When we were teenagers we wanted to be the sky
Now all we wanna do is go to red places
And try to stay outta hell
Now all we wanna do is go to red places
And try to stay outta hell
nošķaudīties
taustiņi zied kā pelējums - January 7th, 2011
let it always be known that i was who i am
07 January 2011 @ 01:10 pm
build a shack with an old friend
07 January 2011 @ 02:57 pm
kļūdas
laikam nav laba ideja eksāmena laikā izlasīt eksāmenam jaunu tekstu. nekad iepriekš nebija gadījies apraudāties, nosacīti rakstot eksāmenu.
"My 48 hour visit to El Salvador was pro-longed into a fourteen day nightmare when the Salvadoran military launched a search and destroy operation against the region. The government forces surrounded a 40 square kilometer region (approximately a dozen hamlets) and began systematically bombarding, mortaring, and strafing the entire zone with airplanes, Huey helicopters, and artillery. There were approximately a thousand peasants living in the area and only one or two hundred of these had guns and probably less than a dozen were formal members of the FMLN. The population was composed of a typical cross-section of peasants - the kind of people you would find anywhere in rural Latin America if you circled off 40 square kilometers: grandmothers, grandfathers, young and middle-aged men and women, pregnant mothers, suckling infants, children etc. . . . We were all the target of the Salvadoran air force and army. I gave the following oral account to a journalist shortly after my return to the US:
When the bombardments and strafings began we would take over anywhere we could. I was told to crouch beside a tree trunk and, whatever I did, not to move. They'd shoot at anything that moved. I remember inching around a tree trunk to keep something solid between me and the machine-gun fire of the helicopters.
Sometimes the mortar shots came 10 times in a row, and there's a tremendous sense of panic when you hear them getting closer and closer. I was told that when I heard a mortar fired I should grit my teeth and keep my mouth open to prevent my ear drums from rupturing. . . . On the first four days, .. . about 15 men, women and children . . . were wounded. Shrapnel was removed, and amputations were performed with absolutely no pain medicine. (Washington Post February 14, 1982 pp. Cl)
On the fourth night of the invasion we tried to break through the government troops encircling us. The plan was for the FMLN fighters (i.e., younger peasants with guns and minimal military training) to draw fire from a machine gun nest set up by the government soldiers on a knoll while the rest of us civilians tried to run by unseen in the darkness of the night. Once again, there were about a thousand of us all ages, several pregnant, others sick, one blind, and many under three years of age: We were on a rocky path with a Salvadoran gunpost off to our left. FMLN guerrillas, also on our left and to the rear, drew fire while we made a break for it. The babies the women were carrying were shrieking at the noise and, as soon as we got within earshot, the Salvadoran forces turned their fire on us.
At this point, it was pandemonium. Grenades were landing around us; machine guns were firing; we were running. A little boy about 20 yards ahead of me was blown in half when a grenade landed on him. His body lay in the middle of the path, so I had to run over it to escape. (Ibid.)
I remember at one point being crouched near a women under cover of some bushes when her baby began to cry. She waved at me with her hand and whispered to me to run away as fast as possible before the government soldiers heard the noise. I obeyed, and sprinting forward I heard machine gun bullets and shrieks all around me. Mothers and infants made up the bulk of the casualties that night. Only a mother can carry her baby under fire because only a mother has a chance of preventing her suckling infant from crying. The Salvadoran military was shooting in the darkness into the sound of crying babies." //Philippe Bourgois, Confronting the Ethics of Ethnography: Lessons From Fieldwork in Central America
"My 48 hour visit to El Salvador was pro-longed into a fourteen day nightmare when the Salvadoran military launched a search and destroy operation against the region. The government forces surrounded a 40 square kilometer region (approximately a dozen hamlets) and began systematically bombarding, mortaring, and strafing the entire zone with airplanes, Huey helicopters, and artillery. There were approximately a thousand peasants living in the area and only one or two hundred of these had guns and probably less than a dozen were formal members of the FMLN. The population was composed of a typical cross-section of peasants - the kind of people you would find anywhere in rural Latin America if you circled off 40 square kilometers: grandmothers, grandfathers, young and middle-aged men and women, pregnant mothers, suckling infants, children etc. . . . We were all the target of the Salvadoran air force and army. I gave the following oral account to a journalist shortly after my return to the US:
When the bombardments and strafings began we would take over anywhere we could. I was told to crouch beside a tree trunk and, whatever I did, not to move. They'd shoot at anything that moved. I remember inching around a tree trunk to keep something solid between me and the machine-gun fire of the helicopters.
Sometimes the mortar shots came 10 times in a row, and there's a tremendous sense of panic when you hear them getting closer and closer. I was told that when I heard a mortar fired I should grit my teeth and keep my mouth open to prevent my ear drums from rupturing. . . . On the first four days, .. . about 15 men, women and children . . . were wounded. Shrapnel was removed, and amputations were performed with absolutely no pain medicine. (Washington Post February 14, 1982 pp. Cl)
On the fourth night of the invasion we tried to break through the government troops encircling us. The plan was for the FMLN fighters (i.e., younger peasants with guns and minimal military training) to draw fire from a machine gun nest set up by the government soldiers on a knoll while the rest of us civilians tried to run by unseen in the darkness of the night. Once again, there were about a thousand of us all ages, several pregnant, others sick, one blind, and many under three years of age: We were on a rocky path with a Salvadoran gunpost off to our left. FMLN guerrillas, also on our left and to the rear, drew fire while we made a break for it. The babies the women were carrying were shrieking at the noise and, as soon as we got within earshot, the Salvadoran forces turned their fire on us.
At this point, it was pandemonium. Grenades were landing around us; machine guns were firing; we were running. A little boy about 20 yards ahead of me was blown in half when a grenade landed on him. His body lay in the middle of the path, so I had to run over it to escape. (Ibid.)
I remember at one point being crouched near a women under cover of some bushes when her baby began to cry. She waved at me with her hand and whispered to me to run away as fast as possible before the government soldiers heard the noise. I obeyed, and sprinting forward I heard machine gun bullets and shrieks all around me. Mothers and infants made up the bulk of the casualties that night. Only a mother can carry her baby under fire because only a mother has a chance of preventing her suckling infant from crying. The Salvadoran military was shooting in the darkness into the sound of crying babies." //Philippe Bourgois, Confronting the Ethics of Ethnography: Lessons From Fieldwork in Central America
07 January 2011 @ 04:54 pm
murr
man patīk šitāda nosacīti buržuja dzīve. uzrakstot eksāmenu, man ir svētku mielasts - rīsu nūdeles ar sojas mērci dzeltenā bļodiņā un glāze episki lieliska vīna garkājainā glāzē, un ziniet ko, tādai arī dzīvei ir jābūt. un pēc šī mielasta es iešu lieliskā vannā un tad uzvilkšu smukas drēbītes un iešu ar brāli uz teātri, un mans lielais dzīves plāns "padarīt sesiju baudāmu" būs izdevies. palutināt sevi īstajā brīdī, lūk, atslēga, hahā.