History, manifestos, and me.

I've removed all pics,seth. As they have no context now. No prob.

Mr. Olnik,

Do you need this image to show how perjuring sewer rats can pose for photos? Either way, it's all yours.

best,
abbey.


I’ve lost my luster for you, obviously. I feel like just another cog on a blog. Sort of like being a frog on a log but altogether different. I’ve been committed to trying to live life exclusively offline but that is not such a hot idea, really.

I’m having a hard time seeing much superiority to my offline adventures as opposed to my online ones. Still, I’m certainly getting firmer. When one reaches my age of 33-39 they must work to maintain firmness of body, not to mention spirit.
I can no longer bare the gym concept and sweating with strangers and I fear collapsing at any strenuous exercise and in a gym that would entail public humiliation.. so I’ve re-taken up walking and let me tell you it is no lie that nobody walks in L.A. And the song written about that phenomena didn’t serve to change that at all. So, like the green day song, I walk alone. I walk alone. I walk alone. And, walking alone has always been my best way to come up with my searing insights.

I’m back in full serial killer swing and so that too burns calories and enforces muscle tone, but as an aesthete who suscribes to the appollonian ideal, I need to do more to regain the greek statue esquness that is under my excess flesh.

But, that is not very interesting. My war on my own relatively recent flab(I was effortlessly muscled before) is not very unique. What might be unique, though, is my newest frustrating enterprise: I have now decided that the task of writing the next most stirring and relevant manifesto is my job. That if I don’t do it noone will etc.
After I write, revise, and bind this manifesto and send it to Kinkos for copies, then I will need to make sure that this manifesto bears fruit and that a most excellent revolution begins. I have tried in the past to foment revolutions . I’ve tried to get some in line at Ralphs to say nay on the electronic checkout . No dice. I find it always impossible to get someone to “snark.” With me in L.A much follow me as the leader of the next best revolution. It’s been so long, yo, since we’ve had one and I’ve read up on my revolutions and I promise mine will be a keeper and the world will be a funner place. So, I’m now working on this manifesto and I have proposals that if implemented will change the course of history for the better. And, now with all this blogging technology it will be much easier than it was in the last revolution which to my knowledge was long ago. There’s been uprisings and rebellions but a real proper idealistic upheaval embraced by everyone? No.
I guess the sixties qualify in some way as revolution but too much lameness and the wrong leaders led it to ruin. I’m talking about Something on scale with the Bolshevik revolution without the communism and all that shit. You, blog, will be the first to read it and free muffins for all who write a comment.

No tank tops for me this week for I have too much up my sleeves. Not even a t-shirt will do with what I have up my sleeves. Saw a liberal type guy in santa monica and he was wearing a “obama is my homeboy.” T –shirt and I found it annoying and then when I walked a block past him I find it offensive and paternalistic with a touch of racism. Then, a day later, I passed a black homeboy type wearing a t-shirt that said, “stop the drama. Vote obama.” And I was annoyed and then when I walked a block I thought about how the new social movement should be named sloganism. That is what we are about as a culture, it seems. We are a country of slogans and message t’s and the bulls must be eating and eating and eating because their shit is everywhere. Those bulls are some prolific shitters. I don’t usually write or speak in such a crude manner but I like my bullshit shit.

These are the kind of nonsensical things that come to mind as I take my walks. Why not share them with you, bloggy poo?

For the last two to three years I have become fascinated by historical events. My father was a history teacher and he died 20 years ago. I wish wish I could discuss what I’ve learned with him. My grandmother died 15 years ago and I wish wish I could give her the mad props she deserves now that I know what she survived. I am now semi versed on the Russian revolution and communism in general. Now, I’m trying to gain as much knowledge as I can about Nazi Germany and World War 2. World war 1 is next and then the Vietnam war. I’m grateful that I’m alive to learn and that L.A has such excellent libraries. What an odd concept to in my late thirties and suddenly so hungry for history.

Much to tell you, blog. Life has been full of pain and poetry, as per. Full of mystery and misery as well. Oh well. I’ve been too on the move to get to the computer and the smaller boned spinster has needed it non-stop, so I apologize to my paltry readership for being so incommunicado. I think the length of this post should remedy any hurt feelings, taters.