the end story, notes, misc notes

If this actually makes it to the end of 2011 it will prolly be the end of the end story unless I have something completed instead of in the works. Then maybe it may as well be open source for someone else.

here so I don’t lose it, ideally someone actually looking for an update on me wouldn’t stumble on it’s posted because this thing would be long dead by the time it popped up.

Exercise, race, …dreams, doctors, patients, gender, sexists, gossip, backstabbing, religiosity, condon, desert, abort, forgive, nonfiction, names, trade, envy, blody, boredom, pretentiousness, cowardice, banality, sex, pornography, bodies, blood, prose, Explanation (things that can be lined out) They do not know prose, only blunt quiet possibilities – new post plague factor.There is a disease before the plague(1) in the mind of a paper – who’s…A story where all families ignore the deaths around them, story is on families screams – so loud.There is a disease after the plague(1) in the mind of a paper – who’s…A story where boy encounters the disease, concept new – hell dervish.Story a man wrote about boys with diseases, acute sadness, kills boy.All of their food comes one room, is left in the same… as well the babies.There is no maintenance…There is no suffering… old compose themselves in the food room.There are no epitaphs; they leave with anatomy for their individual pages no one else will see.Story about a doctor who children’s a patient. abuseA story about sex for procreation and food that tastes different (housing) Genesis – Children would run along the equator of pencils to a city small and find a screen that held a thing (cradle), for some years the only journals were written, which would be dismissed until writers, after plague (jesus). The plague is one person or many persons, or both in a metaverse book. Concert, poster size paper their instruments and notes, words that would hold weight. Verb Education, paper world, outside, leaves always with wind and labeled. Moving, moves. Animals that eat eaten and leave ates.Rivers that reflect reflected and show tongues for tasting. In one, the plague is with the foliage outside, no more verbs. Regression. Apathy felt and the crowd move to create pronunciation, scavenger hunt. VHS Recipes, food labels. Age, maturity, misunderstanding, violence, manipulation, emotions, vocabulary, superiority, subtlety… it’s not that I’ve been feeling sick, that it’s raining outside, that I couldn’t drive well (making him feel terrible either way) {ghost} Gee, it’s late. And one day they could analyze the pencil, and like picking a scene out of the air and building a story around it, so were built things from an abandoned past.You will be as ghosts, finale. Modern language and remnants. Maybe a writer will come along and kill this and kill sentences in his head until something is complete. Concept of time,I can smoke a cigarette, waiting for a pot to boil, pot has boiled and I will have time to wait around for it to cool faster in the pot than in mugs. Margin: Only in a world that kills does sandpaper have a ‘rough’ texture…

More.

choose your own adventure stories never made anyone cry..

An abrupt end, mass misunderstanding from a boy outside the equator (sign language beat up) with some illness – he was pulled apart with no regard for grammer.

! the man who gets in the way

. and ” the husband

? the wife

, the children

Does anyone live outside the equator? I mean, really live?

The art of memory of they who live above their stories – Loci (memory rooms, memory stories, memory places)

Language as a script – put things in the environment that are/will be regarded as stupid foreign wants – Language as a body – is raped without – language in a society – a police officer to laugh at it.

Again or never, an epilogue. This world turning into the established fiction – nonfiction included. Cities independant in culture and trade, improvement centralized and phased out. no.

People underground, like earthworms and the pencils grow. Equator, entropy. They had grown them, or been made to grow them.. So what did they do – they might have been having constant sex or embracing until they died, producing no babies because the earth needed it more. Why so many days after pencil still grow, is a mystery, nevermind how there came to be people having such relations between dirt without ever a face or romance.

Fear.

Development is without surprise or encouragement.

It had not been paper, the leaves had had no labels, the house, no description. And so when someone tips a cigarrete over a bunch of post its, stirring. or not.

They could have been twigs or clones of shakespeares head, pikes.

edit, more.

So does a man climb up from this? and discern a line to follow after gravity and how long does he follow it. Does he stop to dig someone out, does it not register to do so, does he leave the path, is he the onlyone that leaves the path, the only one above ground. Is every below he digs into empty or full with mystery? Is everyone dead? Do their corpses float up because gravity is a concept in motion to the first man above? When does he notice pattern? Is it 3 years later when there are bones does he stop. Does he ever take a break? Would other men stay with the line?

Is the land homogenous to them? /him? Is there aline of food? does it vary? What would a man do after climbing out, if there is food – continue eating until he dies, ignoring the line beside? Would he eat anything? Had those underground eaten eachother, or pulled things down? Would he feel an affinity to the only person he had eaten from, and just eat from the line beside – or…? would he feel any affinity at all? Had the sexes been ordered. The point of all this. Does the man climb up because his partner had died? How had his partner been the only one to die a death that left someone lonely? Does it ever occur to him that sex / holding may be better above ground…? Does he go back down, and try the other side which may be someone still in relations with someone else?

Or is there a girl, somewhere along the line with her own dillema of what she had been doing. Among a society of elves and robots, egyptians and babylonians. _______

What is the problem between a pencil growing from dirt and a giant metal replica of the manufactured one.

I am grasping at straws with this because I just don’t have the time or comfort to really think it into something more. It’s probably been done anyway.

..

The cause of natural death: eyes. These people had been in the earth for who knows how long, everyone of them is blind except offspring. Going to go back and edit a few things if this is any good (what a mess).

Added a lot more of this but not with me. Started on the first paragraph and I am blocked. There has to be something to do with this, just need time and place.

So now I was thinking of adding another limb onto this effort or maybe it would be better off as a story of it’s own…. it is also sketchy where I want this one to go, so right now I have written things towards a childrens tale and things towards adult. The world is dead except for the ghosts of ‘pets’. Dogs, Cats, Elephants, Giraffes, Abused Children…adults. Cockroaches, scorpions *research other things that survive sustained global radiation* are frustrated that it’s happened again, first the dinosaurs… Okay I will write more on this later, not much time right now and I haven’t looked at this story for awhile and it does need some work.  There are some other stories but these two are the most thought of.. and most recently unthought of.

Closed

Back in Des Moines.

Preparing for the trasteo

This year I finished the official study of Spanish at the universidad nacional or “El Nacho”. I took a TEFL course to be more qualified to teach English. I tought primary at a school for a month. I have translated a 50 page manual into Spanish for a local mechanic for 20 bucks. People I hardly knew were asking me for lessons but just now when I am preparing to leave for another city in Colombia.

Bush is here,

Police by law are not allowed to enter the campus during these fights.

Some pictures there on the right.

I got off bus c-11 and made my way up the pedestrian bridge. Midway I found also arriving riot police in good spirits. The guard of the language building said there was going to be a reiteration of yesterday’s fit – which I had only heard about when I came for a cancelled class. I write this from the wall of the philosophy building, covered with spray painted words as any of the many white buildings on the campus are. In front towards the left is the entrance to the university I came through, and to the right is the language building I take classes in. Seems a lot of students are in wait, so I sat down to study and now write this instead. The sun just beamed through the clouds the first time in the half-hour I’ve been here, so I looked up from my book thinking that’s as good a time as any for revolutionary hijinks to begin, and a moment later three masks heads are walking by me carrying a concrete box on a stretcher. Maybe I should stop reading and take a nap. It’s 11:42am.
I look up and two masks are moving past a group of people playing and continuing a game of Frisbee in the lawn. Three more come from the other way, a wheelbarrow with junk boards. They are centralizing equipment near the entrance.
In the background for awhile there have been thunderous booms from other parts of the campus, maybe another entrance.
Another three masks pass by.
“I believe they are going to come from that way”, loose interest from a student. Pregnant and hunchbacked men in masks move with purpose. The masks close off the road of the intersection used by cars. Two cars come and a student lowers and raises the tape.
Students are more concentrated. A large wheelbarrow with ten masks accompanying is heading towards the entrance, more boards are being placed. Some chanting followed by clapping. A mask expresses excitement. M.J.B. is spray painted in green along my wall. A boom by the entrance now dense with people concerned with identity checks, a few smart ones with sturdy plastic bags over their shoes. One waves the Colombian flag as big as he is near the intersection. Oh, the booms are small bombs that create abundant noise and smoke, and are now being thrown at the police on the pedestrian bridge as well as police tanks that have gathered outside.
“Tombos, tombos y hijueputas!” – “Cops, Cops, and sons of bitches!”
Longer chants begin among a nearby group of friends.
Construction workers look on from a roof a good distance away from the University.
My view was getting cluttered, so I moved to the front of the crowd by the street closed to campus traffic.
A group of five women in masks pass, pregnant with rocks.
Masks are still coming and going, locating boards and continuing to throw bombs.
The police tanks use water hoses on masks close to the entrance.
Masks are digging up bricks from the lawn of the language building.
A tank has a background of smoke.
I move across the street, into the language building’s lawn. Near me two friends are standing talking and one is taking pictures with his cell.
A mask crosses the lawn with a molotov.
Students and masks running away from firings of teargas, returning when it has passed.
Students contributing to fires of dry grass, papers, wood.
I think being prosecuted as a foreigner for participating in throwing rocks at tanks and police shields could be interesting.
Students running away from landed shells of teargas-
Masks carrying a concrete platform from the lawn to the street/sidewalk gap, and breaking it for more rocks.
Three police tanks outside the entrance, one showers itself.
I moved to the far entrance of the language building with other students as the tear gas began to land closer and closer.
It wouldn’t be hard for a smoke bomb to land in the traffic below the bridge the police are on.
Students have left the entrance, just a group of friends and me. A masks joins us and takes a pic with his cell.
Teargas shells continue to land nearby, a mask with gloves picks one up and throws it away to applause. The wind has been blowing towards the university.
A student is asking for cigs from a nook of the entrance where I am. I give one to him. Another student asks him what they do; he says they counter the effects of the gas. We continue watching more of the same, with every boom a cheer from the crowd of students who chant now and then. Occasional drifts of teargas and everyone covers their face, spits, whiffs burning or living plant life.
A shell landed by us and it was too much, I walk in the general direction of away, into a bunch of masks that are lying face down, I join them. Doesn’t do much for me, and I forget this paper there until I went back for it.
I retreat to the wall of the philosophy building to watch a bit more. I collect a teargas shell and head out. Along the way a lot of students stand or lie about the grass along the pedestrian main street. There is music and a couple being inappropriate as it is The Day of The Woman here. I decided to sit for a second, and students are lugging a barrel of rocks by in a hurry – it topples over to laughter from the grass.
I ask if there will be classes, and the campus guards say maybe. Yesterday at four the university reopened for classes. A few hours later I ask again: Probably not until Monday, when Bush comes and goes.

So that’s the second or third fight I have seen at the national university; you lose count after awhile. I found out afterwards that in the past they have stopped traffic with needle strips. Also that there have been two deaths, one a student who may not have been a mask via falling object, and the other the leader of them via gun.

Story

My sister has witnessed 2 people being stabbed.

My almost brother in law, has friends that will ‘scare’ for 50mil. Less.

Christmas

Novena, 16-24th, 12am

Each day a piece of the story of Jesus’ birth is recited. The children sing the same thing at certain pauses ‘ven ven… no tanto tarde tanto jesus ven ven’ (something like that) and everyone who can read reads (sometimes even foreigners).

No christmas eve or egg nog – something like egg nog mixed with alcohol rather. Lots of alcohol and some family going well beyond their limits with it – it compliments the dancing. They are surprised dancing isn’t traditional in the states’ Christmas.

Going on a vacation to Melgar tomorrow morning with family – for four or six days. For a warmer climate.

christmas shopping

Presents here are not so secret until the 25th. Some will go unwrapped. Today I went around to scout around for gifts. On the sidewalks as well as in stores people sell what they will. I prefer street merchants to store merchants.

I was asking the price on something — bear in mind merchants here are really quick on calling Foreigner — and they said One Thousand and I said ‘Que?’  Though I should have used Como. I thought it was overpriced at 50cents and not a great idea besides.

dogs

The majority of dogs are not pets, and it’s a big majority. Last night I was walking through the business part of the neighborhood and saw some people in tiny traffic jam staring at the cause — two dogs fighting in the middle of a callejon, or alley. Just close enough to the street for everyone to get a good view.

Salud

Immediately after the cementing of my citizenship here I registered for health insurance and yesterday I used it to speak to a general dr regarding my spine. The x-rays will be in the same place, 3rd floor, in about a month. The x-rays will cost as much as an appointment; about 70 cents. Insurance here is obligatory and each month, for me, it’s around 18 dollars in pesos. If you are dirt poor, there is still insurance under a recent government act. There will be 3 x-rays: cervical, dorsal lumbar, and thoracic.

Exito to Kennedy

Decided to take a walk rather than pay bus fare again when I realized today was a holiday and there was no class. Wish I had remembered before being 15 minutes in.  I think I could ride a bike to class and back, and get a better feel for Bogotá. The mortality rate for bicyclers is high.

Roosters

This must be the only apartment on the block with roosters on the terrace. I am told they will be cooked, someday.

Have added a flickr account for relevent pictures.

men in dull green

Police are everywhere, the majority on foot. There is one to most any pedestrial bridge, two to five for entrances to Transmileneo stations. Seguridad Privado is at exits and entrances (one way) to market chains, museums, universities, libraries, apartment complexes. The private security in smaller businesses tend to have a very public gun. This butcher shop has a rifleman. If a couple has more than one boy, there is a greater chance one will be selected for a year of obligatory military service. After 18, every male carries a card to show the police if they happen to be selected from a crowd, so they won’t be shipped off. Not a block away from where I am living two had me put my hands against a stores wall to tell me this is normal. They know me here.

Dhalgren / dreams / liminality

 …better those landscapes where terror is experienced as terror and rage as rage than this, where either is merely a pain in the gut or a throb above the eye…

Pennies Equivalent, 20 pesos

These thin little things have been around forever, and no one likes them. They are only given by the big chains. I was planning on purchasing a cookie with them when I had collected 10 but my dreams went into the hands of my sister who passed them to a government worker to show me who could not reject them (and maybe save me some embarrassment).

The 20′s
The usual
The usual

For 100 pesos you can get a roll of bread a little smaller than the size of your hand. That’s around five cents.

I was told a story about a boy who made a streak with a bottle on his father’s new car. His hands were beaten so badly that they needed to be amputated. The boy later tells his father that when he gets new hands he won’t do it again. His father kills himself.

I forge.

Forging med docs for sick days (drunk) must be more normal here. Made to look as though you needed to take your wife in for being sick. Have her trail a pen over the doctor’s signature.

Transmileneo, Transmilleno

Government transportation has a lane to itself. Uses a color/number system, normally need to use a crosswalk to access it. Utilizes Alimentadores: large buses that serve as an arm to drop off and pick up passengers whose home/destination is bit far off from the station. All for 1,300 pesos, 100 pesos more than the more expensive collectivos. You could spend a whole day boarding different buses for 1,300, and one or two Alimentadores.

Sometimes it is called Transmilleno, because it is completely full when most people need it.

more info and professional photography,

http://newsroom.wri.org/wrifeatures_text.cfm?ContentID=880

gloves, boxers

Sorry we don’t have gloves here, sorry for your broken spanish.

..So across the street? They didn’t understand and the lady looked a little sad, and went away.

So underwear. Size 28 is definitely you, says the guard.

I left with a type of underwear I have never tried and was not packaged and itchy later.

On the street there are deals for boxers (2 for X pesos) that sell for about 2.5 dollars. I got two and they seem to be sturdy enough.

I came across boxers with Manhood on a patch along the waistband on the front. An actual brand of boxers. A bit more expensive than two pairs of the super cheap boxers listed above for just one, but still reasonable compared to the 7 dollar boxers that were my initial purchase…

Buses

The buses here that are usually smallest are called collectivos, they each have a board on the passenger side telling which major barrios and major areas of commerce it goes through, streets, malls, universities. Normally go from 900-1200 pesos, or 40-50 cents. I take one to the University, a 40 minute ride.

Water

Water is very expensive here for people who have homes. For the majority of apartment owners it is a fixed cost. One of the primary things protesters are upset about is how rich with water colombia could be…