One day Tom and Nick take a train ride together to New York and on the way they stop at a shabby garage owned by George Wilson, where Nick is introduced to the owner's wife, Myrtle (Tom's mistress). Nick accompanies Tom and Myrtle to their Manhattan love-nest, where Myrtle presides over a pretentious party that includes her sister and several others. Nick finds the evening increasingly unbearable but does not leave until Tom breaks Myrtle's nose in a spat.

Nick learns that his next-door neighbor, who throws lavish parties hosting hundreds of people, is the wealthy, mysterious Jay Gatsby. Nick receives an invitation one weekend and attends, finding the party wild and fun. However, he also discovers the guests do not know much about Gatsby and that rumors about the man are contradictory. Nick runs into Jordan Baker, who invites him to join her. While looking for Gatsby, they run into a man with large "Owl Eye" glasses admiring Gatsby's collection of books. Later, a man strikes up a conversation with Nick, claiming to recognize him from the US Army's Third Infantry Division during the Great War. Nick mentions his difficulty in finding the host, and the man reveals himself to be Gatsby. An odd, yet close, friendship between Nick and Gatsby begins.

One day, Gatsby drives Nick to New York City. Gatsby presents a clichéd description of his life as a wealthy dilettante and war hero to an incredulous Nick, but the latter is convinced when Gatsby displays a war medal and photograph. In New York, Gatsby introduces a bemused Nick to underworld figure Meyer Wolfsheim (based on Arnold Rothstein). Nick then sees Tom and tries to introduce Gatsby, but finds that Gatsby has disappeared.

we dont thinkkk anymoreee

the hours after you are gone are so leaden

they will always start dragging too soon

the grapples clawing blindly the bed of want

bringing up the bones the old loves

sockets filled once with eyes like yours

all always is it better too soon than never

the black want splashing their faces

saying again nine days never floated the loved

nor nine months

nor nine lives

saying again

if you do not teach me I shall not learn

saying again there is a last

even of last times

last times of begging

last times of loving

of knowing not knowing pretending

a last even of last times of saying

if you do not love me I shall not be loved

if I do not love you I shall not love

the churn of stale words in the heart again

love love love thud of the old plunger

pestling the unalterable

whey of words

terrified again

of not loving

of loving and not you

of being loved and not by you

of knowing not knowing pretending

pretending

Abstract Plain

If you're reading this, you're no doubt asking yourself, "Why did this have to happen?"  The simple truth is that it is complicated and has been coming for a long time.  The writing process, started many months ago, was intended to be therapy in the face of the looming realization that there isn't enough therapy in the world that can fix what is really broken.  Needless to say, this rant could fill volumes with example after example if I would let it.  I find the process of writing it frustrating, tedious, and probably pointless… especially given my gross inability to gracefully articulate my thoughts in light of the storm raging in my head.  Exactly what is therapeutic about that I'm not sure, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

We are all taught as children that without laws there would be no society, only anarchy.  Sadly, starting at early ages we in this country have been brainwashed to believe that, in return for our dedication and service, our government stands for justice for all.  We are further brainwashed to believe that there is freedom in this place, and that we should be ready to lay our lives down for the noble principals represented by its founding fathers.  Remember? One of these was "no taxation without representation".  I have spent the total years of my adulthood unlearning that crap from only a few years of my childhood.  These days anyone who really stands up for that principal is promptly labeled a "crackpot", traitor and worse
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Excerpt from Nekkid Luncheon

id I ever tell you about the man who taught his ass to talk? His whole abdomen would move up and down you dig farting out the words. It was unlike anything I had ever heard.

This ass talk had sort of a gut frequency. It hit you right down there like you gotta go. You know when the old colon gives you the elbow and it feels sorta cold inside, and you know all you have to do is turn loose? Well this talking hit you right down there, a bubbly, thick stagnant sound, a sound you could smell.

This man worked for a carnival you dig, and to start with it was like a novelty ventri- liquist act. Real funny, too, at first. He had a number he called The Better Ole that was a scream, I tell you. I forget most of it but it was clever. Like, "Oh I say, are you still down there, old thing?"

"Nah I had to go relieve myself."

After a while the ass start talking on its own. He would go in without anything prepared and his ass would ad-lib and toss the gags back at him every time.

Then it developed sort of teeth-like little raspy in- curving hooks and start eating. He thought this was cute at first and built an act around it, but the asshole would eat its way through his pants and start talking on the street, shouting out it wanted equal rights. It would get drunk, too, and have crying jags nobody loved it and it wanted to be kissed same as any other mouth. Finally it talked all the time day and night, you could hear him for blocks screaming at it to shut up, and beating it with his fist, and sticking candles up it, but nothing did any good and the asshole said to him Its you who will shut up in the end. Not me. Because we dont need you around here any more. I can talk and eat AND shit
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Oooo snap crackle

Polanski Breaks Silence on His Extradition From Switzerland



Hannibal Hanschke/Reuters
Roman Polanski in 2009.

By MICHAEL CIEPLY
Published: May 03, 2010

LOS ANGELES - Ending a long silence, Roman Polanski addressed his possible extradition to the United States over a 33-year-old sex-crime case with a statement that accused authorities here of "trying to serve me on a platter to the media of the world," instead of honoring what he described as an agreement, made decades ago, to limit his punishment to time already served.

"I have decided to break my silence in order to address myself directly to you without any intermediaries and in my own words," Mr. Polanski said in the statement, which was distributed to the news media on Sunday.

The 908-word statement was circulated by Bernard-Henri Lévy, who is a friend of Mr. Polanski's and the director of the French magazine La Règle du Jeu. Mr. Polanski, the Oscar-winning director whose films include "The Pianist" and "Chinatown," was arrested in Switzerland on Sept. 26. He has since been held pending possible extradition for sentencing in the case that stemmed from his arrest in 1977 after having sex with a 13-year-old girl.

Charged with various offenses, including rape, Mr. Polanski pleaded guilty to having unlawful sex with a minor. He spent 42 days in a California state prison during a psychiatric evaluation, but fled the country before final sentencing by Judge Laurence J. Rittenband.

Mr. Polanski's lawyers have argued in court that Judge Rittenband, who died in 1993, committed improprieties in the case and had promised that the psychiatric evaluation would be Mr. Polanski's entire sentence.

Prosecutors and a Los Angeles County Superior Court judge have insisted that Mr. Polanski cannot pursue his claims until he returns to the United States. But Mr. Polanski's lawyers have argued that an extradition request sent to Swiss authorities concealed facts that would show that he does not qualify for extradition.
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Bleak Futcahhh

Karōshi (過労死, karōshi^?), which can be translated literally from Japanese as "death from overwork", is occupational sudden death. Although this category has a significant count, Japan is one of the few countries^[which?] that reports it in the statistics as a separate category. The major medical causes of karōshi deaths are heart attack and stroke due to stress.

The first case of karōshi was reported in 1969 with the death from a stroke of a 29-year-old male worker in the shipping department of Japan's largest newspaper company.^{[citation needed]} It was not until the later part of the 1980s, during the Bubble Economy, however, when several high-ranking business executives who were still in their prime years suddenly died without any previous sign of illness, that the media began picking up on what appeared to be a new phenomenon. This new phenomenon was quickly labeled karōshi and was immediately seen as a new and serious menace for people in the work force. In 1987, as public concern increased, the Japanese Ministry of Labour began to publish statistics on karōshi.

New and Fresh!

You can now go to http://sajamacut.blogspot.com for something in a more conventional form of a "band" website (yawnnnnn..............)