So I finally got an iPhone, and as much as I like it, I’m astonished by the quality of the photos it takes.  I say “it,” because there are no settings.  It’s all automatic.  This is the first photo I took with it, today, on 6th Street.  The only Photoshop work done here was to cut the file size in half.  Incredible.  Those people there at Apple may just have a future in computers and stuff.

Killing black women in south Los Angeles

In a case that is reminiscent of the police oversight in Cleveland, by being remise in their investigation of a series of missing women reports in the same neighborhood for over 15 years, they only recently were able to arrest convicted rapist Anthony Sowell for the killings.

http://wp.me/pEzT2-hC

As in the Cleveland serial killer case, the perpetrator was able to get away with his murderous rampages for several years, due to the fact that police departments around the country continue to fail to follow-up and thoroughly investigate the murders, or the missing case reports, of black women that they deem to be street trash.

In Los Angeles, we see that black women are treated like dirt, as compared to the way a white women would be assisted, and if they go missing, it is the top priority for the department.

We see that with the mishandling of the Mitrice Richardson disappearance by the Malibu Police Department, after they released her after she clearly was acting disoriented as if her life and safety did not matter.

http://wp.me/pEzT2-3R

In LA, the name of the serial killer is ‘The Grim Sleeper’. A citizens action group has been set up to keep a focus on finding and prosecuting this killer. In south LA, the police were not very quick to connect the dots to incriminate one killer.

The following is quoted from their website, http://www.blackcoalitionfightsback.org/, and I encourage you all to look at it and support their effort to capture this killer…

Because the killings were not connected as serial murders, the tragic enormity of the situation has been hidden and downplayed, and vital evidence, connections and patterns may have been missed.

 Public and media attention which would have been greater if the total numbers of deaths had been known, would have spurred the police into a more vigorous investigation. Lives might have been saved and the community better protected from further attacks.

The first set of murders was announced in the mid-1980s after eleven women had already been killed in a 40-mile radius in South L.A. The police falsely referred to the killer as the “Prostitute Slayer” a name then picked up by the press.

By the end of the 1980s the public was told that the murders committed by the South side Slayer were solved.

The police named the second set of murders the “Strawberry Murders” (a name given by LAPD because they said the victims were mainly women who exchanged sex for drugs). A Sheriff’s Deputy, Ricky Ross, was arrested and charged with three of the murders and then subsequently released for lack of credible evidence.

 After 11 dead victims and one surviving eyewitness, LAPD have finally re-released 1988 composite sketch of serial killer infamously known as the “Grim Sleeper.”

A well spoken, 20 or 30-year-old man began attacking women, typically those working as prostitutes in South Los Angeles in 1985. Police found fingerprints, DNA and other compelling evidence that point to the same killer. All victims, including the surviving woman, were shot with the same small-caliber gun.

One woman, ‘Enietra’ Margette, survived an attack in 1988. The alleged serial killer shot the victim in the chest and sexually assaulted her.

Families of several of the victims were never notified by law enforcement that their loved ones were killed by a serial murderer—and neither was the lone survivor of the attacks.

 Each was made to believe that it had been a random killer. Many families had to learn from press articles or from television! Crucial patterns of evidence have been missed.

The public is deeply disturbed by the lack of information released over the past 20 years. The  Black Coalition Fighting Back Serial Murders challenged the LAPD to take more aggressive actions toward solving the cold cases.

According to reports, the police have recently released a 911 tape of witness who saw the driver of a van dump a body.

The Black Coalition begs the questions, “Why was so little done in 20 years to solve these murders?”

I know the answer to that is easy….”because it is easy for many in law enforcement to believe that black women are trash”….

Their treatment of our women proves this to be true.

Known Victims Of The Grim Sleeper

“This guy’s targeting people on the streets. Most of our girls have had issues with narcotics or prostitution, so it’s not so much that he’s creeping around, taking innocent mothers off the street. We suggest people just use caution when they’re out.”

“It’s the difference between the valuing of Black life versus the valuing of White life.

 Clearly if these were White women, as opposed to being Black women, especially if these were White women sort of in the working class, there would be an all-out onslaught. It would be national news … whether or not they were prostitutes,” said Atty. Gyamfi.

Family members of victims held a meeting with task force investigators to determine what else they didn’t know, like police had a composite sketch of the suspect but have never released it.

“They have a sketch that was done back in 1988 and that is something that normally you get out everywhere. You think about the Craig’s List killer, and how they had pictures of him and his head was always down or turned to the side. They didn’t care. They put that mess up and said if you have any information let us know,” she said.

And the 911 tape about Barbara Ware’s murder existed in the 1980s—but wasn’t made public until earlier this year.

LAPD is currently composing an updated sketch of the serial killer who may be in his late 40s to mid 50s now.

At the time of the eyewitness’s attack, the alleged murderer was described as well spoken, 20 to 30 years old, pockmarked face, between 5’8” to 5’10.” He was last seen driving an orange two-door 1970’s Pinto, hatchback with tinted windows and green interior.

Anyone with information is urged to contact 800 Task Force Detectives, Robbery-Homicide Division at (213) 473-0346 Monday through Friday 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. During non-business hours, call the Detective Information Desk 877-LAPD-247.

If the murders had not happened in South L.A. against working-class Black women but in Beverly Hills or some other affluent neighborhood would they have been handled with the same lack of care and seriousness, would they be so under-reported by the media?

What do you think?

Source…

http://www.lawofficer.com/news-and- rticles/news/2009/11/lapd_releases_sketch_of_1985_serial_killer.html

http://www.finalcall.com/artman/publish/article_6366.shtml

Living in a country where soap and water is readily accessible makes me realize how there should be no excuse for smelly people to be sitting next to me in class. The fact that one doesnt have time to  take a shower in the morning shouldnt even be an issue anymore. Deodorant and bottled scents are no longer for the rich. Even when looking back into major ancient civilzations, you can see that the Romans, Greeks, early Egyptians, etc. all had some form of perfume to mask body odor….So all those stinkers need to get with the damn program. Those foul-smelling people have the potential to ruin regularly smelling people’s days. I guess I’m just referring to the day that some smelly kid sat next to me in class and distracted me from taking proper notes. I was too busy trying to pinpoint what he smelled like to pay attention to the professor. So my message to you is to beware of the odor offenders.

So I have been following this Anthony Sowell case on twitter since I first heard about it. And to think this type of amorality exists is really appalling, especially since I have been to Cleveland many times. But what I find more disturbing than the black serial killer himself (we all know the majority of serial killers in America are white) I was surprised that in a society that is hyper-sensitive to death threats and maintaining the law insomuch that security guards at the airport had to check my ponytail for potential bombs and bike riders get d.u.i.’s, that the report of all of these missing women went unchecked for such a long time with so much evidence mounting on this guy.

Then I realized why.

Oh, it is because it was poor black families reporting that their black daughters were missing. Throw in the fact that a possible black rapist lives a block away and you exponentially raise the apathy. The cops just don’t care.

They have identified seven victims so far out of the 11 and ALL of them are black.

1. Tonia Carmichael

2. Telacia Fortson

3. Tishana Culver

4. Nancy Cobbs

5. Amelda Hunter

6. Chrystal Dozier

7. Michelle Mason

I assume the same process occurs when a resume of someone named Shawneequa (my mother’s name) passes an interviewer’s desk. She gets passed right over, just like Tonia, Telacia, and Tishana did.

Nevermind that the stench of rotting flesh that every one complained about is completely distinct from the smell of the sausage factory down the street. Nevermind that a known sex offender lived a block away from these women. Nevermind that people actually witnessed a naked woman being thrown from the window. Just let the niggers rot!

Are we still living in the A Time to Kill moment where for a jury to sympathize with a black victim we have to close our eyes and pretend she is white for anyone to give a flying fuck? People are pointing at the police and stating they didn’t do their job but they are forgetting to ask why they didn’t do their job…because nobody cares about those black broads, just another crack whore off the street.

imagine she is being raped-we don't care. imagine she is being beaten-we dont care. imagine she is being beaten and raped but she is WHITE. ok now i guess we care. that really *is* appalling!!!

I’m sure the detectives weren’t being told that they had by 5 pm to interview everyone associated with Tishana because she was black and hence, doesn’t matter.

This whole situation reminds me of what Eartha Kitt’s character says in Spike Lee’s Summer of Sam. For those who don’t know Summer of Sam details how the Son of Sam affected the the city of New York with his numerous murders of women. I love this film and the dystopic landscape it is set agaisnt but I digress. In the film Spike Lee as a newscaster goes to Harlem to get the “darker perspective.” Eartha Kitt states that she “thanks God that it is a white man killing all of those white girls, because if it were a black man killing all those white girls there would be the biggest race riot New York City had ever seen.”

summer of sam

And after reading about this case I am inclined to agree. I hope I don’t get kidnapped by a black serial killer, god forbid. Cuz now I know the only way anyone would do anything is if there is some white girl trapped in there with me. Sigh.

There was such a stench rising from my trainers earlier on today. One often says that feet smell cheesy; well I just ate some stilton and genuinely couldn’t smell the difference between the two.

Maybe I should pay a visit to the doctors? Or is it a natural thing? Is this result of the modern world’s shoes, not giving feet enough breathing space? I know in Jesus’ time they all wore sandals. Should we all be wearing sandals? On the other hand they did wash their feet regularly, maybe that’s what we should be making sure we do three times a day!

I’ve put on some anti-odour spray on them now, so we’ll see.

Anthony Sowell suspected mass murderer and convicted rapist

The UPI is reporting that the decomposed bodies of 6 human beings have been discovered in the home of suspected mass murderer Anthony E. Sowell.

The suspect had been on the run since police found the first two of six bodies Thursday night when they went to the home of 50-year-old Anthony Sowell, who was convicted in a 1989 rape.It is not uncommon for rapist to graduate to murder, given the opportunity, as a way to silence all possible witnesses, and thus forgo another imprisonment for rape, rather than to stop raping at all.

Sowell is a registered sex offender who served 15 years in a Ohio penitentiary for rape.  He was released from prison in 2005. Sowell, 50, reportedly lived at the house with an aunt and uncle, but no one has seen the relatives in a while.

Neighbors said that Sowell had initially lived in the house with his aunt and uncle, but his uncle had passed away and his aunt had gone to a nursing home about a year ago.

Officers took Anthony Sowell into custody after someone walked into a police station and reported seeing a man resembling him, The (Cleveland) Plain Dealer reported.

Police discovered the first two bodies on Thursday when they came to arrest Sowell, and a third was found a day later and police have now confirmed three more. The remains were recovered in the house and in its backyard.

Police chief Michael McGrath told a news conference that Sowell offered no resistance when arrested, following a tip-off, while walking down the street on Saturday at around noon.

The suspect initially denied he was the man authorities were looking for, but admitted his identity as officers began fingerprinting him, police said in an interview with the BBC.

The police that had to recover the bodies reported that the stench inside the house was disgusting…”I can tell you I stood outside the home for about an hour yesterday, and the stench from inside was overwhelming,” the police stated.

Missing-person reports are being checked dating to June 2005, when Sowell was released from prison.

It looks like the penitentiary system failed to rehabilitate another criminal, setting him free to prey on the innocent unsuspecting citizens in a family oriented community.

Anthony Sowell spent his 15 year imprisonment plotting and planning how to not be captured when he eventually waS set free, and came back to society much worse than when he went in.

This could stand as a case for our society to apply capital punishment or life imprisonment for all convicted rapist, throughout our land, to ensure the safety of our law-abiding citizens.

Here is an AP report on YouTube about this horrific crime….

http://www.wkyc.com/news/local/news_article.aspx?storyid=124427&catid=33

http://www.upi.com/Top_News/US/2009/10/31/Police-seek-man-after-six-bodies-found/UPI-99711256988138/

Roll down the window

to air out the car. But the

smell’s coming from outside!

I have a dog. He’s pretty damned old. And I mean that. Like, goddamned old. Of an age that many a younger, healthier, better dog than he has died from merely contemplating. As of April, he will be about 20 years old. And in dog years, that’s what’s professionally known as “f*cking old”.

He should, by all rights, be dead. He’s blind, arthritic, increasingly deaf, nearly toothless, and is working his hardest to embody the very definition of “insolent old arse” (for more on the douche baggery of my puppy, see here. He’s largely incontinent, although it is generally understood in my family that this is less of a medical condition and more a side effect of the “insolent old arse” condition. He’s always been a big fan of using the gifts god gave him – specifically, his bodily functions – to demonstrate annoyance, anger, sadness, loneliness, or plain ol’ douche baggery. We are of the mind that he has simply now adopted an attitude of “yeah, I shat myself, right here on the carpet. I’m f*cking old. What are you gonna do, you cowardly little shit? That’s right, you’re gonna get right down on your hands and knees and clean that turd up, because I’m f*cking old.”

It’s surprisingly effective – to my knowledge, in every instance we have done just that. But the fact of the matter is that as old, thin, toothless, blind, incontinent, and cantankerous my jerk-faced dog might be, he’s also remarkably healthy for a dog of his age. He seems to be looking the Guinness Book of Records in the face, not death. But what is the secret to his long life? We’ve not fed him special food, we don’t medicate him every time he vomits on the carpet, we’ve never put him in any kind of clothes except for our own entertainment (nothing is funnier than putting an arsehole dog with a superiority complex into a XXL tie-dye hoodie you picked up at the Sally Ann and watching his frantic, snooty thrashings as he attempts to both get out of the sweater and retain his dignity in the process. It’s a damned good evening).

It’s long been our family mantra that he’s being kept alive “purely by spite”, but after seeing him for the first time in a year and a half this summer, I began to develop a different theory.

What a sweetheart; what a cock.

I think he is a zombie operative, put into place to monitor my doings.

Which, if it is the case, would have to be an epic fail on the part of the Zombie Intelligence Agency, since I now live a continent and a half away from home. But that isn’t the point. The point is, I think my belligerent dog is now one of the undead.

Now, to be fair, most of my conjectures are based on the overwhelming stench of death that seems to be emanating from his animated, corpse-like body (particularly the mouth area), indicating that he is in fact rotting away. This decay would be concealed by the massive amount of fur this dude manages to produce – seriously, without frequent shavings he rapidly turns into the three-foot, canine equivalent of a pom-pom.

However, this smell, folks, is damned intense. Trying to give this dog a cuddle is, I imagine, exactly what it would be like to cuddle up to the undead – and not just in terms of odour. He’s liable to try and tear your innards out, too.

My heart stirs...

… On second thought, though, lookit that little face. He may be a zombie dog, but he’s my zombie dog, and it’s going to take a lot to get me to chop his head off with a shovel. He’s going to have to have a poo on my clean, ironed, folded laundry… again. Or, you know, piss on my foot… a couple more times… before I start to head to the tool shed.

And that, I am told, is the definition of true love…

It will be fair not to tell you here side of the story.

She came to see me, directly after the beach, she had not showered in 48 hours and only had limited time, so she gave me the option. she could just go home, or she can come meet me, and oh, btw, take a shower at my place.

This was after I knew her on-line (sporadic chatting) for a couple years. now the story.

She gets here, and for whatever reason (I never really asked) she never made it to the shower, just sat with me and started talking, you know, like a 1st date … after a very long build-up period. and then there was the kiss. why? I really have no idea. I can just guess she initiated and I didn’t want to disappoint, or maybe I was just that horny, but I doubt that, because the only thing really going in my mind during the whole time how stinky she is … and then trying not to gag or puke when she kissed me.

So yes, a day or two after I got a bad kissing review – the 1st in my life (most woman say I’m a great kisser, I guess you lose some of your skill when trying not to gag). she basically said she can never sleep with me because I’m not a good enough kisser, and as  such, she can’t date me.

ok, lady, your loss

but what do you know … and why am I telling you this, now? because she continued chatting me up on occasion, asking me about my love life, and today told me she would like to be ‘back in the running’.

I’ll simply end this post with the header, kind-of.

She stink, she kiss, she complain, and she came back for more!

Now, question is, can I add to my resume, I really kissed a frog?

The 1970’s along with President Jimmy Carter’s embargo against Russia, because of their invasion of Afghanistan and America’s eternal war against the spread of Communism and Socialism, helped to create the Taliban army of Satan as it received the support of our prosperous War Economy. Russia bad, Taliban; freedom fighters? Our Industry of War built Satan’s army. Today, Russia bad is George W.’s friend Putin and our kissing cousins?

Today’s the Taliban are evil’s stink, a one-eyed monster called Mullah Muhammed Omar. History’s art places his kind crawling across canvas and chapel ceilings. Taliban’s Armies are Women Killers, Gollum warrior’s, killers of peaceful humanity in their Religion of Evil.

The United States began its correction of Taliban’s stench on the night of October 7th, 2001 with bombs of deodorant well placed north of Kabal.

Now, eight years later October 17th 2009, instead of destroying what is evil, the Taliban Army is stronger and its attacks more deadly. Poppies buy many weapons. Afganistan armies are the products of War Lords rich by American dollars and not to be trusted.

Stop fighting a government. Stop our fear of Communism and the Socialism that may save our own Country…We have to fight a war of Religion. This is not against a force of Muslims. The Talibans are the army of our own Devil. Destroy this evil to the last creature standing. These are not men. These are crawling and ugly cowards. They worship the blood soaked earth they have created.

Ask our “kissing cousins” to join us in the last sweep of evil from Afganistan’s war beaten and weary folk. President Obama, do not continue to play with this war. Instead, destroy this evil. Your Nobel Prize for Peace is safe. Warfare and Satan’s armies will continue, however, the stink of this nasty Taliban creation must be eliminated.

Take no prisoners. Show no mercy. Use the strength of the strongest army on this sweet Earth to win!

May our God both help and forgive us…Amen…

That smelly bastard struck again.  You’ve probably heard me complain about one of our building residents before; he’s notorious for wearing entirely too much fragrance.  I woke up early this morning and decided to pop down for a quick smoke before getting started on the day’s tasks. Upon entering the elevator, I felt as though my lungs, allergies and sinus cavaties had been violated by a particular scent belonging to much loved designers by the name Dolce & Gabbana.  I instantly got a headache.

Not only that, but when you leave the elevator and head towards the front door, there is a perfumed wake of stench that rolls ahead of you, out the doors and down into the courtyard.

Please, for the love of whatever God or Gods, STOP WEARING SO MUCH SHIT!  I think this kid bathes in it every morning (insert mental image of a kid splashing his face with a sink full of cologne).  I cannot breath if I ride in the elevator with him or after him.  It literally chokes me full of chemicals.

Perhaps people should be taught how to wear fragrance.  Allow me to explain, courtesy of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.  Take your perfume, or cologne and spritz it into the air in front of you.  Step forward and allow it fall around you.  Done.  DO NOT spray seven times onto your body.  The effect is overwhelming stench.  It makes me think you have terrible body odor (which is possible) and/or you are trying to smell like a french whore.  I realize that this kid lives on the status of names, however, we do not need to be smelling him for 3 hours after he departs every day.  I could give a shit less if his “parfume” is Dolce & Gabbana, Armani, or even old spice.  Too much is too much, regardless of the damned name.

* * * * *

In other weird or scary news, Andrew Lloyd Weber has announced a sequel to Phantom of the Opera (gasp of horror) that will open in London in March.  According to the Associated Press this morning, the new show entitled Love Never Dies picks up the story of the Phantom and Christine, ten years after the end of Phantom of the Opera.  It is set, get this, in Coney Island at the turn of the century, where the Phantom has come following Christine’s decision to leave with Raoul.  Weber says that the music for the show will not feature any previous Phantom songs, with the exception of tiny musical moments.  As of right now, Ramin Karmaloo (who played the Phantom in London) and Sierra Boggess (of The Little Mermaid on Braodway) will take the roles of Phantom and Christine. For more information or to purchase tickets (ha!): http://www.loveneverdies.com

Will this musical suck? Only time will tell.

October 2009

The Independent Art Centre (based in Leicester on Humberstone Gate) will create an opportunity for the introduction of the arts to the community with gallery spaces, a stage, cafe, studio, office and workshop spaces.  The building has recently been refurbished and is due to open Saturday 24 and Sunday 25 October. The opening will coincide with Oxjam Leicester, a national music festival, with the aim to raise money and awareness for Oxfam.  As part of Oxjam Leicester, artist led forum Stench (performance, experimental music and digital art based in Leicester) will host a day of experimental and electronic music featuring Stench members at The Independent Art Centre.

I was asked to contribute to the day and have produced a site specific binaural audio recording in response to The Independent Art Centre and the surrounding environment.  The soundscape should be listened to whilst sat on one of the benches facing the Independent Art Centre through stereo headphones and is available to download.

Please listen to Humberstone Gate IAC here via stereo headphones or you can pick up a pair of headphones and mp3 player at The Independent Art Centre on Sunday 24 October 4pm- 11pm.

Panoramic view of Humberstone Gate

The Independent Art Centre

Other businesses surrounding The Independent Art centre

Geez what a long week this is turning out to be. Lets do a quick recap of what’s been going on so far:

Monday was my first exam of the semester, which I’m happy to report an A on.  Who said you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?

Tuesday was my job interview at the law firm.  First, I felt over dressed.  Everyone that works there is very business casual, but I still think it was a good idea for me to wear that tie.  It’s a very nice place, about 5 minutes from my apartment (ha, if you call it that) building.  Walking to get my car took longer than actually getting there.

I arrived early (always) and was asked if I’d kindly wait.  So I did.  Then, the Hiring Manager came out, and asked me to take a typing test (98 correct words per minute) and a grammar test (that letter was full of misspelled words and missing punctuation).  Then I was asked to wait again until the other hiring manager could get to me.  So I waited….and waited….and waited…and finally they came to get me.

What happened next I hadn’t expected at all.  I was asked a total of about five questions:  Would you considering yourself an independent or dependent person when it comes to work? (Gee, I wonder which I am) What is your ideal office environment? (Does it count if I say this one?) What computer programs are you familiar with (I answered MS Office and Quickbooks, but quickly added “Whatever I don’t know I can certainly learn.”)?  When did you decide to go back to school? (2 years ago.) and finally, When can you start (now!).  That was it. They shook my hand, told me I’d know by friday most likely, but monday at the latest.  I then left and returned to my building so I could study again.

Today I had the much-hyped Government and World Affairs exam covering eleven chapters.  It turned out I severely over-studied.  It was 30 multiple choice questions, none of which were difficult, and 2 essays.  The essays were “Compare and contrast the Authoritarian Government model with that of the Totalitarian model” and “What is a Utopia? What are the defining characteristics of a Utopia, and give two relevant examples.” I left feeling very confident that I did much better than all the kids in that class except for maybe one, who views me as his competition. I can see it on his face whenever I beat him to answering a question the Professor asks.

Picture this:  the kids come in before the test and start with, “I have a concussion, can I retake the test?”  and one girl said to the teacher, “I was supposed to study all morning but I was on facebook.”  Hmm.  LOSERS!  They then proceeded to delay the start of the exam with more stupid crap about various reasons to postpone the test.  All I could think was, the longer you freaking talk the less time we have to actually take this exam.  Needless to say, I was the 3rd person done, but that’s because I wrote 3 pages total for my essays.  I wanted to be sure I got my point across.  Sadly, I won’t get the results of that exam until next week.  She canceled friday’s class because of some stupid thing for the freshmen, which meant most of our class would be gone (hooray!).  That means I get to leave at noon to go home.

Only two more tests left this week on friday.  I have a MS word exam (not hard) and then the much-dreaded Astronomy exam.  I’ve heard stories that his exams are evil, monstrous creations meant to torture kids into submission.  I suppose we will find out.  I plan to spend a huge chunk of tomorrow studying for it.  I’d love to exit this week with a good array of high scores, it makes keeping them up all the easier through the rest of the semester.

I think I’m going to start writing senryu’s about people in our building.  There is one kid that I really feel the urge to write about.  He wears entirely too much ‘Parfum’ and is as shallow as the day is long.  He compared women to cars the other evening by saying, “Well, you don’t buy a car the first time you drive it. You have to drive them several times to be sure it’s what you want.”  My only response to this, in my mind, was in order to drive the car, you first have to put the key in. In other words, I’m questioning this sad, shallow boy’s virginity.

He accosted my RA, who out of kindness was taking someone’s duty on a Sunday night, by asking if she were single. He then looked at me and said, “She’s single” as if I cared. I said, “I’m not interested” at the same time she said, “He’s gay, he doesn’t care.”  This boy then looked affronted and said to her, “You shouldn’t say that to people you don’t know.”  I just shrugged and said who cares.  This isn’t China, this is America.  So what if I’m gay, and so what if people know it.  I am who I am, and that isn’t very likely to change unless they create some ray that can zap me back to “normal” as it were.

My point is, this kid will become fodder for my writing.  It’s rare when you find someone so one dimensional that they scream to be written about.  He is my antithesis, my opposite, the summation of every opposition to my being.  He is everything I am not.  Expect to hear about him again, especially if I have to ride in the elevator after he has sprayed an entire bottle of whatever feminine scent he’s wearing.  You can smell every single place he’s been in the building.  People now recognize him without even having to see him.

The night is young. Let’s see if more people will feel the slash of my pen before it’s over.

Few of us rode to Runcorn tonight to find the pub from ‘two pints of lager and a packet of crisps’. After riding through some of Liverpools least desirable areas, including ’smelly mile’ and multiple pitch black country lanes, we got to the Runcorn Bridge and spotted our destination. Long story short, the pub is only used for one, repeated, external shot and aint too clever inside so we had a couple of drinks and made our way back to Liverpool. I snapped my lockring outside the bar and had to leave early for the last train, bummer, the others are by now i pressume, already, regretting how much they’ve had to drink and have started to think about work tomorrow… HA!

Gonna ride to Freshfield this sunday if anyone wants in? Gonna build a fire and crack a few cans…

I love riding motorcycles. This would be evident by the very existence of this blog. But it’s not all sunshine and cool breezes. My LEAST favorite thing about riding is roadkill*. I only know one person who actually likes roadkill (here’s looking at you, PA), but most normal people try to avoid any interaction with smashed critters.

Unfortunately when you’re on a bike, you have a bigger dilemma than when driving a cage… you HAVE to look at it – at least for a second – because you have to avoid it. Not “hope I don’t graze it with a tire” car attitude, but really, in truly, I CANNOT hit this thing because it could throw me off my bike (worst case) or splatter me (for me, an even WORSE fate). My strategy is to give it one quick glance, and then look away to a certain point in the far distance where I can just make out a tiny blip of the offending item in the road slightly, barely out of my peripheral vision. This sometimes entails me riding straight down the highway with my head askew. Awesome.

But worse than looking at roadkill, is smelling it. NOTHING is worse to me. It can ruin the most beautiful stretch of highway. So as soon as I am aware there might possibly be anything dead up ahead, I immediately hold my breath until I am WAY past it.
So if you see a female biker going down the highway fast, turning blue in the face with her head crooked… look out for roadkill.

*this is one post where I will spare you links or images. You’re welcome.

I told you Hector it was too good to be true!

Oh dear, when firefighters in Queens busted down Ming Li Sung’s door they were expecting to find a dead body but instead they found ceiling high piles of rotting garbage and a not so friendly Mr Sung. One cop described the apartment as looking like landfill. Some of the policemen were even throwing up because the stench was so bad. Cockroaches were seen exiting the apartment in droves after firefighters and police attempted to clear some of the mess. It is now understood one unfortunate neighbor was forced to flee his apartment because the smell was so gross and another was on a waiting list to be relocated. Evidently this problem had been going on for several years but the city Housing Authority had been ignoring complaints. Mr Sung was taken away for psychiatric evaluation! No word on whether the garbage was taken away too!

September- October 2009

The final soundscape was composed using binaural audio recordings taken from a bench opposite the Independent Art Centre.  Recordings were also taken in the shops next to the Independent Art Centre, including the taxi rank and my journey to and from Humberstone Gate via bus and taxi.  The building that now hosts the IAC used to be a Walkabout club, therefore recordings from the Walkabout based on Granby Street were added in to reflect past events and previous usage of the building.  Observations of the environment, its inhabitants, passersby were noted (whilst sat on a bench opposite the IAC) and the opinions of local businesses and discussions surrounding the opening of the IAC collated, some of which were added to the final soundscape.

Recording at Walkabout bar, Granby Street, Leicester

For days now, at least 3 days the unmistakable stench of death had been seaping into my home. The first day that I smelled it I thought perhaps it was due to the boys burning something in the kitchen. Nobody else complained or mentioned it…so I didn’t say anything. By the next morning it was unmistakable the smell of death was everywhere, at least it seemed to me that it was….but due to my condition I was unable to go around and try to determine the source. I sent the boys into the back room, thinking perhaps a bird might have flown in and died from a broken neck. They didn’t report any findings, I sent them a second time and insisted they look again, still nothin. Today I was sick from it, I was exhausted, another sleepless night, this time not helped due to the smell of decaying flesh….I was exhausted and needed a nap, I had a candle going but that wasn’t masking the smell. I took another candle and removed the tin lid, went to bed with a pillow over my face, the covers drawn over me and the new candle tin right by my face. When Bert got home he asked if he could have a friend over I again reminded him we had the stench of death permeating the air. I offered up a $$reward$$ for the search of whatever was causing the horrific smell. When my big fat (adopted) son Mike (I call him my big fat adopted son as a term of endearment) showed up they went out and were able to locate the source. It was right under my nose, under my bedroom. A cat had decided to get under my house through the crawl space on the side of the house where it met its untimely death. It was now a big fat bloated smelly dead foul carcass of a cat. So now the task to get said dead smelly bloated cat out began. I suggested a wire hanger they could unravel and maybe hook a foot and pull it out. The last thing I wanted was it blowing up releasing its noxious gasses and smelling worse. With Mexican ingenuity they somehow managed to get it out, they found a shovel and hoisted it into a trash can and now the big fat bloated smelly cat is in the process of getting to its final destination…for now I guess it is somewhere in the alley but I’m grateful that I am able to breathe again. I was getting ready to drive my crippled ass to a hotel.