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the end.

Israel, the New Capital of the World

My Trusted,

Might I stop to bask in a tidal wave of deceit and lies to bring you an honest account of the fare.

For I Will Loose Nothing If I Haven’t Already By Doing So –

Have you seen and heard the words from the lips of the Beast? – There is a great veracity in them!

And of course you know well of the story David and Goliathe - - and whereby David is Israel and the stars and stripes are Goliathe…

Have you not tasted the truth of Big Media? It has the nutritional value of a Big Mac, and the effects of a Blue Monster reckoning in the mind- - - don’t get in its way or you are off the trodden path - - but then why am I -a rock in the road?

My love of all the planets united! Shall I have to post Chapter 3: Rat Can Read before you can witness the Death of Democracy usurped by Greed? And what is to become of us, the Incompetents? For we are not mere pagans you and I…

Let free speech exist and it is sure to sound like this!

And by what nature are those in the Blue Monster grip, the lovers of fools, who barter away peace and dignity saying among witty things like to ‘rage against the machine!’?

Why, no one should know that the Zionists are planning Israel as the Capital of the World, so now hear this! - psssst… it’s pay for play dearie!

And the Beast, George W. Bush, not once uttered that word ‘Israel’ in his latest and greatest hallmark sham of all speeches, although the very context of the speech –war- is being centrally fought in the Middle East! Blasphemy removed and a shalom unto his bereft soul - - and might you too be witness to life after pop culture.

There were no less than fine words that permeated great walls – for they knew not what to do with them but to absorb them and then ridicule themselves afterwards - - in the heart too - microns of dust... ‘What if your President’s the Terrorist?’

The Terrorist says the words that others please as he places his lonely threshold to where all can see - - and you see, a new triumph in jesterhood is met:

1. It is our duty to the Iraqis.
2. It is our duty to the troops.
3. We cannot send the weak signal to the enemy.

And so the numbers are in the wrong sequence - - and reflect like the stars in their universe, yes, so maligned they are that they don’t see the reality that is… you and I my beloved.


While these words shall remain in light -for though the context they are bound to will inevitably change…

‘There is no higher calling before us then to bring a swollen hand of justice upon the Beast and his Council of Boymen.’

北京新浪

I had been living off of grapefruit and woman and am pleased with the desert night tonight - as it is pleased with me - in all of my strength and weakness to improve upon...

The night before I was Prometheus on the streets as she watched from aside. With feet in warm puddles of collecting rain, the wind forced fruit from the trees and a fierce lightening was caught...

Last night I stole the fire from the sky to meld me one with the land...
and to give to you

and a celebratory corn on the cob was prepared as an offering- like voodoo under the listening sky...

(for a player click here)

Album covers are cooking in the desert heat. A contagious heat. And cold water is considered taboo by some, like sunshine for seattle.

Today I watched a lizard climb a wall in the 100+ degree heat and as soon as it reached the top of the wall, it began doing push-ups.
Life is different for the cold blooded.

It is a desert night and it is still hovering over 100+ degrees.
I must smell like fire to a lizard.

The grapefruit is plentiful in the trees and the season is said over, though hand-squeezed they offer a warm nectar - - and a luxury it is to wake with fruit hanging from the limbs of trees in the yard...
‘A study of smells shows that the scent of grapefruit on women make them seem younger to men...but not too young, like pink bubble gum.’ – study by the Smell and Taste Institute of Chicago.


On the first night in town, I met a black man who was sitting and puffing on a cigar infront of a Starbucks and who was friendly enough to engage my conversation with a smile (and I am not a Starbucks customer).
Like I, he had moved from Los Angeles, though months before, and so we both became even the more sympathetic.

The point of conversation came when a particular follow up that was made to fit could be used, and like the crest of a rollercoaster ride plunging downward, the often canted phrase free fell from my lips into the warm breeze finding its due moment like a perfect boxer- as I am not here for kicks, ‘So let me ask you a question...what do you think about 9-11?’ And like the many, his response didn’t attempt to feign ignorance, no, and not even a conscientious acknowledgement of the deed was offered – and our eyes kept direct contact. The way he received the question was an indelible sign that the conversation would be coming to an end, but not a vociferous one – though it was a checkmate strategy.

His answer he made clear, what was real and true for him was the reciting of lyrics from Motown songs and movie dialogues verbatim, and clear was his dance through the puffing clouds of cigar smoke, as he swayed throughout an empty ballroom. The charade was the kind that I had many times tango’d to, yet bemused I was, and enough to watch.

When he showed signs of fatigue, I held up a voting card where from under the stage microphone I stood, ‘Please don’t take offense with what I’m going to say, but, you don’t read much do you?’

The last day in Los Angeles, I was in the DMV where pictures of famous Hollywood stars like Greta Garbo and Humphrey Bogart line the walls. The Hollywood left could argue that anyting is better than a picture of George Bush, and I could thoughtlessly agree.

I stepped onto the sidewalk near Sunset and Vine. People were massed together, heads tilted back all eyes fixed on the sky. With so many people looking up I looked down, and what caught my eyes was the name ‘Orson Welles’ and the Hollywood star I stood upon.

Fire at Sunset and Vine

June 14, 2005

I am a little behind schedule.
Willing just a few days before the arrival of completion.


While unpacking, I found something that I thought worth the time to share with you.

From 1997, 'jack be nimble'.

subbionic.com (hold music).


Also, it appears that yet another person wants to speak out:

A former Bush team member during his first administration is now voicing serious doubts about the collapse of the World Trade Center on 9-11. Former chief economist for the Department of Labor during President George W. Bush's first term Morgan Reynolds comments that the official story about the collapse of the WTC is "bogus" and that it is more likely that a controlled demolition destroyed the Twin Towers and adjacent Building No. 7. Reynolds, who also served as director of the Criminal Justice Center at the National Center for Policy Analysis in Dallas and is now professor emeritus at Texas A&M University said, "If demolition destroyed three steel skyscrapers at the World Trade Center on 9/11, then the case for an 'inside job' and a government attack on America would be compelling." Reynolds commented from his Texas A&M office, "It is hard to exaggerate the importance of a scientific debate over the cause of the collapse of the twin towers and building 7. If the official wisdom on the collapses is wrong, as I believe it is, then policy based on such erroneous engineering analysis is not likely to be correct either. The government's collapse theory is highly vulnerable on its own terms. Only professional demolition appears to account for the full range of facts associated with the collapse of the three buildings." -washington times


with love from the Arizona desert,

-sadie coitus