Blog Archive

Policies into Bills to be made into Laws

Wednesday, November 9, 2016

Anti-prejudice women laws, or anti-prejudice gay and lesbian and transgender and transsexual laws, or open “Free Trade” markets, or Monopoly regulations, or EPA expansion, or universal free healthcare, or universal free Higher Education, or gun regulation laws, or anti-brutality police regulations and laws and anti-gun violence regulations and laws against black men and other minority citizens and civilians, or free childcare, or increase taxes on the wealthy, or friendly environmental laws, or free early childhood classes, or free public school lunches, or ending this 17 year long warfare in the Middle East and redistributing funds to veterans’ welfare and educational infrastructure, or immigration reform, or rightly so turning corporations back into what corporations are which is institutions rather than lending a false identity to corporations as individuals, or no oil pipeline through the Midwest’s heartland, equal pay for equal work, single payer healthcare system, or raise the minimum wage to $21.00 (twenty-one American dollars) hourly rate per increase (height) of annual inflation in the markets according to Mr. Bill Moyers’s information and research, or voter suppression laws, or free media without politicians’ threats or bullying or intimidation against the Free Press’s journalists’ or reporters’ lives who must get home in-time for supper and a bedtime story, or modern American infrastructure such as public libraries and public arboretums and public gardens and public sculpture gardens and public solariums and atriums and public planetariums and public graveyards as safe municipal services to all American private citizens and civilians or, or, or…etc.

By Mistake Erased an Entire Entry:

Friday, April 28, 2017

“.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

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A book: “Manners Culture and Dress: of the Best American Society, including social, commercial and legal forms, Letter Writing, Invitations, &c., also valuable suggestions on Self Culture and Home Training” By Richard A. Wells, A.M., Illustrated, King, Richardson & CO., Publishers, Springfield, Mass., and De Moines, Iowa, 1891.

Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

Never speak to your acquaintances from one side of the street to the other. Shouting is a certain sign of vulgarity. First approach, and then make your communication to your acquaintance or friend in a moderately loud tone of voice.

The above passage is indeed correctly re-copied unto this page.

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Hello.

Upload:

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Word Count Goal: 2,400

Word Count: 2,685

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count: 2,667 + 2,685 = 5,352

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #3 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #1 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 102/66 mmHg / Pulse: 86 (04/07/17)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16) 273 (04/07/17)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16), 53 (04/07/17)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16), 389 (04/07/17)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16) 142 (04/07/17)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16) 5.2 (04/07/17)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl (01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #18 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #12 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #83 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Thursday, April 27, 2017

“The spending of the rich feed more mouths than their philanthropies.”

“No man knows another’s sorrow.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Millennium (a time when the world will be perfect)

In the days of prosperity mankind thinks the millennium has arrived.

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Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

The above passage is indeed correctly re-copied unto this page.

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Hello.

Upload: 4:10pm CT, 4:56pm CT, 5:44pm CT, 8:09pm CT

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Unaffordable Health Care Act

The Republican Party

Thursday, April 27, 2017

Aside from my personal physical #5, #6, #7 pain of daily living through eight years of non-cancerous uterine fibroid tumors and hemorrhaging and excruciating pain to other organs such as specifically the colon and bladder as well as four years of living with non-cancerous thyroid tumors and excruciating pain to the throat area then the nonsensical Republican’s Unaffordable Health Care planned bill will get me and many like me literally killed. More importantly tens of thousands of black and Latina women could possibly die from this same disease I live with each and every single day of my life.

Hang in there: As of now I’m personally re-writing the Affordable Health Care Act for America simply since I’m a writer and not because I’m special.

In order to dismantle the Affordable Healthcare Act for America then one must have something written which is way more awesome then any scale or voucher system in place as a project to play at the business of governance.

Please, don’t vote for this new disgraceful Republican’s “wolf in sheep’s clothing” Unaffordable Health Care Act.

Why does the Republican Party hate the American people?

Why is the Republican Party the party of social fascists?

Yes, as I did read the entire Affordable Health Care Act in February/March 2010 I’ve now finished reading the new proposed Unaffordable Health Care Act piece of Republican dismissive Health Care Act holding up Congress.

Why aren’t there any great writers in the Republican Party?

Why is the Republican Party a party of haters?

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No Whining

No Complaining

~~~

“Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself.”

--- J.F.K.

~~~

Uptown, Minneapolis

1980’s punks who are now 50

Lose their best friend

From an accidental gun shot

The last two weeks have been difficult on an entire 1980’s former punks of uptown, Minneapolis, MN, who mainly and mostly now reside in New Orleans or anywhere except Minnesota.

Peace.

Our condolences…

People are people.

Pain is pain no matter what hair color or hair styles people wear.

The first time I ever noticed the uptown, Minneapolis, MN punks was in the year 1989 when I was allowed to visit my Roseville, MN aunt and uncle.

My Roseville, MN aunt was a Hennepin County social worker (specifically worked with heroin addicts) up until recently then now turned world traveler retiree and will be in Budapest sometime this week?

My Roseville, MN uncle who is married to my Roseville, MN aunt was the Executive Director of The International Institute and vetted refugees and immigrants who came into the entire state of Minnesota. Now turned world traveler retiree and will be in Budapest sometime this week?

My Roseville, MN uncle also literally ran the “Festival of Nations” for about 15 or more years and could be found sweeping the food court area each year even though he ran the entire show.

My one Roseville, MN aunt would make it her hosting duty to take me and my guests (6^th grade girlfriends from Condon Elementary School) to all of the vistas and sights from uptown, Minneapolis’ Italian restaurants and shopping to “Valleyfair” to later on when “Camp Snoopy” opened up at the “Mall of America” and movies and plays and the Walker Arts “Sculpture Garden” and this and many other aspects of culture.

The first time I ever noticed any of the Hippies or trendy snotty or angry pre-hipsters was in the year of 1992 the summer I turned 14 I was allowed to visit the “West Bank” of Minneapolis, MN for one week.

For one week the summer of 1992 I stayed in the upstairs of my other aunt’s south Minneapolis’s duplex which was fully enclosed with a four-season screened-in loveliest glass window porch and French doors.

My south Minneapolis, MN aunt now lives with Multiple Sclerosis.

My south Minneapolis, MN aunt (also a social worker) would make it her hosting duties to take me and my private school friends to the “Seward Café” which to this day the “Seward Café’s” food doesn’t make me ill and is still my favorite “collective” restaurant in the entire world, however.

As of last week: I’m still able to travel to the “Hard Times Café” (favorite food) with my uptown, Minneapolis, MN’s former punk buddies over to the “West Bank.”

However, I’m neither to go to downtown, Minneapolis’ “W Hotel” nor am I to attend the “Gay 90’s” until the year 2024, however.

Please, keep the “W Hotel” and the “Gay 90’s” open for me until I’m able to return and happily and peacefully dance amongst locals, foreigners and tourists.

Yes, on my own I’m allowed to travel to the “Saloon” and to “Caffetto Cafe” and to the “C.C. Club” and to anywhere in uptown, Minneapolis, MN such as “La Familia” skateboard shop or “Kindho’s” or any of my other local favorites and such, if I were to wish.

Nonetheless, under no circumstance am I to travel to the “Seward Café” since the new wave or the new staff of “Sisters’ Camelot” hangs out at the “Seward Café” then I’m to stay out of the “Seward Café” until the year 2021 especially while I’m on foot.

Please, keep the “Seward Café” open until after our generation dies and passes unto another plane of existence. Thank you.

Two Mondays ago, I went back to the “Seward Café” and when people found out what I had done:

Oh, no! I’d taken myself out to breakfast at the “Seward Café” at 7:30am CT and something hit the fan and it wasn’t mine, neither.

One of my best male friends who during his teens and twenties had been a 1980’s uptown, Minneapolis, MN punk gave me the lecture of a lifetime about safety in the Twin Cities and tribal brutality and mean-spirited locals who physically get out of control and are violent. Ok.

If I didn’t understand the memo then his punk friends were going to severely beat me into a bloody pulp to teach me a good lesson in safety. Ok.

Personally, I think my 1980’s uptown, Minneapolis, MN former punk best friend is extremely serious about many subject matter since life has been nothing except one difficult experience after another difficult experience for him and his amazing crew of family and friends from Minnesota to Texas to New Orleans and back.

My buddy’s mom lives about 1 mile away from our house in north Minneapolis on the other side of North Memorial Hospital.

My one best friend has been extremely candid about how he now spends much of his time alone whenever he chooses not to drink any alcohol in the ways in which he used to.

His liver is finally caught up to him after many decades of hard drink in a hard social scene such as his.

Although, most of his peeps are now 50 and will sooner than later begin to look for ways to sustain themselves through retirement, if they ever get to retire:

More importantly Affordable Health Care is mainly “everything” to this specific 1980’s era of political punks across the United States who were “latchkey kids” and starved through the 1980’s Reagan era thus “latchkey kids” and “just say no to drugs” campaign era MTV generation became the 1980’s punk generation.

My one best friend who is now a mechanical engineer and one of the most brilliant people I’ve ever met is now a curmudgeon and extremely grouchy and in a bad mood since 2009 when we first met and worked rigging engines for national acts and their stages while we both watched my best friend’s other close friend Kelly Guddenfelder (R.I.P.) get severely ill and die from prostate cancer December of 2010 (correction on Kelly Guddenfelder’s date of passing.)

My best buddy recently spent the winter in Tucson and immediately he found out the brutal accidental death of his other close friend.

My friend has had to make new plans and arrangements to return back to New Orleans and grieve with many of the 1980’s uptown, Minneapolis, MN punk era people who are broken hearted and shocked over the sudden news of their friend’s loss of life.

50, is too young to die.

50, is too young to pass away.

~~~

Life…

No, I don’t have any anxiety or depression.

Yes, I live with fake-pregnancy hormones.

Please, be my guest

And do live with fake-pregnancy hormones,

And make it look as good as I do.

Who doesn’t get performance anxiety?

Yes, I do make writing look easy.

Yes, I do make writing look easier than writing actually is to do since writing is one of the most intellectually daunting tasks in the world.

One must be nearly a genius to write well.

No, I’m absolutely not any type of genius.

Simply an Indigenous Maya peasant mature adult modern woman American figuring out the English language which is considered ‘the language of war’ vs. Spanish or Italian or French or Latin which are considered ‘the romantic languages.’

The last two weeks have been quite different from any or most other weeks throughout the last four and a half years of quiet and calm suburban living as a part time stay-at-home working housewife and part time nonfiction blog writer.

Most people think I’m a “hermit” which whatever.

Most people think I’m a “recluse” which whatever.

No, not ever have I’ve held the luxury or expansive amount of time to turn recluse or hermit.

Modern lifestyle doesn’t allow for one to become recluse or hermit.

Although, when I’m an old woman, I might and most likely will require “Meals on Wheels” since I do hold a propensity towards leaning alone and “going it alone” for long stretches of time since I’m considered and will always be considered a foreigner in Minnesota.

It’s no good to be alone all of the time even if the locals seem agitated about the economy or get extremely annoyed by foreigners or tourists.

Modern life calls for celebration and tons of morning errands run before the day gets started and “we’re off to the races.”

By most professional standards mostly I’m up and out of bed by 6:00am CT and dressed and prayers said and coffee made by 6:30am CT and by 7:00am CT I’m in search of awesome local Twin Cities’ coffee and by 7:30am CT at the grocery store and by 8:30am CT the tobacco shop and at 9:00am CT get breakfast on the table and at 10:00am CT sit down to breakfast with my current legal partner and watch the Jason Show and 11:00am CT go to work for eight straight hours even though most of my life I’ve been known to be a massive procrastinator yet I get my work well done no matter what which is pretty much literary super hero high standard quality to my work ethic based per our industry.

No, I don’t sit down and drool whenever I procrastinate.

Mainly I do other types of work whenever I procrastinate before I sit down and write.

Mainly when I procrastinate or put off public writing for as long as I do is only because I’m not ready to let go of my cerebral thoughts or I’m not yet ready to be as vulnerable as to share as much as all of this outside of my brain or I have much to write yet I don’t seem to be able to find the correct words in which to say exactly what I want to say since the words seem somewhat meaningless or trite or all completely wrong by the time I go to write on the page.

Yes, computer work takes on many different forms of meaning such as research or correspondence or editing or finances or this and the other thing.

Yes, I procrastinate whenever it comes to public writing not because I dread writing. No.

Mainly, I dread writing the wrong words or “sticking my foot in my mouth” or this or the other thing.

The more I write then the more shy I become about writing.

Yes, I’m tremendously glad to only have two and a half more years to go with this blog.

Although, when I go ahead with the podcast I won’t be able to disguise my voice behind written words.

Personally, I think the podcast is going to be ten times more difficult to do than the blog is to write.

No, I’m not worried at all about the podcast since we’re years away from having to figure out audio levels and adjusters and this and the other thing.

Therefore, I must let out some excess nervous performance energy and focus on writing without any fear in the world about hate mail.

No, I hardly ever get nervous with either public speaking or writing, however.

Yes, I do get slightly nervous right before I publically speak or write.

Yes, I’m a professional communications broadcast engineer expert even though I slightly stink at communicating with any type of person whenever they don’t take full responsibility in their mature adulthood.

Hate mail began early on in the year of 2010 thus hate mail is the least of my worries. Hate mail will always be there.

Hate mail isn’t as much worry as one would think hence one drowns out the noise of haters.

It’s the volume (amount) of hate mail I don’t ever go through any hate mail.

Hate mail takes about a daily hour to erase three hundred messages of hate mail or not since I don’t personally read any hate mail or otherwise email unless it’s from someone I personally know.

Email has now nearly become obsolete to me with the exception of emptying out the inbox.

Simply I erase hate mail and still yet there’s much of it to be organized since hate mail takes time to erase.

Love mail also takes much time to erase.

Hate mail is a chore since I don’t read any of it.

Love mail is a chore since I don’t read any of it.

Why would I ever read hate mail?

No, I wouldn’t read through hate mail otherwise hate mail does a psychological number on my brain. I don’t allow for any such foolishness such as hate mail to cross my mind since I seriously don’t have any time for hate mail or love mail for such matter.

No, I’m not emotionally strong enough to take on hate mail or love mail therefore I ignore it all and procrastinate and live and think and play and research and text for social media since I’m not connected to any online social media I tend to text my friends and they get it I’m on my cell phone doing some form of social media and share pictures while I hide from the world and badly write long English text novels while I have downtime or while seriously procrastinating and running away from publically writing or some other serious work such as finances.

The older I get then the more I want to play, however.

The responsibilities are daunting.

Yes, I, and, only, I, alone, am responsible for myself since I don’t require any type of life coach or lifestyle guru or lifestyle babysitter.

Nope.

Yes, I’ve been procrastinating since I was a child even though I always get my work done without having to be babysat.

Yes, my brain is wired for procrastination.

Yes, I put off my work since I already know what I’m going to write, however.

Hardly ever do I know how to structure writing since structure is my weak point therefore I get stuck and paralyzed by the daunting task to have to organize and/or structure my thoughts.

Ah.

Writing is for geniuses. Since I’m not any type of genius then writing is way bigger and more difficult than the act of writing itself.

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 2,500

Word Count: 2,667

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count: 2,667

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #2 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #1 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 102/66 mmHg / Pulse: 86 (04/07/17)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16) 273 (04/07/17)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16), 53 (04/07/17)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16), 389 (04/07/17)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16) 142 (04/07/17)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16) 5.2 (04/07/17)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl (01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #18 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #12 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #83 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

“It is a serious disease to worry over what has not occurred.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Mettle (courage, spirit, ardor)

He was a man of fine mettle during the entire war.

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Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

The above passage is indeed correctly re-copied unto this page.

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Hello.

Upload: pm CT

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No Whining

No Complaining

~~~

“Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself.”

--- J.F.K.

~~~

No Blog

Official Sick Day

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 1,000 personal diaries

Word Count:

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count:

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #1 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #2 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 102/66 mmHg / Pulse: 86 (04/07/17)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16) 273 (04/07/17)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16), 53 (04/07/17)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16), 389 (04/07/17)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16) 142 (04/07/17)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16) 5.2 (04/07/17)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl (01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #18 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #12 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #83 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Tuesday, April 25, 2017

“The good Lord gave me a brain that works so fast that in one moment I can worry as much as it would take others a whole year to achieve.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Macabre (gruesome, ghastly, horrible)

The macabre dance caused the people to shriek.

--- --- ---

Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

The above passage is indeed correctly re-copied unto this page.

--- --- ---

Hello.

Upload: pm CT

--- --- ---

No Whining

No Complaining

~~~

“Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself.”

--- J.F.K.

~~~

No Blog

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 1,000 personal diaries

Word Count:

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count:

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #6 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #1 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 102/66 mmHg / Pulse: 86 (04/07/17)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16) 273 (04/07/17)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16), 53 (04/07/17)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16), 389 (04/07/17)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16) 142 (04/07/17)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16) 5.2 (04/07/17)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl (01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #18 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #12 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #83 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Monday, April 24, 2017

“A stab in the heart leaves a hole.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Mince (spare, hold back)

He did not mince words when he called them to account.

--- --- ---

Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

The above passage is indeed correctly re-copied unto this page.

--- --- ---

Hello.

Upload: pm CT

--- --- ---

No Whining

No Complaining

~~~

“Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself.”

--- J.F.K.

~~~

No Blog

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 1,000 personal diaries

Word Count:

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count:

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #5 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #2 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 102/66 mmHg / Pulse: 86 (04/07/17)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16) 273 (04/07/17)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16), 53 (04/07/17)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16), 389 (04/07/17)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16) 142 (04/07/17)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16) 5.2 (04/07/17)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl (01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #18 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #12 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #83 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Saturday, April 22, 2017

“Suffering can also make one laugh.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Minion (one highly favored or a servile dependent who does unquestioningly what he is told)

The knight and his minion arrived for the festivities.

--- --- ---

Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

The above passage is indeed correctly re-copied unto this page.

--- --- ---

Hello.

Upload: 3:26am CT (partied with the neighbors), 3:51am CT

Nursing a nine (9) week cold…

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No Whining

No Complaining

~~~

“Only Thing We Have to Fear Is Fear Itself.”

--- J.F.K.

~~~

“Migos”

(Grammatical corrections were made. Thank you.)

No, absolutely not: don’t be ridiculous:

Of course, I don’t want our money back. NO.

No, I want don’t want (correction) our money back. I want to hear lyrics with more than one word in them…

No, I want don’t want my money back.

Wholeheartedly we spend money where we love to learn and work and live and thrive.

Thank you,

Peace Out.

Gabriela

P.S. one Mr. Bill Maher is a rock star. Thank you.

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 1,000 personal diaries

Word Count: 137

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count: 6,535 + 1,456 = 7,991 + 137 = 8,128

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #3 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #2 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 102/66 mmHg / Pulse: 86 (04/07/17)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16) 273 (04/07/17)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16), 53 (04/07/17)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16), 389 (04/07/17)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16) 142 (04/07/17)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16) 5.2 (04/07/17)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl (01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #17 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #11 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #82 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Friday, April 21, 2017

“Man comes into the world with an OY! and leaves with a Gevalt!.”

“Lust and reason are enemies.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Procrastinator (one who delays or puts off)

As a correspondent my friend is a procrastinator.

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Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

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Mr. Carson Daly

Yes, Mr. Carson Daly has more staying “star power” than most anybody else in television or other mediums…

Mr. Carson Daly’s cool.

Mr. Carson Daly is a professional and a gentleman.

No, when I worked for Mr. Carson Daly in 2000 I had no idea he’d been a host of an MTV television show. No idea. I was totally embarrassed then when I found out.

No, I still haven’t seen the 1997-2000 MTV run of Mr. Carson Daly’s MTV television show, however.

As far as I’ve been informed: MTV’s bigger than anything else out there.

MTV is or was ‘a’ “voice of a generation” therefore Mr. Carson Daly has the “Gen-Exer’s” ‘square in his pocket’ as staying power.

We believe anything Mr. Carson Daly has to say.

Plus, the 90 year olds in northern, Minnesota only watch the “Today” television morning show for Mr. Carson Daly.

NO, I haven’t ever told the 90 year olds about how Mr. Carson Daly was my first boss or most likely they’ll want autographs and I’m not into getting autographs for anybody especially not from my former bosses. It’s funny watching the 90 year olds get all excited to watch Mr. Carson Daly. Ha...LOL…Mr. Carson Daly is somewhat of a television hero in northern, Minnesota. Who would have though it? Not me.

--- --- ---

Ms. Sarah Green

Yes, New York based executive producer Ms. Sarah Green is indeed the professional who set my career afoot even though she probably knows more than I do I wasn’t going to like documentary filmmaking much less being responsible for a former and now dissolved film company, December 31, 2014.

Yes, Sarah Green is family since one of her best friends from Rockport, MA is my uncle who’s now as of recently survived a major heart attack and is in recovery. He’s doing alright.

Yes, Sarah Green is also the producer of the film “Frida” and works with any celebrities from: I don’t know…the list’s a mile long.

We entrust our careers to Sarah Green.

“No news is good news.”

Personally, I stay out of the radar of Sarah Green unless…

A phone call needs to be made, however.

No, I don’t ever make phone calls unless it’s to my peers.

P.S. Yes, my personal roster of information was stolen in the year 2007 when a former con-artist producer Caucasian Norway, Michigan woman took all of my contacts. Ok.

Yes, I’m able and capable and allowed to get a hold of Sarah Green at anytime, however.

More precisely I’m a Maya Indigenous peasant and tend to “run for the hills” and hide.

P.S. Yes, one Ms. Sarah Jessica Parker is my long distant cousin, however.

No, we haven’t ever met.

If I were to meet one Ms. Sarah Jessica Parker then most likely we’d meet at a family reunion where “name tags” are a must.

--- --- ---

Sean Daly vs. Sean Daley

(Not the same person)

No, I’ve neither met nor have I ever been properly introduced to one Mr. Sean Daley of “Atmosphere” from south, Minneapolis, MN. Person, place or thing?

Yes, I look forward to seeing “Atmosphere” in action and on stage sometime before we all get too old and die from natural causes.

Yes, I quite well know and platonically love and respect one Mr. Sean Daly of Los Angeles, California as in Mr. Carson Daly’s…

Yes, Sean Daly and I’ll be brother and sister until the day we die since we hardly ever saw eye-to-eye on anything and quite disagreed yet got over our egos each and every single morning for months as we continually saw each other and peacefully greeted each other at 5:00am ET breakfast. We drove each other ‘crazy’ “lost in translation.”

--- --- ---

“Migos”

No, I neither know nor have I ever been personally introduced to any of the three rappers from one group known and titled as “Migos.”

The only wish I have for “Migos” is to make music videos about ‘what they know’ rather than some deep and imaginative fulfilled wishes in the portrayal and character to be rich and famous and nothing else. Food for thought…

All I know is: I know nothing.

My opinion is my own to uphold to and to change at anytime I wish since it’s any mature woman’s prerogative to change her mind at anytime she wishes to.

For one hour straight much of the only lyric I did make out was the word, “N.”

No, absolutely not: don’t be ridiculous:

No, I want don’t want (correction) my money back. I want to hear lyrics with more than one word in them…

No, I want don’t want my money back.

No, I want don’t want my money back. Wink.

--- --- ---

Sean Tillman a.k.a. the Roseville mall’s name?

(Most definitely I’ll have to research)

Yes, Sean Tillman and I went to high school at Rudy Perpich Center for Arts Education.

No, Mr. Tillman and I don’t have anything to say to one another since we were schoolmates and not much of anything else.

The last time I saw one Mr. Sean Tillman we stood next to one another in 2004 after a St. Paul rain storm and didn’t utter a single word to each other since we probably didn’t recognize each other in young adulthood.

No, I didn’t speak to one Mr. Sean Tillman since I have bad vision and we’ll leave it as it is.

It is what it is…

We’d respect each other in public, however.

His peeps and my best buddy peeps cross paths therefore I’ve heard about Mr. Tillman’s career throughout the decades, however.

Nothing.

No, I haven’t gone out of my way to know any of Mr. Tillman’s music since I’m still doing an independent study on the decade of the 1970’s and I’m now at 1979.

We wish you all a goodnight and a goodnight to all.

We wish you all the best life has to offer.

Okay, I still have two hours of vacuuming and three loads of wash and clean the bathrooms before the Sabbath’s sundown.

Peace.

--- --- ---

P.S. Yes, Prince did record at the studio I worked at.

No, I neither know Paisley Park nor do I pretend to have ever gone there for “dance parties.”

Yes, our friends who were live on-air local news sports reporters in northern, Minnesota “The Walkers” of Edina, Minnesota invited me to Paisley Park except I thought they were inviting me to a vegan salad bar therefore I passed it up and I don’t regret it one bit.

--- --- ---

P.S. Yes, for two years (February 2001-February 2003) I worked at KDLH (closed down station) as a camera “floor director” with now KARE II’s Trisha Volpe and KSTP’s now Chris Long.

Yes, I also worked with KARE II’s Sven…

Although, I was “green” as a (May 2003-September 2003) 4 months “technical director” and kept making Sven’s legs and arms disappear. Sven had the patience of an angel. Not once did Sven ever scream or yell at me. Thanks, Sven.

Yes, one of my favorite people in the entire world is Edward Moody as of now KBJR since he was nothing except a gentleman and a professional and well humored while an entire newsroom staff watched me miserably fail at $9.21 an hour as weekend “Photog” and weekend “non-linear editor” and weekday afternoon “graphics” personnel and afternoon set-ups of sister station dish signal and weekdays “technical director” while directed the five and six and nine and ten live on-air newscasts and run any of the following: teleprompter or sound or cameras or anything else if any of the “production assistants” were ever ill or on vacation as well as update the HTML website at the end of each night then lights out and go home. Whew!

--- --- ---

No, I’m not almost nearly famous anything.

Yes, “I’m a kid from Brooklyn.”

The spirit of Mozart lives in me.

The day I walked around the grounds of Mozart’s former home in Austria I knew I’d fallen in love with his spirit no matter how hardened I became by life ultimately who doesn’t like to party and be agreeable to a point of self-respect and rejoice and be happy with playing amongst one’s peers.

The people mentioned above are all public figures and professionals in our industry.

Yes, of course, Mr. Bob Hugh Monahan gave me permission to personally and specifically write about him, us, as great friends throughout the decades…

Peace.

~~~

A Short Story

“Gabriel” Holm

“Bradford, Massachusetts”

(April 20, 1996)

“4/20”

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 1,000

Word Count: 1,456

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count: 4,837 + 1,698 = 6,535 + 1,456 = 7,991

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #2 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #1 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 102/66 mmHg / Pulse: 86 (04/07/17)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16) 273 (04/07/17)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16), 53 (04/07/17)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16), 389 (04/07/17)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16) 142 (04/07/17)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16) 5.2 (04/07/17)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl (01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #17 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #11 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #82 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Thursday, April 20, 2017

“One man wants to live but can’t, another can but doesn’t want to.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Capricious (subject to sudden, illogical change, or fantastic notion)

One cannot depend on him, he is too capricious.

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Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

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Yes, by May 14^th, 2017 I’ll write about how in 2010 both my current legal partner and I covered a former colleague in a $10,000 lie about Mr. Ringo Starr. Thank you. Apology required to my current legal partner. Apology accepted.

Yes, do call me Mr. Darcy. Thank you.

Supposedly, I’m the female counterpart of Mr. Darcy and that’s the inside joke.

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Personal Notes:

Yes, my first respectful and wonderful and amazing and talented and famous and non-sexually harassing or non-sexually assaulting celebrity bosses were one Mr. Carson Daly as a “executive music producer” of one 15 million dollar budget production from USA Films in Association with Scout Productions in Boston, Massachusetts, first-ever feature-length digital movie “Session 9” by “director” and “writer” and “producer” Mr. Brad Anderson and “1^st Assistant Director” Ms. Jennifer Blum and “personal assistant” to director Mr. Brad Anderson now producer Mr. Sean Daly of the “IMDB,” each individual is now seventeen (17) years well into their careers in our industry. Congratulations!

Yes, we’ve all worked together for months and months at a time. We’ve known each other in person. We’ve spoken to each other face to face about production responsibilities and favorite films and music and global travel. We know each other’s collective smells under hot lights and hot sun and dust. We’ve peacefully gathered and shared and broken bread together. Partied.

We’d know one another ‘a mile away’ and possibly not utter a single word and warmly smile from across any room.

In public, even if we were to pretend not to know one another from our “old school” days of 2000 field production on-location asbestos filled work on a “psychological horror” thriller film set in Danvers State Hospital in Danvers, Massachusetts.

Yes, my employment was worth $80,000 straight out of film school in August of 2000 as one professional “volunteer production assistant” in the “art department” and “prop department” and “catering department” and “set dressing department” and shadowing the set designer and shadowing the unit production manager and shadowing the accountants and shadowing the producer and shadowing the executive producer and shadowing office production assistants at the office located downtown Boston, Massachusetts.

Did “garbage duty” and “coffee duty” and at the end of the production took up the courage to do “water duty” to the actors even though I was lectured by the 2^nd A.D. as to how to precisely open up a bottle of water for talent and also one-and-only “bagel duty” and built sets and painted sets and got lost throughout the former and literal closed down insane asylum buildings and read through hospital records forgotten and left all over the floors and shelves…

…found out my Rockport Grandfather’s mother had been secretly admitted into the Danvers State Hospital. No one in our family had ever talked about her disappearance. Neither did the East Coast or the West Coast cousins ever talked about what had ever happened to our Grandfather’s mother. She disappeared off the records. No, I haven’t broken the news to my cousins yet. I dread the day I do. Putting off the bad news for as many decades as possible. Peace.

Once got into trouble with the lead set designer for getting lost throughout the campus and hospital wards…the last day of production gave up on concentrating on work and went skateboarding and didn’t look back.

Throughout the last day of production on location I took snacks from catering department and went back to skateboarding to my heart’s content.

Catering knew my exact 20 (location) while I decided whether to go on with an independent film company or go to work for Hollywood.

Yes, I had one of the greatest cries in my entire life when I found mutilated animals on the grounds of our film shoot’s location. The situation did frighten the life straight out of me. I didn’t know people were such beasts to the animal kingdom.

Production assistants weren’t allowed to take any naps during one hour lunch periods out of 16 hour day shoots which lingered late into the nights.

~~~

Yes, as of April 20^th, 2017 most if not then all of the “volunteer production assistants” (unpaid) on the set of “Session 9’s” official “IMDB” titles have held the opportunity to go onto Hollywood simply and only because my peers have an official “IMDB” title except for me since the last time we checked the IMBD in 2010 (correction on year) when we tried to submit one of our independent films “The Process” for the “IMDB” catalogue, however.

Twice, rejected/denied “IMDB” access to take our ‘rightful place’ ‘under the thrown’ as to the proper and official “IMDB” title to place my former unmarried name (nee, Long) “Gabriel Long” next to my filmmaking “volunteer production assistant” filmmaking peers alas and henceforth we continue to be independent to this day with my diaries/journal entries and online private blog since I’ve been a retired documentary filmmaker since March 2011 for the past six years.

My documentary filmmaking career only lasted (1999-2011.)

Twelve years a filmmaking career brought to a halt in March of 2011.

Yes, we kept “Taviette Film Productions” running with the lights on in the shop and no productions scheduled for three consecutive years until the film company was dissolved by the accountants on December 31, 2014.

We fulfilled a complete good fifteen (15) year run and not one single liability or any debt or lawsuits in fifteen years of filmmaking. I thank our lucky stars.

Yes, during the Boston, Massachusetts’ premiere of “Session 9” by director, writer, and producer Brad Anderson and executive music producer Carson Daly and 1^st Assistant then (and now Executive Producer) Ms. Jennifer Blum there was a literal storm and “power shortage” at the theater which had been announced over the public newspapers’ about the premiere event screening which the premiere wasn’t ever viewed on such a night therefore we cheerfully and solemnly left the theatre and respectfully and peacefully partied together for one more time then we went our separate ways and wished nothing except for the very best for each other throughout our lifetime.

No, I’m not clingy. This is the first time I’ve ever written about “Session 9” experience in seventeen (17) years.

Yes, for life we made brothers and sisters.

“Session 9” crew and cast have each other’s phone numbers and we may party at anytime we fancy for the main sake and purpose to get out of our stuffy offices and away from computer screens and meet up anywhere in the world particularly in Massachusetts since most of the crew is still in Massachusetts.

No, neither Mr. Carson Daly nor I know of each other nor of one another (at least I don’t think so) nor do we pretend to be acquainted otherwise. Nope.

On the set of “Session 9” I learned all about “Harry Potter.” Thank you.

On the set of “Session 9” (towards the end of production) I learned all about “garbage duty” and some more “garbage duty.” Thank you to unit production management. Most of production is garbage duty. Most filmmaking is sausage making. Most of filmmaking is in many ways similar to working in a professional world renowned kitchen.

Yes, I most certainly and officially did invite one of my best friends ever since my 8^th grade year of private school as my one-and-only ‘guest of Honor’ as an invited “Congdon” from Woodland neighborhood also possibly the one-hundredth thousandth (100,000 I stand corrected) richest woman in the world to join me for one day of entire observation and filming schedule even though my best friend was my personal guest and not any type of volunteer or worker she was game after I told her the food on set was rock star then she agreed to join me as my personal guest.

P.S. If anyone has the time or power to “officially” add me to the “IMDB,” then please be my guest. Thank you.

Otherwise, we move on in any and many and all manner of shape and form. Thank you.

“No sweat off my back.”

We made it.

We’re here.

On my way back from novel writing I’ll collect an “IMDB” for original script writing. Thank you. (I’m in no hurry.)

Yes, in 2000 I did rightfully earn my spot on the “IMDB,” however.

Continually, doors close.

No, I don’t have much time or energy before I retire as a nonfiction blog writer and novelist and screenwriter or executive content editor. Thanks.

~~~

No Whining

No Complaining

~~~

“Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself.”

--- J.F.K.

~~~

4/20

In the fall year of 1999 as a junior at Big Ten university scholastically I stood up and gave a five minute timed speech and visual presentation to my scholarly speech/debate peers (as to) for the reasons and logical points any and most drugs such as “cocaine” and “heroin” and “crystal meth” and “marijuana” as well as prostitution as well as any Sunday distribution of liquor and/or beer sales ought to be legalized Nationwide. Thank you.

We’ve covered basic material.

Moving on.

Next.

Let’s go.

Keep up.

(No, I’m neither any type of “King” nor “Queen,” nor “chaperon.” No.)

(Neither am I any type of “chauffer” nor “babysitter” to any other mature adults while in “common shared spaces” and/or “common shared experiences.” How delightful.

No, I’m neither any “subject” of any Queen nor monarchies. I’m an American. ‘I’m a kid from Brooklyn,’ I’m a Private American Citizen and Civilian.) I know my Constitutional Rights.

Tired of writing in either English or Spanish languages.

During the entire three days of deliverance and speeches and debates present in junior year of university in 1999 not one single classmate stood up to counterpoint my “tax” and unnecessary “religious” arguments in my speech mainly since numbers make sense in the same manner, shape and form in which music does also make sense since mathematics doesn’t lie and neither does composition (sheet music//sheet writing.)

Yes, I’m definitely deaf tone, however.

Working on it…

~~~

A Short Story

“Gabriel” Holm

“Bradford, Massachusetts”

(April 20, 1996)

“4/20”

Tomorrow? …Next 4/20? ...

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 1,400

Word Count: 1,698

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count: 2,280 + 2,557 = 4,837 + 1,698 = 6,535

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #1 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #2 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 102/66 mmHg / Pulse: 86 (04/07/17)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16) 273 (04/07/17)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16), 53 (04/07/17)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16), 389 (04/07/17)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16) 142 (04/07/17)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16) 5.2 (04/07/17)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl (01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #17 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #11 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #82 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

“Not all the time is life bad---or good.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Prodigal (wasteful, recklessly, extravagant)

The story of the prodigal son is told in the bible.

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Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

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No Whining

No Complaining

~~~

“Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself.”

--- J.F.K.

~~~

North, Minneapolis

Black Violence

Thank you, to Myth’s

petite and strong Caucasian

“Kung Fu lady” bouncer

with beautiful long blonde dreadlocks

who literally saved my life last night.

No, I won’t ever forget it, sister.

Dearest “Myth,” as a request: please, hang on to my black and grey golf cap (actually, “Newsy Cap”) in the “lost and found” for at least one month, right?

Hoping to return to “Myth” two more times before May 14, 2017 specifically for Mr. “DJ Durel’s” jams. Thanks.

Otherwise, please pass on the grey and black cap as a gesture of goodwill and gratitude to the kind and smart and intelligent petite and strong Caucasian “Kung Fu lady” bouncer with beautiful long blonde dreadlocks. The cap cost $15.00 in 2013 at Kohl’s, however. Haven’t been able to find another one quite like it. It’s an awesome friend. The hat, I mean. The hat is delightful…like a best friend.

~~~

In Chicago, Illinois brutality and violence is mainly black gang-on-gang violence while in the Twin Cities black brutality and violence occurs anytime black ghetto people go off the mouth in their raggedy clothes then ‘everybody’ else around gets their underwear twisted up into a bunch.

No, I’m not any type of “ghetto fabulous” or “ghetto nerd.”

No, my entire life existence isn’t about pretending to be someone I’m not or a music video actress depicting a ‘ho’ or some psychologically twisted idealism of a caricature I might want to portray or impersonate such as “black face” since the very person who I am is more than good enough for this dirty little racist state which seems to hate people of color and people of color hate each other more than white Caucasian people will ever hate them all together.

For whatever immature reasons black people in the Twin Cities take “hot air” filled words way, too, seriously and don’t seem to differentiate between any real physical threat of violence vs. “little kid’s” threat when angry black people (mainly women) go off the mouth. Why is it?

Who cares what angry black women have to scream about?

Why are the Twin Cities’ black people socially backwards?

~~~

Yes, last night as we walked out of the venue “Myth” we were pepper sprayed by a white male bouncer who defended himself and a transsexual looking screaming black woman the size of my thigh who seemed to have started most of the violence by hanging out of a car sunroof window and continuously yelled into the crowd some weird stuff about some more weird stuff. She was rabid and practically foaming at the mouth.

The black screaming transsexual skinny and under malnourished woman screamed into the crowd some inedible words we simply couldn’t understand what the big deal was all about.

We simply thought she was tripping off of cocaine and the more she screamed the more she became unbearable and uglier and uglier and possibly looking to get pepper sprayed square in the face.

Personally, I’ve done crowd control.

Immediately, when the woman began her public disturbance I would’ve pepper sprayed at her face to stop her from hurting anyone else in the crowd much less herself.

Yes, I’m a pacifist and I thought about knocking her lights out for public misconduct and public nuisance and public disturbance and for getting the crowd worked up into a fearful frenzy.

Personally, I blame her for having the entire crowd get pepper sprayed while walking out of the venue.

She acted like nobody instead of somebody.

She was nobody to pay any attention to.

Minnesotans tend to take the liberty to tell me I’m “ugly” to look at thus all I do is hide when in public.

There’s no such thing as “ugly.”

No, I’m not ugly. Are you absurd?

How stupid is such a statement?

Yes, “beauty” is in the eye of the beholder since “beauty” fades and smarts and kindness and intelligence doesn’t ever go away.

Please, get it through your thick skulls.

We’re here for this present lifetime and one is considered lucky to return since when we pass unto stardust then who knows when one will return back to Earth or into human form from nothing except dust into human biology once again. We’re lucky to be here now.

Life is indeed precious.

Black and violent and brutal Minnesota people are disagreeable and unsociable while in public and in general and Twin Cities’ black Americans know this truth to be true and somewhat of a kind observation to put it mildly.

Violent black women and men are equally unsociable and disrespectful and disagreeable and a nightmare to share any public “common shared spaces” or “common shared experiences” with Twin Cities’ black Americans or black Chicago folk.

Black and violent and brutal Minnesotans and Chicago folk aren’t fit to be seen in public.

Black and violent and brutal Minnesotans and Chicago folk aren’t ready for any type of mature adulthood since they’re the least uncivilized people one will ever encounter and violent and brutal and must be treated like violent out of control children and adults alike.

Yes, I’ve started to think there’s a dysfunctional DNA strand in the Twin Cities’ black community since they don’t seem to be able to keep their hands to themselves and they have an impulse to yell or hit anything which doesn’t like them or wants anything to do with them.

Violent black people remind me of out of control mentally disabled humans of any age when mentally disabled humans aren’t able to utilize their words to precisely communicate how to best fulfill their needs without taking their anger out on other innocent bystanders.

Twin Cities’ black people truly seem to self-loath.

Why do black people self-hate as much as they do?

Personally, I’ve lived in 12 different ghettos and no one saw me go around taking out my anger on the first person I saw on the streets. No.

The ghetto and violent black women are out of control.

The ghetto doesn’t have anything worthwhile to show for except violence and more violence. Pity.

All that talk about how creative the ghetto is.

Yeah, right. Don’t make me laugh hard as all of it.

~~~

“Migos” concert was great only because my Portland, Maine brother’s company is wonderful and pure and beautiful.

My brother smiled ear-to-ear and how can I beat that? I can’t.

“Migos” looked and nearly sounded the same as in their music rap videos with the same repetitious compositional camera shots which seemed to convey the message to desperately be portrayed to be accepted or to become a part of an elite Caucasian world which isn’t really ever going to accept "Migos” until “Migos” either takes a shower or is reborn with white skin or a different lineage or heritage.

No, I personally don’t have anything against “Migos.”

No, “Migos” aren’t my mortal enemies. No.

“Migos” was fine.

The only wish I have for “Migos” is to make music videos about ‘what they know’ rather than some deep and imaginative fulfilled dream like wishes in the character portrayal to be rich rather than human.

For one hour straight much of the only lyric I did make out was the word, “N.” No, I absolutely don’t want my money back. I want to hear lyrics with more than one word in them…

We wish the very best life has to offer to “Migos.”

What do I know? All I know, is I know nothing.

Yep, I burst a bubble somewhere.

“Mind over Matter.”

What’s with black rappers needing to desperately convey through music videos the assimilation into Caucasian elite culture?

Yes, I’m Caucasian adopted and Maya-Salvadorian American educated elite and ‘I ain’t ever seen no’ black person inside our private membership golf clubs not even good enough to serve our Italian sodas to us poolside. White working poor people serve white elite. Let’s make some serious contrasts and comparisons. I don’t make up the rules. I simply observe the rules.

What’s with black rappers needing to desperately convey through music videos they’re nothing to elites hence rappers aim for portrayals of a rich and possibly famous elite lifestyle only to be enslaved by an economic system which hates their kind and isn’t ever going to accept their blackness as an equal opportunity employer.

No, I still have no idea who or what “Migos” was until last night. Person, place or thing? A rap group. Ok.

It’s alright. I’ll have to do more research to get an ear for what on Earth the lyrics say other than the word “nigger” since the repetition of the word “nigger” gets real old, real fast and real quick.

Nearly and almost I want our $188.00 back simply due to the fact “Migos” sang the word “nigger” over and over again for nearly and close to an hour.

“Migos” wasn’t up to their optimal and it was obvious to see.

No, nobody needs to sell “Migos” to me.

We already bought tickets.

“Migos” came to Minneapolis, MN and sang mediocre songs, collected their money and ran away from an encore.

Personally, I’ve been in this business since 2000.

No need to sell me on anything especially not someone who’s created a digital empire from nothing while standing in this tiny study in which I may concentrate and write without turning into any type of “sold out.”

The reason why nobody will kick my derrière about what I write here is because I’m not any type of “sell out.” No.

No, I didn’t “sell out” to corporations much less did I sell out to “the people” and mainly their sad and angry dreams for a divided America.

Forward and onwards, friends.

Let’s go.

People tell me the reason why rappers and singers aren’t always up to par, or up to their optimal performance or up to their best mainly because too, many drugs are involved. Ok. I don’t know.

53% of Americans are on some type of pain killer pharmaceutical pills therefore I don’t judge.

It’s obvious when any performers aren’t up to their peak or optimal performance.

"Migos" was fine like eating a candy bar when you’ve already had enough to eat yet one forces themselves to eat the candy bar, anyway.

Personally, I wouldn’t have gotten myself out of bed to have gone and seen “Migos,” however.

As a favor to my best friend, I did.

~~~

The “Myth” venue is a great space.

For the most part the “Myth” venue’s staff was wonderful except at the entrance doors the venue’s staff seemed to play “favoritism” by cherry picking or letting in black people by their look rather than by the tickets already purchased by many of us standing in line.

My buddy and I watched “the great unwashed” (people who tremendously needed showers) get into the venue without any tickets while we were repeatedly told to go from one line to another even though we’d paid $188.00 while “Myth’s” bouncers’ peeps or friends got in for free.

Personally, I added up how much lost revenue the venue’s bouncers’ lost the venue. It’s not looking good for business.

Yes, we luckily were the last two people to be allowed in and mainly and simply because I have the look of someone who says, “Try and tell me, my money isn’t any good enough here.”

Even though we were VIP we couldn’t find the bloody VIP section.

We stood house front centre and held an amazing view of the entire club. No complaints there.

Except, if or when: one opts out of VIP then one’s bound to have to take on the drunken cheaply dressed women impersonating the look and fashion of modern music video “ho” characters in the balcony and their cheap spiked heels flying all over the place while the drunken women tried and hump air in public.

Yes, my big toe on my left foot is messed up today because some drunk impersonation of a “ho” in cheap $10.00 tan high heels and a white tank top with her nipple hanging out kept backing up into me which I was all the way up against the railing towards the back and couldn’t get any further away from her and her clique of impersonated “ho’s” outfit in their cheap ten dollar wardrobe.

Yes, ever since 2014 whenever I go out in public my entire assemble is worth $2,000 in Armani.

No, the worth of my wardrobe doesn’t mean anything except I know how much people’s clothes actually do cost therefore please don’t “put on any airs” when I know exactly what materials costs what.

Yes, it’s indeed outdated to put on airs.

My right big toe is swollen to the size of a small balloon.

Nope. No worries. No, I don’t ever lawsuit anybody unless I want to drain people from their security and put them behind by seven generations.

We’ve got the time and money and attorneys on retainer therefore going to court until we die would only benefit the attorneys and nobody else therefore I don’t believe in ever suing anybody else unless I get gravely injured or killed or my family and friends do also.

Thank goodness I have a large and good and strong and kind heart because my mind is ice cold and calculating and sharp as a knife. No doubt about it.

My heart melts with kindness otherwise I’d be a complete tyrant which I’m not.

~~~

Peace out.

“Migos” thank you. You changed my life forever.

We’ll be praying for your safe travels and success.

~~~

The Twin Cities shan’t become a “fly-over” state since I personally want the next New York City to be placed right here, however.

We must take care of this putrid and violent culture of racism and senseless violence otherwise this Twin Cities might possibly be one of the most violently boring places to live in the entire of the Western Hemisphere.

No, I’m not any type of recluse.

Simply, I don’t go out much past 8:00pm CT since nothing good ever happens pass dark.

With All My Love;

Gabriela

P.S. No, I’m not mad at anybody.

Simply, icing my toe.

~~~

What’s busting your chops, Minnesota?

No, I’m not any type of celebrity yet I’m more famous than most of Minnesota’s celebrities without the hassle of being recognized? Ha!...LOL…

No, I’m neither technically famous nor any celebrity.

Yes, I’m a private American citizen and civilian.

Yes, 2014 there were 3 million blog readers.

No, I haven’t checked for May 2017 yet.

Yes, I wisely chose my career.

No, I’ve neither met nor have I ever been properly introduced to one Mr. Sean Daley of “Atmosphere” from south, Minneapolis, MN. Person, place or thing?

Yes, I quite well know and platonically love and respect one Mr. Sean Daly of Los Angeles as in Mr. Carson Daly’s…Yes, Sean Daly and I’ll be brother and sister until the day we die since we hardly ever saw eye-to-eye on anything and quite disagreed yet got over our egos each and every single morning we saw each other and peacefully greeted each other. We drove each other ‘crazy’ “lost in translation.”

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 1,500

Word Count: 2,557

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count: 984 + 1,296 = 2,280 + 2,557 = 4,837

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #1 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #2 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 102/66 mmHg / Pulse: 86 (04/07/17)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16) 273 (04/07/17)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16), 53 (04/07/17)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16), 389 (04/07/17)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16) 142 (04/07/17)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16) 5.2 (04/07/17)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl (01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #17 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #11 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #82 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

“It is better to live in joy than die in sorrow.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Prodigious (marvelous, huge, extraordinary)

The construction of the Panama Canal was prodigious undertaking.

--- --- ---

Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

The above passage is indeed correctly re-copied unto this page.

--- --- ---

Hello.

Upload: 6:13pm CT, 6:56pm CT, 7:14pm CT

--- --- ---

We get done with work at 8:00pm.

We won’t be out of our driveway until 8:30pm and travel time to St. Paul is 30 minutes thus we won’t be at Myth club until 9:00pm or 9:30pm depending on the talking GPS which she gets us lost each and every time.

We’ll be quiet as mice. We won’t be disruptive unless we say “excuse me” and “please” and “thank you.”

--- --- ---

No Whining

No Complaining

~~~

“Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself.”

--- J.F.K.

~~~

“Migos”

April 18^th, 2017

Venue: Myth

Event: Migos LIVE at Myth!

Date: Tuesday, April 18^th, 2017 7:00pm

Ticket Type: Balcony Level (21+)

Number Purchased: 2

Special Instructions: Thank you for your purchase.

Total Charge: $188.00

CLM Presents LLC

(612) 460-1209

Clm.presents.com

Break a Leg, Migos!

Have fun!

We’re routing for you!

We’ll be the little ant-size audience in the balcony.

No, we don’t go out of way to meet anyone famous.

It happens or it doesn’t.

~~~

We come in peace, we stay in peace and we leave in peace.

Tonight, one of my best friends from Portland, Maine and a Somali brother and a Muslim brother has invited me to “Migos” and I’ve accepted his invitation since I promised myself I’d attend one more arena concert before May 14, 2017 which will be my 40^th birthday.

Hold on… more communications work coming in through the wire feed…

~~~

Ground rules: for mature adulthood:

Okay, Twin Cities!

Let’s have fun, tonight!

If people mistakenly bump into one another then say: “excuse me” and smile.

If people mistakenly spill some drink then say: “no worries” wipe yourself clean and smile and continue to have fun.

If people mistakenly trip over their own feet or fall over then ask: “are you okay?” then warmly smile without mocking others. If the person who trips or falls down begins to laugh then we can all laugh together and help a brother or a sister up from the humiliating crash on the floor.

If people are loud and say the word “nigger” rather than “nigga” then don’t pay any attention cause an ignoramus in the crowd is bad luck.

We don’t want to interact with anyone who is decades behind modern culture.

We can all calmly and beautifully ignore an illiterate.

If someone’s physically sexually assaulting women or men then immediately get security involved.

A pinch to the nipple or a pinch to the buttocks doesn’t feel the same as someone mistakenly bumping into another person. No.

If anything show one’s intelligence by not ever acting out of anger.

Act in peace.

It’s easier to get angry then to be happy and calm, cool and collected.

If there’re any “pick-pockets” then immediately get security involved.

Please, no fights since fights are messy and ugly looking no matter who wins any fight doesn’t actually win a fight cause when people fight then they make the choice to go all animal and violently-boring in a public crowd.

Fighting is unseeingly.

Fighting’s for the cannibals and tortured souls who don’t know how to use their words.

~~~

Personally…

Ok. I have a bad sinus cold.

No, I’m not contagious.

Yes, I have snot trapped in the back of my throat therefore I must spit either into toilets, sinks or cups or outdoors.

No, my spitting isn’t pretty or lady like yet my current legal partner and all of my friends tell me it’s best to spit than to swallow my own snot. Okay.

Yes, my friend’s paid good money to take me out for my 40^th thus we’re official guests of Myth Venue until 12:00am CT.

Please, don’t politely single me out and kick me out of any venues simply because Minnesotan’s have racist notions against women of color or Indigenous looking woman.

Yes, we’ll be the coolest dudes there because we’re kind, smart and intelligent.

Yes, we’re tourists and foreigners in the city we live in.

We’re from Cambridge, Massachusetts and Maine.

Yes, we’re awesome.

Yes, we both have sinus colds.

Yes, we’re physically tired after a long day’s work.

Yes, I’ll be bringing a publically published Trevor Kaldor Minnesota writer’s Zine for reading materials since I love to read in public to music and the wonderful sounds of life all around.

Yes, I’ll be the richest person in the crowd even though I’m looking to spend not anymore than $20.00 on about 2 beers tonight.

Peace.

With All My Love;

Gabriela

P.S. Yes, this past Saturday night I kept getting politely kicked out of buildings and bars and after-parties for which my best friends (as hosts of the parties) brought me there in person and personally gave me cart blanche and the key’s to half a city block. Awesome. Thank you, brother.

If one’s a celebrity or not and one gathers enough courage to introduce oneself to me then I’m quite relaxed and laid back and kind, smart and intelligent and smile face to face and won’t make you look like a donkey’s rear end unless anyone directly comes up to me to lecture me or tell me I’m a “nigger” or directly and literally spits into my face then game over I’m walking away and we have absolutely nothing to say to one another.

If one continues to shyly stare at me then I’m going to assume I have boogers all over my face and get quite shy about my sinus cold.

Yes, I like to have fun like a kid without a worry in the world, however.

If I have to go mature adult on people then I will in 2.2 seconds. Then party over cause I can be a complete wolf about violence directed at me and my head and especially violence against us and ours.

We paid for our tickets.

What more is there to say? Nothing.

Hoping to be in bed by 2:00am CT.

Peace out.

~~~

English as a Second Language: Texts

No, I’m not personally “schizophrenic” or “bi-polar” or “multiple-personality disorder” or “brain damaged” or “hung up” on the past or neither “hold grudges” nor “angry/sad” or “clumsy” unless and only when unexpected concrete objects are below my line of sight.

Ok. I’m not ever cruising for a bruise. No.

For the first time in my life I’m having a blast.

There’s much clean fun to be had.

Music is mainly and mostly ‘everything’ to me.

Without music there would be no life.

Yes, only my cell phone texts (to my best friends of 17 or more years) are “schizophrenic” sounding since many English words and sentences seem to get “lost in translation” when I write texts as long as novels.

As of late I’m tired of writing.

As of late my brain only wants to think in any other languages other than English or Spanish.

For one year I’ve been practicing my Arabic yet my pronunciation or enunciation is atrocious.

As of late, indeed my brain is tired of composing English and Spanish thoughts on text therefore the layout and structure of the words is all over the place like a sail flapping in the wind. People tell me they know what I mean.

Yes, I must anchor down my words and sentences on text, however.

The task seems daunting. I feel as though I need to take a class in how to compose short and sweet texts which doesn’t come to me naturally to write short sentences or short sentiments therefore I write and write and write and my best friends don’t give a damn since they know me to be true and kind and smart and intelligent. Yes!

No, I don’t have anything to prove other than my humanity.

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 1,000 personal diaries/journal entries/private blog

Word Count: 1,296

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count: 984 + 1,296 = 2,280

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #1 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #1 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 102/66 mmHg / Pulse: 86 (04/07/17)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16) 273 (04/07/17)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16), 53 (04/07/17)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16), 389 (04/07/17)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16) 142 (04/07/17)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16) 5.2 (04/07/17)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl (01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #17 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #11 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #82 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Monday, April 17, 2017

“.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Oh, well I forgot a vocabulary word and a quote.

--- --- ---

Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

The above passage is indeed correctly re-copied unto this page.

--- --- ---

Hello.

Upload: am CT

--- --- ---

No Whining

No Complaining

~~~

“Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself.”

--- J.F.K.

~~~

No Blog

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 1,000 personal diaries/journal entries

Word Count:

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count: 984

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #1 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #1 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 102/66 mmHg / Pulse: 86 (04/07/17)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16) 273 (04/07/17)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16), 53 (04/07/17)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16), 389 (04/07/17)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16) 142 (04/07/17)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16) 5.2 (04/07/17)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl (01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #17 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #11 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #82 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Saturday, April 15, 2017

“If you live long enough, you’ll see everything.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Captious (tricky, faultfinding, ensnaring)

His captious statements lost him many friends.

--- --- ---

Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

The above passage is indeed correctly re-copied unto this page.

--- --- ---

Hello.

Upload: 8:50am CT

--- --- ---

Yes, grammatical corrections were made.

--- --- ---

No Whining

No Complaining

~~~

“Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself.”

--- J.F.K.

~~~

Bob Hugh Monahan

Well, most of life can be thought of as a mind-game.

Most of life is work.

Life is hardly ever fun.

Real or imaginary stress is real.

Stress are chemical compounds changing the blood stream.

Life is hardly ever fun unless one makes life an adventure filled with good friends and excellent food and clean water and creative supportive environments to be savored and remembered as the most innocent of creative ventures to gather and have a meeting of the minds without creating destructive wars.

Personally, I’m a strict pessimist with lots of optimistic hope thrown in the mix towards success and triumphant wins for the artists and artisans and creative professional types of today and tomorrow and infinity and beyond.

No, I’m not made insecure or jealous or threatened by anyone’s creative thinking or independent creations.

What I do mind is poser dome.

Yes, I only second-guess myself around my parents.

Yes, I do get insecure and rethink some poignant and important aspects of my life when my parents are around since their criticisms dig deep right under my right rib-cage.

Indeed I live for today since we don’t know what tomorrow might bring.

It wasn’t until the fall of 2014 when Bob took me through his building with plank covered floors, cigarette butts and beer cans in the basement and a hundred year old dust and dimly lit fixtures for which I came to realize what Bob Monahan was mainly about the night he busted out in “break dance” form and I laughed at the thought of not ever knowing Bob was able or coordinated enough to even know how to break dance…

Bob Monahan is a mature adult man with the gift to unite extremely different people from quite dissimilar walks of life and bring them peacefully and positively together to watch people unfold and flourish and creatively succeed as one tremendous cacophony of forest songs to portray one cohesive and united body of artistic and creative sustenance under the canopy of respect and basic human interests and understandings of each others’ differences through creative outlets of expression mainly through music, photography and visual arts.

We either sink or swim together.

Throughout my lifetime I’ve come across many literal or metaphorical or allegorical drowning victims who will indeed take anyone else down and under and drown their lifeline at the centre of their panic and loss of reasonable and logical skills.

Not once have I come across drowning victims who are able to ‘stop, drop and roll’ and let go and be one with Earth. Drowning victims take their saviors and drown them right along with themselves.

Most drowning victims panic and let go of all their senses.

Mainly when people swim together either a shark will come along and eat off a leg or someone eventually freezes and hardly ever makes it until the following morning or until rescue arrives.

When group dynamics drowns and sinks to the bottom then surely group dynamics sinks to the bottom of the cold Ocean floors with the rest of the schools of fish to be frozen in time and mainly to be forgotten for the many unavoidable mistakes for which possibly could have been prevented through love rather than through cheer stupidity or stubbornness or simply the necessity to survive or empty and valueless competition or sheer blatant and obvious prejudice rather than to hang on to each other and see it through the dark and cold night out on a metaphorical ocean.

Personally, I’m not sure what anybody else is into or what they’re up to and neither do I care as long as Bob Monahan swims thus he may bring an entire city of artists and creative professional types into the following morning’s light.

Yes, I’d like to watch Bob’s next “magic trick” only if not for the entertainment value as well as the courage involved to stand up and lend others the gift of time, energy and effort to create something bigger than one individual human.

What will Bob Monahan be doing during retirement?

Not sure, however.

He’ll be us.

One can only hope Bob Monahan will be respected in the long run for the major contributions he grants the state of Minnesota by keeping an entire creative and artistic culture alive in one of the most unlikely of places in the Northern Tundra.

What is there to wish for Bob other than peace, respect, love, unity and success to go forward and empower an entire state for which is in dire need of original modern music, poetry, lyric and song and strong and powerful understanding of each others’ differences.

If Bob can’t successfully and cohesively and peacefully bring Minnesota together into this century then most likely it won’t be for another one-hundred years until the year 3017 when all of the millionaires will return to give this place another chance and another try.

The millionaires are here.

The millionaires take their cue from pioneers and kind and smart and intelligent people such as Bob.

Not ever have I been as proud as I’m now to write how Bob’s my friend and his success depends on much of what the future will bring to the state of Minnesota through creative e-commerce.

Since, my lot in life is to be a “behind-the-scenes” adoptee blue blood and while my path in life isn’t celebrity then today Bob Monahan may take his seat at the thrown and become the 3^rd most significant modern living creative community activist celebrity to have ever lived.

The creative freedom and immense power to create is bigger than all of us put together. I’m honored to consider Bob my friend.

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 984

Word Count:

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count: 984

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #2 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #2 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 102/66 mmHg / Pulse: 86 (04/07/17)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16) 273 (04/07/17)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16), 53 (04/07/17)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16), 389 (04/07/17)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16) 142 (04/07/17)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16) 5.2 (04/07/17)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl (01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #16 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #10 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #81 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Friday, April 14, 2017

“We do not live on joy, nor die of sorrow.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Cincture (a surrounding border, something going around an object like a girdle or belt)

The blue cincture matches the dress.

--- --- ---

Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

The above passage is indeed correctly re-copied unto this page.

--- --- ---

Hello.

Upload:

--- --- ---

Yes, grammatical corrections were made.

--- --- ---

No Whining

No Complaining

~~~

“Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself.”

--- J.F.K.

~~~

No Blog

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 2,000

Word Count:

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count: 1,830 + 159 = 1,989 + 2,107 = 4,096

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #1 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #1 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 102/66 mmHg / Pulse: 86 (04/07/17)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16) 273 (04/07/17)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16), 53 (04/07/17)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16), 389 (04/07/17)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16) 142 (04/07/17)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16) 5.2 (04/07/17)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl (01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #16 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #10 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #81 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Thursday, April 13, 2017

“What you fall into you can fall out of.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Circuitous (roundabout, indirect)

Take your girl home by a circuitous route.

--- --- ---

Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

The above passage is indeed correctly re-copied unto this page.

--- --- ---

Hello.

Upload: 6:34pm CT, 7:30pm CT, 7:59pm CT

--- --- ---

Yes, grammatical corrections were made.

--- --- ---

No Whining

No Complaining

~~~

“Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself.”

--- J.F.K.

~~~

Bob Hugh Monahan

The Monahan’s

Yes, I could go on about how awesome and funny and amazing Bob Monahan is, however.

One, Bob would probably kick my derriere.

Two, Bob deserves more introspective thought than to gush all over the page about the one young man who changed my life forever at the age of thirteen and into today at the age of thirty-nine.

In the past Bob and I haven’t much seen eye-to-eye.

Mainly, Bob and I grew up in two totally different households with parents as different as night and day and worlds apart.

Not anyone else could be anymore different than my family compared to Bob’s family.

Bob’s family actually respects and loves and likes each other well enough to socially hang out together and kick back and relax and joke and be merry.

Even though in adulthood Bob and I haven’t made much time to see one another I still love Bob’s family as much as I did when I was thirteen and in the seventh grade.

Since Bob’s older brother (by a decade) is also my other best friend in the entire world I find myself comforted by the idea of their true love in my life even when no one else has been “there” for me.

Bob or Bob’s older brother have been able to listen and talk to me work through the intensity of a family who hates each other and is constantly at odds with each other unlike Bob’s family who mainly gets along and loves and respects and listens to one another.

Bob’s and Bob’s older brother are family to me since my family failed us as children and in adolescence and well into adulthood.

Our family is a bunch of haters who mainly despise each other.

Therefore, the love and respect and comfort and dignity I’ve received from Bob and his family has meant more to me than my entire family put together.

My family only cares about wealth and ruining each other.

Bob’s family only cares about the well being of each other.

Bob’s family members are true humanitarians.

My only true goal in life is to be like Bob’s family.

Early on it was Bob’s family who gave me most of my morals and values in friendship.

Early on it was Bob’s family who saved me from verbal abuse and neglect at our household.

It was Bob’s family who taught me the power to stand up for myself and not to be allowed to be bullied or used by others.

If anything I’m one of the luckiest people to be loved and to be truly seen as a complete human by Bob’s mother who to this day I celebrate Bob’s mother as my own mother even though she’s not legally my relative.

No, I’m not any blood relative or legally related to the Monahan’s even though I find myself secretly hoping before we get, too, old and die the Monahan’s will consider me their spirit relative since all I’ve ever done is raided their refrigerator for junk food.

The Monahan’s know I don’t like to be hungry or I get crabby.

Starvation in childhood was a breeze.

Starvation in my twenties left me with severe intestinal problems. I must eat small meals otherwise…

To this day Bob’s quick and sarcastic intellectual wit does indeed make me laugh because Bob’s wit is constructed of subtle facial expressions which draw out his humor and kindness and his words get translated spelled out all over his facial expressions.

The reason why Bob and I don’t get mad at each other or hate each other’s guts is because Bob’s open minded to the possibility other people aren’t anything like him or think or live as he does.

Bob doesn’t have intense pressure cooking expectations of others therefore it’s way easier to relax around Bob than other business people possibly putting on a front about how they own the world or they’re bossy or they don’t get out enough therefore they’re mad all the time, each and every place they frequent.

If anything, Bob’s one of the only people I’ve ever met who not only has a great harness on the English language and psychology therefore he doesn’t expect people to disappoint him.

Bob’s very much like his older brother only less of a curmudgeon and funnier than his older brother who’s amazing English skills cut like a razor sharp perception.

To me, Bob’s the most awesome and fun person I’ve ever met and without a doubt I tend to believe my awkward English and Spanish verbal skills might make him slightly annoyed at me, yet Bob’s a gentleman and has always taken the time to see life from my Indigenous Maya perspective since hanging out with me is sometimes much like what I would think would be like to hang out with the character from the “Jungle Book.” I don’t care about much about anything as long as nobody starts any war or any jungle fires.

Bob’s fierce and brave and has the intelligence of a true artist.

In many ways I ought not to be surprised Bob’s the center of the Minnesota’s artistic and musical culture and keeps the peace amongst many jealous and insecure and difficult artists who can get a bit out of hand at times and demand the impossible from Bob.

One of Bob’s main strengths is Bob’s extremely ‘happy go lucky.’ If anything were ever to seem to bother Bob then he does an amazing and excellent job of being able to let many ugly and difficult and challenging aspects of life roll right off of his shoulders.

Personally, I think Bob makes any tremendous asset in northern, Minnesota even though many of us in the creative culture would love to lure Bob to live in the Twin Cities and display his amazing skill set here in the artistic scene and musical venues of the Twin Cities.

Since we don’t have Bob Monahan’s grace in this artistic scene or musical venues then the Twin Cities doesn’t hold the power or strength of unity Bob brings to mostly any group dynamic of any type.

“Peace, peace is the most important” aspect to respect.

For some reason Bob’s able to make people feel quite at ease and comfortable in their own skin.

There’s this tremendous duality within Bob to be extremely outgoing and “the life of the party” yet Bob holds a dead steady calm and quiet approach to anything he does in life.

Bob’s a compass who has all of the coordinates and alignments of the stars set to night sail the northern skies.

Bob is a man who is capable and knowledgeable to speak to anyone about anything whether he talks to a big time oil tycoon or a homeless Native American man asking us to use our cell phones.

It’s truly Bob’s communications’ finesse which keeps Bob beautifully rolling and “out of trouble.”

When we’re together we don’t ever know what adventures await us or who on Earth will pop up in front of our faces and either ask some quirky questions or make an intense demand at three in the morning or want something or other.

Bob’s one of the safest men in the entire world since Bob’s not any type of pervert who wants to get into his female friend’s pants. No.

Bob’s a man.

Bob’s a real man.

Bob’s not a robot.

Bob’s organic matter and physically stunning to look at in white ghostly translucent skin and pink rosy cheeks.

If I would’ve had the pleasure to have met Bob as a child in the jungles I think I would’ve pet his yellow curls and possibly thought he might be some lost God from some other world who looked nothing like me or us---the rest of the peasant jungle kids.

Bob’s a literal father to a young girl.

Bob’s a father.

Bob’s a brother and a son and an uncle.

Bob’s not dumb about the many different and difficult aspects to communications or reasoning or logic skills amongst adults who seem to need much love and cuddling and patience as most children do.

Bob’s a man of the world.

Bob’s present.

Bob’s alert in his nonchalant ways about him.

Bob’s a true friend especially when people are needy and going through hardships and difficulties of their own and aren’t quite capable or able to express themselves in the fine-tuned was Bob can and does to help others out in the process of positive communications and towards positive change.

Bob’s tremendous communications skills are nothing like anybody else’s I’ve ever met before. Bob’s able to gently and sternly put people’s ‘feet to the fire’ without burning them yet getting the whole truth out of people without any BS getting in the way.

Bob’s a rock star without ever having to lift a single instrument up to his face and play it.

Bob’s instrument is the incredible asset to be able to conduct and orchestrate continual on-going business with an entire culture of “Gen-Exer’s” who are sick-and-tired of the status quo as we ought to be sick-and-tired of the status quo.

Even though I come from emotionally abusive “millionaire scum” Bob’s found something deeply beautiful beyond my acne scarred face and his blue eyes have always shone like the Pacific Ocean right before the sun goes down.

Each time he’s looked at me it seems as though Bob’s known most likely I’ll either withdraw deeper into myself and not come out and play for fear of being seen as the scared little kid I was when I was young.

Bob knows there’s a real and true friend needing to get some fresh air and talk about the things which mean the most yet are the most difficult to talk about such as the good reasons for why I twice cancelled my 40^th birthday get-together to drink at “The Red.”

Bob gets it.

Bob gets me.

Bob doesn’t hold any morbid or perverted ideas about gathering a small group of my five best male friends and holding a masturbating circle. No.

Bob’s not insecure.

Bob’s not going to give me some weird excuse or words or mid game about some weird idealisms for stealing my five best male friends then masturbating with them and not ever seeing them again since masturbating with each other is by far more fun than hanging out with true and tried friends such as myself and Bob who don’t take advantage of each other.

Bob doesn’t hold any morbid or perverted ideas about lying to me about being a hypothetical homosexual for twenty years and taking out their anger on me or other women when other men haven’t been able to tell their parents anything about their closeted homosexual lives since they’re waiting for their parents to die to get their hands on their parents’ fortunes. No.

Bob’s not as morbid as all of it waiting for his parents to die therefore he can get his hands on his parents’ money. No.

The reason why Bob’s a great man is Bob lives for today and doesn’t live inside his head wondering how he might be able to social climb people or use them for his benefit therefore Bob’s mind isn’t clouded by such stupidity thus Bob’s mainly a man with a great and clean and robust conscious.

Bob’s my friend even if people might hate the idea of us being in platonic and deep understanding and compassionate agape love with each other.

What can I say?

We love each other.

We always have and from here on out, we always will.

Yes, it took me about fifteen years to mature into my friendship with Bob, however. It’s Bob who’s held out hope I would become as kind and smart and as intelligent as he knew I could be.

Bob knows I’m not a wounded animal thus he might know more than me as to what my true strengths and weaknesses are.

For now Bob definitely gets it that I can’t organize my thoughts well enough in English or Spanish both to send magnificent short text thus I write novels for texts and other people allow for me to be who I am and love me no matter what.

Yes, Bob tells me he will love me no matter what.

Yes, I will love Bob no matter what also.

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 2,000

Word Count: 2,107

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count: 1,830 + 159 = 1,989 + 2,107 = 4,096

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #2 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #2 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 102/66 mmHg / Pulse: 86 (04/07/17)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16) 273 (04/07/17)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16), 53 (04/07/17)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16), 389 (04/07/17)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16) 142 (04/07/17)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16) 5.2 (04/07/17)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl (01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #16 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #10 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #81 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

“In this life, luck won’t help you unless you cooperate.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Circumlocution (talking all around the subject)

The uncertain teacher resorted to circumlocution.

--- --- ---

Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

The above passage is indeed correctly re-copied unto this page.

--- --- ---

Hello.

Upload: 6:02pm CT

--- --- ---

No Whining

No Complaining

~~~

“Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself.”

--- J.F.K.

Hi, what a day yesterday was?

Absolutely it was a full moon. It was obvious.

Yes, yesterday I cancelled my second open invitation to my 40^th birthday casual get-together to drink and hang out and possibly dance or not, however.

People don’t seem to get along or get along well together.

My 40^th birthday casual get-together has now been postponed to May 14, 2027 on my 50^th birthday casual get-together to drink, eat and dance or not or converse or not and be merry.

Yes, we invited my friends and non-friends and mature adults and peaceful foes to celebrate drink, eat and be merry.

There won’t be any 40^th birthday celebration or get-together.

No, there won’t either be any 40^th surprise birthday party or rather in the words of the Minnesota published writer Bob Hugh Monahan:

2 X 2 + 6 +10 +2

Bob Monahan

this is it: my twenty-second birthday.

thank you giver of life and meaning,

cuz without meaning, there wouldn’t be

a whole lot of things to live for.

so without further ado: a poem

by me on my birthday, year 2 thousand.

mom called and woke me at eight 30

“happy birthday!” (she sez)

“thanks.”

shes comin by at ten.

i go back for a bit more sleep.

restless:

but not because it’s my birthday.

drifting in and out:

i hear the door downstairs

and some angel floats in

holding a plate of mango and yogurt.

i feel blessed.

there is some cuddling.

it is the sweetest birthday so far…

mom comes with the biggest basket of food:

“a veritable cornucopia.”

all this food, all this life: it means so much.

so much, I have cared to live 22 years,

to this day: but how did I ever make it?

‘been a long year I guess…

more to come, but first:

my twenty second birthday party:

“come in!” said hank, opening the front door.

the foyer was dimly lit.

it was so quiet:

not even hanks opera music played.

i said: “so whats this all about?”

he said, “c’mon, I’ll show you.”

i followed him unsuspectingly into the living room.

suddenly all sorts of people jumped out screaming

things like: “SuRpRiSe!” and “HapPy BiRtHdAy!”

i was so freaked I jumped out the window,

landed in a passing truck bed

(that, thank god, was hauling hay, and not lumber)

‘rode that all the way to Wichita;

and celebrated there for a few days.

that was some trip.

and part of it was that I was missing;

in such a dramatic fashion;

on my birthday and all…

when I got back everybody was pretty upset.

but i just shrugged and said:

“didn’t any one ever tell you guys?

life takes unexpected turns sometimes.”

they said: “no.”

and i said: “well, threes proof.”

now they know better than to surprise me like that.

Ode to Mr. Bob Hugh Monahan

{Bob Hugh Monahan is a public mature and fun Minnesota business owner, who’s in the newspapers many times within the past recent 25 years (“open mic” at the North Shore Theatre, February 2001 to present) therefore I may publically state Mr. Bob Hugh Monahan’s first and last name since Mr. Monahan, himself, has already put his name to published print long ago.

Bob Monahan and I are now once again best buddies since our friendship went slightly awry at the end of 8^th grade when I purposely lied to a group of my three best male buddies about how supposedly I had liked to burn ants with a magnifying glass which I haven’t ever done. I’d probably weep if I ever burned ants with a magnifying glass. Violence isn’t the modern Maya Indigenous way.

Yes, I needed to figure out who my three best friends had changed into super alien species ever since the end of eighth grade all three began to give me awkward weird looks as though I’d constantly had a booger on my face:

January of our eighth grade year one out of the three of our best friends in our group of four best buddies teased me about wanting to get physically romantic and sexual with him.

Therefore I wondered if he had told the other two guy best buddies or if it was some type of game or if they were all teasing me or if it was for real which was the most difficult of all of the outcomes since we’d been having sleepovers with our three best male buddies and myself for two straight years on the weekends since we all went to private school in 7^th and 8^th grade.

Instantaneously, right after I told the blatant lie about how I burned ants with a magnifying glass to my three best friends and held my breath for what seemed like an eternity, my three best friends in the whole world immediately became erratic and began to hate my blatant lie told to all of their three faces without a blink or a skipped beat.

The manner in which my face appeared to look was obvious I had told a blatant lie to them all and I regretted my approach. I did test their value system and morality. I hated the test yet I wanted to know more about their psychology.

My dearest friends surprised me: I wondered if they, too, would join in and talk about how cool it would be to burn ants.

No, rather we all got up and scattered to different ends of the property and went our different directions and didn’t ever hang out together as a group of four best friends for as long as we’ve lived.

Their reaction made me fall deeper in love with all three young men yet the damage had already been done. I knew it. I went on to lead a life of work and more work without Bob’s mother’s “voice of reason” which she of all adults would have been an awesome adolescent advocate and would have ‘set the record straight’ with my parents about having me be overworked and over extended and overlooked. No fun.

Bob’s amazing mom who loves me to this day and I love her only spoke to my father once when he went to drop me off at the Monahan’s home near Woodland Avenue in the fall of seventh grade (1990) about how Bob’s mom was fully responsible for me as a guest while in their home and I was there to strictly and without any flirtation supposedly hang out with Bob’s older sister by one year who was in the 8^th grade and also went to private school with the four of us in 7^th grade. I was to only sleep in Bob’s older sister’s bedroom and nowhere else in the house. Ok.

When my dad drove away Bob’s mom turned to me and sternly yet with much love and respect told me she knew I was there to specifically hang out with Bob and our other two best male buddies.

We were all to sleep over without any sexual intercourse and the other two male friends would sleep in Bob’s room with Bob and nowhere else. Ok.

Bob’s mom told us she’d be at the church working or upstairs in her study researching and writing sermons for the following Sunday’s weekly church gatherings. Ok.

Bob was to tell me the house rules and he did. Bob was the most amazing and naturally funniest relaxed host in the entire world.

Bob told me I was allowed to eat anything I found in the cupboards and to not ever go upstairs because he’s other “bossy” step-sister who was in the 10^th grade and also went to private school with us lived upstairs and had a cheerleading lifestyle and we weren’t to disturb her or she’d kill us. Ok.

Furthermore, one of our best male buddies had expressed dating me in the winter of eighth grade and wanted a romantic physical relationship with me.

What had changed?

We’d all been consistently the same for two straight years of hilarious laughter while my buddies made home-made films and I sat and watched and laughed and ate sugar cereal and junk food since I grew up on vegan rabbit food at our house and was constantly hungry.

In my defense all I could do was to academically continue to keep my head barely above water while at private school in the seventh grade (1990.)

Today, Bob’s bond and my bond’s unbreakable and unshakable and unstoppable since we had a rough go-at-it in our twenties and thirties as an insecure and untrusting relationship through our entire twenties and into our mid thirties and now we’re non-sexually platonic brother and sister until the grave. Yes.

No matter what we know each other well and I’d know Bob Monahan in any room in the world and Bob would know me and we’d respect and platonically love each other no matter what we forgive each other since people are mainly chemical compound and organic and imperfect creatures. Alas.

Implicitly, I trust Bob Monahan’s word, life and meaning and existence.

If only I’ll ever be honored to do the same for my friend and be there if he’ll ever need me.

Implicitly I trust Bob over anyone else since I take Bob’s friendship as a “blessing in disguise” and a pure and glorious time of clean fun and more fun.

Today more than ever I whole heartedly trust Bob’s friendship with my entire platonic breathing mind, body and spirit.

Indeed, Bob’s older brother by a decade is another one of my best friend throughout 27 years of platonic and non-sexual friendship without any hesitation or malicious intent Bob’s older brother and I are also brother and sister for life.

Indeed, I was wrong about the amazing and fun moral character of my friend, Bob Monahan.

Yes, I misjudged my friend in 2002 when I lived in northern, MN:

My best friend’s forgiven me for being guarded and cold and starved and annoyed and frustrated with constantly being poor and starved for a three year stretch of time from February 2001 through May 2004.

Bob’s seen it all.

Anytime, Bob were to come to me broken hearted I’d be there for him without any hesitation or questions asked.

If Bob calls I answer his call even though both my English and Spanish verbal skills are atrocious and finally I’ve begun to sound more human than a Caucasian textbook. Ha…Lol…Wink.

Life’s awesome!

What a lucky gal am I?

To be forgiven 26 years later by my long last best friend going way back to ‘old school’ seventh and eighth grade when some our school time was indeed miserable and isolating in one preppy private high school not yet wise or open minded about comic books and the internet and grunge music or punk activism and rock-‘n’-roll and MTV and skateboarding or local free Zines since the point of most Zines is to be free to the public (or directly pay to the writers therefore there’s no hidden agenda or profit margin losses other than dollars straight into the pockets’ of writers and their printing expenses and time and energy and effort and not a third party) and recycling and chess and environmentalism and movies and alternative intellectual modern literature rather than the constant classics or Latin.

Bob’s not at all what I thought he would be.

Bob’s smart as a whip and intelligent as the mind and kind as a humanitarian.

No, this time nothing will “divide and conquer” us since Bob’s always been able to look me straight in the eye and listen to what I have to say without any judgment and compassion and agape love.

Whenever I call Bob which is never he immediately answers the phone and tells me he truthfully answered the phone only because it’s me. Same here.

We chat and talk for no more than 8 minutes before I get awkward with my English or Spanish and I sound like I want to run for the hills.

Bob gets me. Bob knows I’m not any “damsel in distress.” Simply, awkward English and Spanish speaker and writer and “happy go lucky” straight out of the womb who’s constantly in search of awesome little snacks and junk food and good music and fun and dancing and clean water and rock’n’roll and modern literature and Zines since we work most of our lives.

Whenever Bob calls which is never I immediately answer his calls and we laugh about how my written texts sound “schizophrenic” (English gets in the way of sentiments) even though I’m factually not mentally ill.

We both think my texts are hilarious since my biggest secret in life is English and Spanish are two of my weakest languages aside from French, of course. I can only read and write French. I don’t speak French because I butcher the French language. The French in France ask me to not speak in French to them. Ok.

Bob’s known ever since I was 13 I can’t stand to talk in English or Spanish, both.

Both languages don’t come to me easily or naturally.

~~~

Yes, I love Bob’s poetry, however.

At the age of 13 I fell in love with Bob’s drawings more than his written word since I didn’t have to translate any words into any languages Bob’s drawings tell entire stories in one frame alone.

Yes, I went to film school only because Bob and other two best our friends made home-made films and drew little cartoons to help me get through grueling private academic school work and such.

To this day I still have all of Bob’s drawings he drew for me in 7^th and 8^th grade.

Yes, I’m Minnesota’s adopted daughter.

The Monahan’s adopted me for life and, I them.

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 2,500

Word Count: 1,830 + 159 = 1,989

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count: 1,830 + 159 = 1,989

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #1 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #1 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 102/66 mmHg / Pulse: 86 (04/07/17)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16) 273 (04/07/17)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16), 53 (04/07/17)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16), 389 (04/07/17)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16) 142 (04/07/17)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16) 5.2 (04/07/17)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl (01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #16 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #10 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #81 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

“If things don’t get better, they may get worse.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Wanton (reckless about the feeling of others, unrestrained)

Wanton cruelty had been inflicted by the prisoners.

--- --- ---

Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

The above passage is indeed correctly re-copied unto this page.

--- --- ---

Hello.

Upload: pm CT

--- --- ---

No Whining

No Complaining

~~~

“Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself.”

--- J.F.K.

~~~

No Blog

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 1,000 private diaries

Word Count:

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count:

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #1 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #1 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 102/66 mmHg / Pulse: 86 (04/07/17)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16) 273 (04/07/17)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16), 53 (04/07/17)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16), 389 (04/07/17)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16) 142 (04/07/17)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16) 5.2 (04/07/17)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl (01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #16 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #10 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #81 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Monday, April 10, 2017

“What you don’t get you can’t lose.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Pertinacious (stubbornly persistent, unyielding)

He was pertinacious in his maintaining his position.

--- --- ---

Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

The above passage is indeed correctly re-copied unto this page.

--- --- ---

Hello.

Upload: pm CT

--- --- ---

No Whining

No Complaining

~~~

“Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself.”

--- J.F.K.

~~~

No Blog

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 1,000 private diaries

Word Count:

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count:

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #3 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #3 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 102/66 mmHg / Pulse: 86 (04/07/17)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16) 273 (04/07/17)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16), 53 (04/07/17)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16), 389 (04/07/17)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16) 142 (04/07/17)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16) 5.2 (04/07/17)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl (01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #16 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #10 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #81 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Friday, April 7, 2017

“Life is bitter as bile --- but without bile, no man can live.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Pertinent (related to the matter on hand, relevant)

Speak only of pertinent matters.

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Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

The above passage is indeed correctly re-copied unto this page.

--- --- ---

Hello.

Upload: 5:48pm CT

--- --- ---

Yes, last night we went dancing at the “W Hotel” (which is still my favorite however prostitution seems to be the name of the game there on the outskirts of the dance floor).

At the “W Hotel” we did get to meet and hang out with the amazing and incredible Czech Republic lady DJ.

We drank a total of 2 blueberry martinis which were $50.00. Yikes. A martini’s a martini.

Yes, we went to “The Saloon” and rocked it and had a blast and drank water and danced for hours and sweat out the overly expensive blueberry martinis.

After we got lost downtown near “Auguie’s” topless bar we encountered and met a man on the street for whom we invited to have a Patron shot with us for helping us to find our way downtown and he asked us if we wanted to purchase cocaine which of course we didn’t and don’t. No, thank you. I don’t like Patron, however. I drank it slowly. Yuck. It’s best to drink up and get a shot over with. I’m learning about alcohol.

We walked back to the “Saloon.”

We danced some more!

It was glorious.

The “Saloon” is as awesome as it always was in the late 1990’s.

Thursday nights here we go!!!

Let’s rock it like the rock stars we are.

Yes, downtown, Minneapolis, MN is my favorite place to non-violently and non-drunk and non-sexually hang out and have a blast with clean good fun. Plus, downtown, Minneapolis, MN is flat and makes for awesome skateboarding.

Thank you, downtown, Minneapolis.

Yes, I did indeed have to ‘get out of my head’ and body and not feel any more #7 non-cancerous uterine fibroid tumor pain therefore we took ourselves dancing and got home at 3:00am CT in the morning.

No, we weren’t drunk.

We we’re sober and had a blast.

--- --- ---

No Whining

No Complaining

~~~

“Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself.”

--- J.F.K.

~~~

No Blog

Oxygen Levels (SP02) 98% which is awesome for a cigarette smoker.

Blood Pressure: 102/66 (At this rate I’ll die at 120 years.)

Pulse: 86

Yes, I’m will get my pulse to come down.

Yes, I had my annual physical this morning along with lovely drawn blood and a urine test.

Yes, I look quite healthy, however.

My hormones are a disaster to deal with each and every single passing day.

Yes, I haven’t had a single menstrual period in 12 weeks however I’ve had the cramping and severe pain of premenstrual periods the entire twelve weeks of excruciating pelvic pain.

The ovary pain is atrocious as I can sometimes barely think straight therefore as contrary as it sounds I stay away from Midol since I don’t want to start another life forming habit to take Midol each time my ovaries kick me as hard as knocking the wind out of oneself right after a bad snowboard fall on one’s stomach.

Yes, my hormones are plenty messed up even though my mind isn’t.

Yes, my hormones are ever as messed up as to actually have found out I’m factually pre-menopausal and most likely won’t be able to get pregnant which we now don’t mind.

We’re tired people and parenting seems a daunting task for us.

Well, what a stupid and dirty trick my hormones played on me and both my current legal partner and us.

The moment I went off the birth control pill 15 weeks ago then my hormones decided to go into overdrive and skip baby making at 39 and right into pre-menopausal stages.

No, we won’t be having children not because we didn’t give it a good shot or a good run.

Mainly we’re relieved to have found out we’re at the end of a long journey of eight years of terrible hormonal imbalance and two years of Escitalopram which feels as though the extreme excess of the Escitalopram of 20MG is doing something funky to my kidneys therefore I look forward to a hysterectomy as soon as possible and peace and quiet in my body, mind and spirit.

It’s been a long and tedious and treacherous health journey I wouldn’t ever wish upon my worst enemies.

My salivary glands have been swollen for about 4 weeks and my under chin baby fat looks thicker and fatter than my face actually is.

My throat’s always swollen and doesn’t ever hurt unless I actually and physically touch my throat.

Well, I may not end up with children, however.

Yes, I do look forward to getting my awesome health back and continue as a hot babe in the all knowing and kind and awesome power of the Maya Gods and our Ancient Maya Ancestors.

No, we’re not disappointed in the least bit.

No, we don’t care either way. We simply want my health back.

My current legal partner met me in August of 2006 and dated and lived with me for 3 years before I fell hormonally ill and the reason why my current legal partner’s held out hope and staid married to me all these years is because he fell in love with the woman he met all those long 11 years ago now.

My current legal partner’s been holding out hope for me to get my health back and be done with all of these reproductive challenges and struggles.

Yes, I’m a little sad. Nothing I can’t get over.

At least we now know for certain the future doesn’t hold potential future children in store for us.

We’re relieved in ways we can’t explain since mainly our lifestyle will mean lots of play and work and fun and more fun mature adult lifestyles without the sacrifice to give our entire lives up and over to children and their rearing since rearing children is one of the most important and daunting jobs in the world yet one of the most isolating and loneliest of jobs in the world also.

Peace.

With All My Love;

Gabriel

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 1,000 private diaries

Word Count: 1,006

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000 (tumor pain)

This Week’s Total Word Count: 8,587 + 1,006 = 9,593

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #2 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #1 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 102/66 mmHg / Pulse: 86 (04/07/17)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16) 273 (04/07/17)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16), 53 (04/07/17)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16), 389 (04/07/17)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16) 142 (04/07/17)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16) 5.2 (04/07/17)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl (01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #15 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #9 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #80 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Thursday, April 6, 2017

“Life is the greatest of bargains: we get it for nothing.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Perturbation (feeling of disquiet, agitation within)

He could not hide perturbation with a smile.

--- --- ---

Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

The above passage is indeed correctly re-copied unto this page.

--- --- ---

Hello.

Upload: 1:45pm CT

--- --- ---

No Gorsuch nomination. Thanks.

--- --- ---

~~~

Hi.

Oh, Al-Assad, what have you done?

Oh, China, let’s catch up with education, please?

Oh, Dearest Syrian brothers and sisters, Americans Love Thee.

*) Taking care of three (3) non-cancerous uterine fibroid tumors’ literal physical #7 pain.

Cheers.

Gabriel

P.S. Yes, we know…I know, I know: We’ve yet to build a sound booth the size of a telephone booth in our home…

…DIY house projects…

P.S.S. Yes, I love HGTV. (Is HGTV the correct title?) …HGTV’s my favorite to watch except for any nepotism…my personal one year-long boycott’s done and over…moving on…next.

--- --- ---

No Whining

No Complaining

~~~

“Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself.”

--- J.F.K.

~~~

No Blog

Photoshop

~~~

Reiteration:

Diary Entries about 23 lies…

Earlier Chapters

Preface

Yes, I’ve written about how I would write about the main and major 15 lies I’ve ever told in my entire lifetime.

Let’s get to the told lies before May 14, 2017.

Yes, I’d like to get rid of these told lies weighing me down before I turn 40 years of life since most of the lies I’ve ever told aren’t about me. (Ha…ha…LOL…)

Yes, I take full responsibility for any of the lies I’ve ever told since I’m a mature adult woman.

Yes, I’ve more than paid for the 15 lies I’ve ever told.

Yes, I’ve been gravely punished and even at times gravely wounded or injured by the small measure of any of my 15 lies.

Yes, I know where the moral responsibilities lay: with me.

Yes, I’m a terrible and horrible liar of any type.

Yes, I’d like to take a class on how to lie better.

Yes, whenever I tell any lie then the lie shows all over my face.

Yes, I get utterly and ghastly uncomfortable whenever I’ve uttered any personal lies to “save face” for others then my words snowball and I don’t seem to be able to control myself or stop myself from talking until my Ancestors are done with me and done teaching me a most valuable moral lesson: the spirits of lies live on longer than the spirit of truth.

For me to speak lies is all very quite awkward for all or any around to witness me verbally lie. The embarrassment is obvious to see I seem to look as though I’m about to urinate myself.

Yes, all of my facts and times and places and people check out since I don’t have anything to lie about on paper or on ink or on stone since my writing career isn’t “Three Cups of Tea”. No.

Yes, this online diary or blog or journal is a safe cyberspace for me to freely express myself without anyone giving me the “evil eye” or ignoring me or abandoning me or trying to literally kill me.

This is quite a private diary about a real mature human (not a robot) who is an acknowledgeable adult woman, who lives and breathes and has made some mistakes and always corrected and owned up to any and all of my mistakes each and every single step of the way as well as lost more than most Caucasian people do whenever I’ve ever told one single lie.

Most Caucasian people don’t ever forgive me as a sister or give me a “second chance” or much less want to listen to what I have learned or help me out career wise (which that ship sailed, now I’m a billionaire since the writing’s on the wall) or emotionally carry me across figurative turmoil or cultural loneliness or say or do anything kind for me since most Caucasian people seem to think to treat me like garbage is a great way to make me insecure about Caucasian people staying mad at me forever or ignoring me is a great way to punish me, although and however. Like I care? Not much since life is full and I don’t have time to care.

Really? Who cares about angry Caucasian people?

Nobody really does care about lonely and desperate Caucasian and bitter people who don’t ever forgive themselves or others.

Forgiveness is Caucasian people’s greatest lesson to learn.

Forgive, get over Caucasian people's envy and jealousy and hatred and stupidity to hold onto grudges and happily move on.

My superpower is persistence to see the better aspects of humanity through and create harmony and peace and beauty which is rare in a world of overly educated bitter and hateful and resentful and economically struggling and lonely and desperate and alcoholic Caucasian people who self-loath therefore they hate other people in general and more so seem to hate people of color for no other reason to get their anger and embitterment out on others.

Mostly Caucasian people don’t bring themselves to actually fully forgive since Caucasian people seem to act, pure as white snow without any blemishes or as though Caucasian people haven’t ever told a single lie when most of Caucasian people’s existence seems either putting on a good show or telling lies about their entire existence. What eves.

Caucasian people get violently boring in lost power struggles since Caucasian people are some of the most guarded about their reputations yet it’s mainly Caucasian people who have the social power to go around and destroy the good and strong and almighty reputations of women of color if women of color don’t respect the social abuse of Caucasian people.

Women are women and imperfect and people struggle with economic issues as well as with communications and relationships since life’s complex most of the time.

It’s true I do block out trauma and quickly move on and absolutely don’t care what people think of me.

To block out trauma is my other superhero ability since I’m constantly being semi-traumatized by racist Caucasian people in the streets, at grocery stores and anywhere I go in America I’m spoken to or treated or ignored like a piece of garbage and not a human with higher intellect.

At times, I’ve continually asked for people to open up their hearts and forgive me because ultimately I always forgive and forget and let go otherwise the chemical poison compounds would kill me and I’m smarter than grudges held.

Simply, when I throw a mature adult life-line to Caucasian toxic people I either want to know if Caucasian people are humanly capable to reassert genuine human concern for other people or to prove Caucasian people’s “superiority complexes” and to prove their maturity as humanitarians since most people don’t ever change and do stay as selfish or as selfless as they were when they were 18.

Personally, I know longer have anything more to prove other than my humanity.

Personally, I’m human and I’ve proved I bleed.

There’s only one of me and an entire angry and hateful country of immature adults who must prove their humanity to me.

Personally, I was adopted into modern blue bloods therefore I’ve always been at the top of the food chain even though I starved for America and my freedom as a woman of color and my freedom as an educated woman.

Personally, I’m already a billionaire at the tender age of 39 and “frankly, my dear I don’t give a damn.”

The volumes of writing are outstanding.

Although, I’ve met pathological liars who go around “character assassinating” entire villages and towns and cities and states and countries and nations, somehow, pathological liars always seem to get believed over me, who hardly ever tells any lies other than the occasional white lie about, “How did you like your food?” or “Do you like my jeans?” or “Do you mind taking care of such and such for me?” or “Do you like my hair cut?” or “Do you mind if we hang out with my children while we catch up and have adult time?”

For some reason I’ve been punished ten times more severely than Caucasian women who’ve destroyed entire reputations of other women and men.

~~~

Let’s Review

Lie #1:

(1988-present)

By the end of the fifth grade (5^th grade) I began to tell my peers and adults alike about how my birth mother was dead and had died simply and only because I found myself having to answer and explain myself as to why our birth mother “didn’t want us” thus it was easier to deal with pitiful looks each time I lied and answered with a quick line about our birth mother being dead rather than alive and decided to put us up for adoption.

Mainly the conversations went like this when I told the truth:

Is your birth mother alive?

Yes. (Truth.)

Do you mind if I ask you questions?

No. (Lie.)

Where is your mom?

I don’t know. (Truth.)

Do you want to be with her?

No. (True.)

Oh, why? Was she abusive to you?

Ah, none of your business.

If your mom isn’t dead then your mom didn’t want you?

What!?!

Why, didn’t your mom want you?

(Like there was something wrong with me or something.)

Ask my birth mother why she didn’t want us.

Don’t ask me. I don’t know.

How insensitive of people to be in my personal and private business like my life was something for people to talk to me about to be entertained by my painful personal life story up until the age of 10 which brought me intense amounts of sadness and shame and guilt about why our birth mother placed her Costa Rican children in an orphanage for four years then signed us over to be adopted to one of the most abusive and dry-alcoholic and wet-alcoholic families and homes as adoptees. Yes, we did get unlucky in adoption.

Mainly the conversations went like this when I told the lie:

Is your birth mother alive?

No. (Lie.)

Oh, I’m so sorry.

The end of the conversation and I’d be left alone to lick my deep emotional wounds as an 11 years of age.

My adopted parents told me not to lie about my birth mother, however.

It wasn’t my adopted parents who had to answer on average five times per day the story about why our birth mother didn’t want us.

The truth became, too, painful to utter with the more prying eyes stung and deeply personal questions uttered by curious people who placed heavy duty insinuations the more I was used in conversation and taken for an “object of fascination” rather than a human being with feelings and emotions and deep hurts about a birth mother who did in fact couldn’t financially support us in the 1980’s and had to sign her children over to a 3^rd world orphanage for adoption. Breathe.

--- --- ---

Lie #2:

(1992-1992)

When I was fifteen (15) years of life one of our next door neighbors had a guest over, a young girl of about twelve going on thirteen, (ready to enter her seventh grade the fall of 1992).

While the girls played in our neighbor’s backyard suddenly the little girl fell onto a titter totter and literally cut and ripped open her labia and private vagina parts and screamed like bloody murder. I know because I heard the screams and didn’t move a single muscle since I knew the parents weren’t home therefore I allowed for the little girls to figure out their misconduct and terrible accident.

Yes, I lied and said the “labia” accident had happened to me which had ripped open her “labia”, however.

The “labia” accident didn’t ever occur to me.

The reason why I lied is because I was a “book worm” and had been home in the front side yard reading on a lawn chair under trees’ shade on such a summer day when I did hear the painful screams and merciful shrieks and sounds and words of the tiny little baby girl of about 12 years of age going on 13 and I thought about how possibly her playground accident might bring shame into her 7^th grade year therefore I said the accident had occurred to me who had supposedly ripped open my “labia” by hopefully taking away some heat and stigma from her ripped labia’s reputation.

No, I didn’t give a damn what people thought about my potentially ripped open labia since I knew deep down inside I had done the correct action (correction on usage of words since there’s no such thing as “right” or “wrong” only grey matter in between) by all of the next door neighbor little girls freaking out on such a sunny day the accident occurred.

Plus, at fifteen I thought I knew I wasn’t going to have sex until engagement or marriage and I came close.

The first time I ever had consented sexual intercourse was at the age of 21, the summer after my sophomore year of college to my first fiancé and on-and-off and on-and-off again Muslim boyfriend of seven years who unbeknownst to me had slept with nearly every young woman from many other high schools around the state of Minnesota which in his early twenties he was proclaimed mentally ill by professional diagnosis which now my former Muslim fiancé is “bi-polar” and most likely always will be.

He broke my heart. I recovered and didn’t marry him.

--- --- ---

Lie #3:

(1993-1993)

Yes, the first time I qualified for Nationals in speedskating was in December of 1993 when I was 16 (sixteen) years of age and a freshman (correction on grade level) in high school at the time of when Nationals took place in upstate Lake Placid, New York in such particular year of winter December 1993-January 1994.

Yes, at the age of 16 I qualified to race with 17, 18 and 19 years of age lady competitors.

Yes, I lied to my peers as to why I couldn’t go to Nationals of all places.

Simply I was poor and couldn’t afford to go to Nationals.

Therefore, I waited until the following year and did once again thankfully qualified to Nationals in January 1994 at the age of 17 (seventeen) my sophomore year of high school and competed at John Rose’s Roseville, Minnesota’s speedskating ice rink oval. It was sweet!

Yes, I placed 8^th in the Nation and my times qualified to…

Yes, the following day I quit speedskating since I knew I was at the end of my economic rope and could no longer afford the weekend travel and speedskating suits and skates and sharpening and ice time and coaches and gear and food and, and, and…

Yes, I needed adult help and finance and there was not one single mature adult in my life for who did or could or ever offered to help me financially out “without strings attached” or morbidity or perversion therefore I strongly believe in scholarships and always will until the end of my days.

If only I would’ve been financially helped out then I probably wouldn’t ever have begun smoking cigarettes or seriously writing therefore it all turned out well in the end.

Although, the journey was gut wrenching to give up speedskating for which I was awesome at and possibly Olympic material. Although, now we won’t ever know.

This lie took out my athletic career.

The truth about being a “poor” teenager living with screaming and swearing and combating divorce court case angry parents cost my life’s athletic achievement while I hid how angry and out of control my parents fought over money thus and therefore there wasn’t ever any money for me since I thought the correct thing for me to do was to be quiet and not ever ask for anything I truly needed.

Yet, my younger sister was spoiled without responsibility while I starved for the lie about my parent’s out of control divorce. It was my sister who began smoking marijuana in the eighth grade and graduated to cocaine by a sophomore while I literally starved and overworked myself to feed myself and clothe myself.

Life’s unfair.

--- --- ---

Lie #4:

(January 1994-December 2005)

Yes, I lied to my peers and said I was no longer interested in speedskating, however.

Again, I was poor and didn’t have any way to continue my speedskating practices or training because I’d been working on scholarship since the age of 13 (thirteen in seventh grade) at private high school “preparatory for college” 20 hours per week at the school library.

Begin Insert:

Furthermore, as a “special request” from a close and personal buddy I began to help her with the recycling program in 1990-1991 seventh grade and 1991-1992 eighth grade as an Honorary secret green club volunteer.

My close personal friend Dory Reichert (R.I.P. July, 2003) (who made a personal agreement with me to help her collect all of the high school’s “paper” and “sticky soda can” recycling bins to start and launch a new “recycling” school program at our private junior high school and high school.

If at the end of two years (7^th and 8^th grade) I no longer wanted to personally help her out then she wouldn’t ever ask me to personally help out or volunteer for or with any other social club and she didn’t.)

Recycling secret Honorary social club: would take us about an hour each Friday of each week to collect the entire school’s recycling paper bins and soda can bins and another hour to sort through all of the bins then another hour to place back all of the entire school’s recycling bins.

Three hours of recycling volunteer each Friday for two years plus track practice each spring of two years of recycling personal volunteer duties and cross country running practice each fall of two years of recycling personal volunteer duties. Whew.

Yuck. It was sticky central.

Soda sugars all over us then we’d take showers in the ladies locker room, get back into our awesome private school attire and we’d kiss on each cheek and go our separate ways and socialize with other people who had no idea how hard two young ladies worked peacefully together without any pay: not only to start and launch the recycling program which is now launched in all or many high schools across the United States of America. You’re very welcome.

End Excerpt:

In 1993: Also when I was 15 (fifteen) I lied about my age and picked up some late night shifts at “Little Angie’s Cantina” on Canal Park, Duluth, Minnesota as a busser to pay for my shoes and clothes and meager school lunches since all my parents did as multi-millionaires (Park Point real estate) was to scream at each other and forgot all about their adopted children as minors thus we went without many resources and lived a life of neglect and hunger and without basic needs met as long as we made ourselves scarce then we didn’t get any of our parents’ screaming heat.

We learned to be left all on our own to do with our lives as we saw fit as long as we didn’t bother our selfish parents and their careers as yuppies.

No, in 1993 at the age of 15, I didn’t even want to be noticed by my screaming dry-drunkard or dry-alcoholic parents who always thought it was “a good idea” for me to work during all of my free and down time while I was physically drained from 40 hours of attending school and 6 hours of homework each night and extracurricular activities and student council and exhausted from 4 hour practices Sunday nights through Thursday nights and also Mondays and Tuesdays and Wednesday early morning practices as well as travel to competitive regional and state meets mostly in the Twin Cities each weekend from November through March of 5^th grade, 6^th grade, 7^th grade, 8^th grade, 9^th grade and 10^th grade (6 years) while having a terrible go at it in life with poor English spoken language skills and translating mathematics into English words.

Yes, our adopted parents neglected us.

Need I say more? No.

How do I know our adopted parents neglected us?

The reason why I know our adopted parents neglected us is because my younger half-blooded adopted Costa Rican sister who is younger by seven years was found smoking marijuana in the girls bathroom in her 8^th grade year of junior high (her 8^th grade year, 1998) and graduated from marijuana to cocaine by the age of 15 and snorted cocaine with one of Belluschi’s youngest kids (1999-2000) while my sister begun to have sex with 50 year olds by the age of 18 (2003) and missed the most days in recorded Central High School’s (northern, Minnesota) history and by 18 in the fall of 2003 my sister became barefoot and homeless in the streets of Miami, Florida while she was supposedly in her freshman and sophomore (2003-2004, 2004-2005) years of college, however. She’d dropped out within her first semester of college. I didn’t know. My family refused to tell me and hid the facts from me. OMG.

It took my neglectful adopted parents two years to figure out their young 18 as well as 19 (2003-2004, 2004-2005) year old daughter was wandering barefoot and homeless high on heroin with a bad influence for a boyfriend who truly took my sister down a dark and wrong path and rabbit hole.

For a time, my sister became an exotic topless pole dancer.

Our adopted parents are terrible and abusive for parents.

Always have and always will be abusive and mean.

Our adopted parents are failures as parents and they know it.

Yes, I’ve told them how much they ruin nearly mostly anything they touch or get near.

Our adoptive parents know.

By December of 2000 in my senior year of college, my sister had attempted her third suicidal attempt thus had her stomach pumped three times by age 15 from three purposeful pill overdoses. I didn’t know. My family hid it from me.

The only time I ever found out about my sister’s dire health and three suicidal attempts was during my final exam week in December of 2000 when my East Coast, New England, Brattle Street, Cambridge, Massachusetts adopted mother called me and broke the devastating news no one in our family had the courage or found it necessary to tell me any information about my sister’s personal life and health until our adopted mother called me home upon my sister’s third suicidal attempt to straighten out the whole entire mess for our entire family of four thus I did.

Thus I returned home to Park Point, Minnesota for one month December 2000-January 2000 and put together the broken pieces of our freshly open wound in our family at the time.

--- --- ---

Lie #5:

(1994) Correction on dates

One spring night of 1994 when I was 16 (sixteen) years of age I’d been awoken by a good and close friend who was nervous and panicking and crying because a small group of five 18 year olds had mistakenly started a fire and they were afraid no one would believe them thus they asked me as to what to do about it? I didn’t know.

Yes, I told them to go home and get some sleep and by morning I’d figure out what to do.

The following morning I told them to swear to not ever tell another soul where they’d been the night before and without ever knowing any of the details or the location of where the fire took place which had accidently broken out, I told them since I was a minor then I would take the blame for the accident if anyone were to ever come around asking questions.

To this day, I haven’t ever written about this lie since I’ve waited for decades to pass by before even exploring to write about this particular circumstance because this lie cost me my best friend in 1996 and possibly future boyfriend and fiancé and husband, however.

Water under the bridge…

My one 1996 Central High School (northern, Minnesota) graduate best friend’s true colors did show and came out after I’d only ever practiced and told a blatant lie about another blatant lie about the accident which people in the community considered the accident to be “arson” which it hadn’t been arson thus I took the blame and heat and redirected the focus on me as a potential “arsonist” which I can’t stand to play with matches or any fire. No.

No, I didn’t care about my reputation as long as a group of 5 best friends didn’t ever get caught since they all had bright futures at Ivy League schools and full ride scholarships the following years awaiting them.

To this day we don’t talk about it.

See, nothing appears to be as it is.

Yes, to this day I’d take the fifth on any witness stand.

Wild horses couldn’t drag the names out of me.

--- --- ---

Lie #6:

(1992-present)

For far, too, long I’ve been ashamed I put myself through 7^th through 10^th grade private high school years while on scholarship.

The lie is I’ve allowed for people to think my adopted parents paid for private school, however.

My Park Point, Minnesota Grandfather Al Long (R.I.P) and I paid for two years of private junior high school and two years of private high school then he died and I was left all on my own from there on out.

It was me who did pay for 4 years of private school since my parents are millionaire cheap on my grandfather’s Park Point real estate.

Yes, I also worked at the Rudy Perpich Center for the Arts Resource Center (video department and mass media department) for two years of my junior and senior years of Arts High as well as I worked as assistant lunch lady’s dessert-only helper my senior year of Arts High to be able to afford my dorm room and board and food and snacks and car gas and books and education and clothes and shoes.

No, my parents didn’t ever attend any of my extracurricular activities except for the one week before high school graduation when I and a small group of about 10 classmates held the honor to perform at the Walker Arts Center at the age of 19 (for me) as a senior in high school.

At graduation is when I saw both of my adopted parents and my adopted mother for what she can be as a bully and foghorn dared come backstage (which no other parents came back stage) to demand me to put on a black graduation robe which I didn’t wear a robe when I walked across the stage to receive my diploma. I don’t regret it.

It was the greatest middle finger to my parents.

By Graduation like I cared less since my high school career was over and my adopted parents had missed it in an ugly divorce battle with 6 to 12 Boston attorney’s eating up my 2.5 million inheritance from my Park Point, Minnesota Grandfather Al Long while my sister’s inheritance of 2.5 million also got eaten up in the divorce battle and settlement.

Shame on both our plagued houses!

Plague on my father’s home in Duluth, Minnesota and plague to our mother’s home in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Yes, I also paid $38,000 per semester of freshman year and sophomore year of college (4 semesters) as well as I’m still paying the last $10,000 for the University of Iowa’s junior (1998-1999) and senior (1999-2000) year when I was diagnosed with malignant skin cancer on my left cheek on my face burrowing into the cheek bone.

Yes, I worked in our school libraries all 4 years of 7-10 grades and 2 years of 11^th and 12^th grade and 2 years at private East Coast college as freshman and sophomore and again at the university of Iowa my junior and senior year.

Yes, I’ve been working 40 hour weeks since the age of 12 or 60 hour weeks since the age of 15 to put food on the table and a roof over our heads.

Yes, our efforts have been awesome!

No, our adopted parents didn’t pay for any of my education, my grandfather and I did. I have the loans to prove it. Cheers…

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count: 4,729

--- --- ---

Lie #7:

(May-June 1996)

In May of 1996, my senior year of high school, I noticed, one of my best friends from former private school did get terribly physically ill and lost enormous amounts of weight even though she was already thin to begin with and hardly ever ate much of anything any longer well into her junior year of high school into the spring of 1996.

We watched her wither away into nothing except skin and bones and thinned out hair for the entire of her junior year in high school.

She became incredibly irritated and irritable at the simplest of questions such as “would you like to go and get coffee?”

Then she’d lose her composure and become a rabid animal without any just cause or justification. I didn’t know what exactly drove her to such anger without any provocation or purposely pushing her buttons. She’d go off.

Personally, at first I thought she had an eating disorder. No.

Even though her entire junior year of high school she’d been my dorm-room direct next-door neighbor we became “two passing ships in the night” who carefully slipped right by each other without a single word or much less a wave.

She’d been my best friend since her eighth grade year of private junior high school which in her junior year of high school she became a complete stranger and tyrant to me even though we’d gone to private junior high school long before we’d been accepted to the Rudy Perpich Center for the Arts Education in Golden Valley, MN.

In her junior year of high school, my dearest friend did get accepted for “media arts” specifically in still wet-photography while my junior year I’d been accepted for “literary arts” specific concentration in poetry and fiction writing and nonfiction.

Begin Personal Note:

Personally, my senior year I was dealing with significant and serious inappropriate misbehavior from both of our adopted parent’s gossip about each other and their final court battle and gruesome divorce proceedings which our selfish parents finally did officially divorce May of 1996 one week before my high school graduation or “so” my parents told me the date of their divorce thus the pressure to graduate valedictorian as well as get into a Massachusetts four-year private liberal arts college and get away from my family was more important to me than our miserable parent’s divorce or miserable lives for such matters.

Yes, I did graduate valedictorian and did get into my one-and-only private four-year liberal arts college of choice. Yes! I’ve always been persistent, driven, quiet and disciplined to do my work. I’ve always been a winner. I keep my head down and silently work away on success and happiness and wealth and wellness. Hip! Hip! Hooray!

In many ways it would’ve been easier if our parents had dropped dead and truly left us alone to our own devices without our parental constant pressure to succeed and be rich except each weekend my parents needed me to go home and clean up their emotional messes as well as their literal messes.

Our adopted parents have always been selfish as well as verbally-abusive even though as mature adults we cordially speak over the phone and leave texts yet both my current legal partner and I’ve been “missing in action,” (M.I.A.).

No, we haven’t gone around to our dry-alcoholic East Coast family since August, 2008, however.

My current legal partner knows. My current legal partner’s seen my East Coast family in action with his own two eyes.

Our adopted parents text and write and talk on the phone to both my current legal partner and I.

Individually, it’s safest to speak to both of our parents over speaker phone thus neither of our parents won’t say hurtful or mean or abusive comments about me personally about me since verbal abuse’s painful and hurtful and mean-spirited to justify hyper criticism and/or judgment when not asked for criticism or judgment or either or both. Right. Yep.

Our adopted parents have lied to me nearly our entire upbringing and mature adulthoods and make up stories about the wrong people involved in familial stories or tell the wrong timelines or tell the wrong dates therefore I don’t care about either of our adopted parents’ word or social misconduct thus I do my own factual research. I love facts because our adopted parents are continual selfish pathological liars about our family history to anyone who may ask either of each parent to directly answer any question about their actual events and familial life and how our adopted parents came to nearly ruin and kill their adopted bought slave children.

End Personal Note:

Anyway, sober I went through immense amounts of parental stupidity and sadness and pressure and more pressure to get out of the state of Minnesota only to again return to the misery of racism in the Midwest.

To this very day, today, my dearest (private junior high) best friend who at the time while she attended the Rudy Perpich Center for Arts Education as a junior in high school didn’t seem quite fully functional or capable of much logic or reasoning skills.

Personally, after three years of best friendship I didn’t know what was wrong with her.

Personally, at one point I thought she might be truly mentally ill for life and not only as a teenager. I ruled it out.

She proved her mature adulthood into her mid-thirties as a great and excellent mother and amazing woman stuck out in the middle of nowhere, Minnesota.

For a bit, in May of 1996, I thought maybe she had had a terrible brain damage accident and by some awful luck had possibly gone brain damaged and we lost her forever. No.

As her private school friends, we didn’t know what on Earth was going on with our best friend since private junior high?

We began to get immensely concerned for her overall mental and physical health ‘only because’ she began to look disfigured.

This particular best friend from private junior high school and I had already met three years previous to when she was in eighth grade at private junior high school and while I was in ninth grade at private high school.

She knew me well. I knew her well. We knew each other well. We still know each other well and now we text.

We love and loved each other well until unbeknownst to me and ‘behind my back’ she’d became a severe (strict) cocaine addict right along with most of the rich Shakopee, Minnesota and Eden Prairie, Minnesota and Apple Valley, Minnesota’s meat packing company’s wealthy parentage and violently bored juniors and seniors in our high school. (There’s no valley in Minnesota.)

What a disgrace.

For many years afterwards, after high school I’d wondered what personally and how personally I’d ever offended all or any of the cocaine addicts at our Arts High school for ever existing. I’m over it.

Yes, simply and only “I’m over it” since my dad laughed about what happened when he’d heard of such events as of August of 1996.

Mainly cocaine addicts only approach miscommunication in any manner in which is to openly scream at peers or to publically berate their school mates for anything as small as congratulating them on their success to graduate.

No one was able to approach or talk to such nonsensical cocaine addicts because the nonsensical cocaine addicts weren’t present at all.

The nonsensical cocaine addicts were swimming inside egocentric megalomaniac thoughts of shallow endeavors such as fame and fortune.

No school mate seemed interested per se to become a scientist or a judge or a plumber or a civilized and contributing private American.

For two years all the Rudy Perpich Center for Arts Education school-mates ever talked about was becoming “rich and famous” for being themselves and having no three (3) real skill set or talent at the time.

The cocaine addicts sounded like stupid “broken records” of self perpetuated broken dreams and blue collar disguises even though cocaine addicts were cruel and mean-spirited rich kids from the southern suburbs of the Twin Cities, Minnesota who ruined most of the “common shared” experience for the rest of the school only because cocaine addicts could and did by choice at the top of their lungs go around and scream at people at any moment cocaine addicts would throw any type of temper tantrums even though today most of our school mates walk/run away from any such immature adults who throw any type of temper tantrums unless we get physically harassed first then “good luck” to anyone violently boring and verbally abusive or physically violent since we learned to stand our ground against cocaine addicts.

Otherwise, we socially walk/run the other direction.

It wasn’t until eight (8) years ago (correction on timeline) in winter of 2009 when I discovered the truth about the Rudy Perpich Center for Arts Education’s whole bunch of cocaine addicts who had far, too, much time, and money on their hands and the cocaine addicts didn’t seem to be able to come up with constructive and positive extracurricular activities thus cocaine addicts resorted to snort cocaine, which, is fine with me, however.

Cocaine snorting and cocaine addiction isn’t any good excuse to literally go around and scream at people in their faces like the mentally handicapped who most likely will have permanent brain chemistry imbalanced damaged for life unlike an illness or temporary chemical fake-pregnancy hormones from three (3) non-cancerous uterine fibroid tumors pressing against the uterine wall.

To this day, I’m not disgusted most of our rich and violently bored classmates from southern suburbs, south of the Twin Cities, Minnesota were severe cocaine addicts who then opened-up the free cocaine market for cocaine usage and cocaine trading to the rest of our Minnesotan school mates throughout the entire state of Minnesota.

To this day, I’m not disgusted and saddened I went to school with a bunch of social cowards who wouldn’t dare come out and admit our classmates were cocaine addicts who physically messed up their teenage brain chemical imbalances and turned into tyrants because cocaine addicts were high on cocaine and couldn’t or wouldn’t control their emotions therefore cocaine addict classmates misplace their anger and wrongly projected their mislead emotions all over the place like dogs with diarrhea.

Every single day was the same mess of anger tantrums and uncontrolled or uncontrollable emotions, however.

If I’d ever gone off then my social head would’ve been on the chopping block.

The rest of the high school had to keep their cool and we did.

For those of us who weren’t drugged up under the influence of cocaine we took the social brunt of about forty (40) cocaine users and cocaine addicts our senior year.

The Rudy Perpich Center for Arts Education was two years of social ridiculousness and guarding oneself from cocaine addicts or cocaine abusers or cocaine users who wasted time and who were outright uncivilized and cruel and mean-spirited to anyone of their peers not at all like them, simply because the staff and teachers and student body let one group of about forty cigarette smokers and cocaine addicts and cocaine users and cocaine abusers get away with destroying the natural peace and natural order and overall peaceful composure of an entire campus in the year of 1996.

Yes, “I want my money back” (only as an expression.)

Yep. I do. Nope. I don’t.

No, Not literally.

The past is the past.

Leave the past to rest.

We allow for bygones to rest.

We allow for “bygones to be bygones.”

We bury the past.

~~~

Lie#7

Well, lie number #7 is all about how in the first week of June of 1996, week of our graduation, face-to-face, I told my private junior high best friend while and during at the Rudy Perpich Center for Arts Education’s grounds about how two (2) young respectful men from the graduating class of 1995 music department for whom both young men hadn’t ever met or gone to school with my previous junior high private school friend since she was from the graduating class of 1997 at the Rudy Perpich Center for Arts Education and I told her both young men had taken ‘a group of us’ (unnamed) out back to “the field” and duct taped us and left us there which none of such an event ever happen. Thank goodness. Gentlemen, thank you.

Well, it was all a complete lie.

Yes, I wanted to test my cocaine addict best friend’s brains for logic and reasoning skills and IF the one lie were ever told or spread and/or reached any one else’s ear(s) other than by my at-the-time cocaine addict friend who in her junior year of high school and senior year of high school had to go through cocaine addiction recovery therefore we’ve come back full circle round.

Personal Insert Here:

{September of 1996, before I left for one private liberal arts college, I told my dad what had occurred my senior year of high school and my dad out loud laughed and heaved from laughing as hard as all of it and told me he thought it was the stupidest and funniest story he’d ever heard in his entire life and told me not to worry about any of it and to concentrate on my continual higher education studies and college work and to remember to have fun and also, my best company is myself.} Okay.

Yes, I win. I get to walk away with my transparent integrity.

Personally, I’m sorry I ever made mention by name of any of the two great friends’ and best buddies and class mates and graduates of the class of 1995 and magnificent and respectful school mates to all and any of us, however.

Clumsily, the two young men’s names safely came to the top of my head and then I was in a whole lot of heap of trouble and hot water with my brothers who I’ll consider my brothers until the day any of us dies.

Yes, we know each others’ scents and we know each others’ verbiage and also we know each others’ likes and dislikes and, and, and… we’ve camped out and peacefully broken bread and met through best friends’ of best friends’ from way back in the days in the nine (9) years (correction on date) of Episcopal/Ojibwa camp in Bemidji, Minnesota (1987-1996) and also met up as camp counselors well into our mid-twenties.

Please, forgive me.

You know who you specifically are.

Brothers, we respect you and love you. Peace.

~~~

Back Story to a Forward Story

Of Mature Adulthood

Truly, in the year 2005 one of these two (2) extraordinary men offered to sit down and have coffee with me at “Muddy Waters Café” in Uptown, Minneapolis, MN. Yes, please.

He told me about his world travels and how for a while he’d been the drummer to a band titled: “Atmosphere” and he asked me if I knew what “Atmosphere” was? I said I didn’t know and he immediately recognized the truth in my smart face and words. I didn’t know. I don’t know. Person, place or thing? Musica. Yes.

Furthermore, at the time my friend disclosed about how exactly he’d been fired from the band “Atmosphere.” Okay. Not once did I judge him. If anything I platonically loved him even more if it were even already possible to love him more for his already well developed intellect and smarts and kind manner, always.

At the time, as I knew it he was getting out of town and headed for Hawaii and he wanted me to know and also to find him on social media and we did for a while until I completely closed down any personal online social media until my eighties when I have time for social media. Okay. Von Voyage. (“Another one bites the dust” and fled the Twin Cities of Minnesota for greener pastures and warmer weather.) Goodbye, we’ll miss you.

Yes, I was ever as proud as I could ever be for our amazing ‘hero of this story’ and his incredible and amazing and tremendous strength of character and will and testament to be such a gentleman to my face and not once brought up any lie mistakenly told about him which by mistake uttered my lips.

Even if he knew the one-and-only lie I'd ever by mistake uttered about him then not once did his eyes judge me or belittle me or make fun of me or condemn me to hell.

To me, he was pure kindness incarnate and I respect him more for his ability to higher reasoning and logic and peaceful conversation. He was a humanitarian human.

Immediately, through peaceful and positive interaction and logical and mutually reasonable communications he acknowledged and also understood I was still the quite intelligent and kind and smart “Gaby” (as known until September, 1996 when a PhD professor changed my name by accident) platonic school mate who wouldn’t ever go out of her way to ever injure his character or person or reputation thus I’ve set the course for a new future on a correct path away from malice or hate or envy or pettiness or jealousy to allow for forgiveness and let “bygones be bygones” as my friend forgave me in person and face-to-face on such 2005 (correction on date) cloudy day.

~~~

The Second Gentleman…

The second gentleman is also another equal hero in our story.

The second gentleman and I ran into one another on the streets of Duluth, Minnesota also in the year of 2005.

By luck both of us with equal and wild enthusiasm and general excitement in our eyes we spotted one another without having to explain ourselves to one another or who we both were in any way, shape or form to anyone else thus and therefore we both with mutual respect and mutual general admiration towards one another with good cheer and merriment we both stopped and directly spoke to one another after he called out my name from up above while he half balanced on a post of some type and without any malice not only once did he ever command me to tell him about the one-and-only single lie I’d ever told about him which by mistake uttered my lips.

He seemed to understand how sheepish and absurdly embarrassed I felt while I stood there before him as I listened to him fluently speak about his life and suddenly the lie rushed back to my frontal lobe and he gently and kindly without any judgment and humanely continued to tell me about his world travels and how he then was living and touring with a band out of Los Angeles, California and by chance at the time for which we spoke to each other he happened to be on tour in Duluth, Minnesota.

He’s kindness almost broke my heart.

Finally, his gentle eyes read my silent social cues and physical awkwardness as we both stood there as he smirked down at me while he half stood and half balanced on top of a meter or lamp post in front of Pizza Luce in Duluth, Minnesota, 2005.

Absolutely quite still and “cool as a cucumber” silently I stood on the pavement slightly below him staring down at the pavement without once laughing out loud even though I almost did and he knew it in which I did hold my laughter back in the days when during class. I kindly teased him and kindly in turn he teased back.

We let out a breath of release.

We were once again one as we’d always been before.

Instantaneously my friend forgave me and seemed to think it was all silly, anyway.

We warmly smiled at each other and said our goodbyes and wished each other well throughout life. We turned back and smiled at each other and waved our goodbyes.

By the pace of my walk it was obvious I was on my way to someplace with a relaxing social mission to do absolutely nothing except rest and possibly dance the night away.

My friend looked like a photograph of a happy child. I was happy for him as he continued to do his best to balance on the half lamp post or half meter. I don’t know.

We both recognized the lie I’d mistakenly mentioned by first and last name to my other private junior high friend.

He let me off easy.

Graciously without punching me in the face he allowed for me to peacefully pass while at ease as I walked down the street and peacefully and playfully he sent me on my merry way to go play and have fun since he immediately acknowledge and understood I meant absolutely no harm to his person or his reputation or to him personally, always.

However, I knew not to mention a single word of an apology to my friend until in the far-away future when I would gather the strength of courage to write a private diary entry and publically online publish any and/or all of any content for fodder since “public records” are legal testaments and one must not ever lie to the best of their knowledge or to the best of their ability while one ever writes anything down. Correct. Yes.

Lie #7 (1996-2017) has endured two decades (20 years) plus another one (1) year of shame and the public knows and is smart enough and intelligent enough and kind enough to understand any and all material(s) from nonfiction real life is indeed and in fact subject for criticism and/or scrutiny and/or fodder for written records and written testimonial words with any one authors’ names or writers’ names below the written text.

Moving on.

Next.

Face-to-face both of our male friends already forgave in the year of 2005. Thank you, brothers.

My brothers knew I would return to correct an incorrect in a private diary and build up enough courage to write this testimonial about my social blunder and faux pas and mistake and lie all of those decades ago in the first week of June of 1996.

Personally, I’ve been blessed to know hard-core kind and intelligent and smart and beautiful Minnesota intellectual musician poets whose look in their eyes is nothing except respect and compassion and more compassion for me and my well being. Thank you.

We’ve gone through a lot together and alone and separate and apart (away from each other.)

Yes, I’m done being ashamed of my 1996 lie.

Gentlemen, thank you. You’ve made a better woman out of me.

All of Our Love to You, Both.

Word Count: 3,785

--- --- ---

~~~

Continuation from Lie #7

Lie #8:

(May 1996)

We’ll save this lie for another day when I actually have time to write about such any lie since lie #7 and lie #8 are connected and tied in to one another and with each other. Okay. (Another blog for another day.) No, don’t worry I’ll get back to this subject matter.

Moving on.

Next.

Truly Yours;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 8,000

Word Count: 8,587

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count: 8,587

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #3 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #1 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 103/69 mmHg / Pulse: 61 (05/25/16)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl

(01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #15 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #9 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #80 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

“Ever since dying came into fashion, life hasn’t been the same.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Pervade (to spread or pass through)

The sweet odor of the roses seemed to pervade the whole house.

--- --- ---

Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

The above passage is indeed correctly re-copied unto this page.

--- --- ---

Hello.

Upload:

--- --- ---

No Whining

No Complaining

~~~

“Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself.”

--- J.F.K.

~~~

No Blog

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 1,000 personal journals

Word Count:

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count:

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #2 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #1 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 103/69 mmHg / Pulse: 61 (05/25/16)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl

(01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #15 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #9 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #80 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

“Youth is the one thing that never returns.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Perverse (contrary, obstinate, willful)

He is the most perverse person I ever met.

--- --- ---

Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

The above passage is indeed correctly re-copied unto this page.

--- --- ---

Hello.

Upload:

--- --- ---

No Whining

No Complaining

~~~

“Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself.”

--- J.F.K.

~~~

No Blog

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 1,000 personal journals

Word Count:

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count:

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #1 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #1 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 103/69 mmHg / Pulse: 61 (05/25/16)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl

(01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #15 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #9 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #80 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

Monday, April 3, 2017

“A man should go on living --- if only to satisfy his curiosity.”

(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish Quotations)

Garish (glaring, showy)

The circus performers wore garish costumes.

--- --- ---

Street Etiquette.

Shouting.

Chapter 9.

Page 136

The above passage is indeed correctly re-copied unto this page.

--- --- ---

Hello.

Upload:

--- --- ---

No Whining

No Complaining

~~~

“Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself.”

--- J.F.K.

~~~

No Blog

Yours Truly;

Gabriel

Word Count Goal: 1,000 personal journals

Word Count:

This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 5,000

This Week’s Total Word Count:

One Year Health Goal for each of the following Items:

*) Day #12 without verbal swear words. I like it.

*) Day #3 without a cigarette. It’s alright. I like it.

*) Blood Pressure: 103/69 mmHg / Pulse: 61 (05/25/16)

*) CHOLESTEROL, Total

294 (10/20/2014), 245 (06/02/15), 276 (01/22/16)

HDL Cholesterol

49 (10/20/2014), 50 (06/02/15), 52 (01/22/16)

Triglycerides

296 H (10/20/2014), 241 H (06/02/15), 253 H (01/22/16)

LDL-Cholesterol

186 H (10/20/2014), 147 H (06/02/15), 173 H (01/22/16)

CHOL/HDLC RATIO

6.0 H (10/20/2014), 4.9 (06/02/15), 5.3 H (01/22/16)

NON HDL CHLOESTEROL

245 H (10/20/2014), 195 H (06/02/15), 224 H (01/22/16)

IRON, Total

79 mcg/dl (10/20/2014), 52 mcg/dl (06/02/15), 137 mcg/dl

(01/22/16)

CORTISOL, Total

19.2 (10/20/2014), N/A (06/02/15), 11.9 (01/22/16)

*) Week #15 without any higher dosage of birth control pill: “Zovia 1/50E (28) 1-50 MG-MCG”

*) Week #9 one sleeping pill per night by mouth “Zolpidem Tartrate” 10 MG

*) Week #80 (09/03/15) on antidepressants one per day by mouth: “Escitalopram Oxalate” 20 MG (03/01/16 change of dosage.)

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