O.k. I checked it out. the number was correct. An average of 30,273 people die of hunger everyday in the world, most of them children. I went to a bunch of different sites, and all the figures were the same. Crazy. unfuckingfathomable. Here is one of the cooler sites to check out: http://www.starvation.net/

Check it:
by Mark R. Elsis, Lovearth.net, February 9, 2002


”On Tuesday September 11, 2001, at least 35,615 of our brother and sisters died from the worst possible death, starvation. Somewhere around 85% of these starvation deaths occur in children 5 years of age or younger. Why are we letting at least 30,273 of the most beautiful children die the worst possible death everyday? Every 2.43 seconds another one of our fellow brothers and sisters dies of starvation. Starvation doesn't just happen on Tuesday September 11, 2001, it happens everyday, 365 days per year, 24 hours per day, it never stops. 

The number 35,615 is a conservatively low number for the barbarically needless daily deaths the poorest of the poor die. If we were to add the next two leading ways the poorest of the poor die, water borne diseases and AIDS, we would be approaching a daily body count of 50,000 deaths. Yes, upwards of 50,000 people per day are needlessly dying on Earth. These deaths are dictated by the greed of a very few, and the rest of us are not changing it -- or this ultimate sin wouldn't be happening, now would it?”

I don't feel like commenting on this because it is too big to think about frankly.

I was awakened tonight at 3:37 am by two things: extreme hunger, which I could have easily cured by getting up, getting dressed, and heading out into the freezing weather to find myself something to eat. I must say that I have not gotten used to my current circumstances of not having a housekeeper. So not only do I not have anyone to make me food when I get hungry, there is also no one to shop for food. So there is never anything to eat in the house. I have gotten to the point where I can manage sometimes to have sprite, cookies, and coffee in the house sometimes, the bare essentials, but that's about it. that's all I can fit in my hands at one time at the local drug store.

New York is extreme in so many ways. Grocery shopping is one of them. now not having grocery shopped by myself in nearly ten years, I couldn’t imagine doing it with any fair amount of success in Miami, let alone here in New York city. you don't have a car so how the hell do you get the damn bags into your house after you make your purchases? And how do you know if you aren't getting totally ripped off with everything you buy? The last time I went to buy sugar here in the city, for my coffee, the guy said it was $2.39 for this little box. And I asked if he was sure, and he said yes. now maybe its just been so long since I had been in a store to buy something like sugar, that prices have just skyrocketed. But he did give me a shrug of the shoulders and say “hey it’s the neighborhood.’ Which led me to believe that the prices are just really high here. So that means what? Going to some other neighborhood to grocery shop? So indeed a quandary. I mean, that's what housekeepers are for. along with so many other important things. like my laundry. God don't even get me started. Lets just say that for the first two months here I bought a lot of new pairs of underwear because I just didn't feel like even thinking about how one goes about getting ones laundry done. I have finally figured out that what one does as horrible as this sounds is puts it all into big bags and hauls it to Chinese people who weigh it and then do it for you and charge you by the pound.

It’s not the worst thing in the world but certainly not good either. I would have to say that among all the changes and adjustments that I have had to make in moving here, it is this that has been the most severe, the fact that living here is so much more expensive than I am used to or can afford, that I must at present forgo my beloved Rosanna. One can live in so many other places here in the states and especially in Europe and South America and pay the same I am paying now to live or even less and have so much more, including of course a full live in staff to take care of all of the little things that make life so tedious and unbearable. But I am determined to make it work here and to rise to the occasion and make enough money to have the same luxuries that I had before but have them here. In this city. I even make my own coffee now, or at least try to. And I spend countless hours starving and thinking about food, which is actually quite horrible. Not because I'm that broke, because I'm not. Not yet anyway. But because I am lazy. And too cold to leave my apartment at night. so once I'm in, I'm in. hungry or not.

But none of that is what got me out of bed to sit here and write, as humorous as it all is. no, speaking about the extremities of nyc living, remember the mouse that crawled over me a few nights ago... well tonight I was awoken as I said by two things. one was hunger. The other was this mouse had finally crawled into this trap that the landlord had set. He told me that he would and he did. he told me that he would crawl in there and die. what he didn't tell me is that he would crawl in there and wiggle around for hours, making all this noise. So in the moment I had an idea. Half asleep I got up, got a dustpan and scooped the whole dame mouse hotel thing up in the dustpan, opened the window and just chucked the whole damn thing out the window, mouse and all. I just figured when that thing hit the ground down below it would probably break open and the mouse could crawl away to safety. But either way, at least it wouldn’t be making all that noise in my apartment. Of course now I don't have a mouse trap in my apartment so I am bound to see more of them scurrying around. Luckily one of the few things I brought with me is my 357 and a CO2 cartridge BB gun. A man is nothing without his guns. So if I do see another one I will just start firing until I hit it or get carted off to jail in the middle of the night for firing guns off in an apartment building. Crazy indeed.

One more thing since I was so rudely interrupted and am too hungry to sleep. I have discovered something called slippers. Growing up in the South you always hear about slippers but you never see them and you don't know exactly what they are for. now I realize that they are for keeping your feet from freezing. And bathrobes. I have one of those now too. crazy.

Current spin: Alicia keys, if I aint got you. I love this song.

Father to Son

I called my dad today. figured I would ask him about card game rules. A very simple casual non-committal kind of subject. The perfect thing to talk about with your old man. He tells me he has a spot on his lungs. Doesn’t know what it is yet. tells me, listen Fishy, I don't know if you're still smoking but you have to quit son. Even if it’s just cigars. Just stop now. everyone in your family died of lung cancer. It runs in your family. I quit what 11 years ago and look at me now. just quit while you still can.

Fucking great. So we talk some more. I remember that the guys had an idea where after I interview this Vietnam vet then the whole crew goes down to Florida and films this reuniting scene with my father, who is also a Vietnam vet. So I just casually asked him about the idea, see if he was up for it. but he answered quickly and unequivocally no, not a chance. He then went on to tell me that he doesn’t like Fishy the rock star. That he likes Fishy the man, but doesn’t care at all for me as a rock star and since that's what I would be when I came, that I should not bother coming and definitely don't bring any camera crew.

Well if it couldn’t get worse he then went on to tell me that not only isn't he a fan of Fishy the rock star, he isn't a big fan of my music either. I tried to entertain the conversation as much as I could, but still found it quite disturbing. He said that the only good song on rise and shine was the journey and that he hated the sleep with you album so much from listening to it on the Internet that he didn't even buy it. he actually said, and I quote, ‘for lack of a better word, it sucked. It just didn't sound good. and I'm not the only one who felt that way about it. I have read many critics who felt the same way. I may not speak with you much son, but I keep my eye on you. You really got raked over the coals for that one by a lot of people and for good reason. Its just not good. your singing was awful on that album. Really out of tune and you have no rhythm... your voice wavers all over the place.’

I won't go on. I tried to explain to him my side of the story. How I really challenged myself as a singer on the album. How I know I may never be a great singer but that I still like what I do and how I reached to a lot of places that I had never attempted before vocally. How much I like the album myself and I don't give a shit about the success of a work. All that matters is that I am happy with it. that was my only obligation as an artist. To please myself. He would hear none of that and wrote it off as bleeding heart artist hippie talk.

I looked around me as I walked through the beautiful streets of central New York in the fall and continued to listen to him insult the very lifeblood of my being, and on my way I would see beautiful trees of yellow and orange and the sidewalks covered in red leaves and I just determined in that moment to listen without prejudice. After all, I have my mom, God bless her, and she doesn’t care what I do. she always thinks its great. Even if it isn't. that's what mothers are for. So maybe there is something to be said about having a father who is so brutally honest that he doesn’t mind telling his son who he barely speaks with once a year if that that he doesn’t like his music and explain the reasons why in such detail.

There was a moment there where I felt like I should be upset by it, but honestly I just wasn't. perhaps a bit, but not enough to let it bother me too much. There was something noble about his reproach. Something bold and ballsy about a father telling a son what he really feels about his work. He hates what I represent. He hates my liberalness. He hates my protesting. He hates the constant onslaught of self aggrandizing press releases, even though he recognizes that its all part of the machine of the business. he still just hates it all. hates the sex, hates the fame aspect, hates the idea of the TV show, hates the free lifestyle, the homosexuality that is so prevalent in that biz, hates the drug scene, hated the blatant references to drugs I made on sleep with you, hates the image entirely. and me, I kind of like it all. I just think its all part of the moment. part of the bigger picture. I tried to explain to him that I was sure that one day I would end up a retired old man, happy and idle and just as conservative and family values as one could get, but that now this is where I am, and that's the most important thing. that I remain true to that. I tried to get him to see the good in it. that I wasn't such a bad guy. he told me he knew that I wasn't a bad guy, but that my image was that of a bad guy. coming from his perspective, that of a Christian right wing conservative middle American view, I can see how he would feel that way. But I just don't see it that way at all. On that we would just have to disagree we said and we hung up. told me he’d call once he found out what this spot on his lung x-rays were.

I don't know what it is about us gen-x’ers and our fathers, but there was just something weird there that happened to them during the sixties and seventies that made things fucked up with their kids. Like the dads were having kids when they really didn't want to be; maybe the moms too. but the moms stuck to their guns and raised the kids anyway, but the dads mostly just bailed. I can’t tell you how many people my age who say that they just don't have relationships with their fathers. Its wild.

Well then I'm off to the smoke shop to sit with the old guys and talk politics and the like. And there's this guy in there called New York mike. A famous guy for owning the largest harley Davidson store in America. Has his own radio show about bikes and all. and he's the most conservative guy you'd ever meet. A radical conservative. So we’re screaming back and forth about pro-life and same sex marriage and the American Indians and who should walk in but the reverend al Sharpton himself. So I look at Al and I tell him ‘look man, I'm on your side, I go to all the same events that you do around the country, but I'm warning you now, you have just sat down amongst the most radical clan of conservatives I've ever seen. I'm just warning you.’ he looks at the group of guys sitting there, their faces all eager to get one in on the guy. they had heard enough liberalism from me to last them a lifetime. So you could see them drooling, just chomping at the bit to go off on him as soon as he opened his mouth. So what does he do? He thanks me, says ‘gentlemen,’ and grunts at the rest of them and just stands up and walks away. classic. Only in New York.

Oh yeah, and on the way home of course I noticed a man in a telephone booth peeing. This is actually a common site here. no matter where you are in Manhattan you cannot help but see some poor homeless guy just letting it rip right in the middle of the street or sidewalk. Crazy. 

Worked all day, met with Dasher about the TV show for a few hours. And then spent the night at the macanudo club drinking, drooling, smoking, and playing cards, of all things, which I hadn't done in decades. It was fun to get away from everything for a while. hang with the old men.

Online diaries are getting more difficult. Attracting too many people now. people come out of the woodwork. Too many emails. And the other night I received a message on my voicemail concerning the diaries. who the person was and how they got my number I do not know. but it warrants concern. It’s one thing to get a few emails that say fishy we love you or Fishy you're an asshole. That's expected. But my numbers aren't even listed. So that is fucking scary. Anything that is public attracts people. that's its nature. But the more public something becomes, the more private it has to become, in order to protect the creation and the creator. G2 has been recommending a move to go full-on blog with this thing, with forums and comment posting and replies and all that; rather than the cryptic sort of hidden way this is done at present, hidden within all these iframes and flash intros. I was into the idea till the last week or so. Now I am not so sure. Might be going too far. I've read a lot of blogs since the whole phenom started and most of the time they are rather innocuous. Innocent musings on pop culture or the mad ramblings of lonely lunatics. Hold on, that sounds like what I've been doing the past three years. uh oh. What people forget is that the Transcendence Diaries are fiction. Fishy is fiction. It is all fiction. The guy is dead. He died years ago. No hold on, wait. He doesn’t disappear until the late two-thousands. and its still not known whether he is truly dead even then. But still, the diaries were always presumed to be largely responsible for his disappearance. Too personal, too radical, too truthful. So maybe that's where we are now in the story. and we should just go with the flow.

The other thing is that the diaries can only last as long as Fishy has time to write them. and only so far as they serve his purpose of the time. frankly I'm sick of me. I'm sick of Fishy. I need to move on to something else. bigger stories. 

Current spin; Carolina from Caetano. Check it on itunes. Beautiful.

Last screening: dinner for five. Someone recommended this because of the show we are filming. Slow start. But as it progresses through the first season, it picks up. met with Dasher today about the show over leftover thanksgiving turkey sandwiches and I was frantically relaying to him with my mouth full how we have to take that idea since its there and we've both now seen it and turn it on overdrive. I mean, we can’t ignore it now that we’ve seen it. its there. so that's a good thing. and there are aspects of that that have been shooting. But the show is 23 minutes long and the whole time you feel like you are waiting for someone to say or do something. for what were trying to do, its much too stilted and stiff. The people are too situated, too successful, too worried about who they are and how they will be perceived. I'm pacing around Dasher’s house and screaming to him that we have to show real people doing real things. without their own censors on. As if the camera weren't there. I'm pointing to the TV with my sandwich and sarah Jessica parker is scampering around some fake white set with a bunch of other no name actors with all these fake smiles on their faces wearing silly Christmas hats attempting to sell people Gap clothing. Just dancing around a big fake white set smiling their asses off. I'm screaming and pointing, ‘you see that man?! You see that shit?! that's what we’re doing!’ ‘what?! Selling clothes?’ “no man. We’re fighting that. we’re fighting this miserable fake bullshit that is being crammed down peoples throats every fucking day. that's what we’re doing. That's the mission we are on Dasher. We have got to be real. We have got to show people who we are. Who they are. I can’t take this shit anymore man. Turn the fucking TV off before I go crazy!’ I yell.

‘o.k. o.k. dog. Just relax man. Easy now. don't have a heart attack,’ Dasher tries to console me. ‘But Fishy this show is about you man he reminds me. no man this show is about people. I'm the vehicle maybe. But no show is good if it is about one person. at least how I'm looking at it now. this show has got to be about people. my band is about me. my music is about me. but this show has to be bigger than that. this show has to be about everyone else. I'm sick of me. I want to explore people. well that's a whole different thing then. we agreed to do a show about you and your move to New York. yeah I know man. But the show has got to be bigger than that Dasher. I'm serious. We have to adjust it a bit. Kind of like comparing the show Seinfeld to that recent documentary we saw, comedian. Seinfeld was awesome was because Jerry was just the catalyst for everything else that was going on, and for everyone else in the series. And comedian was kind of boring because it was about jerry. And I don't want that. but you're hilarious man. Well fine, maybe I'm hilarious. But we’re not making a comedy man. I don't want to make a comedy. I want to make Cosmos, you know that Carl Sagan series. You what?! What the fuck are you talking about Fishy? this is about Fishy the rock singer moving to New York. what the hell does Carl Sagan have to do with that? I don't know man. But trust me on this. that's where we’re going with it. Carl Sagan’s cosmos meets curb your enthusiasm meets Eddie izzard meets my dinner with André meets spalding gray meets dinner for five meets the real world all wrapped up in Fishy moves to New York City. Dasher just stares at me holding his sandwich. Dude you're fucking crazy. I don't know what the hell you are talking about. this is TV, not some new album of yours. This is not nothing is cohesive. This is TV. It has to be cohesive. But Dasher, o.k. that's what you say now, but what if it doesn’t have to be cohesive. What if it can be even more non-cohesive than the nothing is cohesive album? Like an acid trip or something.... Fishy you are insane. And that's cool. that's your job. And you do it well. but our job is to produce a television show that we can sell to a network. and in order to do that we have to present something that has form. Something that is coherent and makes sense to the average person sitting at home watching TV, he says. Dude, I'm not saying we won't do that. I'm just saying that we have to keep our options open right now. that's all. lets just keep our minds open and not box it in. that's all, I say. O.k. I hear you Fishy. But you tell Paulsen at the next production meeting then because maybe he can make some sense out of what you're talking about. I can’t. honestly, I have no idea what you're talking about. 

I had a dream this morning that startled and moved me so much that I awoke at 6:57 am breathing heavy, almost hyperventilating; I am up now to take notes on it before I forget it.

Girl very beautiful wanted me, met her where? at a public place I remember. But she showed up, I was surprised, at my house, but not my house, my grandparents condo on the beach, what was i doing there. she had a gun, I had a gun, I could tell while we were making out that it was a setup, she was a setup, she was supposed to kill me, I had seen her gun, I had already pointed the gun at her, she admitted it, I was so saddened, but I loved her, I was infatuated with her, there was this bond between us, this karmic destiny, she had a job to do, she confessed it, but we still were fooling around, because of this tragic attraction,  I kissed her everywhere, all over her body, she laid there loving it, intoxicated by our chemistry, I kissed her arms and shoulders and underarms and she teared up from the beauty of the moment,  it was wonderful, she was crying, I began crying, from the beauty of it, she then went to kill me, in some way, how I don't remember, yes I do, she had a gun, she could not kill me, she shot, it misfired, she stood there in silence, I stood up, I pointed the gun at her, sunlight was coming into the room now, it was becoming morning now, she stood next to the bed not facing me, afraid to face me, ashamed to face me, I knew I had to shoot her, I didn't want to shoot her, but knew I had to, she had just shot at me, I would be dead now if her gun wouldn’t have misfired, she sobbed, I shot her in the chest from the side, she hunched over and started to convulse a bit, I stood there watching her, so that is what it looks like when someone gets shot I thought, I felt as though I was reliving something that was meant to be, something that had to be, I was only playing a part in it, a part I was obligated to play, I was miserable in that moment as I watched her convulse, I went to shoot her again, but my gun would not work. I ran out of the condo, down the stairs, all of a sudden I was a kid again, in high school or junior high school, I was sad lonely scared, felt like a rebel, felt like a bad kid, felt like it was me against the world, feeling like I didn't fit in, running from everyone, running for my life, I had my gun in my back pocket and her gun in my front packet, I tried to hide it from the people on the street, all of a sudden I was in an industrial neighborhood, back in the old warehouse district where I spent my early twenties as a singer in rock bands, I was running through the streets when two guys saw me, I hid the guns, they saw the guns, I was overwhelmed with that same feeling I used to have as a kid, like I was an outlaw and everyone was out to get me or punish me or take me away for something that I had done but didn't mean to do or didn't intend to do, I had this feeling my whole life until I was about 25 years old, I was always since the day I could remember overwhelmed with a heavy feeling of guilt covering me like a blanket that everyone could see, and there I was in it again, the men stopped me, I tried to play it cool, casual, they saw through it, saw my gun, I showed it to them and I was surprised to see that it was a toy gun, a home made gun, it didn't work, they let me go, but as I walked away they noticed the other gun in my back packet, they chased me, I ran, through the streets and through the warehouses, I realized that I was getting very near my old studio, that's where I was, back in the same warehouse district where my studio was, I have dreamed of this old studio many times before in the last ten years since selling it, and everytime I dreamed of it, it was still operating, but without me, I know that in real life this isn't true, it has long since been abandoned, I think it is a t-shirt factory now, but everytime I dream of it I go in as a customer, as the old owner, and there are new people running it, and I am always amazed that it is still running, why I dream this consistently year after year I do not know, but in this dream I was operating under the idea that I have in my dreams, that it was still there, and that somehow it was a safe haven, if I could just get there, I would be safe, I could call my uncle, and he would get me to safety, but the men saw me, they called to me, they tried to act like everything would be alright, but I knew they were just talking, that they were going to get me, I had no choice, I didn't think about it, I hid behind a wall, took aim, and shot one of them right in the head, he disappeared, now I was done for, I had done it now, I was a fugitive, I had to get to the warehouse where my studio was, the other man got very close to me, I hid, but I could see him, he could see me, he aimed at me, I aimed the gun at him, he told me to put it down, why? so I could get shot? I aimed at him, but I could not get the sites to line up on my gun, why? this was my 357 magnum, it was the perfect gun, I had used a hundred times before, it had perfect sites, I knew this, what was happening? I tried to aim anyway, I finally got the sites to line up and I shot right at his forehead, but the gun misfired, I was a goner, I remember in that moment stopping for a moment to think about what I should do, do I run, I will get shot, I went to run and he ran towards me, I was done for, I would be caught, I woke up at that moment and found myself panting and breathing very heavy. For a few I laid there and tried to take it all in. it seemed so real. So important. But it nothing. It was only a dream. But I forced myself to get up and take notes on it.

I know what this dream means. I knew it within a few minutes of taking these notes what it was about. I laid back down and sobbed for a few minutes. In short bursts of agony and deep emotion. I just allowed myself to cry. because I knew what it was all about. and there was great relief in it.

Didn't fly home for thanksgiving this year. stayed here in the city with Boo Boo Kitty. Macys day parade. Then Madame tousants wax museum. Then Bridget Jones diary part II, with a thoroughly bored Hugh grant who seemed to be saying throughout the film, I am so fucking sick of playing this same part that I have actually gone insane. Can no one else see it but me? then off to Brooklyn to have dinner with Chapper’s whole family who came down from Vermont. A lavish feast with good conversation. Mainly centered around the mystery of the people of the red states and how in shock they still were up in Vermont about the election results etc. good people. educated, friendly, hospitable. Then a cigar and a few beers out on the terrace in 35 degree finger freezing weather and then a surprisingly stimulating eight person trivial pursuit match over coffee and various pies. A good night had by all.  

While laying half asleep tonight, I noticed something move to my right. something small and black. I jumped slightly and as I did I noticed a mouse I swear to fucking God run across my blanket with a Frito corn chip in its mouth. I jumped up. I had never seen a mouse before. how cool. what I wanted to know was where it got that Frito. I wish I had found it first.

A real mouse. That's great. Never saw that before. of course I didn't sleep for hours. Just waiting for that thing to jump on top of me again. Yes you see this in New York. other things too. the other night at about 4 in the morning, I was sitting out the stairs in front of my brownstone smoking and writing and this guy stumbles up to me obviously wasted on something, just tripped out. and he comes right up to me and touches my computer with these glassy eyes. I looked at him and said very loudly and deliberately as if I were speaking to a little kid, “laptop.” He acted like he wanted to play with it. but I stared him down. And then he stumbled away. I see a lot of people stumbling by in the wee hours of the morning drunk off their asses. Just Stumbling all over the sidewalk. Wonder how they make it home. wonder why they get so drunk. you see many hunched over men and women looking very sad in the streets and subways of the city. People who have forgotten about their lives. People who life has left behind. For the moment. they can come back if they want to. I keep that candle burning for them in my heart. I carry my leftovers from my meals with me in my laptop case so I can give them away whenever the opportunity rises. When someone asks me for money I always just reach into my pocket and give them a bill and keep another for myself, unless I only have one; then they get that and I get nothing. The other night I whip out 6 bucks. “Well I guess that's a fiver for you and a one spot for me you lucky bastard,” I tell the guy. You wouldn’t believe how happy that can make someone. What's really funny is when an hour or two a later I go to get a burger or something and reach into my pocket and realize that I only have a dollar and I have to go away hungry. That can make you laugh at yourself.

I think that it is a noble mission to have on the side as you are building your empire. Give away a little everyday. Allow God/the force to use you as a conduit or a missionary so to speak. Just always be in the right place at the right time for those in need. since I don't really choose to make the time to volunteer or anything, which I feel awful about. cause I know people do and I envy their dedication to that. but I figure that if I prefer to just focus all of my time on working hard to build my shit up then I will have so much money then I can just give a lot of it away and that will be my way of giving. I know its easy and not doing that much, but I still think it does something, even though its small. I think God kind of picks us out and knows what each of us can do for the other. I picture him/her whispering in a homeless persons ear, ‘turn down this street now; there's this long haired kid sitting on some stairs typing on a computer. Ask him for money. he’ll give you whatever he has in his pocket.’ And that's my way of fitting in to the whole complex mechanism of it all. I have still not come to terms yet as a man with some of us having food and shelter and some of us not having that. it freaks me out and makes me sad.

I do not see it in our future. I have to be honest. I believe that man will one day rise to a state just beyond modern capitalism, of which I am very fond of to be quite honest, unlike many of my activist comrades; a kind of socially conscious capitalism so to speak. Someone told me yesterday that some 30,000 children die everyday of starvation. I don't know if this is true but I will check on it. if this is even close to being true than we have far indeed to go in our evolution as a species. America is a great example of our species still being caught in the middle. We certainly give more than any other great empire of the past, but obviously not enough, since so many people are still hungry and in need.

Last screening: life and debt. Story of Jamaica and their heartbreaking struggle to make it in the global economy. They complain about the global economy and how hard it is to make it because of the world bank and the IMF. More free trade, globalization stuff. But honestly, in the free market system if a country can’t raise itself out of its financial problems, they should just feel lucky that there is a bank they can go to to lend them any money. I mean, from a very non socialist viewpoint, who says that any other country has the obligation to help any other countries. I mean if yo uare to look at it purely from a logical standpoint. Hard to do though at the same time. but this is must see if you are a socially conscious person. the global economy powers that be have really fucked over the Jamaicans in a big way. destroyed their country in twenty years. unfortunately America had no small part in it. destroyed every money making industry they had going and loaned them money at ridiculous interest rates so now they are slaves to the United States. Tommy Hilfiger had a big hand in it. so did the Dole and Chiquita fruit companies. Hardcore capitalism. At its most fiercest and heartless. Again, I'm not going to cast the first stone, because I make my living from the capitalist ways so I can’t really say anything. It’s the free enterprise system after all. like I said, we have to let all the old war dogs of the old capitalist system die out and then sneak in there and make things a bit more fair for the peeps that aren't doing as well.

I always wonder Why the turkey is called with the name of my country.
Let's read the article;
 
Talking Turkey: The Story of How the Unofficial Bird of the United States 
Got Named After a Middle Eastern Country by Giancarlo Casale

How did the turkey get its name? This seemingly harmless question popped 
into my head one morning as I realized that the holidays were once again 
upon us. After all, I thought, there?s nothing more American than a turkey. 
Their meat saved the pilgrims from starvation during their first winter in 
New England. Out of gratitude, if you can call it that, we eat them for 
Thanksgiving dinner, and again at Christmas, and gobble them up in 
sandwiches all year long. Every fourth grader can tell you that Benjamin 
Franklin was particularly fond of the wild turkey, and even campaigned to 
make it, and not the bald eagle, the national symbol. So how did such a 
creature end up taking its name from a medium sized country in the Middle 
East? Was it just a coincidence? I wondered. 

Great day. amazing dreams. I had the most amazing dreams last night, this morning. I didn't want to wake up. felt like I was in heaven or something. They were all about love and romance and kisses and music. there were two girls with me all night in my dreams, really nice. one was more forward than the other. I couldn’t choose. I wanted to make them both happy.... I didn't want to wake up! really really nice. I even dreamed about going to church and that was even great. It is amazing how dreams can do that to you. Dreamed of happiness, never ending happiness, family, a girlfriend, I had two girls kissing me, one who was softer more elegant and one who was more cool and rocker chick-like, I wanted the rocker one but she was less aggressive, U2 had a new tour called Realology. Which they don't, so if I like the idea in a few days still, I'll take it for us.

And then later in the evening on the bus I met this girl on the subway. Great energy. Out there. great smile. And we are talking on the subway across the aisle. And it was going great, and then out of the blue this lady says to us ‘could you please sit closer if you want to talk. I don't want to hear all of your details...’ and we are like shocked by her behavior. And so then someone says ‘only in New York.’ and then this mad woman turns to me and says ‘I was born and raised in Miami you bastard!’ I was more than shocked. I was like, get me off this subway car before this woman pulls out a gun or something and goes postal on everyone. Everyone just sat there silent and looking at each other raising their eyebrows. Crazy. anyway, she proved my point about Miami. no manners. she was an animal. Anyway, off the train I dashed because we were at my stop and I didn't want to ruffle the feathers of this crazy lady anymore and I never got the number to the girl. But I did give her our band name. so maybe she will read this one day and realize holy shit that guy wanted to get my number. O.k. if you ever read this, girl in the hat with the great teeth, EMAIL ME.

Chicks always think that because you are in a band you have no business being shy, because you get so many girls. And that is true. we get a lot of girls throwing themselves at you. but that's a different scene. And a lot of times they aren't the girls you want to take home to mom. You know. and that's what sucks because the girls you do want to take home to mom don't ever approach you because they already know what kind of girls throw themselves at singers in rock bands and they don't want to have anything to do with it. so that sucks. So you never meet the kind of girls you want to. The truth is that on the street or the train, I am just shy as hell. I'm beyond shy. I'm like scared shitless when I'm talking to girls. I don't know why. maybe I was traumatized by a girl when I was a kid or something. when I met Cleopatra it took me over a month to ask her out, and even then I didn't really ask her out. I asked her to go help me find an animal my grandma thought she had in her garage. That was our first date. Low risk. In case she hated me. its like a curse I live with. Maybe all men do. constantly approached by women who are nice and all but that you don't want, and scared shitless to even look girls in the eye that you do want. And then there's the whole issue of saving yourself for a woman who you think is going to be good enough for you, but the whole time you're worried that you're not good enough for any woman who would be good enough for you. it’s a fucking nightmare.

But I can’t even ask girls for their number or any of that. this girl is shoving her hands in my face to smell her new hand cream and I'm still trying to pretend like I'm not interested so just in case she notices that I am interested she doesn’t like reject me or tell me to fuck off. Also I guess it’s the whole boyfriend thing. I hate that. when they have a boyfriend. then what? You're like, oh well he's a lucky guy, yuk yuk. And you slither away like some worm. I hate that. so I never approach girls or ask them out. I just wait for them to ask me out. Now I just ask to be put on the waiting list. Just here take my card anyway and add me to the waiting list if you guys ever break up. it could be two years ten years who knows. but just give me a ring and say hey remember me? I turned you down like ten years ago because I had a boyfriend. Well guess what? I'm free now. lets go out. and chances are, I'll still be single because I'm so fucking shy.

Current spin; the new Jim Camacho album, stalker songs. Fucking great heartfelt acoustic music. this guy is on fire now and TMG is going to do everything we can to get him more out there. I love his talent. Extremely admire it.

Last screening: COMEDIAN, documentary about Gerry Seinfeld trying to make it in standup again. I would never be a standup. That is a brutal business.

Went to an indie/art/experimental film screening with Agrippa, the Greek activist from NYC. All of the artsy shorts I hated and they just made me even more agitated than I already felt from the last three days. But the feature film was the infamous “we interrupt this empire.” An underground activist video film. Told the story of how the enlightened rebel forces (read ‘American citizens’) shut down almost the entire city of San Francisco the day that the evil empire (read ‘puppet regime pretending to be American government’) started their invasion of (read ‘war on’) Iraq. Over twenty thousand people went to the streets and just shut that city down in a non violent direct action that was seen and heard all over the world. At one point I felt like crying because I was so moved. There are so many people now that are fighting all these different causes all over the world. After the film, several people spoke. Some one said that they get confused because there seems to be so many causes. And what exactly is “the cause?” one by one many people stood up to explain it to him. It was a thing of beauty. Cleopatra called. We spoke briefly. I told her it was a rough four days. Have you not seen the news this week, I ask. Yes she says. I am disgusted by it all. By the police brutality? I ask sleepily. No, she says. By the protestors. I hang up. I don't know what else to do. it is too late at night and I am too ragged and tired and outraged to hear that or to argue with her. Obviously the media movement that we attempted this week didn't work as well as we wanted or needed it to. Most of the citizens of South Florida and the world were fed so much false information over the TV news that they have no idea what really transpired. When people as smart and informed and pro-active as Cleopatra (she was born into a very politically active and socially conscious family both her parents total hippies, she born and raised for the first half of her life in communes around Europe and Canada) think that there were violent protestors who needed to be controlled by the police in order to save a city, when in fact there were none, then you know things are really being spun out of control. As if there are two realities. There is reality, and then there is the reality that the corporate controlled governments force-feed the media; and when we say force feed the media now I have a feeling that it really is just that. I don't think they have a choice now in what they run. from what the reporters from TV and the newspapers have told me over the last four days it appears that the situation is that the media “feels between a rock and hard place. even though we are on your side and agree with you about the FTAA and most of the other causes that activists fight for, our newspapers and TV networks are owned by the same companies that you are often fighting against. So if we write an article that is too biased towards the activists or towards the causes, no matter true or accurate a portrayal it may be, it always somehow gets canned or shelved or ends up on the cutting room floor. That's just the way it is.” I heard this time and time again from many of them.

Luckily there is now this huge movement in the world bubbling up in cities across the globe called ‘Independent Media.’ We can access it by going to www.indymedia.org. and many other sites. It is a revolutionary idea. Independent media. Think about it. the truth being reported with absolutely no corporate spin or sponsorship or commercials or boards of directors or governments or network censors or owners to answer to. just truth in reporting for the sake of good journalism. How do you make money at it? well that's what makes it so brilliant. If you don't sell advertising like regular media does then you can’t really make money at it. so its just normal everyday people hooked up all over the world with cameras and editing equipment who just go around filming everything and posting it to this huge global network of websites just for the sake of getting the truth out there to the rest of us. they don't make money at it. they're just sick of the matrix. A brilliant idea. I have been to this other space here in Miami where there are members of the IndyMedia from several different cities around America who are working around the clock in these ten hour shifts where they take turns some of them sleeping while others of them edit all the hundreds of hours of film that they captured of the police beating people over the last three days. Everyone trying to finish before they have to leave town. Then the tapes will get disseminated to all the national and international mainstream media who from what I heard will not air much of it, not an ounce, but it will also go to all the different indie media outlets around the world. As an example of how powerful and popular indie media is getting, during the last six months of the Iraq invasion by American forces the various IndyMedia websites have been neck and neck with cnn.com as far as how many people are visiting per hour or per day. Everyday more and more people are turning off the corporate controlled media and getting their news from these independent news sites. Its very cool. For the last four days I have watched them in action. Although I have gotten none of their names. 

Another thing about dreams. we often attribute a lot of significance to our dreams. but the older I get and the more whacky dreams I have the more I have come to believe that dreams are just random nonsensical synapses firing, as opposed to some meaningful predictions or indicators of something.

New York is s strange place? yeah, it still is. I am right this very minute watching an old man walk across the street backwards, up the sidewalk curve, and on into his apt building. Why? I have no fucking idea. You just get used to it. you see things like this everyday. Every hour. I guess because there are so many people. more chances for weirdness.

A miserable day by all accounts. Alone and lonely. Wandering the city like a nomad. I don't do well with being alone, except of course when I have a hundred events to attend and a hundred people calling. Then of course I am perfectly content to spend hours of time by myself. Feels like I'm giving myself a gift of some kind. But being alone out of necessity is abhorrent to me, wretched.

I think I am starting to pop out of a giant creation that has been so big that I couldn’t see that I was in a creation at all. been living through this nagging pestering unflinching never ending agony over being alone and without a girlfriend for so long. had never spent even a month on my own without a girlfriend or without being madly in love for twelve years straight all the way through to the end of the great Cleopatra saga. But for the last three years I have not found anyone or anything that captivated me enough to even want to entertain for more than a few weeks. so three years now. wow. And I must say that I am proud of that. because I have felt that it was quite noble to forego the obvious pleasures of relationship with another if it wasn't optimal for the more sublime dream to have it be “the one,” “the ultimate.”  So I have stubbornly clung to this ideal for more than three years now. but it has not been easy for me. I do much better in a relationship. So I spend a lot of time thinking about it. looking for it. longing it for it.

But lately, since I have been surrounded by eligible girls, and have had ample opportunity to make one the one... but still just can’t seem to find the one, I have begun to realize that there is something deeper here that I am not seeing. A more powerful wisdom to be extracted. A deeper message that I need as a man, that my soul needs at this time in this lifetime. And I have begun to realize that its not a girlfriend or mate or wife that I should be praying for or longing for, but the ability to live peacefully and happily and willfully without anyone but myself. Wow. O.k. easier said than done, I'll give you that. but I'm working on it. now that I know what the message of it is. after that should flow I believe. But in the meantime let the lesson begin.

Last screening: the lives and loves of Oscar Wilde.

There is this DJ that I know; we always talk about working together. every now and then he calls me and plays his newest tracks over the phone. which I hate because I can’t hear the bass or drums. Funny cause the way it plays out is that he is always calling me at the weirdest hours and I never pick up. and I am always emailing him and he never responds. Tonight I couldn’t sleep and there he was calling at like 2 in the morning so I decided to answer the phone. had a great talk. And I asked him bro why don't you ever fucking respond to my emails. I hate the phone. and he's like man I just hate typing so that's why I always call. I realized something in that moment that sometimes you just can’t get it on with someone for no other reason than that you just don't have the same way of communicating. He's going to make a CD and I told him I'm going to have the band throw a whole rock thing over his house/hip-hop loops that he's so good at laying down. Make something just totally whacked and fresh that he won't even recognize his shit and we won't even recognize our band by the time we are done.

Still, as always, I am so inspired musically, but am just so fucking frustrated by being constantly limited by lack of money to record and promote our work. It can leave you very uninspired if you let it get it you. I swear to God I would sell out yesterday if I knew how, just so we could have more access to cash and resources to record all that we have in us.

last screening: caught U2’s performance on SNL last night. we had bumped into B at the party the other night and were very glad that they were to play SNL, and even happier to hang. they played it live, which is not so often the case in their live concerts these days, uh hum, but B couldn’t resist incanting the word ‘live’ a hundred times into the microphone to ensure the crowd that they weren't to be grouped into the same lot as whoever that girl was from a few weeks back. Of course the running joke has been for ten years when I am told that “you know who you look like?” which can lead to no end of frustration when after all you are yourself more than anyone else, unless of course you are trying to be someone else, then I would assume it would be quite the compliment. I drunkenly assured him that there will come a day when it will be turned around, and he will be the one hearing it all the time, rather than me, and we all had a laugh.

Current spin: Caetano Veloso, his first album from 1967, self titled. Amazing. very different collection of just about everything you can imagine going on at that time all rolled into one glorious masterpiece.

Current read: Transcending their lies by Gil Magno. A read about two pages a day with this one. but everytime I read it I find subtle wisdom and a fresh breath of beauty. Not for the faint of heart. he is an extreme radical in his world views. A great read.

Last screening: Harold and Maude. Heard a lot about this movie. Didn't find it too good myself. More of a play in the background kind of thing for me honestly. Couldn’t sit through it. although it did entice me to download this song from iTunes by the Cat, if you want to sing out, sing out. great little ditty. The cat’s music will endure.

Cleo,

You always much more guarded and proper than I, but wow, sometimes, like tonight, G2 just received this email from of all people the Squirrel, asking how Fishy is and all that. Memories.

And then I am not going to my family’s house for thanksgiving due to so many things, money, etc, and I may go hang with Craig and Rachel OR go hang with Dasher and his family and GUESS who is now dating Dasher’s little sister who is like 18???? Your old friend Joel! Small world. so I will end up eating thanksgiving with that guy Joel. What a strange small world this is indeed.

Anyway, I just got back from an amazing party full of celebrities, me being the smartest and best looking of course... and am feeling a little tipsy, and just have such a longing to reconnect with you one day as true friends the way we did when we first met. I guess hearing about Joel and then that email from the Squirrel made me homesick for the connection we used to have.

Our connection is so forced sometimes, so unspoken, so fucking hard most of the time. So strained. Poor us I feel most of the time. I guess because of our current circumstances. How strange and crazy they are between us. how tumultuous it has been for us. how totally insane these nine years have been for us. half the time I feel as though you are my best friend in the world, at least my closest person in the world certainly, and half the time I feel like you are my arch enemy and just want to destroy me. How crazy indeed. How stupid.

Hey one day we are going to open and up and speak like we were kids again. once some more water washes under the bridge. Like best friends. I know and understand that in our present circumstances that you cannot and never will be able to be freely open with me, perhaps never again. I understand that. even though I give you a hard time about being in New York and not telling me I understand. I believe that we both feel that it would be great if we didn't have to see each other face to face for years and years. I think we both dread it. but one day I believe all that will disappear for us. and we will get to a different place.

In any case, how amazing you are and how amazing our lives have been and how amazing you were to my life and all that you contributed to it. so much of who I am comes from knowing you, a lot of the good stuff.

Another glorious day. I will go to Oregon to see Juliet after all. but without camera crew. Too bad. But I will bring the old camera along anyway. She wrote the most amazing letter to me today. really let out a little bit more of her soul. She is very timid. Always has been. Sensitive.

[one of the questions that occurs to me as I watch my infatuation with dear Juliet from afar, is how much do I really love her and how much am I just in love with the idea of loving her? I mean, how much of it is just me loving the romance of it... well eventually we shall I am sure.

Tonight about midnight in the grocery store, well actually it was the drug store, I never shop for groceries in a grocery store, only in drug stores, I had this epiphany. What if the reality show that we were working on was a one man show after all. kind of like a one man show AND a reality show all at the same time. an on going one man show. Not one that just lasts for an hour or so but one that lasts for a few years? just an ongoing reality show/one man show. But rather than is the case with Laurie Anderson or Eddie izzard or any other one man shows where there is all this planning and staging and scripting and all of that and tours around the country, the same show, night after night, its just me constantly doing a one man show all the time and its totally unscripted and unplanned, except of course when we plan it and script it, and it changes all the time because we aren't touring it around night after night; instead we are filming it every fucking day. except of course when I want days off.

So yes that is it. one step closer to now fully realizing my real potential, my true calling, my life’s work as it may be if we should be so lucky.

Last screening: sense and sensibility. Newer one with Emma Thompson and Hugh grant. I love Jane Austen. I don't care who’s playing it. There is the circuitous nature of the sentences that she composed for her characters, where one must listen deeper, past the initial sentiment, to discover what little pearls of wisdom lie underneath, all the while she gloriously decorates each sentence with such mellifluous tone that often times you lose interest in ascertaining the deeper meaning entirely and are content enough just basking in the pleasantness of how the words fall together.

I would like to write like that one day. but in a modern way of course. I mean, more to say, I would like to write in my own style, in a way, such as she did, that creates as much joy for others as her writing does for me. o.k. fuck it. now I'm trying to write like she did. But you know, everyone goes through their Jane Austen phase. let us hope it doesn’t last too much longer. No one can understand me now as it is.

Four more cabinet members of the Bush admin resigned today, including the sacred cow of the republican party known as Colin Powel. That's a total of 6 in the last week. Payback time for the blue states who knew all along that the red states and their persistence in rewarding ignorance and misguidance was not going to go unnoticed or unpunished. With the last of intelligent life gone now in the white house, we can look forward to four solid years of pure evil and buffoonery for sure. I bet these cabinet members were hoping as much as the rest of us that Bush would lose and now find themselves in such a compromised position within themselves that they felt like they had absolutely no choice but to get out now. better before its too late. 

Last screening: Still watching the Ric Burns documentary of New York. Volume 4, 5, and 6. we are so lucky to have New York I think as I watch little bits of it everyday. And even luckier if we are one of the fortunate ones to live here. It is a breathtaking and bewildering history. Now that I am here I could not imagine living anywhere else; for now anyway. Harlem and the birth of jazz, f. Scott Fitzgerald, emma lazarus, George and Ira Gershwin, Broadway musicals, the stock market crash, skyscrapers and the race to continuously build the tallest buildings in the world --- the tallest buildings in the world were the pyramids of ancient Egypt all the way up until New York city skyscrapers interestingly enough, John Astor, waldorf Astoria, Al smith, Roosevelt, Fiorella La Guardia, Robert Moses and his creation of the highway system, Ellis island and immigration into the city in such shocking numbers that the city seemed to be caving in on itself, but all the while a very special place on the planet was being born. A melting pot of different nationalities and ethnicities that the world had never seen anywhere in the world before; and from it the greatest city in the world.

This is what I like about New York the most, more than anything else, and there are so many things to like about the city, but the diversity of people, that's the thing. The fact that you can be standing on a corner with a hundred other people waiting for a light to change and be listening to Spanish, Albanian, Russian, Indian, French, and Chinese being spoken all at the same time around you. You know you're in New York. That the man who lives next door to you is form Hungary and the girl above you is from Vietnam and your landlord is a Russian Jew and your postlady is half black and half Puerto Rican and the guy who makes your pizza everyday is from Brooklyn of Italian descent and claims he knows pizza better than anyone else on earth. Hehe. That's the coolest part of New York. Constantly stimulating and exciting, and ever challenging our understanding of what America is.

Currently there are over 27,000 people per square mile in the great city. when I sit in my little hole in the wall apartment I imagine myself as one of those 27,000 people in that one square mile and the thought is mind boggling. A total of over 8 million people on just the island of Manhattan alone and 18 million in the entire area of the five boroughs combined. Friends ask me, how do you live in that? My answer to them is that it is easy. when I'm falling asleep at night I am comforted by the sound of the traffic and all the big industrial noise outside my windows. There is something secure and calming about it.

And the history of course. New York is running through our veins as Americans because so much of what we are as a country and as a people came from New York, most of our families arriving first to Ellis island in New York before we moved on to other cities or states, each of us an immigrant still in our blood. Every one of my grandparents can be found on the immigration records of Ellis Island showing what day they arrived here and what country they were coming from and how old they were and whether they could speak English or not, and whether they could read or write and how much money they each had in their pockets. Whenever I see the Statue of liberty I think of them and how they must have felt when they first saw it as children after so many months living on a ship hoping to find a new world to build their new lives in. The excitement they must have felt seeing the great land of America for the first time. And it was here, the city of New York, that welcomed each one of them, each one of us. Ninety years later they have all passed on, but I am here. So in a way their legacy lives on. As I visit neighborhoods for the first time I wonder if they too walked those same streets and try to imagine what the city looked like to them way back then when they were first starting out in their new lives.

Between the years of 1890 and 1920, every four years a city the size of Boston was being added to the small island of Manhattan in the sheer number of people that were coming into the city from Europe and Asia and South America. In the year 1907 alone over 1.2 million immigrants came into New York from Europe. In less than ten years twelve million people came to America and settled in New York from the old world, including my grandparents. Americans were frightened by this wave of immigration that was flooding our young country. There came a time where there were more Jews in New York City than anywhere else in the world (New York still is the second largest Jewish community in the world except for Israel now), more Italians in New York than in Naples or Rome, more Irish in New York than in Dublin, more Greeks in New York than in Athens. Over 700,000 Russians alone lived in New York in those early years. Over half a million poles came over and never returned. As Americans now we are all a part of that. We are the descendents of that great wave of hungry eager ambitious immigrants who flooded into the seaports with nothing but a few suitcases and made America what it is today.

And New York is our living breathing testament to those immigrant years, and to all the years that have come since. It is the most mixed up racially and ethnically diverse cosmopolitan city that we have ever seen in the world’s history. Never have we seen a city such as New York.

a most brilliant day hanging with Chapper and the Stallion. A long day. a Sunday. A cold day. But a sunny day. slept in. had a nice bath, a great breakfast that we filmed but didn't come out to well. more on that later. then off to the park to see the belvedere castle. Then a cigar and Frisbee with some generic girl’s German Shepard. Then off to bestbuy to help the stallion buy a TV and a DVD player. Find myself more and more liking the stallion. The more I hang around her. hard to resist her. same with boo boo too though unbelievably. We had a great night last night. she avoids me after we have great nights together I notice, as any intelligent woman would. She likes me and says that if we slept together it would ruin our friendship. That wouldn’t be worth it. she's one of my best friends. Frankly same thing with the stallion. And all the while my heart belongs to dear Juliet. Which is of course as always ridiculous since I haven't seen her in fifteen years. but I love her face her voice her laugh her intelligence. I am flying to see her face to face. If not anything else it will make for a good scene in the movie. Alas I confess when looking at it from afar I am a man in love with love.

The stallion recounted a hilarious if not tragic story of our brief affair. ‘You make love to me and then you disappear for two weeks and don't call me. Then you write me a letter and say that I am not the one and you feel like you cheated on your wife even though you are not married and don't even have a girlfriend, but you just haven't met her yet, whatever that means. You wouldn’t even give us a chance. Then you show up on my doorstep two weeks later and want to hang out as friends. Then when I protest you tell me to fuck off and die. then you show up again a month later and want to be friends and call me everyday for six months till we become friends again and now every time I mention another man you run around screaming in a jealous fit of anger but refuse to consider us anything but friends. So you wonder why I am hesitant to get close to you again. I like you Fishy but I shouldn’t; you are a freak.”

O.k. so I have some issues. No wonder. But seriously. I cannot get this woman off of my mind. This mystery woman that I feel so close now. the one I have seen in my mind and felt in my heart for over three years now. there are so many beautiful girls in my life and have been, I could have been with any of them. they were all in their own way the girl that got away; but I have this sneaking suspicion call it intuition that we know when we know and we know when we don't know. so when I know I will know.

It was 40 degrees today and I am getting used to it. although my fingers are always fucking freezing. And my legs hurt from climbing subway stairs all the time.

Good day. worked all day. catching up on so may different projects. Obsessed with finishing the new album me and the guys began last month. And the reality show/documentary project here in New York. And with the new CD coming out this month of course. and with all the little details involved in this move to a new place.
 
Such feelings of release and relief and joy in the subtle realizations that come and go about me really being here now and leaving all of that behind down there. there was so much there that I needed to let go of. I feel like such a new person. so happy and free and relieved and clean.

although it is cold and I am not finding it easy to deal with. It is 32 degrees today, says it feels like 26 degrees. Yes that's about right. feels like 26. when its raining on top of that it really sucks. Freezing rain pelting you in the face as you are walking block after block. Really makes you wonder about the 8.5 people that live here. [I checked. Its only 8.5 million people that actually live in Manhattan believe it or not. One would think it was a lot more. but that's it.] I mean people tell you that your skin will thicken up or that your blood will thicken to the cold but of course those are just old wives tales. Maybe you just build up a tolerance to it. but that hasn’t happened to me yet.

down in the southern states you never even think about the weather. its just always warm or hot. So except for rain or hurricanes the weather is pretty unimportant. Not something you pay attention to. here you are looking at the weather everyday. Forecasting days ahead of time, praying for a warm day to come around now and then. I just never knew the weather was so important. Until now. I really am in shock that people actually live like this. I just never had any conception of it. I am truly in shock over it. millions and millions of people live like this year after yaer. Don't they know about the southern states? I guess they figure it’s a tradeoff; they trade good weather for class culture intelligence and style. [hey don't blame me for all those red states voting to keep slavery and ban gay marriage and voting for Bush so they could lose the rest of their jobs. we’re not losing our jobs in the big cities. And the guy flat out said on live TV that he wasn't going to help them save their jobs but rather help them get educated so they could get better jobs. hey believe that one when you see it. poor bastards. They are in for a cruel awakening. They have no one to blame but themselves for their reputation. Hey maybe it’s the lack of cold weather that gets to their brain or something. maybe we humans need cold weather to think rationally or something. who knows. then again look at world war two Germany or Russia, so fuck me what do I know?]

but one thing you do notice is that you really become much more aware of the seasons here in the cold weather and also the holidays take on a much more significant flavor in your life as well. in the South, the holidays just seem so blasé and commercial and overplayed. Whereas here in the north the holidays really take on a kind of a magical essence. You can already feel it in the air. And then it snows and its like you're really walking in a winter wonder land, rather than just singing about it.

Finding myself filled with anger over the Juliet creation. The more I try to deny my feelings the more angry I feel. I find myself staring at people in the subway stations with hatred in my eyes, like a Tiger ready to pounce. I know what this is. I recognize the symptoms. Whenever you deny or resist things within yourself it leads to this kind of nagging painful feeling. You see it in people who are not entirely honest or present at all times. Their hearts and minds are so occupied with what they are resisting that they get all wrapped up inside themselves and so they can’t be in the moment. can’t be present with other people. so that's been me the last few days. I swear to God if she would just give me the word I would ride out there on a big white horse with a big iron sword and see what all this was about one way or the other.

Went on a blind date tonight, but more like a double date. Good times. good conversation. Insane time actually. Can’t speak about it.

Anxiety still rather high here. need to take about a half a valium a day to deal with the culture shock of it all. I don't really take valium. I suck on them like candy to get it into my system faster before I die from anxiety.

A few observations. We are reaching the zenith of the politicization of America. Politics are becoming headline news. like entertainment to us now. not just a few old men sitting in dark smoke filled rooms as times past. Perhaps actually it’s our first Politicization as a people. Perhaps it’s the first time we have ever woken up to the real power of us, and realized how limited in other ways our power really is in the system we have created.

Also, at dinner, blurted out as I had the realization that we are now in something that can best be called the age of personal expression. The personal expression age. The logical natural child of the information age. We are knee deep in it now. we can make a reality show about anything and people will find it interesting and entertaining. People would rather watch real people expressing themselves than fake people pretending to express themselves. Its about time.

There is this store that I frequent that refuses to play any other TV stations besides Fox news. now I haven't watched television in years, but sometimes I am forced to notice it if the volume is up.... I remember when Fox first came out as the alternative fourth network. Back when we were kids. Their content was so disgusting, so silly, so lowest common denominator that no one took them seriously. a few years later and I cannot believe that there are people, some people, that not only take the station seriously, but actually watch it. things like “the Scott peterson trial” and Geraldo rivera and their whole pretend news channel that they have, the red state zombie channel.... it is so fake, so opaque, so propagandized, and so partial, so staged... holy shit... I am aghast while watching it. there are some real morons in this world... it is truly scary and I must admit while typing this that I find myself quite nauseous and frightened for us and for them. at this point they are like pigs being led by leashes and collars to the slaughter but they just have no fucking clue yet.

Last screening: lady windemere’s fan by Oscar wilde.

Current spin: a hip hop artist named kaotic. I am attempting to sign him to our label. He is there. in the zone. Expanding the label a lot now. quickly.

Dear stallion, 

Well it has finally happened. You said it would.
I am sitting in my apt on a ledge hanging outside the window so I can smoke because it is too cold and rainy to go outside! so I have the window in my apartment open, the fan on full blast, my overcoat on, and I am hanging out a window ledge trying to blow smoke out the window. I never thought it would come to this. You were right. the New York life at this poor a level is a totally other world from the rest of the country. I'm inside but still my hands are freezing. And all of this just to have a smoke at the end of the evening. 

Current spin: George Michael, his new one Patience. I love George. not all of his work, but a lot of it. I'm just glad he has a new CD out. and I'm glad he is more open about his sexuality now. still digging into this one. the songwriting doesn’t seem as strong as normal. How does this come out of the same person who brought us “freedom,” the greatest song of all time, I don't know.

-----Original Message-----
From: G2 .:. TMG Records [mailto:G2@tmgrecords.net] 
Sent: Tuesday, November 9, 2004 11:36 AM
To: Fishy
Subject: Anti-war quotes

Hey fishy, check it out.

"Never has there been a good war or a bad peace." 
—Benjamin Franklin 


Dear G2, 

Great sentiment and catchy too. But I do not agree with this idea now. Franklin penned this before the great world wars of the last century. World war two was a good war, as good as they can be I suppose. We saved a shit load of people, perhaps an entire race. If we wouldn’t have gotten involved, the Jews would have been nearly exterminated --- one could only imagine that if civilized man -- if there was such a thing at the time -- would have come up against us, the European settlers/our founding fathers, while we were slaughtering the native American people of this continent then maybe we would have been able to save them too. But we were not that fortunate. No one did a damn thing, so we basically wiped them all out. But yes we did manage to save the Jewish people in world war two, and maybe even saved democracy and freedom in the western world as we know it today against an insane and irrational tyranny of blind, mad men. Thanks for the quote though.
Love Fishy

Current spin: the song hot down from father Bloopy. This track is killer and we will cover it on our next CD!

Last screening: since I don't have TV and netflix sucks in nyc, the only thing I have is all the bbc versions of Oscar wilde plays which I have seen like a hundred times now, and series 2 and 3 of Father Ted from the BBC. This stuff is funny. Gross and stupid, but funny in a sick way.

Sunlight is a rare commodity here in New York. I find myself fighting a subtle depression due to never seeing the sun. I look for little pockets of sunlight on certain streets and I dash to them to stand underneath them for a few minutes.

This week I am replacing all of the lightbulbs in my office with full spectrum lights no matter what the office manager has to say about it. its true what they say about lack of sunlight and depression. I have felt it the last few days.

there is an uneasiness in the air about the inevitability of another terrorist attack to New York. Especially since the Bush reelection. But I would say that it probably wouldn’t matter who won. Its just this feeling in the air. The subways are always being stopped now or re-routed. And it is very inconvenient to us. Every few minutes every day we are reminded over a loudspeaker to watch out for strange activity or strange persons or strange packages left lying somewhere in the subways unattended, and to immediately tell a police officer about anything suspicious we see or hear. This is not a good feeling I must confess. People are always nervous about it.

I cannot say that I am completely happy here yet. I am not used to the cold nor the seemingly constant darkness. I now understand this theory I would see talked about on TV about people who get depressed during the winter. I really want to live here, but I just wonder how long it will take me to get accustomed to this cold and darkness and the inconvenience of having to walk everywhere and take the subways, which at first can be very simulating but after a while I just find boring and depressing and monotonous and a general pain in the ass if you are used to driving everywhere. walk. Cross the street. Down the stairs. Through the gate. Down more stairs. Wait. Dash in the train before someone gets your space. Get squashed. Ride and wait some more. stare off into space. look at everyone else’s blank faces. Get off. Avoid hundreds of people. Walk more. up more stairs. Walk more. and now do the same thing getting back. and now do this two to four or more times per day. everyday. Man I miss my beamer. ok I've vented enough for now. I feel better.

Last screening: Commanding heights: struggle for the world’s economies, volume two. If you aren't a fan of economics before you watch this, you very well could become one. fascinating stuff.

At the cigar store on Sunday before the race and there were these men in there. not your typical cigar store guys. they were visiting from Vegas. One guy had this strange habit of staring at every girl who would walk by the window we normally sit in front of and when they would catch his eye he would cock his head to the side and raise his eyebrows up with this sly smile on his face, like an evil cat about to eat a mouse or something... turns out he is a Las Vegas hypnotist... anyway these men were so jaded about women that I felt nauseated listening to them. normally one assumes that men in a cigar store are upper-class and educated but now and then you meet some real lower-minded Neanderthals in there. I am tired of men who think that women are only out for money and men are only out for sex. it is an unfortunate symptom of some of the more unevolved beings that we unfortunately must still come face to face with in these supposedly modern times. I was so sickened by their misogynistic conversation that I put my cigar out midway which I would never do and just bailed on the scene. I have no patience for that kind of thinking.

nyc marathon was in town and I was so moved by it. it was breathtaking and awe inspiring. New York is fucking amazing.

Still find myself obsessed with friends at times. this kind of manic paranoia that is not entirely clear to me. don't take it seriously anymore. If I don't give it much, but rather just observe it like oh isn't that interesting it goes away. this was the substance of my thoughts tonight as I was walking home from the Stallions house. which is a whole other matter. Every time I see her I find myself more attracted to her. told her tonight I think its some kind of a molecular bond I have to her. can’t seem to shake it. which isn't a good thing, because we already tried to go out for a while and just couldn’t get it to fit so perfect... there was always too much static between us. like we wanted to kill each other some times. I still love her though. And Juliet too. and a few others. crazy. but tonight we had this kind of celebratory realization that two years ago to this month we were both sitting in her apartment in Miami beach reading this reference guide to nyc and planning on coming here to live and now we live here. so we were happy in that. we did it. we fucking did it. 

But yes as I was coming home I was ruminating on this nagging friend feeling --- feeling like I didn't have enough friends, those type of feelings. Which is crazy because objectively I can honestly see that I have too many if anything, if that is possible. So this fear or resistance is something that is just there that is transparent that I am operating through non-deliberately. but still it comes through inside of me and I just find myself feeling sad or lonely every now and then, kind of like an Eeyor sort of woe is me feeling. Again, totally unwarranted, and unaware of the specific origin of the feelings. But very real nonetheless. And then Rockaway called and we talked for like an hour or two like two old housewives with nothing better to do as we always do and then it went away and I realized Its just something I need to explore and discreate. Not sure where it comes from, but I know that its only as real as I allow it to be. there is safety in that knowing. You move through it faster. Recognize that it isn't me, its just a feeling. And more powerful than that, a feeling that I am creating.

Last screening: commanding heights: the battle for the world economy, volume one. Fascinating. Study of the conflict between Keynesian planned government socialism, and Hayek’s and Friedman’s more conservative capitalist de-regulated approach. Basically a 20th century economy lesson. Good stuff. I had no idea. You really begin to understand the role that governments have and can have in our lives. And you also understand the difference between America and many of the other countries around the world. we are lucky here for our capitalist society in many ways, because we are so free to make money. But we’re still fucked here in some ways because we don't have things like universal health care and the rampant deregulation of our industry has now led to monopolies galore like in radio and in oil companies and in the music industry and newspaper business... and of course there is still very much a make it or don't make it mentality here that other more civilized countries frown upon as barbaric, as our health care system is an example of, where you can have whole families without health care, or old people sitting at home dying in bed alone and no one even knows about it or does anything about it. And unless you work for some large company you're forced to pay this ridiculous amount of money just to get covered and then you're still not very well covered for your health. This is an example where some government control would help. After watching the debates rage throughout the century as to which system was better, because in many instances both had worked for America and for other countries alike, I believe we need a balance between the two, always fluctuating back and forth between rampant capitalism and subtle socialistic ideas in order to maintain the balance for the economy and the health and security of the people. I don't see why it has to be one or the other.

Current spin: Janet Jackson, together again remix. I LOVE Janet.

Friends in town from Miami and all over the states and South America to run in the nyc marathon tomorrow. had a great experience where I met up with Luis downstairs on the street. He was in town from Venezuela, and was shopping and called me and asked me where I lived. I told him, and then he exclaimed, ‘I'm downstairs on your street!’ I was like ‘no way! o.k., I'll be down in less than a minute.’ Crazy. so then he tells me that Ivonne this girl I dated about a year ago and a few friends were was also in town. and told me where she was eating in the west village. So I went there and pretended I just happened to be there and bumped into them... her face just dropped and she got all nervous was shocked and it was really funny. Then I told them the joke and we all laughed. Good times. so tomorrow I will go film them crossing the finish line. 26 miles. Wow.

Then off to the macanudo club for a smoke and a few drinks with Christopher and his girlfriend. Sinatra and Tony Bennet singing over the speakers over glasses of beer and port. Good times.

And then off to a debutante party for one of the secretaries of Mayor Bloomberg at some new hip club in the meat packing district. More Miami-vibe than I would have liked. You get to a certain class level, the level where they haven't quite made it yet, but really want to make it or are close to making it or work for people who have made it... and its all posing and bullshit. no substantive conversation. A lot of tight asses and turned up noses. You hang with people who are already there and everyone is laidback and easy going and cool as a fucking cucumber. Because they aren't worried about it anymore. So real things can get accomplished in that environment. Ideas generate and contacts are made. You can always tell someone who is still wanting it because all they do is ask you fucking questions about what you do or talk about what they do till you wake up ten minutes later realizing that you fell asleep midway during their diatribe and have dropped your drink and spilled it all over the floor. I'm usually good for about ten minutes in those scenes till I feel the world caving in around me and start feeling this nagging dread that if I don't go actually do an actual something that I'll be as big a loser as the rest of them. hence the arguably obsessive and unnatural workaholic ethic I so loyally abide by. Its past four am now and I'm still sitting here in the freezing cold madly typing away. I don't know if you can call writing, the kind of off the cuff stream of consciousness writing that I do, “doing something,” but I find comfort in the practice of it nonetheless.

Its nothing against people. its just that you reach a certain point where you realize that you are where you are. And putting on a show is not going to help you get anywhere. The people we admire are that way because they are just fucking cool. and that doesn’t have half as much to do with your status in life as it has to do with how you feel about who you are and what you are doing. Rich or poor. I learned that the hard way over the years. be cool. stop worrying. just be cool.

Something I thought of last night just before sleep, that there is this major difference between the regular working class people of society and the artists and that is that the artists to a certain degree are not as focused on the monetary rewards of working as much as just getting off and creating art. Whereas the working people are more focused on the rewards and the materialistic gain that can be had from working rather than the work itself. A lot of people don't even mind switching careers a bunch of times throughout their lives just to get to the top. Whereas the artists would never even consider that if it would spite or compromise their art. They're just really focused on making their art and getting it out and they don't even care if they are making money with it or not. I can easily relate to both sides of course. I mean, at a certain point you have to. unless you want to always be struggling. But still, the art is always going to come first, above all else.

Anyway, a busy fucking day and a busy crazy week. life here is much more difficult than living in other places where you drive. Everything here is twice as difficult as the rest of the country. New Yorkers just don't know it because they are used to it. but it is. you get so worn out being on the subways and having to walk all day and night. by 7 you feel wiped out and ready to lie down for a while.

Current spin; Caetano Veloso. His first album. Self titled. Brilliant. one of the best albums of all time.

Last screening: THX 1138. this is the first George Lucas film he ever made. it is fucking amazing. an absolute MUST SEE. You see glimpses of what would come later in star wars six years later. this is just an amazing work of art. If you work in film or in sound or music this is a classic and you prob know it already but if you don't, you will love it. it’s a library piece for sure.

Conversations With Friends

My dearest Juliet,

I am on a high from the realness and substance of our conversation. Really good stuff.

Had a big glass and then another of bourbon at a local bar. They only charged me $4!!!! God smiling on me. And I am NOT a drinker so of course i am already drunk and I have to say that I just think you are awesome. I cannot explain how close I feel to you at times. when we speak. Like I just want to grab you and shake you and say hey fucking a Julie you rock! And I want to stare into your eyes till I disappear and we become one being. How lucky we are to know each other now. the rest I will not write to you, but save it.... but thank you for a great conversation. You are a goddess. Or a God. take your pick.

In other news I am not eating. A bowl of a soup a day and that's it. its fucking crazy. I need to start eating. But today I did have two bowls of soup; strangely, I have had acorn squash soup for four days in a row now. I believe I may be turning orange.

______________________________________
Yo Bas,

Well this is great news dog. About Ferret. Good for all of us. the ambassador doesn’t like bad blood. And he doesn’t like feeling out of integrity either.

As for the letter, after two and half years of writing in the diaries online, I believe that somewhere along the line I became a real writer through the practice of it. not necessarily a good one, but read the letter. I became a real writer. it’s a great feeling after working so hard at it for so long.

You hit the nail on the head dog. Good job. Ferret needed the letter. And yes you are a good writer now. I told you. make some fucking money with it will you? we all need it.

Things are good here. money is tight. But I have a lot of friends here. and a good neighborhood.
    

Enjoy it up there. Miami may miss you but you shouldn’t miss Miami.

[Your cousin is off the deep end right now total Jesus freak by the way. he accused me of being an immoral materialist because of my beliefs...  and that he would pray for me. until I informed him that I sponsor two different children one in Africa and one in Brasil every fucking month even though I'm pretty fucking poor. And that I give to over ten different charities every year. And that I do that without God or Jesus but because I am human. That shut him up.]

    I know. He's still learning. Go easy on the kid.

New times Miami wrote an article about us this week by the way if you want to check it out; it has very little to do with the amazing interview we gave, but just focuses on business, not very deep, too bad. Yesterday I gave an interview to New York metro magazine about bush being re-elected. It appeared yesterday in the paper. that was cool. my first New York press as a resident.

Read the article. Doesn’t talk about your music at all. weird. Congrats on the New York article. Tell it like it is my brother.

Chap is a good kid. Works hard. Plays hard.

One of my best friends. Careful when he gets drunk. he is liable to get you into a few fights. So watch out. but he's a great guy. I am glad you all are hanging out.

He and his buds are making a reality TV show about me and my move here. The filming is hilarious. I didn't realize I was so stupid/funny/strange. Wow. I guess you and my family and other friends just got used to it. haha!!!

I have always told you that you are crazy. but now you are starting to see it. so maybe you are not crazy after all...

I tried to make coffee for myself and it was filmed and it was one of the funniest things I have ever seen. we were all laughing our asses off watching it!!!

I cannot picture you making your own coffee.

I then commented to the camera that ‘if you drink too much caffeine in the evening just take extra valium at night...’ and everyone was rolling on the ground laughing. But I was just giving some straight up advice and not trying to be funny. You know. it’s goofy shit. But it’s funny.
   

You are insane. Go easy on the drugs my brother.

The new CD is out now. will soon start hitting stores and radio. You’ll get an email.

Where do we buy it down here? that is your best album. I already told you that. time to breathe out a little while you are up there. start a new life for yourself and collect aligned companions for your work and play. You are in your environment now. I told you to move there three years ago.

Re-Election of Bush

THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
Nov. 4, 2004

British newspapers carry the story of U.S. President
George W. Bush's election win on their front pages.
Thursday Nov. 4, 2004. (AP Photo/Richard Lewis)

LONDON -- The re-election of President Bush dominated
British newspapers Thursday, and many cast
impartiality aside in reporting the result.

"How can 59,054,087 people be so DUMB?" the liberal
Daily Mirror asked in a Page One headline. Inside,
several pages of coverage were headed "U.S. election
disaster."

The Independent bore the front-page headline "Four
more years" on a black page with grim pictures
including a hooded Iraqi prisoner and an orange-clad
detainee at Guantanamo Bay.

The left-leaning Guardian led its features section
with a black page bearing the tiny words, "Oh, God."
Inside a story described how Bush's victory
"catapaulted liberal Britain into collective depression."

Mail Bag On Bush

Last screening: coffee and cigarettes by Jim jarmusch. Viewed the film because it was said to be about a bunch of cool people having cool conversations in different casual settings. Reminded us of what we are trying to do with Transcendence Television, the reality show, that's the running name now. But after 36 minutes I turned it off. Forced, stilted, transparent, insulting it was so bad, utterly meaningless. I had such hopes for it. how can you ruin such a brilliant idea as a movie about coffee and cigarettes? But it is everything that we are trying not to make. It has illustrated for me clearly that we are on the right path with this non-reality reality-show idea. Let it be real. Just real. No planning shit. No telling people to improv shit. Just catch the action and emotion of the human experience in the moment and edit it all together. show us what we are.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
And now for a few from the mail bag:

From New York City

<<From: Nicole Henderson
New York, NY
Sent: Friday, November 05, 2004 11:03 AM
Subject: I wanted you to know.

I am writing this letter to the people in the red states in the middle of the country -- the people who voted for George W. Bush. I am writing this letter because I don't think we know each other.

So I'll make an introduction. I am a New Yorker who voted for John
Kerry. I used to live in California, and if I still lived there, I
would vote for Kerry. I used to live in Washington, DC, and if I
still lived there, I would vote for Kerry. Kerry won in all three
of those regions.

Maybe you want to know more about me. Or maybe not; maybe you think
you know me already. You think I am some anti-American anarchist
because I dislike George W. Bush. You think that I am immoral and
anti-family, because I support women's reproductive freedom and gay
rights. You think that I am dangerous, and even evil, because I do
not abide by your religious beliefs.

Maybe you are content to think that, to write me off as a "liberal"
-- the dreaded "L" word -- and rejoice that your candidate has
triumphed over evil, immoral, anti-American, anti-family people like
me. But maybe you are still curious. So here goes: this is who I
am.

I am a New Yorker. I was here, in my apartment downtown, on
September 11th. I watched the Towers burn from the roof of my
building. I went inside so that I couldn't see them when they fell.
I had friends who were inside. I have a friend who still has nightmares about watching people jump and fall from the Towers. He will never be the same. How many people like him do you know? People that can't sit in a restaurant without plotting an
escape route, in case it blows up?

I am a worker. I work across the street from the Citigroup Center, which the government told us is a "target" of terrorism. Later, we found out they were relaying very old information, but it was already too late.
They had given me bad dreams again. The subway stop near my office
was crowded with bomb-sniffing dogs, policemen in heavy protective
gear, soldiers. Now, every time I enter or exit my office, all of
my possessions are X-rayed to make sure I don't have any weapons.
How often are you stopped by a soldier with a bomb-sniffing dog
outside your office?

I am a neighbor. I have a neighbor who is a 9/11 widow. She has
two children. My husband does odd jobs for her now, like building
bookshelves. Things her husband should do. He uses her husband's
tools, and the two little girls tell him, "Those are our daddy's
tools." How many 9/11 widows and orphans do you know? How often do
you fill in for their dead loved ones?

I am a taxpayer. I worked my butt off to get where I did, and so
did my parents. My parents saved and borrowed and sent me to
college. I worked my way through graduate school. I won a full
tuition scholarship to law school. All for the privilege of working
2,600 hours last year. That works out to a 50 hour week, every
week, without any vacation days at all. I get to work by 9 am and
rarely leave before 9 pm. I eat dinner at my office much more often
than I eat dinner at home. My husband and I paid over $70,000 in
federal income tax last year. At some point in the future, we will
have to pay much more -- once this country faces its deficit and the
impossible burden of Social Security. In fact, the areas of the
country that supported Kerry -- New York, California, Illinois, Massachusetts -- they are the financial centers of the nation. They are the tax base of this country. How much did you pay, Kansas? How much did you contribute to this government you support, Alabama? How much of this war in Iraq did you pay for?

I am a liberal. The funny part is, liberals have this reputation for living in Never-Neverland, being idealists, not being sensible. But let me
tell you how I see the world: I see America as one nation in a world
of nations. Therefore, I think we should try to get along with
other nations. I see that gay people exist. Therefore, I think they should be allowed to exist, and be treated the same as other people. I see ways in which women are not allowed to control their own bodies. Therefore, I think we should
give women more control over their bodies. I see that people have awful diseases. Therefore, I think we should enable scientists to try to cure them. I see that we have a Constitution. Therefore, I think it should be upheld. I see that there were no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. Therefore, I think that Iraq was not an imminent danger to me. It seems so pragmatic to me. How do you see the world? Do you really think voting against gay marriage will keep people from being gay? Would you
really prefer that people continue to die from Parkinson's disease?
Do you really not care about the Constitutional rights of political
detainees? Would you really have supported the war if you knew the
truth, or would you have wanted to spend more of our money on health
care, job training, terrorism preparedness?

I am an American. I have an American flag flying outside my home.
I love my home more than anything. I love that I grew up right
outside New York City. I first went to the Statue of Liberty with
my 5th grade class, and my mom and dad took me to the Empire State
Building when I was 8. I love taking the subway to Yankee Stadium.
I loved living in Washington DC and going on dates to the Lincoln
Memorial. It is because I love this country so much that I argue
with my political opponents as much I do.

I am not safe. I never feel safe. My in-laws live in a small town in Ohio, and that town has received more federal funding, per capita, for
terrorism preparedness than New York City has. I take subways and buses every day. I work in a skyscraper across the street from a "target." I have emergency supplies and a spare pair of sneakers in my desk, in case something
happens while I'm at work. Do you? How many times a month do you worry that your subway is going to blow up? When you hear sirens on the street, do you run to the window to make sure everything is okay? When you hear an airplane, do you flinch? Do you dread beautiful, blue-skied September days? I don't know a single New Yorker who doesn't spend the month of September on
tip-toes, superstitiously praying for rain so we don't have to relive
that beautiful, blue-skied day.

I am lonely. I feel that we, as a nation, have alienated all our friends and further provoked our enemies. I feel unprotected. Most of all I feel alienated from my fellow citizens, because I don't understand what you are thinking. You voted for a man who started a war in Iraq for no reason, against the wishes of the entire world. You voted for a man whose
lack of foresight and inability to plan has led to massive
insurgencies in Iraq, where weapons are disappearing into the hands
of terrorists. You voted for a man who let Osama Bin Laden escape
into the hills of Afghanistan so that he could start that war in Iraq. You voted for a man who doesn't want to let people love who they want to love; doesn't want to let doctors cure their patients; doesn't want to let women rule their destinies. I
don't understand why you voted for this man. For me, it is not
enough that he is personable; it is not enough that he seems like one of the guys. Why did you vote for him? Why did you elect a man that lied to us in order to convince us to go to war? (Ten years ago you were incensed when our
president lied about his sex life; you thought it was an impeachable
offense.) Why did you elect a leader who thinks that strength
cannot include diplomacy or international cooperation? Why did you
elect a man who did nothing except run away and hide on September
11?

Most of all, I am terrified. I mean daily, I am afraid that I will not survive this. I am afraid that I will lose my husband, that I will
never have children, that I will never grow old and watch the sunset in a backyard of my own. I am afraid that my career -- which should end with a triumphant and good-natured roast at a retirement party in 2035 -- will be cut
short by an attack on me and my colleagues, as we sit sending emails
and making phone calls one ordinary afternoon. Is your life at
stake? Are you terrified?

I don't think you are. I don't think you realize what you have
done. And if anything happens to me or the people I love, I blame
you. I wanted you to know that.

From Holland, the Netherlands:

Hey fishy,