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.