If only he had known about weblogs…

Luke Helder, 21, arrested by the FBI for the recent rash of mailbox pipe bombings across the heartland of America, is not your stereotypical terrorist.

"The top things I care about are my girlfriend ... and my music/band," he wrote in an autobiographical capsule on his band's Web site. "I party, play guitar, and talk online to everyone. That's my life."

Luke’s dad claims that Luke only wanted attention, only wanted to make a statement, only needed someone to listen to his message:

"Mailboxes are exploding! Why, you ask?

Attention people.

The United States strives to provide freedom for their people. Do we really have personal freedom? I've lived here for many years, and I see much limitation. Does the definition of freedom include limitation? I've learned about the history of various civilizations in history, and I see more and more limitation.

You have been missing how things are, for very long. I'm obtaining your attention in the only way I can.

More info is on its way. More "attention getters' are on the way. If I could, I would change only one person, unfortunately the resources are not accessible. It seems killing a single famous person would get the same media attention as killing numerous un-famous humans. There is less risk of being detained, associated with dismissing certain people."

Luke, Luke, Luke.   You should have blogged, baby, blogged.   1) Blogging is a wondrously powerful new outlet for extending one’s personal freedom of expression.  2) It’s a great way to get others' attention—if you’re willing to lay the groundwork for interactivity (don’t just blurt—go out and comment on others’ blogs: reciprocity), and 3) It won’t land you in prison for 30 years.

Which leads to an interesting speculation:  Can you imagine a Xanga blogring consisting only of inmates of, let’s say, federal penitentiaries:  PenPals Blogring:  Meet fascinating inmates from around the world! ??   

If inmates were allowed to blog, would they be having too much fun?

If inmates were allowed to blog their sentences away, would you consider acquiring inmate status in order to provide yourself with this most precious opportunity which, given your current hectic lifestyle, you now seem all too seldom to have?!

So Selfish

This blog is for me, just me..*oh he's being selfish now.*  Yes, you may say that.  In fact, I demand that you do.  And louder. And repeat.  Repeat *after you*!!!  Good.  Now listen up: this blog, this blog reveals itself.

Was that a tiddy bar with carnalities amassed? Yes.  Then whence and henceforth? The weekend  was an aural epiphany with an unmistakable signature of caring and loving kindness!  So to hell with the rest.  I don't give a fuck about rest--I yearn to strive, to stay alive, to better my best. 

So who was the grrl?  You, grrl, of course.  Always and forever you.  And the moment was an improbability in eternity never waiting to happen.  Which transpired like the first bloom of this alien entity called *flower* , nonetheless.  And I bathed in our mutually-inventing playfulness.

And then I ran like Mercury this morning, ran and encountered Pat, freebirdgonewild's dad, and defied destiny with my ability to slither deathlessly between any cradle and grave.  But before that, I retracted to 6.5 exact years of age.  And heard the church powers morbidly daunting me to attain 7.0 exact and the contemnable *age of reason*.  Yes, the Age of Reason with great calculations bureaucratically-pinholed, indeed!   I saw it so relicly-proffered, and so decided instead to horde up on reason well before that blind date!  A lifetime of reason pre-emptively sucked up in my unrationed prereasoned-aged precociousness.  But that, that is but memory (no? yes!)...while this morning itself was entirely renewing and propitiously fresh.  I was so free and young again!  And remain so, to this very moment of witness, with contempt for all forms of true lifelessness!

Shall I disappear?  Of course! Anything, everything written is not the culmination, but merely the concomitance of my adamance on this active side of infinity.  Which means: I don't count my breaths!  Yet breathe deeply, thus to avoid existential duress. 

I have a vision of a twin-engine landing on an unbending stretch of highway between Tucson and Phoenix.  So it's me and I flew treetop all the way from Costa Rica to homebase.  Only the desert is my dust-devil witness.  I did good, like Lindy, and cannot now care less.