SPAM: Paulette Sells Out

Dear Phan,   Here's a video of me, Paulette, playing a song I wrote a number of years back when i was living in Stockton, CA.   I thought I'd dust it off and see I could find any relevance in it, relevance to my life I mean.   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yN1HcIET9pQ   The audio lost something in the upload, so the guitar kind of sounds like it's under water at times, but I have budgetary limitations, so you might have to get used to it if you want to watch any upcoming, fantastically interesting and enthralling videos.    Welcome to the hell of the 21st Century.  Technology will set us free from our bodies so that we won't have to lift fingers or burn calories or use any muscles whatsoever forever.   Love,   Paulette

Kinda Fun 2 Paragraphs

Once upon some kind of time in the history of the united states after the first history was destroyed by a disaster of disastrous proportions, a disaster so big that it killed all the people in the united states, even the "illegal" aliens, and all of the history books were so badly burned that you couldn't tell if Ishi was the last of the Yahi's or the first United States President.  All of the history books were all destroyed by fire, so there was no history other than that which could be pieced together by sober archaeologists who would go out to a "site" and "dig" for junk, any kind of junk, but especially junk that they could use to tell a story about the people that were dead and gone.   The first new inhabitant of the united states was named Adam by both of his parents, mary and joseph, and he came up from mexico after the big disaster that killed all of the American citizens in the blink of an eye, the flick of the wrist, a shake of the leg, a mexico that was mostly Mexican and mexicanny, filled with Mexican people who spoke Spanish in spite of the fact that they were from mexico and not spain, much like British Colonies sometimes spoke English.

Spammm: More Quaint Cultural Music

http://pauletteinternational.com/music/workingonxmas2.mp3     I'll be working on christimas instead of seeing my loved ones.  No, I'm not upset about it.  At all.  I'm not upset.  Really, I'm not upset by this.

Total SPAM: Life Sentences

At Peets, out in front, on a wooden bench, under the awning, on Mountain Boulevard, in Montclair, on the stinking hill in the forest, a guy, some loser, sits, holding out food while a pigeon,a rat with wings, perches on his hand, eating, flapping its wings to balance, to fly off if agitated if the scene gets too sketchy, too threatening, too crazy, dangerous, deadly.    The wooden bench in front of the store by the glass swinging door entrance reminds me, yours truly, paulette, reminds me of electric chairs I've seen made of wood in photos, in magazines, in books, on TV, chairs designed not to conduct electricity out to the rest of the torture chamber to the murdering murderers.   And in my tiny mammalian brain, my teensy-weensy mammalian brain, in my relaxed, unhurried state, sitting at a table, warm, inside of doors, sipping tea, I associate a lovely wooden bench with a murder of retribution, a compensatory murder, a state termination of human life, an execution.   How dreary, I think, in shadow as the sun hits the floor and my left arm, the arm closest to the window, the arm holding my only head up off of the granite coffee table, circular and static in its cold weightiness, a weightiness we could count on in a pinch if we needed an effective paperweight or fishing sinker.   I go pee out the tea I've been drinking, my English Breakfast tea the Barista, counter guy, coffee jerk gave me for free because I had to wait thirty impossibly painful seconds while he ordered more coffee over the phone to stock his empty shelves, shelves with no coffee on them, and inside the unisex toilet at the back of the store, under two air ducts, I see some locked cabinets dimly lit, a toilet and a sink with a mirror to check my thin, short hair.  I pee, letting go of my bladder muscle voluntarily, and out flows my tea, discolored of course, showing some change after digestive processing.  "Ahh" I sigh or say or utter or sing or something.  It's kind of a sigh of relief that we can all relate to, a release of pressure, strain and stress, a chance to pee out and on all the daily bullshit life hands us.   After peeing, I like to wash my hands with soap and water in a sink with hot water.  The hot water warms my cold hands, and it feels good to put my hands in hot water, so good that i start to cry, knowing that I'm the luckiest person in the world, the world filled with starvation, crime, stupidity, friendliness and organized people mobilized to solve important problems such as late mail and overgrown mosquito populations.

SPAM: Heartwarming Christmas Story

Last night afer sunset, I was walking around the christmas tree lot, looking around for things to do, and this guy walks up to the twine bucket and cuts himself a long piece.  I noticed him because there was something strange about his behaviour.  He had walked to the bucket and kind of kept his head down, looking truly serious and expeditious, as though he were on a mission in outer space to fight a deadly monster.   And so i figured in my little brain, well, maybe he just needs some twine for some reason, and I let it go, until i found out that he was tying his tree down on his car way, way far away from the loading area.   So I walked over to his green mini-van with his family in it.   I thought I'd give him the benefit of my doubt. "Hi, did somebody already check your receipt?" "Yeah.  Do you ask everybody that?" "Yep.  You're no different than anybody else" And so, I thought, ok fine, that's as far as I'll pursue it.  And as I'm turning to walk away "You came all the way over here to fuck with me?" "I apologize, but that's my job." And then I went to get some shopping carts in the vicinity, the area, nearby, and he spouts off again about his righteous indignation, and I apologize again for the pain and humiliation he's suffered by my interrogation.   I later see my coworker Pierre 2. "Hey, Pierre 2, did you check the receipt of a guy with a green minivan?" "no"   I then see my coworker Nut-nut. "Hey Nut-nut, did you check the receipt of a guy with a green minivan?" "no"   Finally, I see my coworkers Pierre 1 and Rocky. "Hey Pierre 1 and Rocky, did you check the receipt of a guy with a green minivan?" "no" "I saw the guy drive off with it though." "I see.  Well the guy said somebody checked his receipt."   We all laughed.   And feelings started pouring through my little body.   I was upset and felt betrayed by this lying person.   And so I now look upon all Christmas tree shoppers as potential criminals unworthy of any trust whatsoever.   But then three girls got a tree and took my photo while i stood it up for them to see.   and when the girl with her fancy hybrid car came to pick it up, she didn't have her receipt because her friend was inside paying for it.   I put the tree in her car.   "you're not stealing it are you?" "No, my friend is paying for it inside."   And she kind of looked at me funny and parked her car in the general parking lot.  She knew i was kidding, but i felt stupid for saying it anyhow.       I apologize for problems with tense.