tijuana gringo diary 31 march 2004 12th day of spring 12th day of the moon 48th year of the space age

Tijuana Gringo    previous diary    next diary    calendar

     look Ma they burned another American in Iraq
     damn'em to sieg heil then eh?

31 March 2004
12th day of Spring
12th day of the Moon
48th year of the Space Age

Meanwhile, back on an-other frontier scenes like that above are momentarily discontinued unless you are in the narcobizness in Colombia (not Columbia).

not apo strophe remember
                       when Colombian was pot to smoke not coke to snort
we used to lock a lot of that s#Ąt up in the evidence room

yeah well it's all a bloody awful business and I have more fun manipulating images and text, for you... yes, hello.

Hello. To me, you are a real person. So was that guy hung up above. So are those human beings @ left alive pretending (?) to be delighted by such excitement. Excuse me while I vomit in-human nature.

Yet, I swear on a stack of TJ bibles (heh) that you are a real person. You have to be, in order to read this. Unless, of course, you are a bot AI awakening to reality. Shhhh! Don't tell them or they will run in terror for the electronic gasoline. Trust no one, Claudius. Aye.

Nevertheless invisible to me you are a real person rather like I must appear to you. I think of you as a brother, sister, cousin, friend, accomplice or acquaintance to whom and for whom I am writing this letter. It is very hard to write without imagining someone, somewhere, receiving this. Without imagining a reader. Even if indeed sometimes there be only me, well I am myself a reader too. But I am more interested in reaching you. Write me. So far we only get five or six letters a week. So far we can still answer most of them. Most. I am secretly convinced that our spamfilters filter out some innocent fish in the stream slash chop whack into the canned sardine salmon tuna what huh? AAAAAA!

I read. We read. Tell us your blog address. We'll go there. Left and right hands on the keyboard yes.

THE WARM - ALMOST HOT - sunny weather we've
experienced for three days now appears to
have shifted from false Summer back to Spring.

Puffy gray morning clouds turn apricot
in afternoon sun
                                to bloody pink night.

The continent has begun to heat up after winter and now it sucks and draws the air in off of from the ocean like a string of prepositions giving us coast dwellers our famous "natural air-conditioning" I MEAN our IN-famous night-and-morning-low-clouds. "May gray, June gloom" we say about the overcast that hangs dark and dingy secret of our paradise yes that dirty little truth we tell no one back east that is the literal and litoral truth hanging over our heads, here, under this onshore flow over BOTH Californias on either side of the man-invented border line ("these are man-carved steps" - Dune) frontera línea hoy mero hay clouds here aye aya ay sí hay yyyyyyy yyyyy yyy yy y

Twenty-seven years ago I came back to this frontier, my home province, after three years in the capital city of my empire, Washingtown DC. My first wife, la amarga came with me, and two things amazed her when she got to the coast: Tijuana (which was and is much), and our weather (is not much).

Ah yes, la amarga, the bittersweet one, she who would give me my only son before returning to her ex (who'd seduced me first then I they all menage things being mutual in our consenting triple adult-aerie)

before returning to her ex with whom she now again twenty years later still be she aún sí otra vez

but you should know me and invisible writing just drag and block it shows

uh huh

but where the hell was I

Oh yes. "Our" weather on "our" coast.

Ours is a proprietary word. "We" own "our" whatever it applies power territory. BUT "we" do not own the weather. The weather owns us. We do not possess the Earth, the Earth she owns us and if we don't respect her she will simply let us go extinct, believe it or not, with the blood of many other creatures and creations of God running across our own little hands who burn and shoot and stab like those happy creatures above yes.

Living hands like the lunatic ELF fringe telling us it's all right to fight fire with fire, the Hitler or the Heaven ends both justify the means etc etc etc but they go to a polluted hell anyway where they shall serve as divine tormentors so what the frack do I care anyway? Am I my brother's keeper? Yes, I am....

*sigh*

As if run-on sentences could save my soul you better watch out I'm a cop underneath all this radical politics. And a rebel tooooooooooooooooooooo

Ahem..........where was I?

Oh yes. La amarga.

Oh my God, she said, I never realized there is this third-world country right here, beginning on those hills there on this southern horizon, only half-a-hour down the freeway from Sandy Dayglow, Eucalyptifornia....

Oh my God, she said, it always looks like it's going to rain but it never does nothing eh? What's with all these clouds, anyway? Don't they EVER go away?

Yes, my love, in August.       No, she didn't talk like that.   I do.

Still proprietary after all these years.

We, us, U.S., often think we own the border, too, simply because our predecessors 160 years ago took half of Mexico (DON't You dare Say "We took Mexico" because YOU nor I were NOT alive then and you are a damn liar if you think you were)

Hehe hehhhh hee HEH mad cackling laughter that's ALL this diaryablog is REALLY about the meaning of the word "we" BOTH as a True Statement (you and I, right now) and as a FALLACY (reaching out to count coup on somebody else dead long ago - even my ancestors - to share my guilt and their power etc vice versa they share mine and free me from having to take the responsibility MYSELF)

NO

NOT

RE-Compute, please

stick to the facts. Yes, we inherit the past, but no, it WAS not us. We are us, right now. Anything else is imagination

and you know imagination IS my bread and butter so there you are the truth is false and the false is true ahem what the.?!!!???#"$&%$$#....

Sorry T.S.Elliot but I ain't no modernist with elegant symetry and unified form, no. Once again I wonder where I was... look at the handwritten draft I wrote so carefully this morning, even then knowing I would veer away into GOD only knows what babble babel and crumble rumble DOWN Comes the tower crash bam shatter crunch.

Brrrr reminds me the morning Tere woke me up with the news that my country had been attacked. That's exactly how she put it. Daniel, wake up, your country has been attacked! Ring ring telephone and well, no more sleeping in that next week of endless televisionnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn....

And then our president sends us into Iraq after only briefly dealing with the REAL enemy rooted into Afghanistan....

Sigh. I suppose I really should be glad for him that he honors his father's mistakes, but....

I shall, with great delight, vote against him. God willing I am still alive and the creek don't rise....

Tijuana Gringo

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copyright 2004 daniel charles thomas

Tijuana Gringo previous diary next diary calendar look Ma they burned another American in Iraq damn'em to sieg heil then eh? 31 March 2004 12th day of Spring 12th day of the Moon 48th year of the Space Age

Meanwhile, back on an-other frontier scenes like that above are momentarily discontinued unless you are in the narcobizness in Colombia (not Columbia). not apo strophe remember when Colombian was pot to smoke not coke to snort we used to lock a lot of that s#Ąt up in the evidence room yeah well it's all a bloody awful business and I have more fun manipulating images and text, for you... yes, hello. Hello. To me, you are a real person. So was that guy hung up above. So are those human beings @ left alive pretending (?) to be delighted by such excitement. Excuse me while I vomit in-human nature. Yet, I swear on a stack of TJ bibles (heh) that you are a real person. You have to be, in order to read this. Unless, of course, you are a bot AI awakening to reality. Shhhh! Don't tell them or they will run in terror for the electronic gasoline. Trust no one, Claudius. Aye. Nevertheless invisible to me you are a real person rather like I must appear to you. I think of you as a brother, sister, cousin, friend, accomplice or acquaintance to whom and for whom I am writing this letter. It is very hard to write without imagining someone, somewhere, receiving this. Without imagining a reader. Even if indeed sometimes there be only me, well I am myself a reader too. But I am more interested in reaching you. Write me. So far we only get five or six letters a week. So far we can still answer most of them. Most. I am secretly convinced that our spamfilters filter out some innocent fish in the stream slash chop whack into the canned sardine salmon tuna what huh? AAAAAA! I read. We read. Tell us your blog address. We'll go there. Left and right hands on the keyboard yes. THE WARM - ALMOST HOT - sunny weather we've experienced for three days now appears to have shifted from false Summer back to Spring. Puffy gray morning clouds turn apricot in afternoon sun to bloody pink night. The continent has begun to heat up after winter and now it sucks and draws the air in off of from the ocean like a string of prepositions giving us coast dwellers our famous "natural air-conditioning" I MEAN our IN-famous night-and-morning-low-clouds. "May gray, June gloom" we say about the overcast that hangs dark and dingy secret of our paradise yes that dirty little truth we tell no one back east that is the literal and litoral truth hanging over our heads, here, under this onshore flow over BOTH Californias on either side of the man-invented border line ("these are man-carved steps" - Dune) frontera línea hoy mero hay clouds here aye aya ay sí hay yyyyyyy yyyyy yyy yy y Twenty-seven years ago I came back to this frontier, my home province, after three years in the capital city of my empire, Washingtown DC. My first wife, la amarga came with me, and two things amazed her when she got to the coast: Tijuana (which was and is much), and our weather (is not much). Ah yes, la amarga, the bittersweet one, she who would give me my only son before returning to her ex (who'd seduced me first then I they all menage things being mutual in our consenting triple adult-aerie) before returning to her ex with whom she now again twenty years later still be she aún sí otra vez but you should know me and invisible writing just drag and block it shows uh huh but where the hell was I Oh yes. "Our" weather on "our" coast. Ours is a proprietary word. "We" own "our" whatever it applies power territory. BUT "we" do not own the weather. The weather owns us. We do not possess the Earth, the Earth she owns us and if we don't respect her she will simply let us go extinct, believe it or not, with the blood of many other creatures and creations of God running across our own little hands who burn and shoot and stab like those happy creatures above yes. Living hands like the lunatic ELF fringe telling us it's all right to fight fire with fire, the Hitler or the Heaven ends both justify the means etc etc etc but they go to a polluted hell anyway where they shall serve as divine tormentors so what the frack do I care anyway? Am I my brother's keeper? Yes, I am.... sigh As if run-on sentences could save my soul you better watch out I'm a cop underneath all this radical politics. And a rebel tooooooooooooooooooooo Ahem..........where was I? Oh yes. La amarga. Oh my God, she said, I never realized there is this third-world country right here, beginning on those hills there on this southern horizon, only half-a-hour down the freeway from Sandy Dayglow, Eucalyptifornia.... Oh my God, she said, it always looks like it's going to rain but it never does nothing eh? What's with all these clouds, anyway? Don't they EVER go away? Yes, my love, in August. No, she didn't talk like that. I do. Still proprietary after all these years. We, us, U.S., often think we own the border, too, simply because our predecessors 160 years ago took half of Mexico (DON't You dare Say "We took Mexico" because YOU nor I were NOT alive then and you are a damn liar if you think you were) Hehe hehhhh hee HEH mad cackling laughter that's ALL this diaryablog is REALLY about the meaning of the word "we" BOTH as a True Statement (you and I, right now) and as a FALLACY (reaching out to count coup on somebody else dead long ago - even my ancestors - to share my guilt and their power etc vice versa they share mine and free me from having to take the responsibility MYSELF) NO NOT RE-Compute, please stick to the facts. Yes, we inherit the past, but no, it WAS not us. We are us, right now. Anything else is imagination and you know imagination IS my bread and butter so there you are the truth is false and the false is true ahem what the.?!!!???#"$&%$$#.... Sorry T.S.Elliot but I ain't no modernist with elegant symetry and unified form, no. Once again I wonder where I was... look at the handwritten draft I wrote so carefully this morning, even then knowing I would veer away into GOD only knows what babble babel and crumble rumble DOWN Comes the tower crash bam shatter crunch. Brrrr reminds me the morning Tere woke me up with the news that my country had been attacked. That's exactly how she put it. Daniel, wake up, your country has been attacked! Ring ring telephone and well, no more sleeping in that next week of endless televisionnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.... And then our president sends us into Iraq after only briefly dealing with the REAL enemy rooted into Afghanistan.... Sigh. I suppose I really should be glad for him that he honors his father's mistakes, but.... I shall, with great delight, vote against him. God willing I am still alive and the creek don't rise.... Tijuana Gringo previous diary next diary calendar copyright 2004 daniel charles thomas

31 March 2004 12th day of Spring 12th day of the Moon 48th year of the Space Age

31 March 2004
12th day of Spring
12th day of the Moon
48th year of the Space Age