http://www.bookeaters.org/
It's a benefit for 826LA (www.826la.org). And just get your wallets a-opening, this performance will feature Dave Eggers, Jenny Lewis, Sarah Vowell and the Mountain Goats. Go now and purchase.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Apology
Dear Blog,
I am so sorry I have ignored you lately. I know it sounds cliche, but it's really not you. It's me. No, no, don't give me that look. C'mon honey bear, this is my apology. You don't have to throw that vase. That' right, just put it down...good...nice vase-y. I'm not sure why I've been distant. You are the engine of my true love (words). The glass jar of excreted subconscious musings.
I'm sorry. I'll never leave you again.
For more than a week. I promise.
So now that I have you back love, let me give you what you really want. Le scoop, as they call it en Francais.
I am torn up about Israel. My head and my heart are bombing each other with each new headline that flashes up on the screen. I've read the anti-israel propoganda, I've read the pro-israel propoganda. I check at least three different news outlets every day. At this point, I feel like everyone is guilty. I hate Hamas for their doctrines and practice of violence. I hate Hezbollah for hiding amongst innocent Lebanese. I hate Israel for killing people they clearly mean not to kill. I feel like Israel is a close sister that I just discovered is selling herself on the street. I am so disappointed, and yet I want to protect her. I want to protect Haifa from those Hezbollah rockets, and give her room to protect herself. And I want to slap her for killing children who happen to be in the wrong country at the wrong time. This is not the justice so many IDF troops have died for. This is not the kind of engagement our ancestors died for. Then again, maybe this is the only justice that exists. Man corrupts the most innocent of concepts. Justice is at the mercy of men.
Oh blog, I had to get that out there, sorry to bring things down.
I would like to tell you about boy number blank, but there is simply nothing to report. I have never been so out of love in my life. The idea of getting mixed up in that shit just doesn't seem worth it. Or rather, I don't know anyone that would make getting thrown into that blender worth it.
So I'll remain, bloggie my love, wedded to your words, wedded to the words I know, wedded to the words I have yet to find, wedded to the words I have yet to use, wedded to the words I have yet to create.
Kisses,
your ocelot
I am so sorry I have ignored you lately. I know it sounds cliche, but it's really not you. It's me. No, no, don't give me that look. C'mon honey bear, this is my apology. You don't have to throw that vase. That' right, just put it down...good...nice vase-y. I'm not sure why I've been distant. You are the engine of my true love (words). The glass jar of excreted subconscious musings.
I'm sorry. I'll never leave you again.
For more than a week. I promise.
So now that I have you back love, let me give you what you really want. Le scoop, as they call it en Francais.
I am torn up about Israel. My head and my heart are bombing each other with each new headline that flashes up on the screen. I've read the anti-israel propoganda, I've read the pro-israel propoganda. I check at least three different news outlets every day. At this point, I feel like everyone is guilty. I hate Hamas for their doctrines and practice of violence. I hate Hezbollah for hiding amongst innocent Lebanese. I hate Israel for killing people they clearly mean not to kill. I feel like Israel is a close sister that I just discovered is selling herself on the street. I am so disappointed, and yet I want to protect her. I want to protect Haifa from those Hezbollah rockets, and give her room to protect herself. And I want to slap her for killing children who happen to be in the wrong country at the wrong time. This is not the justice so many IDF troops have died for. This is not the kind of engagement our ancestors died for. Then again, maybe this is the only justice that exists. Man corrupts the most innocent of concepts. Justice is at the mercy of men.
Oh blog, I had to get that out there, sorry to bring things down.
I would like to tell you about boy number blank, but there is simply nothing to report. I have never been so out of love in my life. The idea of getting mixed up in that shit just doesn't seem worth it. Or rather, I don't know anyone that would make getting thrown into that blender worth it.
So I'll remain, bloggie my love, wedded to your words, wedded to the words I know, wedded to the words I have yet to find, wedded to the words I have yet to use, wedded to the words I have yet to create.
Kisses,
your ocelot
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