tues 2 oct 08

 

mafiosi: pay attention to colors. not leaf-peeping the trees, but MAN-made colors. everywhere you look.

 

about a half an hour ago, one of the women who put a contract on my life drove by me while i was at the river. the psycho-chick. she drove by me in greenfield on sept. 6. i was told by someone that day that she's out on bail. she still has her house, her animals, her car, her everything, while the FBI has abused me relentlessly for seven months, and is making me sleep outdoors with all my diseases. WHY DOES THE VICTIM DESERVE ABUSE AND SORROW, WHILE THE CRIMINAL DESERVES BAIL AND AN INTACT LIFE?

 

it's quite cold today, and i have to sleep outside tonight because that's what the fascists want. maybe i'll die of hypothermia. how long do they leave the blogs up after i'm dead?

 

and pluck till time and times are done

the silver apples of the moon,

the golden apples of the sun.

 

rebecca goldstein's most excellent book about all kinds of dark things and about physics and about twisted love (the only kind i've ever known from humans), is called Properties of Light. there is no collapse in a closed system. only when systems interact with each other can collapse occur. this is postulated in the book. i find it fascinating. so is entropy completely caused by system interaction, and if we could keep any system at all totally closed, would there BE no entropy?

 

in the short time i have remaining to me, which is shorter still if my body can't withstand the cold tonight, what is worth saying? in my own mind, it's worth repeating ad nauseam that i'm not delusional, because the FBI is so ravenously determined to paint me that way. the animals are worth talking about. poetry is worth a visit. not too much else, i suppose, when it gets this close to the ending.

 

what was my life about, did it have a dominant theme? i separate its themes into love and art, but some would see art as part of the love thing. and as simple as "love and art" sounds, the story of trying to live in those things in a framework that did not involve lying and betrayal and abandonment and punyness, and whatever else, is a horror show. made worse by the fact that i have asperger's and was never going to fit in the neurotypical world ANYWAY. but my life, i suppose, was about TRYING to exist in love and art, and for the most part failing. love with animals was the only place where something like success was achieved.