Hmmm, scrolling action incapacitated at some point, but aside from that.  A super great method for quitting shmoking is this, and it really works.  Dress up your hands each morning.  One hand, the hand you smoke most often with, dress up as a
burglar, or better yet as Bush, or any of his sneaky awful cabineteers.  Dress the other up as something good to you, like some one you would ordinarily most always trust.  Then when the burglar attains in its arms a cigarette you immediately know to
demand an answer from it as to what nefarious intentions it plans for you.  And it will say to you, "Oh this? I just want to
bring the chemicals inside by way of lighting it on fire, you kniow, show them off again to the rest of the body, beginning with
the lungs and heart."  Well, youve caught him there! and the wrestling match should be easily won, as you are alot larger and heavier than your own hand.  After awhile the burglar hand should just give up.  If youve dressed up your other hand correctly
wrestling with it will not be an issue, it will not want to do things it knows you frown upon.    No - Bad mr rumsfeld, you will not host a fundraiser in my body - bad bad mr rumsfeld!!
Im winning yay! This has such moralizing
overtones i think Ill just stop now.

At my friend Sandys in Sioux Falls. Yep. To Sioux Falls did I make.
[Minneapolis - Mankato - Gods Pristine Breadbasket - Manifest Destiny - ctrl - shift - delete - new history ]
Spent the first 86/100ths of two weeks working for a crew putting up helpful signs on the inTerstate.  You know, like, this is I29  , Pass Out On Your Front Porch And Make Up With the Missus In the Morning, Exit Right Lane 1/4 mile Ahead.  Stuff like that.   Of recent Ive been working at a call center
taking holiday orders for people who put the 'daunt' in 'impossible', who ask way too much from publicly traded organs of federal institutions, who initiate my subconcious to install illegal isotopes of gag reflex in my various soul registers because they are so wholly self assured and illogical and unfortunately legitemized by credit industryz. I translate their madness by way
of a poorly thought out, and comicly slow interface to a database that taunts me with its unattainable key.   My fear is
some of these new gag reflexs have been partially installed and I havent noticed thier folder, even though I turned off hide
system folders and files back in 83.  Mebbe earlier. Am I ranting or what.  Few jobs have embraced me in a private
permanent state of 'letting my performance go' until I hopefully get fired.  For some reason my work ethic only works in the strictest of legal dimensions here.  And I dont steal credit card numbers either. I just dont.  But I do leave my phone on
'not available' for to be unexplainable intermissions, and I do browse much of the pornography explicitly forbidden by the
fantomas tech rep.  I consider John Quincy Adams and Akkadian word lists pornographic anyway.  To the character of REAL men. 
So yea.  Another week of this? Turkeys and Cheeses delivered a day before CrissMas sans extra postage with sweetly triumphed
gift messages to those who beared their physical safety for 365x18 or more 24 hour periods , that sound and look
unfavorably  like every other counterfeit shadow of holiday sentiment since 1913?   If im lucky.  Arostotle
did so bear his sentence with a stunning reflection to Crito , [Were it not for Athens I would not be the great man I am].
Or some such slander did he reflect.  Im just looking for some road dough so I can bike south.  Still not knowing what It
iS i am bound for.  I should be very grateful.  And I guess I am.  But man, no wonder they give the rest of us the tweak-ed
privelages of pigs in their yards?  Institutionaliuze, Organize, Solidari-fer-ize, let the crys of the endlessly hungered try
their limbs and harms upon our walls!  Shit, I think ive just stepped into Arnold Schwarzenegger mentality.  I was originally
Just to who-is my uncles website for some unresearched inspiration.  I need a new host and DNS to set up a website with
out the stupid name of my other.  Happiness. Peace. Love.  Beauty.  Love.  Triumph.  Community.   Love. 

As always, your writing is incredible!!! I love it!!!
I wish I knew you in real life...hahahahaha!
On a sad note, but then again, you probably never got to know him, your grandfather died in September (Grandpa Louis to you I guess). We popped on up to Erie, Pa for his funeral.
It was small, short, and his sister paid for it. Sonny and I were the only ones to speak for him.
288,000 people die in this world every day, and on September 4th, he was one of them.
Kind of sad isn't it, how the most exciting event in some people's lives is their death.

Left Duluth saturday afternoon.  Actually from Cloquet, from my darling Heathers home.  I was on the trail heading back to duluth, v-e-r-y slowly.  There was a discernable feeling taking over my gut, took a look and realized it was the law of diminishing return munching slowly, unnoticed for weeks, until that moment.  Apparently im in no mood for specifics right now.
Oddly?  a man next to me speaking aloud just said to his guest -"Here, Ill give you the short version".  Happens all the
time doesnt it?  Anyways.  To dust with the expectations for 'lucrative tree fetching' in duluth.  So i turned around,
registering for miles the fact that Heather would be back from Grand Marais the next day at noonish, and would drive me to minneapolis.  With her friend Leify.  They were to get a train there for Montana anyways. 
So it took me about fifty hours.  A few bundles of those were late at night and it was striking cold and I sharpened the hell
out of my night vision capacities, razor sharp.  fun, like shirly maclean driving a truck down a county road without hands kinda
fun.  ya know?  Yesternight Heather and Leify drove down to St Paul, (changed her ticket to reflect new 'disabled' class membership so as to reap a needed saving), and I met her at the Dubliner bar, had some ass tasting cheep beers together...
la la la .. went to the station and kissed her a few damned times goodbye, held back tear in eye like man, smoked a cigarette and watched her cozy up in the tube, but it did not leave the station.  Never effing does these days, 13 minutes of thinning
out a superior romantic event, to which suspense does not improve or clarify one bit.  Nope.  waving, leaving, blah blah blah.
So now im here, at Hard Times Cafe, logging, waiting to sip some brewz with Jake, who works here, who hooked me up with a rim to replace the one i smacked very obtuse 15 miles from here and still made it with.  Cheers people.

So has your bonnie Heather left or will she return?

She was away, but returning when I left for Minneapolis.  She met me in st Paul on monday and left for montana and is on the train comin back today.  Of course I will  miss her return because I have to do a job Sunday morning.  aye yaye yaye. "At this rate maybe well never get there". 

Tuesday 9 am.
Its after monday.  Monday is gone and I am sitting in Heathers' family' kitchen, reading from her book Art In Theory 1900-1990 and looking up fascinating and  illuminating characters of being.
Maritain, Kant, Thomas Aquinas, George Grosz, Margaret Fuller, Emilio Zapata. all mixed around like perfect courtesans of time and ordinary consideration.
She is at work, and she is beautiful just outside of measure but I think I can
roughly sum up most of the volume by its many facets as pleases me or another.
 She is awesome in spirit and personality and interpretation of freedom, smell  and girth of mindedness. 
She has three dogs, two of which I have let out on a leash, Tasha is sitting beside me.
   Its entirely a better orient; the unfolding of ideas and thought brought on by moral, loving, unrattled impulses in a crib of abstraction and art with directions for microwave if you just arent up to using the range.
I love it !!!  [the improving distractions gained in this dream of reality, and its practice!]
 But it is hellbent difficult to maintain any positive and incrementable curing of it outside of the heaven that exists for me at the moment.
Work is sad and hollow, its arts portioned out in an economy of ignorance and aversion to the good in things.
Things are at the root of what we do, [we 'do' things, and we seek things] yet no one will share about me in the love of mastering their conception, their molestation, their taking.  
The other evening I was watching bravos stripped up license of 'pulp fiction'
I couldnt help but borrow certain events of it in my mind which related to my situation.  I wondered did they foretell any clues?
"I am beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tryanny of evil men"(*)
'you will feel a [slight?] sting, thats your pride .." (Marcellus to Butch before the staged loss of a fight for a large chunk of immediate cashola).
the scene where Vincent and Jules enter the bar wearing clothes ill fitting and conspicuous for them.
How they get back the glowing breifcase ..
(*Not as a cozy blanket of self righteous never ending parade of injury for all time season and scope, but for this recent small
adventure involving a modern mental luddite and his seized inheritance of a self aggrandizing 'best culture in the world' minus exploration of its privelages and perks, genesis, and possibility due other cultures 'happening'! and 'happened!' on this 'same fawking planet!')
..relating to a small adventure with my urban affected redneck boss, and the promise of alot of money, kuntry music and carpet bombing motherfukkers coming into play every now and again. 
So yeah.  Yesterday I was at wrrk, a lucrative tree top pillage-fest in the swamplands of northern minnesota.  I will name him Marfin, and it was he I and three additional males.
  I had the use of one pruner, a telescoping pole with sharpened jaws and a rope leading from them to the end of the pole for operation. 
My rope had been broken the week before and was temporarily fixed with an excess of duct tape, that wrapped it tightly around the mid part of the pole.
possible red flag waving in the background of many events with marfin;;  Throughout the weekend when it was only he and i wrkink the xmas treez,
he told me over and over how between us we had done more work, faster, better, making more money, than he did the past year with a crew of five people.
 [I could easily confirm some of this, as the crew by the week was more feeble, and we are brute producers who take on the never ending wounds of our chore without fear or hesitation.]
 So I began to fix the pruner.  I began by cutting the duct tape away from the pole with out scarring the pole.
 when I was about to join it with a peice of a larger diameter rope than the original - marfin invited himself into a prelude of rage by shouting from half a swampblock away - [would I want him to do it for me].
I replied no , I was all right with the task, just a half hitch from one to the other and all would be done, though really i intended two half hitches apeice.
Well, he was essentially in motion during what turned out to be a  rhetorical question more worthy of containing a brewing prison riot than 'helping out' in the beautiful wealth of seemingly endless product, and as soon as possible was he instantly forcing himself on the situation.  [It was his tool after all and so] I was with out much to politically out lever him no matter how insulting his oafish action upon us.
He made a figure eight at the end of the one rope and and attempted to knot the new end thru it while I explained in easy to understand bursts of tone and term what I was originally in the middle of doing.  To him I now fully realize this was a cross made in his linear expirations of indulutable authority.  Thats a nice simple way of putting it.
And he was 'training other guyz' , even so, who does he think hes upbraiding here? for what end? why?
 He then moved on over and through his prelude into the main act for the next 20 minutes and I dared suffer those insulting events with them in the swamp.
What happens is a person of themselves makes 'indisputabl' (tm) claims about 'a' situation,
that when made, (and because they are far from just or true or accurate in time or place or relevance, or they are just so deafeningly defamed;;) absolutely demand straightening before the defamer, their so called god, the surrounding slightly salivating and unhelpful  public, and own pride.
It was personal, invected independently without compulsion by me onto me and my shit, and frequent enough, blah blah blah. Who doesnt notice the shit that amuses the dragon so heatedly is actually still being shat by the dragon?
We all do, its the norm, no question about it for us mice.
 For one he declared in a nasty tone as if he had been humiliated [that i always am
"debating" every little thing] with him, which if he had bothered to tape the previous 5 days wouldve had to admit, i was instead seamlessly relating to him mostly in his terms just to dig out the money like a spy, overtly cautious of anything inflicting the disasters of depth, (I was truly thrown by his draw of 'debate' instead of 'argue').
well anyway, following thats he went on to shout at me to shut up, I was worse than his bitch Crystal, I need to know when to shut up etc.
Even to recount this excessively grotesque script is a degrading turn for retrospects few barely polishable gems, so,
anyways., yeah. 
In the midst of this I felt it only natural to toss incendiary statements
of common knowledge swept blindly asunder in his general hatred such as those including american tradition, normality and priveledge to use "words" as a matter of superior society with men, that I am american, and have as much freedom as I can make and maintain, that he should think of what he said to me before moving on to the next offensive diatribe. 
I was like - dude, get out of my grill, we are making money right?  But no, it was about the privatization of fleeting authority, censorship of freedom in order to send a personal message, typical shit assed dream. It was awful.
His circuits couldnt relate, his only pursuit by ways of repeating the offense , stealing fragmented portions of what I said to him and rendering them into use with his dismissal of them in an infinitive closed ended case... bla bla bla, been there, suffered that , etc. So I quit.
Then I trekked thru the bushes for 20 minutes until I reached his van and sat a while, and then stole it and drove back to Duluth. 
I took many wrong routes by accident turning 20 minutes into about 40 and ended up not on the west side above peidmont, which would have let me easily onto 6th street by his house and with a
few minutes edge on my immagined possible pursuers, but onto the eastside, and with a fawking damned unwelcome series of stop signs and lights and about 60 blocks difference.
when I finally got there by way of overreaching into the hills along skyline blvd where the view is breathtaking and I thought of stepping out for some pictures, it was on 6th street that I crossed paths with the rest of the crew rounding a corner showing some intrigue at discovering me, or actually the van, but that was brief.
I fucking floored it at that point, around the corner and down hill.
Down a couple of  blocks they caught up for a moment or two perpendicularly,  and I lost them using the aid of small increments of the next few blocks , an alleyway and one great leap across a gravel parking lot by a dead gas station, and a nice bump of  fear-and defiance.  From there it was a sure shot onto michigan street, a mile east and  up the ramp downtown by the police station.  I left the van on the 5th floor of the holiday inn parking garage.
 And there I was, in the surprising 90 degree climate, rubber boots, filthy
clothes, downtown, in a parking garage, without fare for transit , coffee or even a lighter.  But I had stolen a van, and was focused, and set my mind to dealing with the wcs and giving up for the next few hours my well won abstinance of smoking cigarettes. 
Went to the sitting bench by the jewelry store on the skywalk, plugged in , checked some email, instant messaged heather, fired up skype and called marfin ;  told him where his van was. 
It was a failure, as these things seem to always end up 'these days'.  I didnt make it back before they did.  I didnt get in the
window to the apartment to get my bike and my shoes and my shit on my own deranged but potent terms.  I left all in jeoproady. 
So I went where I knew? they would never conceive of bothering; a world so unlike the crusty squalid neverending promise of dreams pissed asunder by drunken dereliction, avarice and ignorance [west side], that on a map it was
probably shaded by the symbols - not go there us, happy hi brow hippies- to them [canal park area].  In my rubber boots, to the amazing grace cafe, did I go.  I met a pair of cool peepz, one named Willow, the other recognized me from labor ready.   Willoe  bought me a tea and we networked for future conversation as she was cool and sincere and culturally tuned and from canada.
I called heather and she met me several hours later at the beach and that was just super groovy and all the right calibration. 
[bike get did]
And marvin said he understood why I did it and wanted to get past it and work again tomorrow, that is today.
I didnt question what he meant by 'understood why i did it'. Told him my people will get in touch with his people.
[must glowing breifcase get]
allright.
 

sweet, thank you for the kudz! I edited it shortly after , removing some reduncity, replaced the heading.  The link in 'recent logs' still loads the former, perhaps some db field needs to be bumped.  Totally dig immersing myself in your musings, thoughts and stories as well.  You possess a well balanced pleasant and relevant sense for language, and dispense it naturally, interestingly and most often it is rooted in some love or another for what is good in the world.  I guess that means life.
ciao bebbe

Thats a hell-of-a-story Warren.
You should write for a living. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it.
It had all of the intrigue, adventure, and excitement you'd expect in a more published document.
Your words let me into your life, painted the pictures of your surroundings and described very well your situation.
The best part of it all, was that it ended in a good way. (I especially liked the circular reference to the glowing briefcase).

What was hilarious...see, I was editting the same copy of your story...I liked it so much.
HOWEVER, I guess we see what happens in this system when two people are working on the same log record.
Once I figured you were editting it, and thus overlaying any of my mods (I know this editor better), it all came together.
I'll avoid that in the future.
But your story seemed GREAT!
I was doing hilights, and paragraph mods...

BTW: If you do SHIFT ENTER, this editor will drop you down one line instead of two. But the usual way to use it is only to press ENTER when you actually want the end of a paragraph...(weird, I know, its not all my software).

 I notice, yeah , um, highlites, which pleasantly demarcate interwise. beauty.  suppose I could try a hand at it , but its more mun to wait and see how another iffagines the editing.. ooh yeah!

Its 1023 pm.I approached the littler trailer in the dark.  Right now, I have a flashlight in my mouth, and yes, I am  in a state of drunkeness but I still have 1 and a half damn beers to my imbibage. I checked the first row of outlets on the the trailer to which in a prevous time I had chatted mundanely with a man who had worked for thie outfit way too many years and who was only trying to say that on THAT day they guys in the trux were letting out some slough , into the river.  ... by which I pitched my stay under the radar of the upwardly immobile dogs of attitude and authoritay beneath a series of hwyz overpassing.
  The first box was blackened and I figured that juicegez would not be quarried there.  But the second of the 5, like a bingo.  I was on the backside of the temporal workmans office by the railroad trax, and my bicycle did prove worthy of enough aptitude to allow my a moment of balance to get this laptop to the ruf wjile charging and to my delight logging on.  But to actually get to the roof of the structure with myself  where I might better sink a feathrr into the faithhaveneast wifi signal? I would have to append the front of the strukture.  So I did attempt and twice did I attempt. At first I had no notion of the peculiar physical unrestraints set up of the  stairwell that graced the front of this trailer ,,, so in the 1st up in a minute I  begAN with a footing that sent me and the construction, westwardly and to the ground accompanying a frightening unwanted entire throe.  Nuffsaid I finished a severe yet enlightened 'oh shit' and crawled up again to  aright the stairwell with a hearth of blue ribbon impulse. .. back to near abouts the door it was saddled up to originally. and then I began what was to be  a very simple access to this roof I now sit at with a nearly inhessitant singular motion  aND ease.  and yes the signal is better.  and I still have 1 beer left but no one to share this moment with. crap.  Shivering, winded and without a noble immediate futere I now am possessed with a sped away itinerary of mind that this is none much more than just sitting drunk in the wind on a roof.
Now to get down again...