Terrorism Will Never Win As Long As We Party!!!

I am leaving Hands On New Orleans next Friday. I will go to Texas for a week and then come back to start my second round project with the American Red Cross in New Orleans. I think its just paperwork stuff, BOO. Oh well. Things are ok, hopefully I will have internet next round where I live. Maybe not. And I have not forgotten about this website. I will update it forever!!!! I have nothing else to add here. I'm online most of the evenings here so chat with me because i am a much better conversationalist when I don't have to look at you or when I'm drunk.

I'm there

I'm in New Orleans right now, sitting on my bed in a church. Here is a pic. Go to facebook for more pictures and updates.

N'awlins

February 26 I am going to New Orleans. I am going to be living 30 minutes from the French quarter in a church and doing gutting and rebuilding work. It's gonna be pretty badass. I am excited to get started.

What a resurrection looks like.

I am going to start posting again on this blog. Most likely it won't be anything of significance but I know that this is the only form of correspondence between me and certain people I know, for without this blog we have completely ceased to communicate (Angel and Terri I am coughing in your general direction without covering my mouth). So I am updating people on my status. Why would you want to know what is happening in my life? Trust me you don't, but it's more than curiosity that has drawn you here. I'm magnetic. So without further ado I present what I have been up to: I took the GRE. I guess that means I'm going to grad school. On January 30 I'm going to Denver to start Americorps stuff. Enough about me, let's see what everybody else is up to. Respond and tell me what you are doing. How many days before people see this? I'm timing.

In response to the e-mails I have gotten:

Yes
No
Maybe
Definitely
And only when I undo the doo-rag of a midget.

Christmasbot wishes you a HAPPY HOLIDAY!

Chapter 3

Another chapter!?? and not 2 months apart? I think Mike is the only one reading the blog these days. People demand pictures, Mike! Oh well, here's the next part.


Emobot felt it deep inside. He felt it in the rat's nest of wires and microchips that made up his body. He felt it in the fuel cells and casings. He felt it in the platters and discs and bolts and dials.

He knew it. He could feel it. There was a gear missing from his bionic heart: a gear named love. In its place was a gear named heartache. It was rotting and rusted and barely kept him from breaking down.

So there Emobot sat on that fateful corner of that fateful night being drenched in that fateful rain. The wind whistled him a tune, a little ditty that folded the leaves and shook the branches. Questions- questions- so many questions raced through Emobot's mind. Why was he here? Why was he created? Why was he programmed to feel pain?

The only answer he could find was strapped to his back. Six strings were his solace. Six strings were everything. Emobot sat there for what seemed like hours. No traffic passed him. No one stopped to question him.

Finally he looked up and there she was, the streetlight behind her head framing the edges of her face in haloed light. Lightening struck, cymbals crashed. He held his guitar...

She stood there and stared, her hair drenched, sweeping towards her right ear, mascara starting to run, sweater, wet and clinging to her sides, toes slightly turned towards eachother, clutching her backpack like a child hugging a stuffed bear.

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Ah, what have we here? This robot fancies himself a musician. It'll be music to my ears when he's singing in agony! hehehe. Have to be quiet now...Who's that girl sitting next to him? No matter, she'll get out of the way soon enough.

- You better get away from that monster, girly! He's liable to eat your juicy human head! Arghh!

Nothing. She's not moving at all. What has the world come to when people choose a robot over their own kind? Where's my electro baton? Ah, here it is. Wait, which way do I point - AGHHH! Damn it! SH$%! They're running away. I'm too drunk for this... I better shout out a cryptic warning.

- I'll get you, ya scurvy metal dog!


Next Episode:
Mother, may I sleep with danger?

Chapter 2

Well, well, well, what have we here? Finally a new chapter of the highly anticipated (by me) Emobot story. It's about Alex. I hope it doesn't waste several minutes of your life. Here it is:


Ticket: check. Gloves: check. Backpack: check and double check. Courage: well… she was working on that. Alex was ready. Her hand shook as she lifted the window pane and stepped out onto the fire escape. It was raining – great… She had to be careful, one misstep would mean disaster. The moon and the streetlights provided significant amounts of light. Alex was sure she could navigate the tangle of streets to get to the Greyhound station.

She wondered:
Was $50 enough? It was all she could scrounge up. As she gazed at the map of offered destinations, she tried to remember. Which city would be the best destination? There was New Haverford with its damp evenings filling the delightful town square with fog. She detested fog. New Bedlamhamtown had a field that she visited when young. With a flourish she had frolicked among the wild tulips that drank in the Sun that day. Strange. She remembered the Tulips and the bright cloudless sky, but other details escaped her: the smell, the feel of heat on her skin, the wind pushing her dark hair. Was it a humid day? Did the sweat trickle down her tan legs, catching the pollen, as she raced by? What was at the end of that field? It seemed to go on forever.

She settled on a medium sized town with a thriving sock industry. She heard that young girls of ill repute could gain employment there with very few questions asked.

OK. Head straight for .2 miles along Oak Ave. Turn right at 17th Ave. Veer right onto Smith Blvd. Continue until you see the Greyhound Station. It was simple, wasn’t it? Several hours from now Alex would start her new life. The sock industry was full of excitement and innovation. Surely she would advance quickly.

The street lights dim and the rain starts to pour. Alex is soaked. She swore off umbrellas ever since… She wouldn’t even touch them. Their handles, automatic pistols that shafted and spread like some winged demon. How terrible! She can still hear the shudder of the nylon. Out comes the map and the directions…to double check. She can barely read it. Alex is hopelessly lost. Unbeknownst to her, actions were already set in motion. Cogs and gears were turning, grinding their teeth. Poor Alex, a mere pawn in some twisted chess match. Checkmate.

On she stumbles, her vision blurred by rain. She has no idea where she is, where she’s going, where she’ll end up. Her sweater grows heavier as the wool soaks up rain. She barely notices the cold, tries to cover her backpack, its contents the only thing of importance to her.

She ignores the buzzing, the ache that drives her forward. With confidence she strides past fences and trash cans and abandoned streetlights. A tangled maze of pavement gives way to a singular path. A shining beacon calls and will her this way and that. At the end of the path, trees closing in all around, sits a metal man. He glances up at Alex, unstraps his guitar, and begins to play the most heart-wrenching song she has ever heard.

Next Episode:
Metal Man, Metal Maniac!