election free of freedom

bush reminds me of a man i once knew. he was a man with deep conflicted interests. he never liked where he was going, and he always wanted to go back to what it was before. he was afraid to show any weakness in practical things, but he wore his emotional defects like a shield. if you asked him a question, he would always have an answer: some kind of answer, and never back down even if you showed him all the evidence. he would scream that black was white until he was red in the face. he once advised his flatmate how to cook gyoza (you fry it in a pan for a few minutes, then put in half a cup of water to steam the rest). this guy told him to put them into a pot of cold water and boil it. the flatmate was an amicable fellow, so had no reason to doubt him. 30 minutes later they were left with a brown sludge with grey bits floating inside it. the flatmate threw it away and went hungry. this guy said afterward that he had no idea what he was doing, but it seemed like the right thing to do. he had already eaten anyhow.


wooden boats

i saw a photo of a boy. he wanted to build a ship out of matchsticks. he dreamed of a galleon with three tall masts. he saved his money and spent every penny on matches. he worked for the local green grocers every saturday; waking at 5 in the morning and working until 7 in the evening, while all his friends played football in the park. he would watch them among the orange carrots and bronze onions; sweating as he lifted the thick dusty sacks. visions of the ship burned in his mind. sunday was his favorite day as that was the day he was paid and he spent all his money on matchsticks. he was going to build the biggest matchstick ship in all the world and it would sail for a thousand voyages. for one year he worked as his friends laughed in the yellow sun and the green grass. for one year he held muddy potatoes and threw out soft tomatoes. in the winter it was so cold it bit him and in the summer it was so hot he would come to work with the mind to quit. but the ship anchored in his imagination and he held firm. finally, after working for one year, he had saved enough to buy 56,400 matchsticks. tiny boxes filled his bedroom. for one year he worked to buy them and they towered over him as he drew a deep breath.


death bangs

did lester bangs really say those things about rock music becoming an industry of cool? if he didn't then is it ok to put words into a mouth of a dead guy? i'm talking about almost famous.