problemas, peros y posibilidades

following on the subject of foreskin
data analysis does not make graceful, charismatic or memorable machinery.
i understand the male fixation on gadgetry, on collectibles, on artifice.
it helps arrange and organize.
the cocoon of your car is the skull of your brain, it has four corners.
knowing where your chapstick, your wallet, your phone, your sunglasses, your alcohol gel, is at all times while strapped to the tons of metal, plastic and glass under your butt as a simple flex of the foot propels you along at speeds that kill anything and everything as it goes,
it's where you do all, if any, weeping.

cars aren't cool.
they were always cumbersome, rapey.
and then we supposedly went to the moon.
you guys never got over that.
and since it still bothers you, it really annoys your women, that i do not use caps, Hardly ever.

i had a boyfriend once, who said two things emphatically, one, that if you do not write every day, you are not a writer; and two, you cannot generate storable energy from pedaling a bicycle.

unless you don't know who to talk to, about something you've read, means what was written did not really touch you. you used it as a crutch to pass the time, to be entertained, or informed, but it didn't find a link back to itself through you.

this is my third time in facebook jail in less than a year. my second time for one month.

also, since i live in a tropical forest, this is the third time in less than a year that my face has been attacked in the night by bugs of some sort, with nasty bites that leave huge welts over my eye and nose.

i need a new pair of reading glasses and still have no money.

and now everybody has a pretend disease and no money either.

i'm going to pretend the robots can hear me and will swift and covertly drain the accounts of the mega wealthy, redistribute it evenly among those accounts with less than $1000 in them and destroy all studies pertaining to vaccination and eugenics.

my facebook friend Abbas Fahdel, in lebanon writes:

There are about eleven million Lebanese living abroad, for six million remaining in the country. Many of them hope to be able to leave him, pushed to this by the serious economic and political crisis and by the recent tragedy that has struck Beirut.
Some friends ask me why I stay in Lebanon and why I don't go back to France, especially since I have French nationality and Nour has a Schengen visa valid for several years.
My answer is simple: I have experienced several Iraqi tragedies from France, and for having experienced this, I know how painful it is to follow the news of your country from afar, having as the only source of information what the media want to give some: shorts often rigged, truncated.
I've been living in Lebanon for three years, truly my country of heart. The situation is difficult, very difficult, human, politically and economically. In the South where I live, people even fear a new war, or a new Israeli invasion. Every day Israeli planes fly over us, without this causing any indignation from the international community or the great states allegedly friends of Lebanon.
Every family in the South remains marked by the aftermath of the Israeli invasion. Nour's family for example saw her house completely destroyed by an Israeli bombing. Nour's workshop was also destroyed and all her paintings had been destroyed with it. Despite this, or because of this, I think it's important for us to stay, and resist in our own way. Being a filmmaker, resist is about testifying by documenting everyday events. ′′ We have the art to not die from the truth ", said Nietzsche, and if cinema is a lie that speaks the truth, I also conceive it as an act of life and resistance, the best to prevent anxiety.

i'm going to write, every day, about how very much is at stake "today".
which would you prefer?
new world order? or most great peace?
both are coming straight at us.
in one, the tops, elites, gurus, the pyramids of giza, of tzenotchlan, the nazca lines, no longer exist, no bees, no fish, no beer. in the new world order we are not born and we do not die, there is no music, there is no sound. we never happened.
in the most great peace, we tear out structure that does not help nor hinder our happiness and in it's place we plant flowering trees. we honor our planet by singing to her, resting our bones when we die, in her. we amplify and multiply the art of farming. we elevate the frequency of water out of the miasma of drugs and misery and the blood of billions, to it's perfect state of life before the last century happened.