Electric Cheetahland

Freedom began

2008-08-28T00:05:00.000-07:00

The trial for Mike Young (aka Mike Newcastle) is cancelled: Mike plead guilty to murdering Shelby. Not only did he plead guilty, he completely admitted fault. Here’s a link to an article:

http://www.lahontanvalleynews.com/article/2008108279988

. . .

It took me a year to put together how I felt about it. There’s no template, no manual, no support group for “people whose longtime friends commit cold blooded murder, claim they didn’t do it, and desperately want you to believe that they didn’t do it.” He wasn’t just a friend, he was a good friend, a great friend; we had 14 great years of friendship. And then he murdered his wife. And she was such a great person, loved by all. Family shattered. And now? There’s really no sense of relief. Just a subdued sense that Mike admitting his guilt, admitting fault, is the best possible outcome under the circumstances. Circumstances that absolutely no one wishes for. That the slightest shift in perspective could have avoided in the first place.

Vegas and love and death. The adult Disneyland, fake Eiffel Towers and simulations of idyllic Medieval Kingdoms that were never idyllic. When you lose real love, it is a horrible aching sadness. But all of those images, of happily ever after (which never really was perfectly happy, and nothing lasts forever), of sitcoms that end with a kiss and roll credits, of … eventually you’ll hit it big, no one can tell you what it is like – but everyone knows it will be Real Good. And of these untamed expectations that Vegas fits into our heads. The unattainable level of riches and bliss, that deny us the bliss of this life. When you lose real love, you become sad. When you lose hyppereal love, you lose all possibility of ever becoming happy.

It’ll take another year to sort this all out. I told Shelby’s family that I would do anything I could to see that justice was done. I also told Mike that I would be there for him, if he would come to terms with what he did. Contemplating trying to reach out to him seems almost as difficult as contemplating testifying against him. The only clear-cut, easy answers involve going back in time. Isn’t it always that way. If anyone ever said being human were easy, they were wrong.

30 years. That’s what they agreed on. What is a life worth? Everything. What would serve the interests of justice? Not even a life for a life can recompense the wound. Is Mike a danger to society? Is Mike a danger to himself? How will the story of his life arc? 30 years. I am 30. My life all over again, that’s what Mike will be doing in prison. Taking away the first 4 or 5 years from which I have no memories, or even still just thinking about the last 15 that I really remember vividly… and, 15 years ago I hadn’t even met Mike. All of the time we had together, twice over. When Mike gets out, will freedom just be a cage?

And I think about Curt and Donna. Their everything was also taken away. So much pain, bitterness. Yet thinking back to the Amish School Shootings in 2006. The Amish came and comforted the family of the shooter, Charles Roberts. Such love, forgiveness. Real love. Real forgiveness. Their freedom. Maybe Curt and Donna’s freedom will begin with Mike’s remorse.

I wonder what Shelby would be thinking.

Postmodernism

2008-08-26T21:43:00.001-07:00

Postmodernism: Having a firm grip on reality, then making a conscious decision to let go.

The State of Nevada Sends Greetings

2008-06-29T13:31:00.000-07:00

THE STATE OF NEVADA SENDS GREETINGS TO:

ANDREW KENNEDY

YOU ARE HEREBY COMMANDED, that all and singular business and excuses being laid aside, to appear before the District Court of the Third Judicial District of the State of Nevada in and for the County of Lyon...then and there to testify as a witness in an action pending before said District Court, which action is being prosecuted by Robert L. Auer, Lyon County District Attorney, against Mike Fixer Newcastle aka Michael Christopher Young, the defendant in this action.

...

I received the subpoena on Friday. I knew it was likely to be come, but the reality of it struck me hard: That I am going to be facing Mike in court.

The beginning of freedom

2008-06-22T10:13:00.000-07:00

To really understand something, oftentimes you have to observe it as an outsider. I get asked a lot about any insights I may have gleaned into the Iraq situation, but I don’t think I really found any. When you are in the middle of it, you are doing it, not contemplating it. Only after you’ve had a chance to step back, extricate yourself from the situation, can you really see it for what it is.

So the most insightful thing I wrote while I was in Iraq wasn’t about Iraq at all. It was a letter I wrote to Mike. A year on, and with the emotional shield down, I think I finally captured how I feel about the situation:

Baghdad, May 2008
I am a month away now from the end of my tour. Exactly a month, tomorrow. My thoughts have now turned to what I am going back to, less where I am or where I have been.

But thinking about what I am going back to makes me think about where we have been. There is a moment in time that sticks with me. We were driving to Vegas, through the pass. I looked to the hills and said “Stupid windmills—stealing our precious wind!” Your laughter was magnetic. The occasion was emblematic of our relationship. It was your drive, energy, & charisma that led us to get in the car and go to Vegas in the first place. And whatever promises you made about the treasures to be found there, such treasures would not have existed if it were not for you. The last and only time I went there and you weren’t there, the lights were just neon, and 21 just didn’t come up as often. For my part, we could have taken a road trip to Manitoba—I simply appreciated having someone who liked the jokes. Got the jokes.

Friendship endures despite our shortcomings. It really doesn’t mean much if it doesn’t. It is the knowledge that it will endure, rejuvenate, find new soil, that makes it the only thing worth having.

In the past year, there have been so many occasions where people have asked probing questions, looking to somehow diminish our friendship with the answers. “How could you be friends with someone who could do such a thing?” The other extreme, to deny what I believe to be the truth of the matter, might be your answer. Both are incorrect, and in some fashion either intellectually or morally cowardly. To avoid the question—or, rather, to avoid answering the question—is even more cowardly. It is the path I have often chosen.

The truth of the matter isn’t that you abused Shelby or that you didn’t somehow really love her. The truth is that you loved her with all your heart, all your soul. When we got past the Mike who sells vitamins or is convinced that one need not pay taxes, and got to the Mike that cared for his dying mother, how you felt about Shelby—that utmost devotion—was evident. Painfully evident. And while your actions may not have always lived up to her (or your own) expectations, to doubt your heart or the sincerity of your affection is wrong. To paint you as some sort of monster is wrong.

I am willing to accept that I may be completely wrongheaded. Indeed, even after this thing is done we may never have a truth that is universally accepted. Certainty is elusive in this vale of tears, and there may not be anything behind the curtain, so life must necessarily go on with degrees. Degrees of certitude, degrees of knowledge. With that—

I think I know what happened. You put all—everything you had to give—into her. It left you drained, and yet it still wasn’t enough. Or, rather, it was enough only for a time. Finding people that we truly connect with is so rare & special, to lose it is heartbreaking. When that person voluntarily leaves, especially with apparent glibness, it seems like cause for despair. You didn’t leave us lightheartedly, but you left an empty space in our lives. So much the worse when Shelby left you.

“Cutting your losses” is an impossibility, like walking away from a craps table. Like a soldier who seeks to continue a futile war because so many of his buddies have already been lost to it. Only once you have extricated yourself from the table, the way, does it become possible to see the situation for what it is.

The assumptions behind your actions were horribly wrong. And, don’t get me wrong, only you bear the responsibility for not examining yourself. But having set yourself on the precipice of that dark, downward spiral, things took on a logic of their own. An internally consistent logic that makes perfect sense within the spiral but looks ridiculous in the light of day. And you do not see yourself as a ridiculous person, so you deny not only that you went down the spiral but that the spiral ever existed.

And so I both understand and condemn. Like the 9/11 hijackers, their actions were internally consistent—a mechanism to lash out at the perceived source of their grievances. On a smaller scale, it is the same here. A horrible action with horrible results.

You have, in your way, reverted back to your old self. Likewise, you are trying to convince us (and perhaps yourself) that we need not pay our taxes, that we need not own up to our responsibilities. And, just as before, a small, manageable debt becomes a huge, lifelong encumbrance by your failure to immediately own up to it.

Our friendships might endure a repented sin, even one of this magnitude. But each day you continue to deny the truth of it, it is an active decision by you to cleave a wedge between us, and between you and the sanctifying grace available to all those who seek it—and accept it.

What I was trying to convince you of before I left was not only the pain which you have caused Shelby’s family, but the pain which you have caused (and are causing) me. There is a difference between being trapped in a room and being in prison. You don’t have control over your circumstances, bu you do control how you react to them. Shelby’s family wants to see you burn in hell, and probably always will. That is their choice. I may think that justice requires that you be in prison, but I also want to see you transcend your circumstances. You can choose to free yourself. Freedom begins with remorse.

Back!

2008-06-22T09:31:00.000-07:00

I'm back from Iraq! More to come, in the meantime check out these pictures from Kuwait City.

"You may now kiss the bride."

2008-01-01T16:28:00.000-08:00

My friends Steve and Tanyi got married yesterday! Officiating the ceremony was none other than myself. We drove to Santa Cruz where they obtained a marriage license and I became a Deputy Commissioner for Civil Marriage for 1 day. We drove back to their favorite spot at the Carmel River Beach. The beach was completely vacant and at first we were worried that there wouldn't be any witnesses. We spotted a couple in the distance and Steve ran after them. As it turns out, they had been married at the same spot 4 years earlier and came back to visit. It was a great bit of serendipity and a nice way to bade goodbye to 2007.

Lingua australis

2007-12-15T20:52:00.000-08:00

I had a conversation with a Southern man today. At least, I think I did. His drawl was so thick that I had to rely exclusively upon my spidey-sense and non-verbal cues to glean information. For instance, I was able to discern that this gentleman had either been in the Navy or had an affinity for the Navy by the fact that he was wearing a US Navy hat. I smiled when he smiled. When he chuckled, I chuckled. And when he expected me to make a contribution, I had to make vacuous pronouncements such as "That is quite a thing you have described."

Lessons learned

2007-12-12T07:06:00.000-08:00

The lesson for the week is that if you are pitted against four Marines in unarmed combat, the Marines win. The instructors said they will exercise restraint. Restraint is not, however, a core competency of the United States Marine Corps. Later, it did give me the opportunity to strip & clean an M4 using a swollen and non-functional right hand. And, perhaps in a bit of poetic justice, in another scenario one of our attackers received a bloody nose & a black eye from a student. That poor dude was scheduled to be part of a color guard for the Commander @ Quantico that evening.

Fredericksburg - Part 3

2007-12-02T19:09:00.000-08:00

I went to downtown Fredericksburg yesterday to relax and catch up on some work. Turns out I'd arrived just in time for the Fredericksburg Christmas Parade! A parade is always a great way to get into the spirit of the season. Also, my car was blocked in.

Street vendors were out in droves. One enterprising individual was selling trinkets out of a souped-up shopping carts. He repeatedly had to yell "No brakes!" as he struggled to keep his wares from tumbling down the hill. Besides proving to be physically demanding, it also seemed to prevent him from stopping and actually selling anything. Another man was selling blow-up dolls... "I've got Santa, Rudolph... Rudolph's girlfriend!" (?) The Cub Scouts seemed to be doing the most brisk business, selling hot chocolate for a dollar a cup out of a gigantic thermos.

Southern charm was also being served in abundance. One gentleman asked me if anyone was sitting in the vacant spot to my left. I told him no, and he then proceeded to unfurl a gigantic Confederate flag towel for his family to sit on. Another girl was wearing a solid-red Wawa sweatshirt, indicating a pride in gas stations/convenience stores not normally seen north of the Mason-Dixon line (although I seem to recall Hot Topic selling 7-11 t-shirts at one point). The Chik-Fil-A cows imploring us to "Eat Mor Chikin" were a featured part of the procession, although one of them was (quite inexplicably) wearing an Indian headdress. Another float featured a pirate ship, with the sabre-rattling buccaneers singing a karaoke version of "Sweet Home Alabama." I know that whenever I think of Alabama, the first thing that comes to mind is pirates.

On a more serious note, everyone was incredibly friendly and welcoming, happy to explain to the newcomer the significance of the various displays. The most rousing was the Spotsylvania combined band, which took up two whole city blocks. The most creative was the local school for the deaf, which did a sign-language version of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town." It was a huge event; the entire parade lasted 2 hours! According to one of the couples next to me, the 2006 parade had to limit the entries to 100 but apparently that limit had gone out the window. Just as my toes started to freeze completely solid, along came the finale. The GM Powertrain plant in Spotsylvania is one of the major sponsors of the parade: Santa's procession was made up of different GM vehicles standing in for the reindeer, and Santa's sleigh gave us this send-off "Happy Holidays... and buy GM!"

All in all, not a bad way to spend a Saturday evening.

Strangers on a plane

2007-11-27T19:32:00.000-08:00

Today was the shortest cross-country flight of my life. The only thing better than first class is 33C next to MK with the amazing blue eyes.

Two Thousand Frankfurt Four

2007-11-25T17:49:00.000-08:00

You would think it is pretty straightforward: The language spoken by Germans in Germany is German. Yet I still can't get past the "All foreign languages are created equal" mental block. "Mmm, I speak a little French, but would it be not so much of a problem if you would kindly speak English?"

Through the magic of Babelfish and a very patient waitress who helped me with pronunciation, I was able to master such useful phrases as "Ich sprechen kein Deutsch" and "Halten Sie meinen Freund, bitte fest!" Rather than evoking the chuckles I had expected, the usual response to the latter was a puzzled but stern look accompanied by a pensive "Why?" It was as if to say, "I will do so, if only you provide me with sufficient justification." Either the Germans take themselves way too seriously, or it isn't appropriate to provoke frivolous detainment by the polizei. Probably both.

One things Germans take very seriously, much to their credit, is driving. Compared to driving in America, driving in Germany is an absolute pleasure. Germans are the only people in the world except driving instructors that obey the pass left, drive right rule. Road signs are obeyed with religiosity. Is traffic stopped ahead? Is there an accident? No worried: You will be kindly notified by the driver in front of you who will put on their emergency flashers. As for turn signals, we might need a short refresher course: These are flashing yellowing lights equipped on most modern automobiles used to indicate one's intention to change the direction of one's vehicle by 90 degrees or more. The Germans distinguish themselves by not only employing these signals, but by giving them credence. Once upon a time in Mannheim, I was caught in the far left lane of a 4-lane boulevard when I realized I needed to turn right. I turned on my right turn signal and cringed at the prospect of having to battle my way through. When I turned my head to see what I was up against, I was astounded to find that the good people of Mannheim created a path for me to get through. Anyone who thinks Germans are bad drivers is either criminally insane or an American.

We'd received a few suggestions of towns to visit, so when we had some free time Scott posed the following question: "What is the name of that one town with the church in the middle with an old town around it and shops and a castle?" The answer, of course, is EVERY SINGLE TOWN IN GERMANY. But never fear, my spidey-sense knew how to get to the Parking Haus 13 in Heidelberg and to that old standby of Americans longing for an understandable menu, the Beer Brezel. (The town he was thinking of was actually Rothenburg ob der Tauber). Come to think of it, I've never actually eaten dinner in Mannheim, or, or that matter, anywhere in Heidelberg other than the Beer Brezel. However, Heidelberg Schloss (Castle) was uncharted territory for both of us, and we took a very informative guided tour. ("This is the last tour of the day, and the doors lock automatically, so be careful. People have gotten stuck from time to time.")

After the tour, we went to the German Apothecary museum which is located at the Schloss. We scooted in before closing and found a nice lady giving a presentation in English. Afterwards, she came up to us and proceeded to give us a very stern talking-to--in German. I caught "this is a private service provided to those that paid" but our verbal protests, wild gesticulations, and, well, the fact we'd been listen to the English version of her presentation didn't clue her in to the fact that she was telling us off in the wrong language. This was a common occurrence, actually. I seemed to have keyed in to precise German pronunciation for the 2 phrases I knew, so no matter how many times I said "Ich sprechen kein Deutsch" no one ever seemed to take me seriously. The airport screener who wanted to check my carry-on bag went on for a full 45 seconds despite my repeated entreaties. Have you ever met those people who think that foreigners will spontaneously start comprehending IF ONLY YOU SPEAK LOUDLY? It was kind of like that, except that once I started actually speaking in my native tongue she blushed and gave her spiel in perfect Queen's English ("Dear sir, I am going to swab your camera flash for residue, would you mind stepping aside for a minute?")

The last stop in Heiedelberg was the Heidelberg Starbucks. I asked the cashier for "ein venti kaffe mit espresso, bitte". She promptly turned to the barista and barked, "Ein venti 'Red-Eye'!" So much for doing as the Romans do. I told the barista that the Starbucks in Seattle don't even recognize what a Red-Eye is. "Oh, they really should get with it," he opined.

After loading my coffee up with the pink stuff (Splenda apparently being unknown in Germany), I heard some folks conversing in English. It turned out to be a teacher from Florida and a college student from California with distinctly caucasian features named Mae-ling ("My father is Chinese" she explained). I told her I was from Monterey, and she was beside herself. "Really??? I am from Salinas! I always say I am from Monterey though, because no one knows where Salinas is." "Actually, I am really from Salinas, too..." And so there we were, at the Heidelberg Starbucks, discussing the outcome of the Salinas mayoral election and our exciting new lettuce museum. Serendipity, as they say, is inexorable.

Frankfurt was also an experience, if only because it seems that Americans never want to go there. "It is just like any other big city." Yes, but I want to see how real Germans live. American tourists want castles, lederhosen, and bratwurst. Real Germans apparently want Starbucks, McDonald's, and Levis. No wonder Americans never want to visit. The biggest difference I noticed was the European fashion sense. I noticed that a number of German men were dressed with a certain... urban flair. It made me wonder how deeply the stylistic differences ran. The H&P featured one particularly frilly orange shirt in the men's section. I finally broke down and told the salesperson "In America, such a shirt would be for a man who likes other men." "Oh, it is the same way here!" So there.

Americans may never want to visit Frankfurt, but it is incredibly popular with the Japanese. Downtown Frankfurt even features a JCB (Japan Credit Bureau) Plaza. Being a JCB cardholder, and never having utilized a JCB Plaza, I thought I'd pop in. What followed was a grand example of collective confusion. The Japanese ladies at the plaza were very earnest, but they spoke exactly two languages: Japanese and German. Even after I handed them my JCB card, there was 5 minutes of excited conversation, the end result of which was a free set of moist toweletes and a Japanese-language guide to shopping in Frankfurt.

A fine Thanksgiving goose and a glass of Riesling marked the holiday and our last day in Germany. After a brief panic when we'd forgotten the GPS was still reporting arrival times based on walking (rather than driving) time, we arrived safely at the airport. 13 hours later, it back in San Francisco with only US Customs to answer to.

"Do you have anything to declare?"
"Ich sprechen kein Deutsch."

Here are some of the pictures.

Colours

2007-11-18T12:40:00.000-08:00

Not that long ago, I was on the treadmill, my heart already pumping from a combination of will and the exhiliration of a potential new flame. "Desire" by Ozzy Ozbourne was returned to me by shuffle mode. My trot turned into an outright gallop, and I added 30 minutes to the run.

There is something compelling about human interconnectedness. I tried to leave the door open, if not to pick things up where they were left off, then simply to maintain a friendship.

Leonard Cohen always has something to say for times like these:
"It is hard to hold the hand of anyone who is reaching to the sky just to surrender"

or maybe even

"The duty of lovers is to tarnish the golden rule."

As the last wisps blew into the wind last week, I found myself hoping this impression is wrong, that maybe we'll all grow beyond this. "Desire" came on, and instead of evoking the memory of last time, it brought me into the present. "Victim of Changes" (Whiskey Woman) came on next, and there couldn't have been a more fitting coda to the whole episode.

Faces

2007-11-18T12:25:00.000-08:00

My last stop before leaving town today was the National Museum of the Marine Corps. The museum is really well done. It features simulated battle scenes that feature original equipment and are enclosed in climate-controlled spaces. For instance, the Chosin Resevoir scene is chilled to give visitors a small taste of what the Marines were facing there.

At an emotional level, what struck me most was the Medal of Honor wall. It was divded into columns for each period (World War I, 1918-1928, etc.), under which the faces and names of the Marine Corps Medal of Honor recipients for that period are displayed. The final section, "1976-Present" features just one lonely entry, that of Corporal Jason Dunham... leaving a huge, empty, blank space. Cpl. Dunham will not be the last Marine to make such a sacrifice for our country; it is only a matter of time before his face will be joined by others.

Fredericksburg - Part 2

2007-11-18T00:33:00.000-08:00

Fredericksburg - Part 2 - #17
Originally uploaded by Big Electric Cheetah

I went back to Fredericksburg tonight and created a Fredericksburg photo series. What Fredericksburg has is an abundance of history; what it lacks is public restrooms...

Our humanity

2007-11-17T07:54:00.001-08:00

Some people don’t know how to be happy.

For some, it is a choice.

Some seek out happiness directly as some others would seek out God; they become atheists.

Sometimes we wrap ourselves up in blankets just because it is cold.

Sometimes walking is just putting one foot in front of the other.

I don’t know about our divinity, but I think our humanity is mostly about timing. And being open to those opportunities that present themselves.

Fredericksburg

2007-11-16T19:57:00.000-08:00

They say Virgnia is for lovers. I say, Virginia is for convenience. Need bait? Ammo? Get it while you fuel up; every gas station sells it. Even if they don't advertise, just go inside and ask for Earl. One way another, you'll leave with bait and/or ammo. What's weird is that this rule holds firm even at the Marine Corps Exchange at Quantico.

Fredericksburg claims to be "America's Friendliest and Most Historic City." "America's Friendliest and Most Historic City that is Mostly Closed by 6pm" might be more appropriate. Strolling through downtown, I mostly just got to window shop. There's a children's toy store that had a sign proudly advertising that it was a Case knife distributor (!), a miscellaneous-memorabilia store right out of Pulp Fiction with an umbrella-stand full of swords for "$69 each!", and a gem store that was "Usually Open 12-6 Friday, Saturday, & Sunday".

To be fair, "Sorry Mom Tattoo" seemed to be doing a brisk business. The skate shop had a couple of people in the back kneeling on the floor, apparently awaiting instructions from their alien overload. Somewhat more disconcerting was that just a couple minutes before I'd been thinking, "You know what would shake up this town? A sktate shop." Well, Fredericksburg does have a skate shop: This is as shaken up as it gets.

Confederate flags are used here as a shorthand representation of an edgy, rebellious appreciation for history. Display the Stars & Bars and you too can make your hardware store and antique doll shop a living part of our heritage. Occasionally, the Confederate & American flags are put on equal footing. However, there was exactly one store that displayed the Stars & Stripes alone: The post office.

MV claimed that people in Fredericksburg weren't friendly. I decided to do my own brief, unscientific test. I walked two blocks, smiling but with otherwise neutral gestures, neither avoiding nor seeking eye contact, and never initiating verbal contact on my own. Of the 3 out of 4 people I passed, 3 initiated a greeting. The 4th guy was jogging. Conclusion: People in Fredericksburg are friendly.

Newcastle

2007-11-12T03:06:00.000-08:00

I've been in the process of emptying out my house in preparation for my move-out. I was working through my refrigerator, which now has only a few lonely items left in it--one of them being a bottle of Newcastle beer. That particular beer arrived at my house the evening of January 11, 2007. The friend who had brought it was my good friend of 15-years, then-named Michael Christopher Young. Sometime in April, he became Mike Fixer Newcastle; the last name being in honor of his favorite beer. Then in May, he was arrested and charged with the murder of his estranged spouse, Shelby Hagedorn Joanette.

The beer in my fridge is from the last time we were all together.

Searching in an empty place

2007-11-11T21:30:00.000-08:00

You know how some movies just glob on to your psyche? Sometimes it is the movie itself, sometimes it is what is going on in your life that the movie represents. Usually, it is both. Like a blossoming romance, you have to be both presented with the opportunity and ready to appreciate it.

7 years ago I walked out of a movie theater completely blown away. The New Statesman review by Jonathan Romney said it was "like a particularly austere dream that you can't shake off." That was my experience; the movie seemed maddeningly slow at the time but grew on me like a fungus. The film was Beau Travail.

If you haven't seen it, see it. Set aside 90 minutes and let it wash over you. When you're done, you can write me about what you thought and then relive the experience. If you still haven't had your fill, read Ben Grant's thesis.

A few weeks ago, it happened again. This time it was this scene from Airplane!. It represented a very happy moment for me. I had the Bee Gees stuck in my head for weeks.

"I didn't go there that night to fall in love; I just stopped in for a couple of drinks..."

Hawaii

2007-11-09T20:20:00.000-08:00

Kua Loa Beach - 12
Originally uploaded by Big Electric Cheetah

I just got back from my trip to Hawaii. I've posted the pictures on my Flickr page.

Top 25 Songs

2007-10-30T01:52:00.000-07:00

According to iTunes, the following are the Top 25 songs I've been listening to...

Rank	Name	Artist
1	The Rhythm Of The Night	Corona
2	Le Tourment D'Amour	Francky Vincent
3	I Can't Drive 55	Sammy Hagar
4	Simarik (Radio)	Tarkan
5	Mr. Night	Kenny Loggins
6	Working for the Weekend	Loverboy
7	Temple Of Love	The Sisters Of Mercy
8	Vision Thing	The Sisters Of Mercy
9	Bad Reputation	Joan Jett
10	Ghostbusters	Ray Parker Jr
11	C*m On Feel the Noize	Quiet Riot
12	You Spin Me 'Round (Like a Record)	Dead or Alive
13	Dragula	Rob Zombie
14	Communion With Sophia	This Burning Effigy
15	So Long, Marianne	Leonard Cohen
16	Safeway Cart	Crazy Horse
17	Lust for Life	Iggy Pop
18	Keep on Laughin'	Ric Ocasek
19	Mickey	Toni Basil
20	Flood I	The Sisters Of Mercy
21	Under The Gun	The Sisters Of Mercy
22	(Shake, Shake, Shake) Shake Your Booty	KC & The Sunshine Band
23	Never Gonna Give You Up	Rick Astley
24	Stayin' Alive	Bee Gees
25	Real Wild Child (Wild One)	Iggy Pop

Freedom

2007-08-29T20:20:00.000-07:00

Yesterday it was put to me this way: "I must admit I sometimes envy the level of exhaustion I read in your words."

I've always believed that you do what is right, the rest will work itself out. Maybe a better way to put it is that while justice doesn't always prevail, if you do the best you can it is easier to live with yourself.

I'd love to be more forthright here, to put everything to paper, but the new way is to live under a microscope.

Does freedom begin with remorse, or with acceptance?

I wish Sara would consider the best interests of the boys, above all.

I wish Shelby were still alive.

I am curious, mauve

2007-02-20T00:08:00.001-08:00