this is the kind of day where usually I decline to write why because the thick swamp of what that'd be same same same how's that same is the biggest illusion of all where the shoulder of paranoia provides cover is here here I am and later later I will tell you more



***********************



I wonder, why can't I just get back into that head I can have of glib cynical hyperbolic violence, and then I am confronted with a paragraph such as this:







In Nasiriyah, only Kadem Hashem and his youngest daughter survived when a U.S. missile struck their house. His wife Salima, five of their children, and six other family members who happened to be in the house at the time were killed. Finding a photograph in the debris of his house, Hashem told reporter Ed Vulliamy of The Observer: "This was my middle daughter, Hamadi. I found her burnt to death by that doorway, she had shrunk to about a metre tall." His one surviving daughter, Bedour, described now as "what remains of a beautiful girl," lies on the floor of a relative's house. "She is shrivelled and petrified like a dead cat. Her skin is like scorched parchment folded over her bones. Unable to move, she appears as if in some troubled coma, but opens her eyes, with difficulty, to issue an indecipherable cry like a wounded animal." Hashem dug a mass grave for his family in a nearby holy city. "I collected them all and put them in a single grave at Najaf; my money was burnt, too, and I couldn't afford to bury them separately."







For further articles and studies, see OnPower.org.







Reprinted from The Independent Institute:



http://independent.org/tii/news/040510Higgs.html





















This article comes from The Smirking Chimp



http://www.SmirkingChimp.com







The URL for this story is:



http://www.SmirkingChimp.com/article.php?sid=16122







Robert Higgs: 'The crimes at Abu Ghraib are not the worst'



************************



every time I ever lived in the fast lane



I veered and crashed







but the shit part is here I am now still



burning



why







and



my question is now, if I am as unmanacled from pretension now as I wasn't then then now that the cuffs are gone to mail,



can I beat them into



daggers & shuriken



or do I or could I or has it happened already







yes



no



maybe



fuck



shut up







if I ever had salt enough to just tell about daytoday how would that be?:







I drank 5 beers



I loved my dog



I felt rage at some situation



I schemed to get away to fish and get sparchy



I felt estranged



I felt stuck



I felt isolated by what and how much I know about this and this



the sun felt good



I smoked an American Spirit Light



I was alone



I looked at a woman's body and yearned



I felt sad love for the woman I live with and felt like I could cry







my main qualification for being a writer is that all I want to do is sit in a room and drink with you and tell you lies all night then slip in a true story that happened to me once and see if and what it does to your eyes