and the beat goes on

i've figured out many of the lies, but i still don't know what the truth is. i do know that in the year 2008, a chinese take out joint should be able to come up with a better name than "charlie chan's." I also know that nothing was won in Kosovo, though thousands of lives were lost, mostly due to our bombing. The left left us in those days, as many somehow believed the lies of the male clinton and e. lie weisel. now, the u.s. embassy in serbia no longer stands, and ethnic strife remains strong. kosovo is serbia, it is that simple. albanians may be a majority there, but there are a lot of chinese in chinatown too. and oh yeah, serbians were a majority there until they were murdered by the nazis.

but i suppose, if we truly believe in the rights of majorities to determine their own destinies, we will allow dc to become independent. bush, not surprisingly, remains silent on this issue. the least we could do is provide decent housing, education, and health care to the inhabitants of those who are just minutes from the white house. i won't hold my breath. no, it's more like us to cry fake tears and drop real bombs on others in order to produce a false peace that eventually creates more real wars. then, we can hold up our hands and say that we tried our best, and then we can bemoan that some among us just aren't ready for democracy.

the guy upstairs always gets up early on a saturday to create a clear, snowless, path on the stairs. hence, i'm up, blogging now. well, it beats live rock concerts outside my door. the worst was the cross eyed irish guy that would do "i am a rock" and "the sound of silence" and "daydream believer" and "imagine." once, i went out to complain to him, but his eyes were so fucked up that i felt bad, so i ended up being very polite to him. there were others too. the bums, the "alternative" crowd, the gays, the loner with his guitar, the mediocre multitudes looking to beat the heat. i lasted for 17 months. well, there was a train across the street, my parents were close, and the winters were nice. and it was our first apartment, and a nice one too. well, phil, i suppose you have to holda on to what you got. but, enough was enough. so, now i complain about others things, other people, new sounds. in the end, sartre's "hell is other people" becomes more profound with each passing day.

at 16, i worked in the kitchen of a nursing home. saw people naked on elevators, saw residents curse nurses, and each other. toward the beginning of my life, i glimpsed others at the end of theirs. all for 6:50 an hour. what was i doing? well, i guess i thought money mattered then. today, i stress to young people the importance of not working. have a love affair with free time, i say. but, i was young then. now, i have to work. oh, to be 16 again.

ah, it sucked then too.