paper bullets, lost cemeteries, the Toulou rifle...

it was the paper bullets; lost cemeteries burying forgotten people; the rifle, the one that did the deed.

in the copse, by the fence, the man with the umbrella, the 5th story, the grate of the sewer, the tree, the train, the river rat....

Warning: watch the tops of buildings and even sewer grates

watch the trees; even the sewer grates; look for figures on top of buildings, people with weapons leaning out of windows; watch for people behind you aiming for the back of the head; watch that dishwasher; he can't be trusted; watch the puta who wants a kiss; watch for grassy knolls in our darkest souls, and watch for people with black umbrellas on a sunny day in the middle of the sidewalk, and last watch for the woman in the polka dot dress. There are no shortcuts.

close encounters

it is about Nigeria...and econ. not the best example; we had trouble findign the thesis.

Penelope and the web

wouldn't that be cute? the web, meaning her weaving, her tales, but also the internet. how cutie. one scholar claimed that in the odessey she killed all the suitors, not wily ullysses. woow, what a concept: bring in a researcher in the novel who makes such claims. academics can go back and forth in the novel, in their usual impotent way, which proves nothing and changes nothing. one can say, it is just like my 20 years leading the academic senate: we never made one decision, i am so proud to say. i have a plague to prove it. then all the research i did, which i published in an obscure journal that no one has and not even the library knows about, but i am an important, tenured full professor, who teaches nothing but i am published. my qualitative study was revolutionary and i introviewed three subjects, i mean participants and now i am an expert: don't dare criticize my research. therefore, penelope did it her self. web or no web.

the bird...

the bird in my dream landed on my shoulder to ask me about my son, What is Sebastian up to these days? He is outside somewhere; you will probably see him up by the barn.

And with that the green-yellow bird flew off.

I guess I was up near the barn or coming back from it: you know in dreams how confusing place can be. you never know where you are. you are merely in the brain fluid.

penelope

He had this feeling that yes, if he had just got to the PM's memorial library that yes, all the answers to the pol's death would in fact be found there, in the library. He thought to himself, "The answer to the riddle of the crime of the century, is within these walls." If I just look hard enough, the anwer is here within the walls of the library.

Fred and Ralph...

Did they ever speak to each other? I heard they did not care for each other, but that did not matter when there were stumps to be burned or new roads created with dynamite. (Dynamite seems like such a plastic--word. Who created it and why does it have permission to enter the language?)

At dinner, at 11:30 am, Ralph spoke of tragedies but Fred said almost nothing but whistled through his words when he did speak. That law-iar that owned the apartments got killed out there in Spokane, onethinganother.

off 395 weren't it, whistled Fred.

Ethel looked up with her dentures, and laughed a bit of a fake laugh to avoid her voice breaking....

ballistophobia...

one would think, as a proto assassin, that I love guns and bullets. the truth is, however, that I am scared to death of charges...

the crime...

someone is trying to destroy andalucia university... bomb threats, hateful publications, rumors of corruption, spying, and lampoons about the president and the deans. are these threats coming from the catholic spanish, islamic, or jewish elements??? what happened during arabic class on monday morning?? could the brilliant and charming fatima be seduced by Santiago or by his culture??? will her parents or the dean of Islam house find out? will she take off her head scarf? have the values of the school been perverted to convert the students to catholicism?? is the pope or the archbishop behind it all?

father, unlike son

the son wanders all day, while the father writes on his blog all day, never moving except to go to the fridge and cook, and he is good at eating and cooking, but then sits down again at the blog.

the son comes back stoned and the father sneaks a beer while the son is in the shower.

2012

the year that the planets iline... who predicts the end?? the mayans or the aztecs?? meanwhile the centre for autismo is interviewing people, esp. young people, with the disease. at the same time the dementia society is holding its meeting, leading to mass miscommunication and total discord.

who did you say you were?

i am not going to repeat myself.

who?

don't talk to me

say what

get away from me

who are you

nobody related to you

my son

hell no.

i want to go home

well lets go wander around; that i understand

letsgohomethen

yes

home

yes, the road

lets do it

yes, now

now

lets walk out

of the institution

dementia: going home

I just want to go home; that is all. I don't know where it is but I am happy there. just take me home; home is where the dementia is;no, where the hearth is; where is the burning hearth? i understand the burning part: burn int he the hearth. wha t od it? I just need to get out of here now; to get home; that is it, yes, yes, yes.

Inside of my fridge

the writer seemed to be confused about her thesis.. cultures, or her mother not being there..