my neighbors downstairs that I wouldn`t be coming back for a while
until I could solve my space problem, and left the apartment for good,
but the time, months later, when I came back with movers to take the
rest of my things to the warehouse a friend of my mother kindly lent
us. It was the end of the apartment.
Because, even though at some point, after lots of harangues got
support from the neighbors to report these guys, mainly by Froylan and
his mother and sister, who lived beow and could hear them coming and
going, the judiciales didn`t helep either.
That time my mother accompany me to the Delegacion Benito Juarez. I
was angry. But could do nothing. Spoke to two judiciales, very heavy,
fat men, the ones called marranos (pigs, not for being dirty, but for
being heavy enough to stop criminals). I told them what these guys had
done, that they stole my books, original scores, sculpture models,
books, etc. They doubted. I didn`t have proof! They could not go and
investigate. They could not accuse them, even if I could get the names
(til then didn`t think of asking the woman`s name). And besides, why
did I wanted to go into so much trouble if I was moving out of the
apartment? Arggggg! I now believe they were bribed by these guys.
There was no other place to report them but in THAT delegation. My
mother and I were short of money, lots of expenses. I though of going
to Human Rights, but what for? It is well known that they have orders
to discuss pages ONE PAGE A DAY, even if the case has thousands of
pages... (incidentally Luis and I tried to complain about Veronica but
it was too difficult).
We were defeated. But I had my computer and guitar with me! I was
saved. It was just a matter of waiting for the passport and take care
of my things. Money would come intime, I needed to rest and recover
and prepare for what was to come. My aunt would help me once I the
passport. And though these guys did find me (one Saturday they yelled
my name and I saw them from the patio, a red, compact car), it was
just a matter of outwaiting them in that pace. I was under siege. And
my mother didn`t want to believe...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 26, 10:47 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 26 Oct 2004 10:47:16 -0700
Local: Tues, Oct 26 2004 10:47 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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The rest of the year I spent in my mother`s apartment, mostly. I had
barely enough money to buy cigarrettes in the store crossing the
street. But there was still the eviction lawsuit and the process to
change my name and even then I tried to find a job, so I had to go to
the interviews, without luck. I almost got one, but the secretary
insisted that I put my expected wage and I went too high. They wanted
to do cubes ad that was alright, but... Pity.
My mother wouldn`t understand my fear. She was in negation. But her
apartment had already been robbed when she arrived and I would take no
chances. They left a bad vibe she said.
So going out was a difficult affair because my mother wouldn`t stay to
watch my things. We were behind a popular high school, in one of those
neighborhoods that mix enourmous well to do houses with very poor
vecindades. Not a place to leave unwatched and there were lots of
teens in the building. I would wake up every early to go out, though
almost always I would arrive to find the aprtment empty. It was like a
penthouse and I would take the cats out to bathe under the sun and run
a little, much to my mother`s distress. Particularly the clown cat,
Novo, was a problem. I was trying to convince Roberto, from the old
neighborhood, to help me catch a she cat he was feeding in his window.
That was around January. But almost the last time I saw him he gave me
Novo. The she cat dissapeared, but Novo was saved, and he liked a lot
to explore. Too much.
It was a very anxious time waiting for the process to be finished and
then waiting for the papers to be liberated. The evictio lawsuit ended
well, thoughI was convinced not to fight the toilet issue. Since I
didn`t sign the last contract, Candia, my cosigner, was free of
responsibility and witho a job I could not pay; besides, if they
insisted I could gather plumbers and the building plumber (hard to
make him go, but a nice guy) and neighbors to prove the case and even
demand them for making me live under such conditions. I still didn`t
imagine these guys were the real cause of my apartment`s debacle.
Even then I was happy with my computer. Didn`t dare playing the guitar
to avoid attracting attention and soon decided to take it to the pawn
shop. But I had a very good loot from internet. I had samples of
almost everything, all kinds of code and tutorials and text and pages,
even weird and underground pages to explore and learn tricks of the
trade. Amazing the kind of pictures and stories you can download for
free or get stored in your cache. But my main interest then was my
sequencer, which, even though I could not make advance from the MIDI
part since I pawned shop the synth, I could turn into an awesome GUI
with guitars and everything. Very rewarding, even though my mother
kept complaining that I should get a job, difficult task without being
able to connect or print my resume.
I was weary. They knew were I lived. Then I had to go back to the
apartment to pick up the rest of my books and that left a trail, as
the porter was very interested in chatting with the driver...
And at last the process was over and my name changed. The final wait
to get back the papers was the heaviest. But after that it was just a
matter of taking them to the Embassy to get the passport and I was
free of Mexico forever. I wanted to be in the US before my birthday. I
almost made it...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 26, 12:35 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 26 Oct 2004 12:35:31 -0700
Local: Tues, Oct 26 2004 12:35 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Getting the passport was not that easy even then. They kept asking for
a *Mexican* passport. What for? If I had one I would have done
everything *within* the US. But I tried to comply and get one. No way.
I wouldn`t get one, not with an invalid birth certificate. Then they
wanted *proof* that my mother was living in the States when I was
born. PREPOSTEROUS! Imagine saving bills for over 30 years! And I did
have my bracelet from the hospital. And letters my mother saved. And
what does that had to do with the 14th ammendment? It doesn`t require
parents living as residents at the time, only the act of borning, as
many illegal Mexicans know quite well.
I had an argument with the guy there. Small, and he had to comply in
turn. I expected the passport within a week but it actually took one
month. Patience above all, I had waited enough, but it was late to be
here, in a TCC internet booth in NY, before my birthday.
I was really happy. After a year without identification and
inconsisten papers I finally got my US passport. I was reborn.
Went to say goodbye. Not many people, only Roberto, who really didn`t
deserved it, the people from the old office and L., who were no longer
in that address, and the man from the farmacy were I lived, who had
been the kinder of the people there. I wanted to see the mothers from
the kinder but it was too early. And the porter, but he wasn`t in
sight.
The farmacy owner was there and it was then when I learned about the
shooting. He was afable as always, making questions and we exchanged
mails. Then he told me there had been a bad shooting. I just asked:
`Really?` without inquiring more details. But something in his
demeanor, the way he crossed his arms and hold his chin, the voice, I
don`t know, in retrospective made me wonder what happened. But I said
I was content I left th place intime and he agreed with me.
I had already forgotten those guys. Luis Bistrain Gonzalez was a bad
memory. There was nothing holding me in Mexico... but I tried to call
Belinda. Her phone had a recording that the number no longer existed.
Wham. Didn`t expect it. It made me feel bad.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 26, 12:53 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 26 Oct 2004 12:53:28 -0700
Local: Tues, Oct 26 2004 12:53 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Only problem was I didn`t apply for the Social Security Number right
away. I was still nervous to go back soon since my mother wouldn`t
stay when I wasn`t home. It was supposed to be ready in two weeks. And
things were such that we would not be able to stay in that place for
long. My mother was a commissionist but in Mexico you cannot live from
selling, there are too many vices. So to get the money to emigrate I
had to speak with my aunt. In Veracruz.
Around that time a friend of my mother suddenly went excited with the
idea of ghamac. Don`t know why. Before Luis left I created credentials
and gave one to a veterinarian who wanted to have something telling
that she was in an animal humane society. Somehow the idea was revived
and this friend of my mother contacted another friend who specializes
in organizing events. Suddenly I was again involved in re-building
ghamac.
Except that I was not interested. My mother had been going to some
reunions of a society favoring animals, where she met Dr. Alejandro
Herrera, but those people were more interested in winning the
millionary legacy of the benefactor than in helping animals. She
wanted to help, so I thought of living the association to her as
president and this guy as treasurer.
He was very friendly and interested in organizing an event. Back to
the same. I was more interested in selling him a web site for his
company, even designed an expert system approach to marketing through
budget planning and we even went so far as to reregister the domain.
It was a nice surprise that the files were still there, though somehow
the scripts were not working as before... I started suspecting
hackers. Didn`t pay heed.
This guy registered his domain but didn`t buy the site. I gave him
several contacts of ACs who may want to organize an event. That was
the last I knew of him. But at least I had a domain again. 8)
That day I found Belinda`s sister in the cafeteria. Didn`t recognize
her at first and we didn`t talk. The passport was a few days away. I
let her know. If I had known her phone was dead...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 26, 1:09 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 26 Oct 2004 13:09:51 -0700
Local: Tues, Oct 26 2004 1:09 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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It was just a matter of convincing my mother that we had to leave
Mexico City. I knew there would be better opportunities in Veracruz
and I had the idea I could reach Florida by sea. Ha ha. Forgot that
Veracruz has no relations with the US because of the invasion.
Convincing her was difficult but a sure thing. There was family there
and it was just for a few weeks. The funny part was building the cat`s
cages; a matter of cutting and bending wire fence to form two big
cages big enough to hold five to six cats each. It was the last
Christmas spent in Mexico. I picked up the guitar and stored most of
my boxes in the warehouse of my mother`s friend.
By February it was all arranged and I went to apply for the SSN. It
happened: would have to wait six months! I was in shock and my mother
enraged. I already knew they would ask for school papers (what for?
the form just mentioned passport and birth certificate), so I was
ready, something the Mexican bureaucrat didn`t like at all, as after
giving me the forms it was noticeable the triumph when she asked for
school papers and the defeat when I gave them to her. There was
nothing else to be done but go to Veracruz. I waited til February in
order to give my family`s address, a stable address. Never imagined it
would take so long and would cause me so many troubles...
One night we left in a moving service. An old, homeless lady was
asking for help so we let her stay in the empty apartment. And with
three cages full of cats, guitars, books, clothes, computer, mother
and myself, the long trip to Veracruz started...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 26, 2:31 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 26 Oct 2004 14:31:54 -0700
Local: Tues, Oct 26 2004 2:31 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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What a trip! We couldn`t locate a moving service ging directly from
Mexico City to Veracruz, so we had to hire... a grocery truck. We were
told that the ones transporting oranges (yes, oranges), in the Central
de Abastos, could take us to an intermediate city: Papantla, the place
were those guys risk an embolia and puking over the multitude by
hanging from their feet while gyrating around a tall, tall pole.
Dizzying, indeed.
We left in two small trucks with a bunch of teenagers. In one were my
mother and things, I was in the other with four cages full of cats. We
comitted the BIG mistake of giving a tranquilizer to some of the cats.
They will never forgive us. The clown cat, of course, had an
`accident`. Of course. Sombrita was desperate to watch it all, but
unfortunately her cage was on the floor. Pipistrella was lost; Cirilo
spent the whole trip scratching her and poor Pipis arrived bald. She
wouldn`t speak to me. Luca was very quiet traveling with Felida and
archenemy Bony; Bony is actually the mother of Felida, a very small
and stupid cats with big eyes who would flee Lucas from five yards
away, but would hold her own if Luca dared bully her in earnest, much
to the surprise of Luca. Liza was drunken, too fat to really sleep
with the doses we gave her. The only one actually enjoying was
Priscila, showing all cats how dignity hadles itself in such dire
straits.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 26, 2:46 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 26 Oct 2004 14:46:45 -0700
Local: Tues, Oct 26 2004 2:46 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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The people my mother spent three days hiring were nowhere to be seen.
After a while we found a man willing to accept so strange people, not
without several side glances. He wouldonly have to go home first
before delivering us.
I traveled in the box of the truck and I said great! I could read,
play the guitar watch the highway from the top of the box... except
that once closed it was total darkness. The truck started moving, I
started bumping. The cats started meowing. The clown cat had an
`accident`. Of course. The great surprise was when I tried to light a
cigarrette in the aerodynamic tunnel-like box: it was absolutely
impossible. Soon I had to find emergency bed sheets to cover the cats.
Pipistrella was lost. Liza was disconsolate with her world all going
round and round and bump and bump. Felida couldn`t resist the
temptation to go out and explore and almost fell from the truck
feeling brave for being with me. Even Bony, usually shy, was feeling
brave and dared go out, maybe because big, mean Luca was being very,
very humble pressing himself against the back of the cage, were Bony
was sleeping.
Recess didn`t last long; back to the cage. All except Liza, who had to
sleep on me or would yell like crazy. Didn`t took long before I found
a way to embed myself among the luggage and stopped bouncing. Sombrita
would look at me with very fixed eyes...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 26, 4:31 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 26 Oct 2004 16:31:01 -0700
Local: Tues, Oct 26 2004 4:31 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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At some indeterminate hour in the early morning I was waken up by the
driver and my mother. They were looking amused. The driver asked me if
I was OK and offered me oranges. Then he closed the door. I looked at
the oranges. We were in his house and finally could light a cigarette.
Without any warning the truck started moving. In a harsher bump than
average I lost the cigarette. It started smelling like roasted cat.
Liza took advantage of the vissicitude to jump on me and bite me. She
never misses ocassion to bite me. I felt asleep right away.
It was middle morning when the truck stopped in Papantla. A big
parking lot with a quick restaurant and a gas station. I didn`t feel
the moment when the weather changed from freezing to warm. The truck
driver was looking a little surprised, like he was expecting something
that was missing. This time he left the door open and I could stand
out and inspect the cages.
Liza was very comfortable on one of the big bags. The rest of the cats
were in different stages of nervousness. Except Sombrita who was
begging me to let her go out. The worst effects of the tranquilizer
had passed and even Pipistrella was trying to get off her Cirilo`s
paws.
We had to wait to find somebody to take us to Veracruz. The truck,
according to the driver, would not be allowed in the city (?). My
mother threatened to go hysteric when I started opening the cages to
let the cats go out and explore, but Felida and Bony were impossible.
Even Luca was feeling brave enough to go out The trip was having a
wonderful effect on them. Except Novo, who was looking embarrased but
drier.
We stayed there a few hours. Some people came and admired the cats and
I improvised a very nice rock song. The driver said I had a `sound`
but when I thanked him he started looking befuddled and a little
scared.
I didn`t expected somebody to appear, the place looked deserted but
one small truck actually offered passage. The man was trying to be
amiable but his offer was too expensive and th truck too small. Then
another pickup appeared and was sent to us by the people from the gas
station. This driver looked grim, but went right away to solve the
packing problem.
In no time we were accomodating everything in the pickup`s cage. To
the bad fortune of Sombrita her cage ended up on the floor again, with
the other large cage upon it. The small cages were in a corner, with
Liza and Luca in the upper one. The rest of the things were stuffed on
the floor, living me mounted on top of everything. Very uncomfortable.
And if I thought the aerodynamic tunnel was bad, this open pick up was
even worse.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 6:01 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 06:01:56 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 6:01 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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There is always an expectation of adventure when you move to the coast
to live life by the sea under a warm and wet weather, after an arid
stay in a large, crowded and poluted metropolis. When this stay is but
a small stage preparing a longer migration, elation rises high. Even
the highway is a discovery of brief glimpses of the sea among large
plantations, sparse groups of houses inviting you to pause and have a
cool drink and the occasional cloud of dense marihuana smoke that
makes your eyes see lights and your ears feel submerged in water,
tinkling. You feel the sun burning you and the wind rushing by at the
speed of a driver who wants to go on with his life ASAP. You feel hot
and cold. The world seems immovable, static, eternal, shrinking in a
heroic moment that promises never to end, among mountains that rise
and level like a wave, both an ending and a beginning at the same
time...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 9:26 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 09:26:28 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 9:26 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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After four hours at full speed finally a street light. The cats didn`t
like it at all. This time there were no saving bed sheets to cover
them. And Liza had an `accident`, to poor Luca`s misfortune. Novo and
Priscila enjoyed the trip quite well, with half closed eyes to resist
the heavy wind without moving; the rest of the cats were restless.
Luca was appalled. We all were happy of reaching destination.
Veracruz! Beach and Sun! Well, in fact beaches are mud and stones,
very dirty, while the sun turns you chocolate in a too humid
environment. That sea is one of the most heated on Earth. But like any
other sea city it has certain personality that speaks of feasting and
fasting, colourful. I was happy with the prospect of spending some
time in my uncle`s house, without the fear of being assaulted, free to
come and go at any time, surrounded by people I could trust. In sum, a
civilized vacations, perfect to forget the persecution and anxiety of
the last year. Women in Veracruz are more open than in Mexico City.
`Tierra Caliente`, hot land, is called. And they have very nice
bodies! Belinda`s family is from Veracruz; another girl I met in
college, Pilar Moreno, was also Veracruzan. I could get fun, and I was
developing this system for internet cafes that should sell well, in a
city full of cybercafes. I would play the guitar again!
Just what I needed to arrive in America full of energy.
Finding my uncle`s house was not that difficult at all. We could take
the wrong turn but didn`t, and in a few minutes the pickup was already
moving slowly to find the house number. It is in a corner. Finally. We
arrived.
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The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 10:02 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 10:02:15 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 10:02 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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They couldn`t accomodate us. We unloaded the pickup while ringing the
bell to give them the surprise that we had arrived, and it was a
surprise, we didn`t tell them we would spend some time with them and
we were not received. Such is family. I wanted to be there by
Christmas, but things lagged and we could not take advantage of the
season. The cats were deposited in a small inner lawn, to great
enjoyment of Priscila, who behind her attitude of queen cat is rather
active and likes adventure. They`d never been on grass.
But we couldn`t stay. I waited in the street with my things while my
mother found a place for us to stay. The whole evening. A hotel was
out of the question because of the cats, so it was not that easy.
It was almost night when they finally came back, with a friend of my
aunt. Julieta`s mother would let us stay in a room in her apartment
while we found a place to rent. So there we go again, cats, guitars
and all. Another mover. The people was very amused with the long
hand-made cages full of resigned cats waiting to be let out. Food and
water were no longer enough. They were in no mood to meet people.
Installing everything was another heavy task, but at last we could
free the cats to wander a little and get acquainted with the new,
though temporary, place. And we could go out and feel we were in
Veracruz.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 10:21 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 10:21:51 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 10:21 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Julieta`s mother was a witch. Literally. Veracruz is place of magic
and voodoo, santeria and the like. You need a `job` done? Go visit the
wizards (brujos) of Catemaco (delicious fish from the lacoon, at least
27 years ago).
Her apartment was on the first floor, quite spacious, and our room was
the last one. The poor cats were very quiet and humble, all the
enmities forgotten for a while. Except Novo, who rarely stops
speaking. And fortunately the room was cooler than hot. They took
places as best they could to avoid each other.
Julieta`s mother didn`t like us. She didn`t like me. So there was no
confidence. We stayed a week there, but if didn`t go out with my
mother I wouldn`t get out of the room. Heat was already defeating me,
and just before arriving the acoustic guitar`s D string went broken.
Few things make you do better music than a missing string...
I would sleep long hours and read. Of course, I had been moving cats
and things for three days and needed rest. And not being received was
another trauma. But I recovered in two days. Problem was I could not
smoke in that room and I wanted to be free, to be able to walk without
fear of being assaulted, and to find out if I could buy my Insurgentes
cigars. I wasn`t that sure of the place; the lady was rather ill
humored, and spent the whole week controlling us (trying to), rather
than making our stay comfortable. I definitely didn`t like the woman
nor her dogs (chihuahuenos) and avoided contact all I could.
We started looking for another place to stay. As soon as possible. We
would spend the whole day searching though all places we visited had
some or another problem. We were accompanied by Julieta. Salvation
came from the owner of a farmacy who had a lot of apartments precisely
behind Julieta`s apartment. Now, apartment is a strong word for the
extended rooms we were offered. It was more like a hotel suite and it
felt like living in a bungalo. A big square as living room, to the
left a kitchen leading to the inner patio, to the right a bathroom
leading to the only room. I was sure of something: I didn`t like the
place, I didn`t like living behind Julieta. Didn`t like it at all...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 10:45 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 10:45:13 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 10:45 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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We had no choice and it was the worst possible move. Julieta`s mother
was threating us to throw us away! She was doing a favor! Lots of
frictions. And there we go, cats and all again.
I comitted a mistake when we first visited the place: I was well
dressed, silk lush green shirt, linus cream pants, white cloth shoes,
my microfly shades I bought in the Aca fest ($800, but were eorth the
while)...
The complex (how to call it?) seemed weird to me. An inner street with
one level apartments facing each other, though one neighbor had built
a second floor. Impossible not to peep into the people`s privacy
simply by walking to Julieta`s apartment, the last one. All doors
constantly open, because of the heat, unbearable even for locals.
Our apartment was almost behind Julieta`s, in another inner street
that was uninhabited. The apartments were ruinous in that alley, and
only the first two were occupied and, to be honest, rather well
protected, with at least three locks. In Veracruz all houses have at
least two locks and metal gates.
But in front of us there were no neighbors. It was a huge warehouse
converted into... a Christian rock institute. I felt I was in a zoo,
though nobody had any reason to pass by our windows, which covered
almost the whole wall but for the door.
In the entrance to that street the first house had a second floor,
making it resemble like a kind of castle, in structure if not in look,
because it was a rather vulgar place, all painted in different bright
colors.
And in the street proper, a band of teens and others loitering the
whole day, bikes and all, plus a blacksmith, a junkyard, a small
grocery store and some single houses opposite the street.
I didn`t belong there, nor my mother nor the cats...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 11:18 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 11:18:40 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 11:18 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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It was goodbye to my freedom. I could not possibly leave my computer
and guitar unattended in that place. And I could not play either. And
I could not dress well. It was back to the same.
We didn`t have furniture but a big emergency mattress until my aunt
brought some furniture from her old apartment, the one she lived in
below our old apartment in Colonia Cuauhtemoc, the one near Reforma.
My mother was complaining about the heat (still is) so by an implicit
agreement she slept in the living room where the air current would
keep her a little fresh. I opted to sleep in the inner room on the
floor, to take advantage of the low air currents, almost inexistent.
The poor cats were all dismayed, not used to such weather; they were
throwing away fur like crazy.
The open patio was a problem. The most adventurous cats started
exploring the ceiling, among them Sombrita, who arrived one night
trailing my mother after escaping the house were she was sterilized,
with the disinfectant still coloring her belly, almost ten years ago.
I had to climb to retrive cats every now and then. At first it was a
problem, but later a neighbor lent us a wood staircase. The real
problem was the clowny cat, who found new entertainment terrorizing
the local cats and was going up and down as king. Eventually we
installed a mosquito net, but not before Sombrita was lost and killed
by the local gangsters. You`ll see, in Veracruz people act like an
overheated car, sluggish, and show little interest in many things,
even if there`s money in between. If the handyman had come sooner...
but even finding one was trouble.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 11:42 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 11:42:22 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 11:42 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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There was trouble with Julieta, jelousy between her and my mother to
monopolize my aunt. Julieta is sticky. And we couldn`t resist it.
After a while the frictions were obvious and we lost. When we were
looking for places she introduced me her daughter. Don`t remember her
name, she was 14 but looked like 17; Julieta wanted to leave me in her
home watching TV while they went to visit another apartment. I said no
way! Besides, she had a 23 years old fiancee in the navy. And I was
just waiting my SSN, and to receive financing from my aunt. I went to
Veracruz to emigrate, not to integrate.
At some point she asked me what do I do and I told her about my
computing and my music. That I have a masterpiece I wanted to sell and
was waiting for my SSN and to have internet to apply to a programming
job so that I would arrive in America with a job. She told me she was
a composer (!?) and wanted to sell a tune, and she knew this guy,
Rigo, who was a musician too and could help me maybe to make some
money. When we were in the new apartment and I installed the computer
(right away!), I showed her `In the Womb...`. She said nothing, but
she never introduced me to Rigo, though I would see his traveling band
bus parked in front of our street. I didn`t meet him nor was able to
distinguish him from the multitude of young men without shirts wasting
time in our street. After Julieta`s revelation of being a composer
herself, my determination not to play was even more firm.
The first weekend we woke up with high volume drumming from the
Christian institute. A *very* bad batterist. The same repeated almost
every Sunday and Saturday until I complained. Definitely was not a
place to play.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 12:02 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 12:02:10 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 12:02 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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But I did play, once, and it was the only day I played.
It was in the first week, if I remember well, or maybe not. I did
*play* the compositions I had recorded, an artist *needs* to be heard,
but the synth guitar Iplayed only once.
Julieta was there in the living room and I felt like, well, boasting.
There was already an argument, eternal, on how useless I was, as if a
man`s utility was measured only by being in an office or making odd
jobs. So I started playing.
The result was a country-ish tune with full harmonies and a
recogniable character, achieved through a small syncope playing on an
arpeggio. And I not only played by recorded it as well, as it should
be, in MIDI, and then started editing, for a while. Easily a hit, I
knew.
After an hour or so I went through headphones and lived it at that.
Then Iwent to programming...
It was around midnight when the light suddenly went very, but very
bright. I could not believe! I doubted for a second or so and then
disconnected what I could. The bulb exploded. White smoke was coming
out of my computer, also sparks from the plugs. Both guitar and
computer were off but connected.
I went outside, to where the electrical installation had the fuses, at
the very entrance of the inner street, just to see a man going into a
full moving truck after closing one of the doors that led to the
apartment in the second floor. I asked them if they did something to
the light installation. He just looked at me with open mouth and
closed eyebrows, surprised, turned on the truck and left quickly as if
he was scared...
All electricals were burnt, TV, radios, clocks, computer, guitar power
supply, vacuum cleaner. I didn`t know at the time... Now I know.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 12:32 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 12:32:47 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 12:32 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Buying a new power supply for the guitar was impossible. Not even
withRoland providers. They couldn`t understand the notion of calling
their provider to order a specialized piece of equipment and making a
profit by reselling ut to me. I visited several music stores and I
could buy was th acoustic`s string guitar.
The computer`s power supply was different. My uncle had a friend with
a printshop/computer repair service who installed the power supply in
no time. In order to completely test the cybercafe system I needed a
network. I offered him to use his network or equipment in exchange of
having some participation in the system, and I needed a CD burner. I
showed him the interfase to sequencer and he commented it was nice. Of
course, nothing came out of it.
I had to spend the time I though I would spend programming my
sequencer and composing doing other programming tasks, though the heat
was definitely an obstacle to be in that room; even at night, I had to
move and go out to shed excess heat.
The rest of the appliances was useless. I `sacrificed` my portable
radio/BW TV so that my mother could watch the news at least, and soon
we had a radio and an electric furnace, barely enough for our needs.
Barely.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 12:44 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 12:44:29 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 12:44 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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We had no hot water! No gas installation! Again, the temporary place
syndrome. But everybody assured us that it was not needed, water would
be hot enough because of the heat that we would note no difference.
My mother didn`t, being on the fat more than on the thin side, but *I*
did. Myth, that you could shower with cold water. It was after several
months later, just before I was leaving, that the water started coming
out more on the warm side, and bearable only because the heat was
impossible, over 40 C, more like 50 C in an enclosed space. But for
the most part of the year I could not bear even the idea. In a way I
had to accumulate enough heat in my body to go into a cold water
shower.
But there were the baths. I found this bath house not too many blocks
away (you can walk all downtown, Veracruz is fairly provincial), which
incidentally had a music shop too. It was blue and had a superb
acoustic. I would spend almost an hour (more than allowed) in an ample
bath room singing and humming, listening how the acoustic amplified my
voice until the building felt like vibrating. I should have had with
me a recorder. At least two pieces were unforgettable, though I can
only remember the mood and a little bit of the structure... And
somebody did suggested they would use a recorder.
I learned which room had the best acoustic, but stopped humming until
I was about to finish, to avoid funny ideas from the people in charge.
I would come out of the bath smelling like silk.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 1:06 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 13:06:00 -0700
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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I could only go to the baths on the weekend, when my mother was home
from her job. Because she did find a job! Thanks God, it is impossible
for me to spend too many hours with my mother without arguing. She was
in a customs office, and that meant that I had to stay the whole day
in that place, suffering the heat and managing the cats. I would only
go out to buy cigarretes two blocks away, to a store with a nice girl.
She didn`t want to engage in smalltalk, but it was better than
crossing the street and going among all the vagrants to the street`s
grocery store. There was another girl in that store who at least would
smile at me. Maybe I should have chosen another store, I definitely
wanted no compromises. She was making very patent she had a
boyfriend... which of course made _me_ smile in turn. It seemed
obvious to me that her mother wanted to marry her ASAP.
And that was my social life in the neighborhood. Once a day to buy
cigarettes, then in the nights to buy a hamburguer, once my mother
arrived from the office, and sometimes to the American-style store
four blocks away to buy some energizing, very cold beverage and try to
recover all the sweat I would lose in the oven I was living in.
There was no way I could leave the place alone. Veracruz is a very
dangerous place, it is well known, and a hating place. Particularly
against Americans. It was easy for them to jump into the apartment
from the patio and take away my guitar. It improved when we installed
the mosquito net, but not much. It was a constant conflict withmy
mother trying to convince her of using locks and two keys in the door
and a metal door, all of which were eventually installed. Seemingly
for nothing...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 2:53 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 14:53:28 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 2:53 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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And there was a drug addict, who proved to be trouble later, a sorry
thing squatted in the street lost in inhalants who happened to be the
brother or cousin of somebody who was... a somebody. It was a mixed
neighborhood in a way, with very poor people and some others who, by
having a little more, where the millionaires of the place. Apparently
he belonged to the millionaires or something like that. In Mexico
people are very alike and I would have trouble distinguishing them.
I was coming from the store one day when the guy, who seemed sober
that day, intercepted me at the entrance of the street. He greeted me
and I greeted him. He asked me why I was so shy! Funny. I told him I
am not shy at all and then he asked me if I had, don`t remember what
exactly, some thing with double meaning. I left him and told mhim that
I didn`t; he insisted, even thoug I was already several paces away.
Yeah, sure, I will tell you... if ever.
Weeks later my mother arrived with the gossip that this poor guy was
saying that I was selling drugs! Ha, ha. Petty revenge against
somebody who wanted nothing to do with them...
But *that* was not the real trouble he would cause... no yet...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 3:09 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 15:09:51 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 3:09 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Carnival! World famous!
Had never been in one, lots and lots of people piled on stairs on both
sides of the street with the sea as background, waiting for cars and
cars of people dancing and dancing and a lot of noise.
I needed convincing to go and them convincing to come back. I would
like this episode to be poetic, but no, it was rather prosaic when you
go with your family and try to feel like in a party.
I was dissapointed, actually. Some cars looked pathetic, others
overdone. The more happy ones belonged to the big soda company. There
was a sudden cheer and an almost nude fat-ish woman appeared sending
kisses and trembling like jelly all over the place. Quite impressive,
indeed.
And then the Queen. And she was beautiful. She really made herself
noticeable. I tried my best to attract attention, by doing nothing,
and yes, our eyes locked for a while. Later I walked to catch her car
again, which was advancing at a very slow pace, but then I was unable
to make myself noticeable. Oh well, back to my place.
Afew hours later it was over. I had been to the Carnival! World
famous!
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 3:27 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 15:27:18 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 3:27 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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We were all feeling pressured. I didn`t want to be in Veracruz, was
just wasting time waiting for the SSN. The incident with the addict
was unsettling. He was the only one who dared approach me and greet
me, the rest would only stare at me saying nothing, but it was
annoying to go out at any time and find somebody pending of my
movements, somebody always lingering around doing nothing.
My aunt would give me the money to emigrate, but not before her
investment came to term. And convincing required a lot of
explanations. There was no privacy in that place. The humid air would
carry sound far away and there was a steady rumor. In the nights
somebody in the other stret would yell and have long conversations
with threats, shouting. Since I arrived. And somehow it was being
known that I have the computer and the guitar, because of my
convincing my mother of the need to install locks.
One day I woke up at mid morning and found the door... open. My mother
wouldn`t leave it open, no way. Somebody tried to enter! Or did enter,
don`t know, between the heat and my heavy sleep I wouldn`t notice. I
became really wary after that day, and not even the mosquito net in
the patio made me feel better.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 3:33 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 15:33:43 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 3:33 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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The `second floor` was occupied. You could see the lights on and
people like in a party, but not everyday. I could sense an aura of
aggresion coming out of that place and sometimes some words that
almost made sense, but almost, not quite.
One night they were particularly noisy. I could overhear something
about a helicopter, somebody had been picked up in helicopter or
something like that. They were like boasting, or more like celebrating
winning over somebody. It was disgusting. And they could see me if I
was going to buy cigarettes or crossing the street. Didn`t like it at
all.
It was precisely that which gave me the key later...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 4:07 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 16:07:05 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 4:07 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Sombrita was lost!
It was just a blink, she jumped and jumped and was gone... The first
time Novo escaped we were looking for him all around the place. (He
escaped once in the last apartment and spent several hours hiding
behind a water tank; we almost left him). But Novo is very noisy and
likes to play. Eventually, after having an argument with the big
egyptian white she cat that would visit us, he came very amiable from
the street!
But Sombrita was different, she liked frolics and make herself be
desired. A big, plump, friendly all gray American cat. Usually I would
go after her and play hide and seek for a while in the roof, but the
neighbor who lent us the staircase had come for it and I could not
climb to the roof. I expected her to come back soon. She didn`t.
We were calling her all around the block, my mother and I. For days.
She didn`t appear. She was a very quiet cat who for years didn`t talk
and when she did was with a very low, treble miu.
Later my mother was told that the vagrants had frightened her when she
was coming back from the street... Imbecile loiterers.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 4:16 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 16:16:22 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 4:16 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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I was hysteric. There was certainly rivalry between me and the gang.
After Sombrita was lost we finally installed the mosquito net, a
little epic inbuying the materials, getting the tools, bringing home
the handyman and making him understand thatI knew what I wanted and
why.
It was a problem less, but it was not until the metal door and the two
locks were installed that I felt safer. A little. Though I didn`t was
free to wander and know the city, at least I could go to the cybercafe
or the 24 hours store without feeling anxious.
It was a long argument with my mother to make her understand our
danger. I told her that for those guys it would be the great adventure
of their life while for me it would a disgrace to lose my mechanical
mind. She was not really convinced, but at least would close the door
with the two locks when leaving. My aunt was of the same opinion, that
I was exaggerating, but I knew better, it was I who had to cope with
the half hid smiles of those guys when I go out to the store. And it
was obvious they were following, watching my steps, particularly when
they would send boys. At times I would need to return immediately, so
close was the danger. And I ws still waiting.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 4:27 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 16:27:38 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 4:27 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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A telegram arrived from the Embassy. A telegram, not my SSN card. It
said that it was urgent that I call them because I was missing papers.
Missing papers! Aw, c`mon, can`t be. But we complied. My mother and I
tried to call them from a public phone, from her office, from a cell
phone, or weeks without going through. At most there was a disc saying
they could not answer, that we should call later.
It was impossible to go back to Mexico City. What papers was I
missing? I can`t go to ask, the come back to get them then go back...
that`s why they gave us a phone, didn`t they?
So I waited. Soon after my aunt would advance me the money to start
getting ready. I bought a CD burner and have it installed in the
service. Tried to get luggage but it was not until the last moment
that we found something really useful. My idea was to build a
framework with wheels with enough capacity to hold a box with my
belongings, though in the end I did not have the time to do it.
After the six months had passed a pair of letters arrived the same
day, te last holding all my papers and telling me that because I was
missing documents they could process my SSN, that I`d send my papers
to Brownsville. Damn! Damn! All that wasted time to get this... And I
would have to go without all the necessary documentation to begin
working right away! The missing paper? An interview (which they sent),
that should have been applied the day I submitted my documentation.
Damn again.
I sent a complain with all my papers. It wasn`t fair.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 4:54 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 16:54:24 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 4:54 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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My aunt only wanted me to relax. The Malecon. We had to go to the
Malecon. To relax. To enjoy Veracruz I had to go to the Malecon. But
then my aunt is not completely sturdy. She is in her second childhood,
so it seems.
I would go hysteric thinking of leaving the computer alone for a
while. Most of the time I woubring it with me. Though with three locks
in the door and the net it did seem safer, particularly if it seemed
we would not be late.
So we went to the Malecon, just to drive and walk a while. Lots of
cats in the beach. Nice. But for more than a few minutes. I wanted to
go back.
So back we went. It was a somewhat long way. We were precisely on the
Malecon, stopped in a middle lane waiting to cross the avenue to the
left, when a car crashed us from behind. Being stopped, mind it.
The three of us bounced with the impact. My head went back with such
force that I felt dizzy. But managed to see the white car behind
accelerating pass us. I wasn`t focusing very well, almost catch the
plates but did see the guy in the back seat turning around with a
predatory smile in his face. They were three.
My aunt reacted and accelerated, she is a good driver. We could catch
up with them, almost. But a van to our left wouldn`t let us pass. He
had space to move, those guys had just gone in front of him, but he
blocked the way... on purpose. I looked at him mad; he return the gaze
with a throroughly stupid face. Something almost came back to my
memory.
We stopped in a street to see what happened. A police van with four
policemen in black t-shirts stopped and asked if we were ok. They had
seen it but were waiting in the light one block away and well...
(Really? There were no cars behind us when these guys crashed...). I
remembered enough of the plates so that they would start looking, but
that doesn`t happen. And my aunt`s car still has Mexico City`s plates,
the other car`s were from Veracruz.
So small a crash and it had consequences. My aunt blamed us! The car
was unframed. We were angry. I returned walking from a few blocks
away.
Now I know what I cou not remember. The guy in the van that blocked us
looked familiar, a tarantula like face. The guys who crashed us were
the very same thieves of my profanated apartment. The thieves had
catch up with me, but I didn`t realize...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 5:28 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 17:28:02 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 5:28 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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That place was full of cuijas, white lagartijas (small lizards). The
myth is that they expl if the fall but it is just a myth, they are
quite rsistant. My mother went hysteric, the cats crazy. The poor
cuija was on the wall near the ceiling with 14 cats fixing their wills
on her. I wouldn`t allow a tragedy.
With a broom I was leading her to the door. One knock here, another
there and the cuija reached the door. But the next cuija was not that
easy. She went into the bathroom, a very tall room without windows but
with ventilation, closed with newspaper and all we could to avoid the
cats from using it as a door. The door Pipistrella discovered almost
right away when we arrived.
And the cuija fell. Once when I was in primary school a lagartija fell
right into my front pocket. I thought it was an insect at first, made
me feel uneasy til I discovered it was just a lagartija, which I like
much. This one didn`t fell in my pocket, but bounced on the floor, ran
a little and stay put. It was easy to catch her. I caught three cuijas
while I was there, one of them very young which was going to be
Simon`s aperitif had I not noticed it. All of them were deposited in a
tree. Were they came from? Who knows. They make a noise like a coin
falling.
It was not the same with the cockroach. That day my mother went truly
hysteric, you have not seen hysterics til you see a woman go out in a
bath robe with creme on her face to buy insecticide five blocks away.
I had been whistling absent mindedly a tune, a small tune. That night
I heard the Christian group playing the tune... it was MY tune, the
last want I improvised. Only they changed a note. I started
complaining out loud that they were plagiarizing me, hoping the priest
would hear me. The cockroach appeared instead. Do you believe in evil
eye? And they were happy hearing my mothers shouts.
I had to kill the insect. It was a real cockroach, something you
definitely don`t want to find near your face in the morning. It was
almost two inches in length, one inch wide and thre quarters high.
Awful. I tried to direct it out of the apartment with the broom but it
was not maneuverable at all. In te end she was completely insectizied,
and even dead my mother didn`t dare swiping it with the broom. The
damn insect almost entered my room. But I already had my own
repellent.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 6:28 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 18:28:02 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 6:28 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Those days were not totally wasted. People said that the cockroach
arrived because a Norte, a tropical storm, was approaching. When there
is a Norte in Veracruz there is bad weather in Mexico. That made me
think of a storm. How would I invoke thunder? `Caigan rayos...`
Come lightning,
riding,
like lackeys I`m commanding.
And the poem came easily to my mind. Found my poetic vein.
Because, maybe, being in Veracruz made me remember Belinda a lot. It
triggered lots of moods in me. `Sembrando de tiempos el olvido...`
(`Seeding times in forgetfullness...`).
There was already a lot of mean feelings around, in a land proud of
its witchcraft: `Rebote hueco e impotente...` (`Bounce back empty and
impotent...`).
But, unfortunately, the moment I recited the first poem, the neighbors
of the apartment next to us, who had just moved in, immediately
replied: `I can say it is mine...`.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 6:57 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 18:57:04 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 6:57 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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The Rondo. (http://ghamac.org/documenti/rondop.mid)
It was a simple phrase (phrase.mid, phraze.mid), copied from my
cherished teen years red score notebooks. It took a lot of effort to
write it in silence, using earphones, instead of listening to it full
sound. Or through the Roland GR30, the way I recorded the Legend
(orginally named guitar.mid, a would be gutar concert defeated by the
poor sound of the MIDI patch). Also the bachiana.mid (in ghamac.org),
composed in the acoustic guitar played very quietly to avoid being
heard. For I knew there were evil ears around... The premiere of the
Rondo was through earphones, played sepecially to my aunt, though I
remember I did played it complete at least once.
But by then I was already connected to the internet, my SSN was
another struggle, already had the money and was just a matter of
getting ready to leave Veracruz. I didn`t know my departure was soon
to be a real escape...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 7:39 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 19:39:11 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 7:39 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Now I know that already forgotten Luis Bistrain Gonzalez, who so many
times sabotaged would be girlfriends and was instrumental in the
fiasco of the musical workshop, had, at some point during thaor th
previous year, assumed my identity, very likely with the help of his
uncle Gonzalez Apaolaza, who very likely is a multimillionaire as are
most heads of union in Mexico. Now I also know that he met the
thieves, either before or after he abandoned the workshop I`m not
sure, (why take the heavy amplifier and not the equally sellable CD
player?), but certainly they met. And now I also know that those
thieves managed to follow us to Veracruz, my mother and I, very easy,
as it was impossible to make my mother understand that she should be
discrete as to where were we going after we left her appartment. Luis
also knew my family was in Veracruz. I also suspect that shooting, of
which I just got the slightest of news, was meant to `kill` me, or my
other self, if not literally (I *don`t* know when it happened, maybe I
was saved by chance, maybe it didn`t matter) at least symbolically. Of
course, these are still speculations, mostly, but they had all the
motives, my works, my citizenship, and I was totally oblivious to the
fact. How they contacted or convinced the Veracruzans? Another
mistery, for now. But at the time I was feeling elated after composing
the Rondo and times ahead were full of beautiful expectations, even
more than when Luis was around, the ill omen bird. How ignorant was I
of being in the middle of a big conspiracy that would only show
briefly in unexpected forms. Like the tip of the iceberg it is and the
even bigger iceberg I am.
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 27, 8:13 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 27 Oct 2004 20:13:01 -0700
Local: Wed, Oct 27 2004 8:13 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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The painter. Oh my, to be awaken with that heat that keeps you wet,
feeling needles of cold refreshment with the accompaniment of LOUD
mexican music and an untuned voice pretending to sing...
The two apartments between which we were living were not only empty
but almost destroyed. Had been so for years, as the gossip eventually
made me learn. But after we moved there, the landlord suddenly
recovered interest in the property, maybe because, due to my mother`s
wage, rent had become again a problem.
I tried to get hired, in a more or less informal way (no permit,
hehe), by my moher`s boss, who was having trouble with his Oracle
database. You know, the kind of office were the engineers spend a
whole day figuring out why they can`t open a mail account with a weird
character in the user name. It would have been perfect, I was about
three months before leaving Mexico and that would have given me with
around $50000, or $5000 dollars. My cybercafe managing system was
simply too complex an idea to be an effective product. I could not
help my mother with money until I arrived in the United States to sell
my treasures.
And the painter was painting the abandoned apartments. Goodbye to our
privacy.
But he was making TOO MUCH noise. I mean it, really loud and annoying.
I went out and tried to call his attention, subtly, to make him TURN
OFF the music. Nothing. I asked him and he went a little bit violent.
Nothing.
He stayed for a week, and at times he did turn off the music. I was
lamenting my bad luck and wondering why they were remodeling the
apartments just now, how could they, the landlords, leave a property
abandoned for so long, why we were in such dire straits, why we had to
pay rents, whywe couldn`t just keep the property...
I was covering the window of the room that looked at the patio to
protect me from the smiling gazes of the painter, having these
thoughts, when it came to my mind. I could *explain* rents, but what
would happen if...
A SUDDEN CONDEMNATION OF RENTED PROPERTY FAVORING TENANTS AND AGAINST
LANDLORDS, COMPENSATED BY THE GOVERNMENT...
...would be a Pareto optimum policy! Nobody would lose, at least they
remain the same... What if...?
I was thinking out loud, as I was used to from the days of the big
apartment. The painter heard me. He stopped singing. The music
stopped, (well, he was listening at a decent level). Problem solved.
Now there was just the low rumor of the voices of the neighbors in the
populated `horizontal condominium`...
I was elated, very elated...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 28, 9:41 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 28 Oct 2004 09:41:12 -0700
Local: Thurs, Oct 28 2004 9:41 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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My mother is also trying to escape Veracruz with the cats. Still
trying. For years has been applying for her italian passport as my
grandfather was italian and it is her right, according to their laws,
to have the italian citizenship. But bureaucracy... A missing,
unnecessary document has been the excuse.
We expected to get tha document from my family in Veracruz, but alas,
they don`t have it. Maybe was lost when some boxes were stolen, when
my aunt and grandmother were leaving Mexico City to go to Veracruz.
The dates to retrieve it are unknown, or one of this little, dark
secrets every family has.
The Italian Embassy was a dead end, but maybe the honorary consul in
Veracruz... or through the Trentini nel Mondo association, where the
main opposition may be encroached but where nevertheless help can
come.
It happened that the Trentini nel Mondo president, the new president,
was coming to Veracruz, to visit the descendants of some Trentini who
arrived and stayed there, two centuries ago. We were the only `modern`
descendants of Trentini people, so...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 28, 9:59 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 28 Oct 2004 09:59:34 -0700
Local: Thurs, Oct 28 2004 9:59 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Il Dr. Zilli, from the university, was organizing the event, a formal
dinner. Through our contact in the TnM association he knew about us
and with lots of compliments and smiles invited us to a concert in the
Malecon, the port, where big ships stop and the Capitania (I believe),
a big white building oversseing the plaza, is the main attraction.
The day of the concert we were there, after some (or lots) of
maneuvers to hide the fact that we both were going out. I was nervous
of course, but I had left the computer in the service to have
installed the hard CD burner, so at least it wouldn`t be robbed. (Was
he to be trusted? Or is that man, the service owner the main thief of
that season? Or his helpers? I just realize...).
The concert was attractive for the preence of a famous Mariachi
conjunto, one I had never heard of. Dr Zilli wasn`t there, but we had
seats in the honor section and soon were enjoying the concert, not
after having some brief argument as always.
I felt resplendent. In a way I wanted to stand up and shout that I a
composer, but the idea of being in a concert listening to MY music,
with the lights of big ships against contrasting a dark sea was enough
to make me feel wonderful. A beautiful woman, who looked like Isabel,
was sitting to my right, and though she was accompanied (and I was
with my mother...), we managed to flirt slightly, making the concert
even more interesting.
At the end of it Zilli was sitting behind us. Did we engaged in
indiscrete conversation? He was afable and gave us the invitations to
the dinner, though apparently he thought that we were actually
trentini, directly from Trento, and it was that fact which earned us
the concert.
Unfortunately, in thevery front seat was an old teacher, from
philosophy in the Ibero though attached to the UNAM, who had flunked
me because of a single homework... It is almost a syndrome with me.
It ruined the night. Bad memories. I that class I was the companion of
a girl who, well, she wanted to go to the bathroom and, well, I mean,
you know... We we assigned the homework as a team. As always I solved
the problem. But my name, misteriously, didn`t appeared in the paper.
Flunked. Maybe I thought too much in that course...
The Italian lady was walking near us. She elbowed me, but I was not in
the mood. Not with my mother there. I made a note to look for her
later...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 28, 10:30 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 28 Oct 2004 10:30:41 -0700
Local: Thurs, Oct 28 2004 10:30 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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The day of the dinner was very, very hard on me. They wanted us to
accompany the Trentini from breakfast til the show was over.
Impossible for me, my moher had to go alone.
But she didn`t want to go alone. There was further interest in asking
the president to help us get the missing paper, but my mother knows
little italian and there was need to explain and convince and etc. But
I managed to send her.
I don`t know if she enjoyed. There were lots of arguments but I went
there on my own. I was supposed not go, but it was to leave the enemy
clueless. Better be careful than sorry.
The dinner took place in the best hotel. And we were there early.
Mostly seniors and middle age people, but there was at least a very,
absolutely beautiful unversitary who *almost* sit down in front of
me... but was moved to the children`s table. I could not leave my
post. My mother was making a a tantrum and wanted to waste the
opportunity. Besides, I wanted to see the show.
The honor table was in front of us toward the stage, though I had the
best place. After dinner, which was so so, full of maternal
indications of how to eat the cipolla that was a little uncooked and a
passable wine, the show was simply perfect.
Lots of teenagers (or maybe not teenagers? Veracruzans seem to grow
fast), danced to the music of Granados. To my most egotistical pride I
was as show for them as they were to me. They danced for me.
Wonderful!
There was a pair of gutarrists, excellent, and mother dancing, a
couple. The sh was perfect.
But then, compromises. My mother was acting like a little girl. She
wanted to drop everything. The president was busy with people,
surrounded, and to my mother it seemed an unsor mountable barrier.
At the very end I approached him. We discussed. We argued. We agreed.
He understood. Triumph. My mother meanwhile had made friendship with a
jornalist accompanying the president, who spoke english. I promised to
write for the magazine and we got two courtesy issues.
The night ended well. It was the last memorable night for quite a
while...
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The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 28, 11:42 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 28 Oct 2004 11:42:10 -0700
Local: Thurs, Oct 28 2004 11:42 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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I wanted to be in America on the fourth of July. In 2000 I would be
here before Christmas; in 2001 some day before June; in 2002 before my
birthday on Halloween; in 2003 on the fourth of July.
The enforced waiting was driving me and everybody crazy, but there was
no point in being here without SSN. When those letters arrived with my
papers back my fate was sealed. I was quite comfortable composing
music and writing the PCPortal app, a blog, but I interrupted
everything when the internet connection was installed.
I didn`t know what to do with the domain, so I made a noncomittal
page, just saying that ghamac was dissolved. And a mysterious pair of
edit boxes hiding a client side security scheme. Neat.
I published the poetry, updated other sites, and navigated. When I
started webbing I didn`t know I would not get my SS card through the
mail, yet. I was looking for a job to decide where to go. Originally
the target was El Paso, rather limited for a programmer, but I didn`t
want to spend much in the trip. I also looked for a patent attorney,
remembering the contact that Candia made me lose when he cut me off my
ISOL account.
Didn`t have luck, though. I expected some kind of pay-after-sale
agreement but both expected a downpayment... Also looked statutes,
laws, apartments...
Then I had the idea to look in the patents office and that`s when
problems started...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 28, 12:30 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 28 Oct 2004 12:30:44 -0700
Local: Thurs, Oct 28 2004 12:30 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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I found something. A patent application. It had to do with XML. It had
to do with GUI (graphical usr interface). It was an idea. I read it
and reread and there was no doubt: it was an idea, but only an idea.
And it was not well named. I was appalled.
I searched a lot to find it, when it should have been easier. I didn`t
like it. Strangely enough the dates coincided with the dates when I
was programming part of the XSite Generator, whih I created and used
to create theold ghamc site. What I was programming was part of a
bigger system, and what I have was a process.
I contacted SCORE. Was mailing with a former Attorney General, Jon
Pederson. He didn`t give me all the advise I needed, but was helpful.
I explained him why that application was just an idea, not patentable,
too general, and described him my system. Paricularly the fact that it
was no named as it should be. It shoul have been called XML-GUI
compiler. Because that is what it was, and any programmer with solid
knowledge would recognize it as it is, though my process had precisely
that twist which made it something a little different than a mere
compiler, but a process.
I was befuddled. I still have the prototype. It made me think. I may
have had explained to myself the *idea*, but I was sure I never, never
gave away th nme of it, while being in my appartment in Mexico City,
theone from the Napoles behind the WTC. And certainly didn`t explain
Luis. I was suspecting something, but I was too busy thinking in my
future trip and I several more things to look fo in the internet.
It was imperative that I arrived in America.
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 28, 7:43 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 28 Oct 2004 19:43:27 -0700
Local: Thurs, Oct 28 2004 7:43 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Microsoft, right away. Amazing how many openings they have. I applied
to the interesting ones, those having to do with my know how, the ones
requiring research, the funny ones, the secret projects, like 100 in
total, in a single session. I had already prepared my resume, but
followed ther resume form. Opened my acount. Waited... and the moment
something resembling a reply arrived I started filling out the form.
But I didn`t have a social security number.
MIT. I wanted an scholarship. It involved sending a letter, too
difficult. But it was suggested FAFSA could help getting funds. I went
through FAFSA`s forms, lots of questions. But I didn`t have a social
security number.
Got another account in a job search engine. Started receiving mails,
full of good leads. Applied to some. Eventually, when I was already in
the States got an answer. But I didn`t have a social security number.
I still get the mails...
Went into roommates.com. It was very funny actually, visiting cities,
comparing prices, reading descriptions, etc. I answered some of them,
even paid to open up the replies. There were interesting offers, like
the perfect one in El Paso that was cheap and the guy quite open
minded; he wanted a girl. Or the house that cost the same as a room,
except that the girl got confused with the names. Or the man who
wanted nothing, had a great life, you just had to keep the yacht and
get out with the dog; he never replied.
Started looking into newspapers. There were interesting offers, the
kind you know you are perfect for and only need to be there. Visited
several cities and the San Antonio times had some of the best offers.
It looked like it was growing, as a city, in IT.
In roommates there were more offers for San Antonio than for El Paso.
Lots more, and were cheaper. There was nice picture of this girl in a
pool, with a friend, offering a house with several guests and dogs. We
started mailing. She was very nice and comprehensive. I thought she
was single. We definitely liked each other, through mail. I decided to
go to San Antonio...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 29, 5:31 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 29 Oct 2004 05:31:58 -0700
Local: Fri, Oct 29 2004 5:31 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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By then it was obvious that the neighbors were offended by my life
style. A single man, using a computer creatively, enjoying his
animals,intouchwithpeople thorugh the internet, without interest in
meddling in the life`s of nearby people, waiting for better times...
What they didn`t understand is that I was living as a prisoner,
because of their same pressure and the lack of a sense of security. I
had been forced to disclose my plans, to convince my aunt to lend me
money, to give hopes to my mother, and in that place with thin walls
and crowded apartments it was impossible not to be heard by others, by
people whose expectations were a future very similar to their present.
And it was impossible to avoid the presence of Julieta, very
interested in gettig some benefit...
It was obvious that they were spying. The best sons of family, static
like icons in the front door at any time, sometimes wandering in the
roof, trying to see what was going on my life. Veracruz is a very
provincial city, where people feed their lives with the lives of their
neighbors. As a foreigner, I was the weird thing around to be
discussed.
I also felt pressure from the Christian music group, much more since I
complained about the early battery noises (not music) and I exposed
them in their plagiarism. I heard they were amonested by the preacher
at least once and they accepted their guilt, taking revenge in playing
even louder music that was too popular for my taste, mostly covers,
which I felt they did just to annoy. Sometimes they would yell and
shout insulting thoughts, mocking. They too had a vantage point from
where they could glimpse a small portion of my life, forcing me,
against my mother`s will, to keep the apartment closed and hot, but a
least with some privacy. Since the apartments had been refurbished and
occupied there was more people around, an almost intuited presence
that was physical and ever present even if absent, all people, have to
say, of little culture and studies whose world was Veracruz and a few
times in their life the Capital.
And the guys in the second floor, the room at the entrance of the
inner street. They were the more noisy. Most of the time the place was
empty, only in the nights sometimes there would be light, and their
voices cold be heard far, being in a high place. But as the time to
leave was drawing near and I was frantic searching resources in the
internet, the pressure and violent behavior of this people
increased...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 29, 6:49 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 29 Oct 2004 06:49:58 -0700
Local: Fri, Oct 29 2004 6:49 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Privacy was becoming more of an issue. It was impossibe to go out
without being noticed, there was alwsy somebody in the street, not
coming and going like in a busy city, but simply there, from the men
working in the street from the blacksmith, to the band of five
teenagers with bikes sitting down on the floor in the corner, to the
women permanently in the balcony in the house with a chaudron Christ
painted in the facade, to the bumps standing in front of the junkyard,
to the many people drinking something in the store crossing the
street, to the twenty something and assorted teenagers hanging around
in the door to the castle-like room (like a tower), just outside my
inner street, to the loaders from the chicken store to the left of the
street, to the people coming and going from the warehouse-Christian
institute that was the main view of my door, to the people in the
street meals vendor in the other corner, to the old man who would sit
down at the door of the apartment just next door, on the way to the
main street....
The drug addict had returned and would look at me from the other side
of the street with resented eyes, with his friends sitting with him on
the steps of a house. After he tried to befriend me I had made a scene
for he was disgusting, with his dirty tissue paper in the hand
balancing with the mouth open. Just a few seconds and words crossed
where enough to generate gossip; it was better not to interact.
Paradoxically, the only place where I could have real privacy was the
bathroom, where it was impossible to be spied. Everywhere else there
was an angle where people could possibly look into the two rooms and a
corridor that was our apartment. I would block the window with
newspapers, but it was impossible to keep it closed for long. Not only
the cats made of it a preferred way to go into the patio, but keeping
it closed was all I needed to turn that room into an oven at over 50
C, that would leave me dismayed under the fan`s ar current, all wet,
sometimes even without energy enough to navigate the internet.
After Sombrita dissapeared there was an atmosphere of outright anger.
That I had my computer and it was very valuable was already common
knowledge. Some of the comments heard through the walls were already
personal. I could hear, for instance, the boy from the adjacent room,
in the other street, complaining that he wanted to keep the kitten he
gave me one night, when both of us coincided in saving it from the
roof. Claudio. Other rumors where more gross, more personal, even
embarrasing to listen to, or were the shouting of the men who would go
drunk in the other street, discussing many matters as loud as they
could, sometimes with mentions to my computer and guitars...
It was obvious I wouldn`t get the SSN until I was in the States. I was
already spending the money I had to emigrate, to alleviate my mother`s
load. It was time to move. My drive had been backed up several times,
I had a contact for a room in San Antonio, was in touch through mail
with people, even got hold of Valero through a messenger service and
we exchanged music and news. And I had the reply from the music office
of the Governor of Texas, from Casey Monahan, promising the help I
needed to promote my music, the Rondo and In the Womb..., the two
pieces I sent him. I was very excited, told my mother and aunt. Hd
lots of things to do yet, but I had a few days of relaxing when I
found FTJ...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 29, 7:13 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 29 Oct 2004 07:13:50 -0700
Local: Fri, Oct 29 2004 7:13 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Face the jury was a revelation, very addictive. I found the link in
roommates and navigated it. Or was the page of human for sale which I
found first? I filled out the form and got a value of 2,333,333, one
of the highest, it seems. Once the requirement was completed I opened
my FTJ account and wrote my description and the turn ins and turn
offs.
`I am who I am and there`s no one like me,
if you do believe I want to meet thee...`
I was in a very poetic mood, with all those beauties showing their
pictures. I made a point of collecting the most beautiful favorites
and writing them a small poem, more like a haiku. And started making
friends, in the billboard. Could not register, but did receive some
personal messages and praises from the P members. I was actually
interested in knowing my score, how well I would fare in the States,
and got a fair score, a little on the high given the scale of values.
Also started chatting and messaging with a few girls, one of them a
poet, and also got some rebukes, of course. I even had some matches! I
was regaled with so much beauty, after years spent without it. It was
a very relaxing time, despite the open aggression that was already
showing in the air and the mischievous glances of the band outside my
room. I was almost ready to leave Veracruz...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 29, 9:17 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 29 Oct 2004 09:17:08 -0700
Local: Fri, Oct 29 2004 9:17 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Those weeks were hectic. My mother was out the whole day and wouldn`t
believe me there was a lot of aggression. Sometimes I even had to
return or got to the the grocery store to buy cigarrtes, so obviously
was the the gang fiscalizing me. The Christian group was plainly
insulting; I would turn on the CD and play at a good volume to drown
their music. A battle of mechanic waves. Those thieves, the ones from
my old apartment, were living in the castle room and were enticing the
local vagrants. And my mother too was having lots pf problems with
the... ideology, the mentality, of the people she interacted with.
Veracruz is a very violent state, and veracruzans pride themselves in
their character, considering themselves the best people in the world.
Many times we would criticize their ways, their lack of interest,
their apathy for the new, and other aspects that clashed with our way
of thinking. She was in an office full of intrigue and cross blaming,
protected only by her relatioship with the owner, the one who wouldn`t
hire me as systems consultant. English classes? Who needs them.
Selling uniforms? Too much mistrust to send samples. A login system?
We don`t need it. And so on and on...
I should have noticed right away those thieves were there, but the
crash was just a small incident soon forgotten, though now and then,
with the clear memory that time brings, after your mind has fully
processed events and trimmed the unnecessary details, brief glimpses
of recognition would pop up, only to be quickly denied by the horror
of thinking aboit its meaning. Most of the time the place would be
empty, but after I started navigating their presence was constantly
felt...
I expected to be in Veracruz two, three weeks; had to wait several
months. No matter how hard I tried to keep my things packed and
ordered the room soon was showing the signs of being inhabited, though
without furniture it was a mess, compounded by the unmovable computer
and the unbearable heat the summer months brought with them. Much to
my surprise it almost didn`t rain, the source of inspiration for the
poem `I miss the rain`, after a phrase given to me by one of my new
friends from FTJ. I published it almost immediately under my web
nickname and pseudonym: Syntotic, from converging, and a very small
homage to childhood heroe: Marconi.
At first I would try to look presentable, but in a town where many
people wear shorts and nothing else, I styled myself a uniform, a few
cotton shirts and jeans, trying to save my clothing from the hard
waters of Veracruz. It was all a deterrent to be ready, having to
repack and was clothes, which nontheless acquired the odor very humid
places and a few rebel cats give to forgotten cloth. Not having the
SSN was a big burden. I was procrastinating even when I already had a
compromise to rent a room in San Antonio. And it was then when I
noticed it: hackers...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 29, 12:19 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 29 Oct 2004 12:19:01 -0700
Local: Fri, Oct 29 2004 12:19 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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It was a total war.
I made a point of updating my web sites and mail accounts to reflect
my name change, from Fabrizio to Danilo. Couldn`t do it until then for
lack of an internet connection. I was frantic working in the computer,
backing up, putting some order in my files, getting rid of unwanted
files, making space in the drive, preparing my software and resumes,
anticipating a period when I would be unable to usemy computer.
I also said goodbye to the people in FTJ, telling them I would spend
several months without connecting, if I ever come back. I intended to
be very busy from then on, get a job programming, sell my music, get
investors and capital to develop my applications, wouldn`t have time.
Everything was getting ready on time to be crossing the border around
the 3rd of July or before.
Then I noticed.
One of my accounts had reverted to the old name. Couldn`t be! I
remembered clearly changing the name; as a programmer you get a
discipline to ensure that changes remain the same and are those you
want. But the name was changed. You don`t want to do things twice.
My heart bumped. Several things happened. The connection was actually
low quality, I even called the phone company at least once to complain
that the connection was being broken and I was having trouble at
dialing. They made me go through sevral configurations and the like
without success. Didn`t expect any.
Then I remembered! Luis Bistrain had access to my computer when we
were wasting time with the workshop. I would let him connect and
navigate, sometimes while I went to buy cigarettes or food to the
supermarket, or while I was putting some order in my files or smoking
a cigar. Didn`t pay much attention, but I had this special page from
which the idea of PCPortal was born, and I was using it as homepage.
It contained links to mail accounts and web sites and the like and
some of my passwords were revealed there!
Bistrain had access to my passwords, some of them I didn`t change in
quite a while! I immediately changed them, just in case. But then
something else happened. I had an old site with my resume and a
picture. I didn`t like the picture, it was taken by a gay
photographer, along with a photographic study, around 1998. In that
picture I was looking... gayish. But it was the only one I had with
glasses and, well, glasses make you serious. I deleted the site, no
longer needed. But the site was restored! Even worse: it started
appearing in google when looking for my name, my old name. The resume
was old and the picture didn`t do me justice, I didn`t want that site
being advertised!
Started writing to yahoo. Wrote or tried to write to google too, don`t
remember. But I was already electrified. My security had been
penetrated and somebody was playing games with me...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 29, 12:45 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 29 Oct 2004 12:45:09 -0700
Local: Fri, Oct 29 2004 12:45 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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The disgusting thing was that the same page was mirrored online in
yahoo, and I had just updated the passwords! Some of them at least, to
have them at hand without my computer. The page was private, out of
the index, with NOINDEX and NOFOLLOW metas I knew the yahoo`s webbot
respected. You had to know the name of the page to find it and the
name was revealed in my computer`s page...
Then also noticed, or believed I noticed, some trouble with some mails
in my mail accounts. I was having trouble login in, too. I wrote them
several times. With yahoo there was no way to get personal service
but, maybe, by changing the secret question, while in the other
account it was possible to speak with somebody. They couldn`t help me
much. It was possible to have the same mail account opened twice from
different computers.
I started fighting my mail accounts.
I was hysteric. If I logged off and they changed the password I would
lose the account. Also started reserving obvious variations of my name
in some popular mail services. But I did lose the hotmail account with
my new, current name.
The ghamac site was penetrated too. I was surprised when I found my
files intact, after I renewed the domain. But the main page`s scripts
were not working, and they were essential to give form to the page. I
thought it had something to do with updates in the web browser
version, though after reinstalling the script it worked fine. It was
determinant in my decision of hiding the old page and change it with
the informatio site page. The same happened to the cat`s page. It is
still in the site but unpublishable, for the script stopped working
too.
I changed things as fast as I could. I wasn`t sure about the ghamac
site then, wouldn`t update my browser in my computer to avoid trouble,
but just in case deleted some files I didn`t want copied.
And my mail account pages where still opened...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 29, 1:07 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 29 Oct 2004 13:07:34 -0700
Local: Fri, Oct 29 2004 1:07 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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I was living in front of the computer, when I should have been
packing. Again. Instead of buying cigarretes in the morning or
afternoon Iwould wait til night to go and buy food and cigarretes at
the same time. The rest of the day I was monitoring my mail accounts.
I was upset with Bistrain (my friend, not his father, who bears his
same name and never met). He was a very revengeful individual. Some
years ago his cousing asked him to translate a book. She would pay
him. I could have helped, I earned money with translations for several
years, before going to college, but he found a girl charging low. He
would keep the difference. I went with him to give her the
translation; it was very far. One day he arrived completely angry: he
went to pick up the translation and either it was not ready or she
charged more. He was really angry. And he took revenge. He had her
translate a huge book which he did not intend to pick up...
So he was taking revenge, very probably, I thought, because I updated
the ghamac site and he could no longer use the ghamac receipts. I even
told Valero about it. He agreed it was a disgrace.
The problem was that the guys from the castle room were making a lot
of noise. Some words I would actually understand and it seemed they
were aware of the sites I was visiting. Maybe it was not Bistrain at
all.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 29, 2:12 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 29 Oct 2004 14:12:20 -0700
Local: Fri, Oct 29 2004 2:12 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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I almost had a dream
and I asked to the I Ching:
does it really makes sense,
these sounds that I imagine,
about helicoptes, tonalis and nagualis,
or am I a fool, it is just a pretense?
I was coming from the store in the evening. In the castle room was a
lot of noise and lights. They were discussing somewhat about a
helicopter. Very aggressive. My uncle Alfredo had a helicopter, albeit
briefly, in Italy. I imagined being picked up by a helicopter and
asked the I Ching, some days ago. It was stored in a file on the
desktop, along with the poem Mexico...
First thing I did was download a firewall. I installed it. Oh my! I
could barely use the computer, so many hits were there! There were
lots of hackers hitting my IP. I forgot the Bistrain.
Most hits weren`t penetrations, not really. I downloaded other tools,
packet analyzers, pingers, who is, tracers. Studied pages, went into
forums, learned about honeypots.
There was a war and I was a lonely general, my computer the field. I
would inspect the firewall log, report the IPs to the firewall site,
ping them, sometimes ask who is who they were, would trace them,
trying to locate. They would send incomplete packets (later I would
learn of a bug that freezes the computer with incomplete IP packets).
Started analyzing the packets. Sometimes the connection would be
clogged with data, I would notice, though a little hard to see with
the volume of data I would download. Many times had to reboot after
some hacker froze my computer.
My main files were several levels deep and though suspecting an
intrusion was not overtly concerned about them, particularly the music
files which were enormous. But the notes I took about the idea of Home
for All were on the root directory, the first directory available to a
hacker!
I wrote Chicago. I started writing the paper but it was no time, so I
just wrote the introduction and submitted it. Wrote several times and
didn`t have a reply. Maybe the mails were deleted...
And the guys in the room were even more annoying. The didn`t expect
finding a firewall! I knew they were hacking...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 29, 2:33 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 29 Oct 2004 14:33:41 -0700
Local: Fri, Oct 29 2004 2:33 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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That I was struggling with the street gang was now obvious. My mother
wouldn`t believe it. I tried to locate their IP with the tracer. I
found some guys in Cuernavaca, others from Guadalajara, also in
Acapulco. I sent mails to net administrators. I was resting and when I
turned up my head I had a glimpse of somebody spying in the roof,
hiding quickly; I even thought I saw a camera in their hand. I tried
to see those guys from the castle room but couldn`t they ere well
hidden and there was always observing. It was then when going out
during the day was impossible and had to wait til my mother returned
form her job and the store to have a few hours free and go to buy
food. Once I went to see the sea.
I pretended to be crazy and would speak to myself. I would go to the
FBI. The network was not private but public. I woud catch them.
And they were still making comments about my navigation. The packet
analyzers revealed nothing, I was befuddled. One IP attracted my
attention. The firewall had optios not available in the downloadable
version and download a more flexible one. Found the snort rules. I
used the tracer and who is to locate that IP. It was Arlington, it was
the Army! The good guys... I pinged them twice and disconnected.
By the time I came back I had two firewalls installed and the snort
rules in effect. A felt safer. There were few hits now, which I
understand is normal, while at the beginning there were lots of hits.
I found people from the US, Colombia, China, Philipines, Costa Rica,
Israel, New Zealand, Australia, Korea, Italy, Palestin and other
countries. From 400 the number of hits was reduced to around 19... and
those guys were still making comments about my navigation, isolated
words that would make sense because I knew what I was navigating.
Mentioning a helicopter gave me a hint they were hacking me. I ws
somewhat unsure, though, until near the end of my surfing days the
confirmatin I needed arrived...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 29, 4:04 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 29 Oct 2004 16:04:35 -0700
Local: Fri, Oct 29 2004 4:04 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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What was worrisome is that if they had access to my mails and my
navigation and my files they could know where was I going to live in
the US and with whom; I already had the address and I could not be
sure of the extent of the penetration.
I told the girls in FTJ that I was fighting hackers and sent to my
closest friend some of my files, Alive and Human, music, Home for All
and others. I didn`t know if they were arriving or not. I went to the
cybercafe two blocks away, but I had the impression they were friends
of those guys and could somehow block my mails. Didn`t have time in
Mexico to install a network and learn network programming, there were
many things I didn`t know. It was no time to learn, not enough to
start programming, no matter how badly I wanted to automatize the
process and build such exciting tools like honeypots and firewalls or
IP loggers.
I wrote to the people who were waiting for me that I would not arrive
the date I expected and also told Casey Monahan it would be a few
weeks before I arrived in Texas, that I was afraid of losing my
computer. My emigration strategy was stopped suddenly. I could no
longer trust the internet. And my plans had to be changed. How could I
know how much they really knew about my plans?
It was obvious these guys were after my computer, though, and that was
the main concern. If I could cross the border with I was safe, back
into safe land, a haven.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 29, 4:30 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 29 Oct 2004 16:30:11 -0700
Local: Fri, Oct 29 2004 4:30 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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I was dreaming.
I dived into the sky and saw Earth as a multicolored ball under my
body. I was going round and round, like in a womb and then would
extend my body and surround Earth, becoming one. Images flow into
other vivid images I can no longer remember.
Some shouts in the other street woke me up. It was very early in the
morning. They were saying something that sounded threatening. They
were coming this way, to my apartment. A few seconds or maybe minutes
relaxing and I stood up, ready.
I was putting on my shoes when my mother started shouting: `What are
you doing here? What do you want?`
Because of the heat my mother would sleep with the door open, leaving
only the metal door closed, which was made of some bars and mosquito
net, metal too. Another framework made of wood and mosquito net was a
further protection to stop the cats and unwanted gazes. It was open.
I saw one guy crossing before the door, from the empty apartment to
the street. My mother was hysteric, it was seven in the morning and
there was nothing for them to be doing there. The cats, unused to
receive visits except my aunt, were all i state of alert, some running
to hide in the few iding places.
I was very determined coming out my room. While I neared the door my
mother warned me: `There`s one guy behind the door!`. If I had opened
the door at that moment he could catch me from behind...
I backed up, holding myself against the wall. I imagined they could
shoot us. I was telling my mother to call the police immediately. Then
I saw the guy crossing the door, walking with some hurry to the
street.
I opened the lock of the door and holding it in my hand went out. It
was the drug addict! And two friends. I saw them turning right to the
street. I walked to the entrance, trembling a little of excitement,
asking them what they wanted, that it was a private street and there
was nothing they could want in there. But I didn`t dare goinf out into
the main street. I could be surrounded...
My mother was trying to call the policewhen I came back. She was very
scared. It was after half an hour that finally my mother coufind
somebodu to... give her another phone number. Another half an hour and
she could put smebody on the line. We could have been killed and nbody
would know!
The neighbors were asleep and nowhere to be seen, it was too early.
Only because my mother sleeps shallowly and I was awaken by their
conversation we realized those guys were there.
The addict was the cousin of one of the musicians of the block, of the
people from the Christ house, or somebody like that. I didn`t now his
name nor wanted to knw. But definitively he had nothing to do there
and even less in the very morning. A few days before a mature man with
a younger guy were smoking dope in the entrance of the inner door,
when I arrived with my aunt. They walked away when I made them
evident. I was wary those guys would use that street to use drugs or,
worse, that they would try to assault us, particularly with my mother
sleeping with the door open. There was only a lock protecting us...
Later we learn that thay were detained and one of them had a knife. I
partly believed it, partly didn`t. But the women from the Christ
house, te ones who were always on the balcony, started threatening me
when I would go out from thaside of the street. I wou regret it.
That day I had so much adrenaline that Ihad to walk all I could to
downtown and back. I passed before the police station. Many policemen
were thre gathered outside the station. I just moved my head. They
looked at me amused. It was already too dangerous to be there. And the
real adventure was yet to begin.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 29, 4:51 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 29 Oct 2004 16:51:37 -0700
Local: Fri, Oct 29 2004 4:51 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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My mother half believed me they were becoming aggressive after the
incident. But not quite. Later I heard that somebody had said my room
was full of trash. How could they know? Empty bottles, knack bags,
paper balls I would throw at the cats to stop annoying, newspapers,
books, computer and guitar cables it was a mess as my mother was
working and wouldn`t clean up and it was too hot to move in that room
anyway, but then I was on the move. It made me wonder. And it was then
when I could not find my shoes.
I had a bag with all my dress shoes. For everyday I woud use
alpargatas, which I could buy for $100 and discard the moment they
were too dirty or developed holes. My shoes I was taking care of nt to
use them, as my feetare rather delicate. I was left with alpargatas
and a pair of blue shoes.
It was also missing a cardboard drawer with pastel colors and
sculpture models. And some papers, notably the Servip document and my
receipts. Other documents I had burned, including some postcards so
all I had were really valuable documets and papers, inlcuding copies
of the processes to change my name and, maybe, idetifications. If
something else was missing I don`t know, maybe some book, but it was
obvious somebody had penetrated all my defenses. And very probably it
happened some day I was sleeping, as the damned heat would make my
sleep heavy as if I had done a lot of exercise.
Incidentally, some weeks before, the rumor spread that I was alcoholic
(it is called, in Mexico, to find the defect, a very petty game).
Rumors were coming my way fast thank to the new neighbors in the next
apartment, who had integrated quickly into the community and would
many times `sing`... So one night my aunt invited my mother to have a
drink, I asked her to bting me a torito. Ay caramba! With the heat and
the sweet beverage I was feeling like floating, but it broke down the
rumor.
From that day on I insisted my mother to leave the three locks closed
in the mornings. Unfortunately, not even with a door recquiring two
locks to be opened at the same time was I spared yet one more assault.
All thplaces I had lived in in Mexico were profanated.
I was just a few days before leaving that place in a hurry...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 29, 6:38 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 29 Oct 2004 18:38:55 -0700
Local: Fri, Oct 29 2004 6:38 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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The Human Dilemma
We cannot escape our primate nature. We order us in hierarchies, the
dominant male driving away the lesser primates to keep as many females
as possible. We contest with each other to establish our place in the
hierarchy. I`m better than you, you`re better than me. And then we
fight til death to defend this truth just found, once and again with
each male, and female we encounter... The human primate. And our world
is ordered.
But over it there`s a thin veneer of rationality. We are all created
equal, we are all equal under the eyes of God. Your rights are my
rights. We`ll dissent, but I`ll defend with my life your right to
express. Just because you are human you deserve respect. Brother.
We are all in the middle. Both statements simultaneously true and
false. Each of them a hell in itself, and in between another hell...
We are not equal, we are different. I am better than you.
We are equal, we are not different. I am better than you.
Love me.
Hate me.
Don`t talk to me.
Talk to me.
We don`t belong together.
We fight together.
You need two to fight and love.
The human dilemma. Where are you?
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 29, 7:36 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 29 Oct 2004 19:36:40 -0700
Local: Fri, Oct 29 2004 7:36 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Time was passing by and I was nowhere near the United States. My
clothes were a disaster, my mother wouldn`t wash them; *I* wouldn`t
wash them; the cats *tried* to wash them. I take good care of my
clothes but they were smelling stale because of the humidity. I did
send some to the laundry, it would be expensive but I would leave most
of my wardrobe behind me. I was just making time, the self appointed
date of departure already meaningless and the taughtness it was
bringing lost.
I was navigating at leisure, no longer able to do something useful
because of those guys. Making time. I was wandering in the italian
towns I knew, looking for remembrances and known landscapes.
I hit a very small town`s page. And from the speakers, unexpectedly, a
very characteristic music started sounding, MIDI music, of course,
with some ascending scales. Without thinking I turned off the
speakers, immediately. And there it was! The same music was coming out
of the window! I tried quickly to locate the exact source, but before
I could do it these guys, instead of turning off their speakers,
turned on some other music source. As if in a cue the people of the
blacksmith started making lots of noise.
I was already outside, very excited. I yelled at them that I knew they
were hacking me. The problem was that I had two firewalls installed...
but the confirmation I expected arrived.
Several hypothesis came to me, and though I don`t know exactly how
they did it I am almost sure they were intercepting the phone signal.
They were not hacking, they were phreaking. The line phone passed just
below their window and there was a cable that was going into their
window, above the mess of cables protruding from the messy phone and
power installations. I remembered seeing a staircase several days
before, without people, like abandoned, leading precisely to where all
cables mixed...
But maybe it was not that cable the one revealing my navigation. In a
small town where everybody knows everybody and people like ourselves
are passing strangers and will never be accepted for lack of deep
roots, it was easy to have friends in the local phone central. Or,
even worse, it could be that they were redirenting the DNS, with a
technique called ARP redirect,arcane technique that was just barely
insinuated in the pages I visited, though a program was promised and
could never find to see th code and decide whether hey were using it
or not...
I was detained by my lack of clean clothing, and all my things were
still unpacked, for lack of luggage. And my family expected me to
solve the trouble by myself, prisoner as I was of the Mexican
criminality and the ineffectiveness of the Mexican police.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 30, 4:26 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 30 Oct 2004 04:26:52 -0700
Local: Sat, Oct 30 2004 4:26 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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That morning I was nervous, didn`t sleep at all. I was jumpy. I wasn`t
sure if my mails were arrivng and could`t yet find how they were
hacking me. I needed energy for my next trip. It was 11:00, I went to
buy something to eat.
Coming out of the inner street I turned right, to where all the
gangsters were crowded. Just in front of the middle door that gave way
to the stairs to the castle room, one of the chimps (sorry, he did
look like a chimp), was pointing at me... with video camera.
I walked and turn to see him, directly into the camera. Brief instant
of surprise before recognition. They are taking video of me! I was
dressed with an overall and a merry shirt.
I turned to my left and saw a big, old white car. The plates were from
Texas! Oh my God! They have pictures of me and known people in Texas!
They can follow me, put a contract on my head!
I went to the front store. Bought cheese and chocolate and enrgizing
drinks. I was completely, absolutely enraged. Ire. I went back to the
apartment telling the world in general that it was over, it was too
much. It is the moment to leave and I leave today.
My comfort was lost... I was on the move. To the United States.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 30, 7:18 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 30 Oct 2004 07:18:43 -0700
Local: Sat, Oct 30 2004 7:18 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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I managed to stay the whole day enraged. Irate. I mean, the WHOLE DAY
enraged. Irate. I unplugged the computer, something I rarely do; tough
things, these computers nowadays.
I don`t remember if my aunt wsa coming or I called her or she called
me. I needed help and my mother was in the office. My intentio was to
leave that place tha same day. It was already too dangerous. Somebody
was playing saying that the chinese were coming, and indeed, there
were a few men with cell phones from the gas company it seems, that
were looking quite befuddled. They were making stories. After I
discovered them, they said they were going to do an experiment. I
closed the door as hard as I could that day, to let them know I heard
and was ready to protect my mind, my computer. Now it seems their
experimentwas trying to impersonate me in front of the world. Stories.
Lies. Mean people, if people is the correct word.
My aunt arrived quite confused. She didn`t know I would keep her busy
the whole day. I needed a bag to carry my clothes, the project of a
chest framework with wheels abandoned.
Buying a bagpack was another difficult task. The day before I went to
a store and found the right model. I asked if it was the only one or
they had more. They had more. When I arrived I asked for the bag they
showed me yesterday. Here it is. But once we were back, we found it
wsa not the same model. Back to the store. As is customary in Mexico,
I was wrong, a liar, they didn`t show me another model, it was the
model I wanted. Arggg!
Back home with a useless bag. All these carrying the comuter with me.
The gang was totally confused, crossed eyes and open mouthed. Like
they had a missio, something to accomplish and they failed.
My mother was somewhat hysteric in the phone. How come I am leaving so
suddenly? Wait!. And my aunt wanted to go come back later. No way!
It was amazing how many things there were suddenly in the room. As
usual, once unpacked I could not pack them back, even though I had
bought nothing in Veracruz save alpargatas. The rest of the day I
spent selecting things I would take with me, things that would stay
and trash. I forgot the heat, but only because my aunt was bringing me
hdratin beverages. The whole day I spent enraged. Irate. Packing and
selecting things. I would nt spend the night in that place...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 30, 7:38 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 30 Oct 2004 07:38:47 -0700
Local: Sat, Oct 30 2004 7:38 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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My aunt was trying to assimilate. She didn`t quite believed. I was
frenetic, coming and going prompting her to help me organize but at
the same time not really letting her do it. What I needed were lots of
drinks to recover the sweat I was losing like a fountain.
Then my mother arrived. She didn`t believe either. They tried to
convince me to take it easy, but I had no time to lose. Once the
computer was disconnected I had nothing to do there. They were looking
at my activity and would just cross meaningful gazes. I could not make
them understand that I was being videofilmed.
The fact is that it was so surprising that I din`t react in time. I
even wondered what was that that the chimp had in his paw, and then I
saw the Texas plates and forgo about it. I should have snatched the
vamera from him and threw it away. By the time I came back from the
store the camera was hidden and I could no longer distinguish him from
the others. They were amused smiling but I enjoyed their confused
faces when they realized I was leaving. Now it is obvious that the
real conspirators, the organizers, the thieves of Rochester and maybe
Bistrain behind them, were absent that day.
No matter how hard I tried I was just moving things around without
really advancing. I don`t eve had a bagpack, but my denim bag I used
to hold computer and guitar cables.
Later I went with my aunt to buy something more adequate to the mall,
but found nothing... nothing her avarice would buy. It ws wasted time.
Back home the real problem was my wardrobe. As I said it was
disastrous. It was quite an argument to agree what to do with it. We
separated laundry from dry cleaning clothes and my uncle came with his
van to pick up the bags and they took them to a laundry he knew
personally.
So there I was, the computer packed in the original box, the guitar in
its bag case, the denim bag, no clothes, no bag packs, wanting to
leave.
I decided to go to a hotel.
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 30, 7:51 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 30 Oct 2004 07:51:48 -0700
Local: Sat, Oct 30 2004 7:51 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Finding a hotel meant several hours driving throughout the city. I
didn`t want to spend much but I wanted a phone line to connect to the
internet.
My uncle tried to recomend us a hotel of a friend of his but we
couldn`t find it. A hotel that looked adequate was too expensive, $600
per night. I wanted to pay more like $120.
We traversed the tourist zone, the Malecon. Of course. Nothing. Then
we went to the bus station. There was a hotel nearby that was
supposedly cheap enough. It was recommended in one of those suites
paid by the week that was both too expensive and too dirty. I would
stay in the car, while my mother and aunt made the arrangements. That
hotel had a long stairway up. They ame back saying no. I said no after
noting a very suspicious car waiting parked a few yards before the
entrance.
Another hotel was adequate but again too expensive and had no rooms.
It was already qute late and my aunt was still trying to convince me
to go back. No way! It was my advantage. I really liked the faces of
the gang when they saw I was leaving with my computer.
Just before they gave up we went downtown. And we found a police van.
We asked them for a safe and cheap hotel. I thought they almost
recognized us. And th recommended a small hotel a few bloks from
there. It was the last chance that night.
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 30, 8:04 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 30 Oct 2004 08:04:46 -0700
Local: Sat, Oct 30 2004 8:04 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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The hotel was in a closed street, right in the middle. W were received
by a man looking bored who looked like being the owner, spaniard
maybe. It wuld cost me $250 per night and I accepted. It was past
midnight but there was a family leaving in the street, that is, they
had a full dining table in front of their house and there were even
some children playing among metal trashcans. I didn`t like it but it
was the best choice.
I was carrying with me the computer, the guitar and the denim bag. The
room was on the third floor, no elevator, a colonial style hotel, very
enclosed. It was claustrophobic, barely space for a bed, a bureau and
a bathroom that looked more like a closet. It was clean though.
I didn`t have with me the monitor. Nor clothes. And there was no TV.
The air conditioning was weird. The bed, more on the hard side.
My mother and aunt stayed for a while and then left. They brough me
somthing to eat. I liked that the hotel front door was closed from
withing and the bell boy was quite docile.
That night I slept on a bed without takin my clothes off. I had no
dreams. I felt safe for one night.
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 30, 1:57 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 30 Oct 2004 13:57:59 -0700
Local: Sat, Oct 30 2004 1:57 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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They did catch up with me. The weak link were my mother and my aunt,
particularly my aunt, whose friend Julieta can confess her and, being
a long time neighbor, was acquainted with what was going on. The hotel
was only ten blocks away from where we were living.
I was not free though. It is very easy to go into a room and take the
equipment to another room; the police would not search. Ito go out
with utmost care and only a few minutes.
I went to the store round the corner and I saw them. Three guys eating
in an outside table. Their mistake was that they *canont* refrain from
making comments. They had a guitar with them.
That night my mother brought the monitor and (if I remember well) a
big bagpack, big enough to hold the guitar in it. She also brought
other things I asked her for, but my clothes were not ready yet. There
were frictions, and I was trying to sleep all I could. There was no
phone, so I could only use the computer to play.
In that hotel I had to pay by the day. I knew I was found because the
people living in the street started making comments. It was obvious it
was meant to me. The voice was spreading quickly.
I didn`t like it, but all I could do was wait...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 30, 2:11 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 30 Oct 2004 14:11:08 -0700
Local: Sat, Oct 30 2004 2:11 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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The next day was relaxing. It was a weekend and my mother just came to
bring me food, slightly bad humored.
The next morning I went to the front desk to pay the day (or night?).
There was a girl instead of the owner. When I tried to pay she told me
that I was owing one day. Impossible, they would remind me.
We discussed a while. I knew I had pay. Understanding that I was firm,
she decided to call the owner. I was curious enough to see the guest`s
book, open over the desk. She was talking to the owner, arguing
untilhe onvinced her that I had indeed pay. Turning the pages, I noted
that on Saturday a room was rented by three guests. Three! In such a
small room...
After she was convinced that I had no debt, she complained with the
owner about the guys in room 20x. They had been there the whole
weekend _without paying_: their credit card had bounced. And, above
all, they had been in the room the whole weekend without going out...
Hysteric again. When my mother and aunt arrived in the night they
brought with them a blue suitcase with wheels that was exactly what I
needed for the computer. They also brought with them clean clothes and
the load I sent to the laundry one month before.
Several shouts later we were leaving the hotel on a hurry, late in the
night. We must have made a lot of noise, plus the happening to bring
down the suitcase and the big bag, which was now rather heavy.
We spen hours looking for another hotel.
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 30, 2:29 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 30 Oct 2004 14:29:44 -0700
Local: Sat, Oct 30 2004 2:29 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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We were running out of hotels. Cheap hotels. My aunt was stubborn and
wanted me to go back to the apartment! She was driving.
Despite my brief fits of hysteria and lots of convincing arguments
against, she drove her usual route, taking ud back to the same
neighborhood! She just missed turning right on our street...
Some blocks away we found a hotel. There was a fonda (small
restaurant) selling tacos and the like. She parked the car and they
went to ask for prices. This time I went with them, but the hotel
either was full or was too expensive. They were searching the yellow
pages, well, my aunt was searching the yellow pages.
When we arrived the tacos` cook was sitting down with a lowered cap.
He saw me and turned around quickly... Suspicious. My mother was
joking, enjoying the adventure, saying that I was acting like James
Bond, etc. The cook was making a phone. When he came out again our
eyes loked. Green. I recognized him; one day he appeared in the block
wearing an overall without shirt. Green eyes, brunette, roud oval
face, recognizable.
He tried to avert the eyes but it was too late. I called my mother and
convinced her that he was one of those guys. She believed me, for
once. Fetching my aunt was a little more difficult, she was chatting
with the hotel manager and could not understand our hurry. Of course,
she found no hotels in the yellow pages.
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The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 30, 3:11 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 30 Oct 2004 15:11:47 -0700
Local: Sat, Oct 30 2004 3:11 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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It was then when things started happening.
We were just driving around, very near an in-car crisis. It was very
late. My aunt wanted to abandon, wanted me to to sleep in my uncle`s
van til Wednesday, when a bus service would take me to the border and
cross me like a tourist...
No. I kept insisting. Again, not many bloks away, over the avenue, we
fou a very merry hotel. Lots of cars. I immediately pointed out there
would be no rooms available. My aunt parked and went almost running to
ask. She was coming back with a plump man making lots of
gesticulations when another car, large, dark, parked behind us.
While my aunt was starting the engine, telling us that there was a
good option very few blocks away, with sure vacancies, a slim man,
with moustache, thin head, not very tall, black hair, came out of the
car and catched up with the gesticulating man before he reentered the
hotel.
I told my aunt to run because we would lose the room. In effect, the
car was following us a few yards behind.
We arrived at the hotel almost at the same time. But while we were
organizing he hurried up and was in the front desk less than a minute
after we asked the price, accompanied with a girl.
We should have been registered first but this man had already the
money in his hand. The woman was behind us, her arms crossed, looking
uncomfortable, but not shy, more in a defensive posture, so much that
my aunt asked her if everything was alright. She just nodded.
The man deposited the money in silence, received change in silence and
went upstairs with her in silence.
The hotel happened to have a phone line! I was happy, I could connect
to the internet. It would cost me $10 per call. It was the first time
I used my passport to identify myslef and signed using Danilo as first
name. The manager was kind of... normal, a little bit on the
precautious side. He told me about the coffee, but before we finished
congratulating us the thin man came down with the girl, deposited the
keys and left the hotel...
Somebody explained that they didn`t like the room. But he didn`t ask
for the money back. I didn`t like it, I didn`t like it at all...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 31, 6:10 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 31 Oct 2004 06:10:21 -0800
Local: Sun, Oct 31 2004 6:10 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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The room had a queen size bed, enough space and a phone line. It was
at the end of the first floor corridor in a very quiet hotel. Maybe it
was quiet because it was 3:00 in the morning. I just said OK, I was
very tired.
We went down to the car to bring up my things. The computer was a must
but the other big bag was too big, it had the guitar inside and was
too heavy. There was no bellboy and the manager definitely would not
help, he was just there with his arms closed. I wouldn`t lift the bag
but was no that convinced of not bringing it with me.
We were there in the street discussing what to do with the bag. It
would stay in the car and the car would be in the garage, so it would
be safe. A black, big van, a land rover, turned around the corner. I
didn`t see it approaching but it stopped briefly, very briefly near me
and the guy in the passenger seat made a signal to the hotel manager.
He was on the other side of the car, but he didn`t smile nor waved his
hand, he just half nodded. He was not looking happy, more like
worried.
I couldn`t see the guys in the van, only a profile that looked like
any other profile, but he did look amused. I said nothing because the
manager was there and my mother and aunt were almost ill humored. They
wouldn`t take me to another hotel. What could I do but take the risk?
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 31, 6:18 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 31 Oct 2004 06:18:31 -0800
Local: Sun, Oct 31 2004 6:18 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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I went up and started unpacking the computer. Unexpectedly my mother
came back: the keys to the car were lost! And it was not well prked.
And my bag was in there.
The keys were not in the room. I went down with my mother to look for
the keys. Nothing. We searched in the hotel, ouside by the car, in the
block, the corridor and nothing. The mnager was playing dumb. I wanted
to point out that he was there and he would have noticed, but I was
too tired to fight. Who else could have the keys?
They decided to go to my aunt`s house to pick up the copies. I should
and wanted to remain in the car taking care of my bag but it was too
much; I was literally falling asleep.
So I said whatever and went back to the room. Nothing would happen,
and they were after the computer, which I had with me. I just dropped
on the bed and went deeply asleep...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 31, 11:50 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 31 Oct 2004 11:50:01 -0800
Local: Sun, Oct 31 2004 11:50 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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I woke up late and even then my mother came and I was still sleepy. We
were both badly humored. I wanted to rest. The trip would take 15
hours and I planned to stay awake the whole night to be able to fall
sleep in the bus. It was Tuesday, I would leave on Wednesday, by my
mother`s arrangements.
It was early night when I installed the computer. My last night, and I
would be able to send some mails without being hacked, or phreaked. I
had it all ready, even the phone line connected. I just needed to make
a phone call. I wouldn`t tell the manager I wanted to connect, only
that I would make a local call, which was true; I knew that he would
say it was not possible otherwise.
To place the call I had to pay. I went to the lobby and deposited the
money on the front desk. The manager was lookin a little frightened,
distant, unlike the night before when he was obsequious. He wanted to
know the phone number. I told him that I would dial from the room. He
insisted he would dial and then he would call me back. I told him it
was a local call. Gave him the number. He dialed. It was, of course a
fax tone.
And he decided I counot place the call: `You cannot connect to the
internet irom here`. WOW! It is just a local call it is the same. He
wouln`t understand. I went back to the room, forgetting about the
money.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 31, 12:32 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 31 Oct 2004 12:32:32 -0800
Local: Sun, Oct 31 2004 12:32 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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I was in trouble. Adrenaline was high. I was pacing and pacing in the
room trying to collect my thoughts and deciding what to do next; I
could not stay in the hotel. The guys in the van looked really
dangerous simply by the car they were riding, which usually only
people wanting to show machismo would ride in that region of Mexico,
and they made a sign to the manager!
The manager was living in the hotel with a woman. I went down to call
my mother and tell her, but he was nowhere to be seen. He did pick up
the payment for the call. The woman came out but wouldn`t speak to me.
I could see them in their room cross two window walls and a garden,
not payng attention to me. I just lingered there, then after a while
of being ignored started messing with things in the lobby.
He was forced to come and tell me not to touch. I told him I wanted to
make another call, to my mother. His answer? The commuter was not
working and mumble mumble he could not make the call. From another
room somebody asked for a call and they placed it!
Definitely trouble.
Without stopping to think I went back and packed everything, the
computer, the cables and the pants and two shirts from the laundry
that ended in the computer suitcase as padding. I wouldn`t stay there
a single minute. Fortunately I had gone out to buy something to drink
earlier and I knew there was a gas station two blocks away where I
could take a taxi. I couldn`t go back to my mother`s, wouldn`t spend
money in taxis looking for another hotel. It was around eleven o`clock
in the night. What I would do was to catch the bus to Mexico City
before they could realize what was going on and once there I could get
lost. So it was the bus station.
When the manager saw me coming down with my luggage he loosed color,
noticeable as he was brunette. He was using the phone but just dropped
it. The woman was there too, looking worried. He reached me as I was
opening the door and with rudeness closed it and forced me to give him
the keys. I told him the night was paid and I was leaving my monitor
behind, somebody would come the next day to pick it up. I even told
him I wouldn`t be out for long, as I sort of imagined my mother would
convince to go back to the hotel.
I wouldn`t discuss with him. Had a brief impulse of trowing away the
keys to make him picked them up. I didn`t. I gave the keys to him and
opened the door simultaneously. I was in the street with my wheeled
luggage, my denim bag and a long trip before me. But I felt... free.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 31, 2:14 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 31 Oct 2004 14:14:13 -0800
Local: Sun, Oct 31 2004 2:14 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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I was a few hours away from real freedom and safety; little I know
then it wouldn`t be true.
The street was completely dark. I turned to the left and then round
the corner. There were four or five loiterers there, watching my
luggage with interest. I had a glimpse of panic when I passed before
them. The lights of the gas station promised some refreshment two
blocks away. I would buy something to drink and call my mother.
The line was busy, I had no time to waste. Catching a taxi took some
time, most came with passengers and I was there in the corner sweating
lile a fountain, totally out of place. I don`t know how long I waited
before an empty taxi came my way and stopped. The driver didn`t offer
help to load my luggage.
He asked me where to and I asked to be taken to a cybercafe. I would
send some mails, in case my other mails didn`t pass and in case I
didn`t arrive to the States.
The cybercafe was gloomy and crowded. They were closing, but I played
dumb, I would just send one mails and sit down in the computer. The
cashier was very amused, as some of the customers. I had the
impression they knew about me but I ignored it as I could do nothing
then. I wrote to one of my friends from FTJ to send her my files. That
was all I could do.
Taking a taxi to the bus station was easier from that place and in a
few minutes I was unloading my things without more incidents.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 31, 2:44 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 31 Oct 2004 14:44:05 -0800
Local: Sun, Oct 31 2004 2:44 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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First thing was to call my mother. Trying to explain her was terrible
because it was too sudden and she expected to have a very emotive
farewell, which I expected to evade though couldn`t imagine I would
evade it this way. I could not say goodbye to my cats, but not even
look at them while I was packing and under all the movement they chose
to hide. My mother was taking it resignedly; there would be trouble
later to send me my clothes and guitars and that at least meant I
would have to be in touch. My aunt was probably unvailable, so she
could`t come; I told her she had to pick up the monitor from the
hotel.
My main concern was to keep my computer with, I wouldn`t want it to be
thrown like a rock as thloaders usually do with luggage. My solution
was to buy a ticket from one of the small lines to have a chance to
travel with my computer under my feet; I would fake it was not heavy,
somehow. If there had been buses going to Brownsville I would have
taken one, but to go to Brownsville you can only leave at 5:00 in the
evening. There ought to be plenty of departures to Mexico City.
That part of the station was empty. I went from one extreme to the
other before choosing a bus line. Most windows were closed and it
seemed only one cashier was available. When she saw me approaching she
made a small jump of startlement and picked up the phone, dialing. I
couldn`t hear what she said, it was only half a minute before she
hanged up. I asked to buy a ticket to Mexico City; she replied there
were no more departures. I saw the table over her head: there ought to
be at least one more in fifteen minutes. She told me th were no seats
available. I could see the bus behind her with the label Mexico City
and plenty of space available. She played full with a stupid smile. I
left and went to the big bus line.
Same block, but on the opposite street. The casher was very nice. I
bought the last ticket to the last departure and it would leave in 10
minutes. Just in time.
I could not convince the driver to let me travel with my computer
under the seat, but at least being the last passenger I could see that
it ws deposited with care among the rest of the luggage.
I would arrive in six-seven hours. It was a little past midnight. At
last I would leave that land of mud and heat, of gossip and missery,
of ignorance and indifference, where I was hunted for the second time
in my life by those thieves and their newly acquired accomplices and
had to remain a prisoner for months. That trip was really conforting
and I could sleep a little. But the wrost part was still to come.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 31, 3:08 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 31 Oct 2004 15:08:26 -0800
Local: Sun, Oct 31 2004 3:08 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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I arrived to Mexico City on the 25th of July around seven in the
morning. I didn`t really notice then but it was Belinda`s birthday.
There was an internet node in the station. Great! Lets see if there
are any mails. I logged in to my beethoven.com account hoping it would
be free from interference. I could not log in right away. When all
this trouble began in Veracruz I could log in right away, but not
anymore. Anyway, I changed the password.
I should have taken a bus right away to some other place but opted to
pay a single trip to Brownsville. Inspecting the schedules proved tat
I wouldhave to wait the whole day. So I decided to go to the Italian
Embassy to see what was going on with my mother`s passport. Grave
mistake.
The subway line would take me to where I could take a taxi and save
money. I was spending a lot of money meant to survive in the United
States while I could get my social security number, which would take
around two weeks. The trains were solid with people. No hurry, I
waited maybe more than an hour before I could board a decent car. It
was tiring.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Oct 31, 6:45 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 31 Oct 2004 18:45:48 -0800
Local: Sun, Oct 31 2004 6:45 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Going to the Italian Embassy in such circumstances was a surrealist
experience, but I had to grab the opportunity. And they had to cope
with my luggage. When I saw the long, serious faces I knew I would
have a good time. In fact I was angry. And I had a good time.
The difficulty had a been a missing document. But the law said nothing
about that document. Arguing this was easy; not so easy the confusion
they had with my mother`s documents. Granted. It was a matter of
bringing yet another document to solve the confusion and there should
be no more obstacles. I left the Embassy quite happy and _whistling_;
the Embassy official must have been relieved. Pity I couldn`t speak
with the person I intended.
I was feeling dirty and sticky after Veracruz`s heat. So I went to a
hotel, not before leaving my luggage in the bus station. While
locating the station`s services I passed cross two women. Now I
believed one of them was Belinda, though I fixed my attention on the
younger one, who looked a lot like Belinda. I may have missed Belinda
by looking at her cousin? Her daughter? I felt suddenly very old. By
the time I reacted and tried to find them it was too late. My lasik
surgery has been steadily being defeated by a newly growing myopia,
but I left the last pair of glasses among the trash in Veracruz. I
wanted them very badly at that moment.
The hotel was another no-experience. A shower, an hour relaxing with a
timed TV and that was all. Except that one of my coins to read the I
Ching was lost confused with the brown quilt of the bed. By the time I
noticed it was again too late. Maybe it was the same coin that
dissapeared in a hotel in Zacatecas I visited with Belinda and then
somehow reappeared among my things several years later. Two loses in a
single day, my last day in Mexico.
I was still wary at the moment of buying the ticket. There were some
options. While deciding there were some small incidents that put me in
alert, though I was already out of paranoid mode and didn`t pay much
attention. Anyway, I wanted to buy the ticket as near the time of
departure as possible.
Even then I had enough time to eat, now with my computer, and give a
show messing with some very crusty and messy empanadas to an American
family going to Brownsville too. I half hoped they would be with me in
the same bus. I played the dignified eater fighting an unwilling food;
the empanadas were really unwilling, I was eating more air than the
bread I was spilling with each bite. The girls and her mother were
halving a lot of fun, though managed not to laugh untilI was
completely covered with crumbles and they had to board the bus.
And so, at around 5:30 my bus was called and initiated the long, long
trip to Brownsville.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Nov 1, 6:24 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 1 Nov 2004 18:24:15 -0800
Local: Mon, Nov 1 2004 6:24 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Somehow I expected the bus to be more empty than full. My interest was
again to travel with the computer safely under my feet, so I arrived
early and was one of the first passengers. The driver didn`t let me
keep the suitcase, but at least it was deposited with care, not before
waiting for the rest of the passengers to board the bus. I chose the
seat right behind the driver, the one with more space; I wasn`t
interested in the passengers, though I did notice it was a long line
and particularly, a young man with a white t-shirt and a Mexican flag
sewn on the sleeve. It was bad taste. I also noticed that other buses
were going through security, with those guns to detect metal, but mine
was not. I was a little bit worried about crossing the border because
it wasn`t clear whether this bus would cross the border or stop in
Matamoros, where I should buy another ticket to another bus. My old
map was showing Matamoros and Brownsville as two distint dots, so I
thought that both cities were quite apart and in between there was a
long distance.
My seat companion was an old lady that took the window seat and
proceeded to ignore me right away. To my right was a mature man who
also ignored me. It was a pullman, only three seats per row. I had the
same view as the driver, which was OK for a long trip. I would have
some light even if I din`t bring with me a book to read.
The bus started the long way up the mountain. I was repressing my
excitement, with a closed smile and eyes that would unfocus every now
and then with images of what was ahead. It was life.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Nov 1, 6:50 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 1 Nov 2004 18:50:47 -0800
Local: Mon, Nov 1 2004 6:50 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Not twenty minutes had passed and I was all shivering. The air
conditiong was too cold, hardly what I expected for a comfortable
trip. The bus was rather quiet but for a pair of children seating in
the back seat who were also quite excited talking with her mother.
After a while they were quiet. Then people started sneezing. And
coughing. I was trying to get some warm from the courtesy pillow
without success. The children started sneezing. After another while I
was a knot of cramped muscles. The bus was going up and up the
mountain. The lady near me turned to see me and ignored me again. The
driver? He was quite happy, the air current didn`t touch him. And I
sneezed.
It was already a concert of sneezes and coughs. That was precisely
what I needed, to arrive with a cold! We were entering a leveled
highway when I told the driver to turn off the air conditioning. His
answer? Why, if the passengers were comfortable! He was discharging
his frustration on all of us, knowing the tempreature was really
freezing.
I argued with him:
`They are all so comfortable that everybody is sneezing`
`We are going through Tierra Caliente (hot land, the name the coast is
called)`
`No, we are going in the middle of a mountain. You can turn on the air
conditioning once we entered Tierra Caliente`
The passengers were very quiet. My voice was forced because of the
cold. I waited for somebody to support me but nothing. A few minutes
later the driver thought it better and lowered the the air current,
then turned it off completely. A small victory.
It was then when trouble started.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Nov 1, 7:35 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 1 Nov 2004 19:35:31 -0800
Local: Mon, Nov 1 2004 7:35 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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My recollection of what happened that night is no longer clear. It was
a Nightmare. Too many hours trapped in a moving bus, in danger, my
thoughts were at moments literally so loud that swamped what they were
saying...
Conversation resumed but sparse; there had been a confrontation and
maybe the driver would turn on the air again. Even the children were
quiet, though it was still early to nap. But a steady rumor was
forming.
They were two men and a woman. I tried many times to locate them among
the seats without success. They were talking among themselves,
spreading a wave of silence around them. Some phrases would stand out,
first words, then phrases, until they were speaking like the pistons
of an engine, sending short sonic bullets against me.
It was evident they were talking *at* me, though I cannot remember
exactly what they were saying. The allusions were clear and a word was
being repeated often: Veracruz.
I partly decided to go to Mexico City to visit the Embassy as my
mother was morally blackmailing me about leaving her behind in that
horrid place she doesn`t like at all. That would keep my conscience
clean and I was sure I had solved the problem. But the trip would take
me back to Veracruz, maybe even through the city of Veracruz. It was a
escape by going back to the place of danger.
What I didn`t took into account was that there was a flight to Mexico
City at seven in the morning. I did not even considered taking a plane
not only because Mexico is one of the most expensive places to travel
by air, but mainly because the idea of being separated from my
computer, and worse, have it go through x rays, was giving me chills.
So they were perfectly able to catch up with me by taking a plane. I
suddenly felt spied in the bus station, like when that man asked for
information where I just asked without buying a ticket...
The problem was that I didn`t know them and I didn`t pay attention to
the passengers, which I regreted. They were a trio of disembodied
voices sending threats, to the distress of the rest of the
passegers...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Nov 2, 2:55 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 2 Nov 2004 02:55:10 -0800
Local: Tues, Nov 2 2004 2:55 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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(Alfredo Prevedel in Gaio di Spilimbergo. But maybe it was just a family myth.)
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Nov 2, 8:43 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 2 Nov 2004 20:43:24 -0800
Local: Tues, Nov 2 2004 8:43 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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The man to my right was eyeing me very worried, trying to understand
who was I; the lady near me preferred to fake being asleep and somehow
managed not to turn my way during the whole trip. Even hte children
were hushed quiet, but I wouldn`t swear it, I was trying to assimilate
what was going on. They were definitively threatening me and
anticipating that we were going back to Veracruz. The threats were
mixed with more allusions to things I`ve said and what people in
Veracruz was thinking of me. Some of this allusions were the same that
the family having dinner in the street, near the downtown hotel, yell
at me after coming back from buying cigarettes, before I realized
those guys had found me.
It was obvious they were enjoying, it sound as if they were
frolicking, but the tone was building more and more aggresion in it.
They were acting vindictively, accusing me of being American, of
thinking they were animals and once that I was carrying with me
millitary secrets. I was totally appalled and very preoccupied. It
seemed like one of them was using a cell phone, speaking too low for
me to hear, while the other two, particularly the woman, continued
with their accusations and their anticipation.
I gave up locating them in their seats; it was impossible, though I
thought I saw the woman hiding her head quickly when I turned around.
An option was to go to the restroom in the back of the bus, but what
for? They would shut up immediately and I would not confront them. The
allusions were clear but vague, so it would look as if I was a mad man
looking for a fight.
The passengers would not help me in case of trouble, or would they? If
suddenly they produced guns and ordered the driver to stop, nobody
would oppose them; it has happened in Mexico, and passengers let
criminals have their way, rape and murder, without intervening, even
in Mexico City. The attitude of the man to my right was an example of
what I could expect: he was taut but looking the other way, and there
were children an women, and besides, the grudge was with me. They were
trying to put the rest of the passengers against me and maybe they
were achieving it. The children looked scared and wide eyed. Only the
fact that they were using the cell phone was giving me some hope, as
it was clear tat they were synchronizing with somebody and wouldn`t
act alone. Veracruz was still a long way away. The us was climbing and
climbing a mountain, and despite the excitement I was beginning to
doze.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Nov 4, 3:34 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 4 Nov 2004 03:34:52 -0800
Local: Thurs, Nov 4 2004 3:34 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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I came out of my dozing feeling a deep silence, even the trio had
stopped their circus and were silent. It was charged with an
anticipation which I believe everybody felt, like when you suddenly
become aware of a constant noise precisely before the subsonics tell
you it will stop.
There was an explosion, and the bust started losing speed while a
flap, flap, flap was also losing momentum until it too went quiet.
Just the last thing I needed, I thought, a broken bus in the middle of
mountain highway and to wait until it is fixed or another bus picks up
the passengers. I complained aloud, wanting the driver to listen to
me, as if I was blaming him (he, he), but even before the flap ended I
realized that we were going up. I know nothing about car mechanics,
used to be transported because of my myopia, though I recognized it
was a band what was broken and my mind started speculating, if we had
been going *down* instead of up... who knows if the brakes would have
worked?
Somebody made a comment, two, agreeing all in that the bus was
stopped. The driver went out with a worried face, came back, wasted
some time and it was my surprise when another driver took his place
and we were on march again.
The tension was relieved a little, but not much. We all escaped a
dangerous situation, but it left pending the other situation of which
I was more concerned than the rest of the passengers...
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Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Nov 7, 9:12 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 7 Nov 2004 09:12:24 -0800
Local: Sun, Nov 7 2004 9:12 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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There *was* a Teophany here. A travel within, with the explosion of a
new Universe. I enjoyed writing this poetic piece. It was deleted.
Maybe because the mirror images of this autobiography, the thieves
that persecuted me, are profiting with it ALREADY? Is there any
decency in this world? And this piece deleted, would prove my
authorship? Or my profficiency as a source of original ideas? They
show animalism in its maximum expression: a bunch of useless guys
pretending to be creators by discouraging the real creator to keep on
goi for fear of his work (LIFE, idiots, LIFE) being stolen? I saw the
post go. I know how the story continues. It is my work... there are
details you don`t know. And the fact that they have money whie I have
none, BUT THEY CANNOT FINISH WHAT I LEFT OPEN, proves their
plagiarism. They can post smewhere else, some place Ie no access to
and convince people of their autohrship. I can write in paper what
comes next, same quality, same originality to show at the moment
requested, and I CAN do it with people watching, as I can improvise
music at any moment, same quality, same originality. Can they? If they
profited with my work, I want the profits and damages. These ideas are
here to be discussed, *NOT* to be copied and published for profit
under another name. The source must be acknowledged and not used for
profit. I am the author. I haven`t given away any rights to publish
nor I have sold anything. I still demand justice. I know the police
can find them and locate them if they will... Both US and Mexican
police. I am Danilo J Bonsignore.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Nov 13, 8:15 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 13 Nov 2004 20:15:15 -0800
Local: Sat, Nov 13 2004 8:15 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Maybe a little more Roberto is in order. He is a common guy quite
talkative and sticky. He shows the inversion of roles of modern
society in that he is a very ordered `househusband`, dedicated to keep
clean his house and please his working woman by keeping his house
clean. He has a boy from another relatioship, which he would
consistently pick up from school and deliver him to his mother every
day. Sometimes I would coincide with him and politely accompany him on
the way to pick up the boy while Iwas goiMetro Chapultepec. I wanted
him to introduce me a neighbor ofhis, a beautiful blonde with blue
eyes I saw twice, once alone and the other time accompanied, though
despite many promises he only managed to introduce me another neighbor
of his, which I thouroughly dislike. I didn`t really liked him much,
but he is the kind of people who starts greteing you and becomes
sticky. Contact was closer for a while when a cat appeared in his
kitchen asking food and he would ask me how to take care of him. But
he would`t save her by adopting her in his house. As you see, a normal
guy, except that he would use all kindsf drugs and wouldn`t have the
decency to keep it to himself, but would boast and tal about it
openly, laving you with the dumb smile trying to say cut it short,
though he would always try to imply you, with very calculated comments
when people would hear him. Not really an acquaintance to introduce
others, though I did try to play samaritan and invite him seriously to
GHAMAC, without generating real interest, though he would have been a
great liaison with needy people. I never met the beautiful girl. He
couldn`t make me go with him to deliver his boy to Tepito, where his
mother lives. But he was a good excuse to go and visit the old
neighborhood after I moved, trying to invite some of my old girl
neighbors... I saw him last the day I aplied for my SSN, just to show
him my passport. He is small, petite, brunette and looks vaguely like
a TV star. I am sure I won`tsee him again. Pity for the cat, she
stopped going one day, very probably poisoned by the porters. Though
he did give me Novo, who incidentally stayed one day in my appartment
before that night when...
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Nov 19, 11:00 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 19 Nov 2004 23:00:42 -0800
Local: Fri, Nov 19 2004 11:00 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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The initial hypnotic silence under the comforting silence of a well
functioning engine was slowly but firmly interrupted again by the
conversation of my persecuters. This time though it was not as gay as
when the trip began. We were still ascending the mountain and then
entered a more or less leveled plain. They were talking in a low voice
I couldn`t hear, but giving away all the hints of being the result of
something unexpected, and not connected with the accident we suffered.
Their conversation was interrupted with what seemed like cell phone
conversations. A call, comments, another call, some more comments,
silence, a question mark almost visible floating above our heads,
while the rest of the passengers were keeping to themselves.
I was expectant, thinking of what was I supposed to do, though the
ambush theory seemed very likely. I thought of several plans, even of
asking the driver to leave me in the highway, but it too looked like
impossible. I almost missed hey previous scene of comments and
threats. I didn`t think I had enough space to maneuver.
The evening ended and the night was falling when it all doubts
cleared. After long whiles of silence, I thinking and they making
quick comments, it became evident that to my good fortune something
went wrong for them. The bus used another highway! Maybe the sudden
change of driver or the desire to avoid steep curves or roads prompted
the new driver to change course, so that instead of going *trough*
Veracruz, back to the place I was escaping from and into the hands of
the people after me, it went through San Luis Potosi or another state.
The road was leveled and the trip direct. If they planned to ambush
the bus, pretend an assault and leave me dead on the highway while
they just boarded a convenient car back to their homes, with my
computer, counting on the rest of the passengers to remain petrified
and do nothing, the change of route thwarted their plans completely. I
don`t know the route the bus followed, but we were on the other side
of the Sierra, the mountains that separate the coast from the central
valleys, and reaching us in an anonymous highway was almost
impossible, a moving target.
The hunters were befuddled, exchanging comments from time to time, not
knowing what to do. I wasn`t relaxed, but the deep anguish I was
expecting did alleviate a little while lights went out and we were
mantled by a closed night and the monotonous lights of the highway.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Nov 19, 11:28 pm show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 19 Nov 2004 23:28:51 -0800
Local: Fri, Nov 19 2004 11:28 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Nothing was happening and we were going nowhere and it was just
another more minute but I was worred deciding what to do. I was
already late to arrive in the United States, I planned for the fourth
and it was almost end of month. I was hacked, no doubt, but I noticed
too late so I already had the address of the room I was going to rent
and they could know it. I was still in doubt whether Bistrain had been
the original hacker (didn`t think he could be in connivance) so going
to El Paso was out of the question too. At that moment I was free to
decide except that I didn`t have enough money to go far and I only
knew I wanted to be far from the border. I could either follow my
original plan, hoping they would think I *wouldn`t* do that, or try a
different city which could be more expensive than what I could afford
but losing them for sure.
It was already late and deep night when the bus sided for a revision.
I asked the driver if it was a stop, but no, it was a reten, a
military post. My lost opportunity. As soon as the driver went out I
followed him to watch the revision. I was prepared for something like
this, and not wanting my computer to undergo rough treatment I wanted
to take part of it.
The soldiers were immediately interested in the brand new blue
suitcase. I offered to open it up as it was full of locks and then
opened up the case of the computer, after taking it out of the
suitcase. They didn`t expect my help, but I managed to put my computer
out of the way while a sardo went into the luggage compartment and
started pushing suitcases away without remorse. After he finished I
deposited the computer with all care where it wouldn`t bump
mercelessly. Then I boarded the bus again, proud of having anticipated
a danger against my suitcase.
It was only after the bus was on march again that I regreted not
telling the soldiers that the bus was not inspected for weapons among
the passengers. I made an impression, though I was not really sure
what for. The trip continued as boring as before, but I was feeling
safer.
Reply
Fabrizio J. Bonsignore Nov 20, 12:13 am show options
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From: fbonsign...@beethoven.com (Fabrizio J. Bonsignore) - Find messages by this author
Date: 20 Nov 2004 00:13:26 -0800
Local: Sat, Nov 20 2004 12:13 am
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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It was now obvious that we were nowhere near Tierra Caliente, though
the driver turned on the air more to keep awake than to cool the
temperature. There was a very low rumor from the hunters, too low to
make out the conversation, but by its tone it meant they were more on
the side of frantic than on the side of job done. I was still worried
about my next move. I didn`t want to spend much, but the bus station
in Matamoros was a dangerous prospect, the kind of places where narco
shootings are the explanation for any conflict and shootings are if
not regular yes common.
I didn`t notice the bus was silent again when a woman aproached the
driver. She didn`t look at me, ignored me completely, despite being at
her side. She was plump, rather squared, ugly, with heavy rimmed
glasses, yellow brunette, flat lips, common voice. She started a small
talk conversation I didn`t pay much attention to, though phrases where
impacting my conscience. The shallow questions gave way to more
involved revelations about her, which the driver was answering without
much involvement. She owned two houses and a business, had no family,
was well off... looked like she was offering the driver a new life,
which for a man used to go from place to place and miss rest hours
should look like a paradise, with a working woman even if ugly,
perfect to stay drunken the whole day watching TV while the
businesswoman wrked for both of them... It seemed to me she was
offering him marriage, being all too nice. Plainly they will go to a
hotel after the trip ended. Even the driver was opening up to her
conversation, being more and more communicative, even half smiling and
answering with polite half laughs.
It was well past midnight and I was resolved not to sleep, still
thinking of what to do and doubting my luck. I didn`t think of that
woman as one of the persecutors. The conversation was lulling and
couldn`t help falling asleep...
I recovered conscience quickly without opening my eyes, just in time
to hear her last question: `...where you could kill a man with nobody
nearby?` With half opened lids I saw the driver answering her, turning
his head a little without taking away his eyes from the road, after a
brief but meaningful moment of silence. There was a curve ahead and
then a very dark section where anyhting could happen, but they could
walk back to ask for a ride.
After that and what seemed to me a nod of agreement, the woman went
back to her seat, not looking at me at all. The driver was lost in the
road. I was fully awake and this time really scared. The old man near
me turned his head very slowly to watch the road, making it clear he
wouldn`t interfer. I was alone with nowhere to go.
Reply
djbonsign...@beethoven.com Dec 15, 12:31 pm show options
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From: djbonsign...@beethoven.com - Find messages by this author
Date: 15 Dec 2004 12:31:24 -0800
Local: Wed, Dec 15 2004 12:31 pm
Subject: Re: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Escape from Veracruz, real life story)
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Keeping the thread alive. There is still much to add and tell...