three in the morning productions

poli ticks suck

Anne goes to her mother's funeral and meets the man of her dreams. She doesn't talk to him or see him again. What's her motivation for killing her sister?

I twirled around in my chair, eyes agaze at the ceiling as if somehow repeating the question to myself would give me their answer. It's a conclusive question; your answer subject to psychological interpolations that places your method of mind under two categories: logical or conceptual. I couldn't see the connection they wanted me to make. So I threw the bone and gave out my all but hasty conclusion that Anne wanted the insurance money all for herself. Jesus fuck, why do I want to be a psychologist? I'm a conceptual thinker. Their way of saying I'm dull-witted methinks--but there I go thinking conceptually again. It might actually be easier to make the connection when reading the question rather than have the information given verbally to you. Give me your idea.

Jay's still hanging around and playing 'Ze luv docteur.' I love all that makes up Jemima's social circle. I also love the fact that they're at least eight years my elder and I can hold intelligent conversations without being treated down because of my age. I philosophize with Phil; I politicize with Jay. Or at least he keeps me up to date with all the problems of the world.

Fuck it, I don't want to go to war. Iraq's already complied to the demand for weapons inspection but we're subverting the inspection of Saddam's "nuclear nest" from taking place so we can keep the pretext we need to get the fucking oil. Mishael's in the Marines: the few, the proud--the first to die. But does the government give a shit about what happens to my brother? Go out there and ask those homeless men begging in the streets of Chapel Hill how they lost their limbs--they'll tell you they were at 'Nam. The government doesn't give a shit about what happens to their men after they've (or haven't) gotten what they want. What the hell was Vietnam all about anyway? Vietnam wouldn't be allowed autonomy and her dignity because Ho Chi Minh was a Commie--but who the fuck did America prop up in South Vietnam? A military dictator against whom Buddhist monks campaigned against the brutal persecution of their order by self-emulation.

This is why I have qualms about bringing children into this world. There's nothing I see to change the system. Our capitalistic society is set up on exploitation--it's not a true democracy because people cannot see that their productive power is the true power. But we're indifferent to what the government is doing as long as our way of life is preserved--that's the Peace we're fighting for. We're fighting to keep the status quo of having more consumers than what's being produced because otherwise the bottom of the system will fall out. As Jay says, we are paying for consumption with our humanity.

I'm distraught at the thought of my brother. I cannot even begin to look at the possibility that he may not be coming back. I cannot.

Talking with Jay is enlightening, but also so fucking depressing. I'm going to bed now, it's rather early.

10.13.02 - 3:25 a.m.

	poli ticks suck Anne goes to her mother's funeral and meets the man of her dreams. She doesn't talk to him or see him again. What's her motivation for killing her sister? I twirled around in my chair, eyes agaze at the ceiling as if somehow repeating the question to myself would give me their answer. It's a conclusive question; your answer subject to psychological interpolations that places your method of mind under two categories: logical or conceptual. I couldn't see the connection they wanted me to make. So I threw the bone and gave out my all but hasty conclusion that Anne wanted the insurance money all for herself. Jesus fuck, why do I want to be a psychologist? I'm a conceptual thinker. Their way of saying I'm dull-witted methinks--but there I go thinking conceptually again. It might actually be easier to make the connection when reading the question rather than have the information given verbally to you. Give me your idea. Jay's still hanging around and playing 'Ze luv docteur.' I love all that makes up Jemima's social circle. I also love the fact that they're at least eight years my elder and I can hold intelligent conversations without being treated down because of my age. I philosophize with Phil; I politicize with Jay. Or at least he keeps me up to date with all the problems of the world. Fuck it, I don't want to go to war. Iraq's already complied to the demand for weapons inspection but we're subverting the inspection of Saddam's "nuclear nest" from taking place so we can keep the pretext we need to get the fucking oil. Mishael's in the Marines: the few, the proud--the first to die. But does the government give a shit about what happens to my brother? Go out there and ask those homeless men begging in the streets of Chapel Hill how they lost their limbs--they'll tell you they were at 'Nam. The government doesn't give a shit about what happens to their men after they've (or haven't) gotten what they want. What the hell was Vietnam all about anyway? Vietnam wouldn't be allowed autonomy and her dignity because Ho Chi Minh was a Commie--but who the fuck did America prop up in South Vietnam? A military dictator against whom Buddhist monks campaigned against the brutal persecution of their order by self-emulation. This is why I have qualms about bringing children into this world. There's nothing I see to change the system. Our capitalistic society is set up on exploitation--it's not a true democracy because people cannot see that their productive power is the true power. But we're indifferent to what the government is doing as long as our way of life is preserved--that's the Peace we're fighting for. We're fighting to keep the status quo of having more consumers than what's being produced because otherwise the bottom of the system will fall out. As Jay says, we are paying for consumption with our humanity. I'm distraught at the thought of my brother. I cannot even begin to look at the possibility that he may not be coming back. I cannot. Talking with Jay is enlightening, but also so fucking depressing. I'm going to bed now, it's rather early. 10.13.02 - 3:25 a.m.