The inmates' actions were aimed at destabilizing the situation in the jail and were motivated by their refusal to accept legitimate demands of prison

Selim is in the corner holding the sharp edge between his fingers. He is waiting for the high yellow sound of noon. He is calm. My elbows move closer to my ribs and then out again. Everything is breathing with me. Dolinka, Dolinka, Dolinka: now.

Selim bends at the waist and cuts his Achilles tendon. He hands me the razor and sits down. He is happy. My feet are bare, my pants rolled to the knees. I cut my tendon and pass the razor. We put our bleeding feet in a circle and let the blood pool. We push the blood to the door, force it under.

Demiricimim is the last of our twelve to cut. He pushes the razor into a crack in the mortar. We get up on our good feet and hook elbows. Dolinka! we shout.

Dolinka! the floor answers. Dolinka! the ceiling answers. Twelve, twelve- all of us! I shout.

The count comes from the cells. Fifteen! Twenty-three! Thirteen! Twenty!

Selim is adding them up. Two-hundred and sixty-six! he screams. The guards have come by now. They see the blood under the door and stop. They watch us through the food door of our cell. We are still standing together, hooked at the waist. We hold our loose feet together.

The guards do not move. Expletives and static come out of their walkie-talkies.

Where is Dolinka? I ask them. I am white and shivering. I feel the circle weaken. Demircinim's lips are blue.

The guards leave.

Where is Kazakhstan? I ask their backs. Tell CNN, tell the BBC where Dolinka is!

We hear the ambulances and sit down on our bunks. We are sweating and shivering.

When we get back from hospital, I tell Selim, we can do the other ankle.

No, he says. The British will come. He pulls out a comb from his pocket and neatens his hair.

some work stuff i found interesting

Individuals who are able to maintain noncritical family relationships [I would add the qualifier _relatively,_ I am not aware of any family which is criticality-free], strong social support networks, and lower rates of major life events are likely to experience fewer symptoms of their disorder over time. Beyond the social environment, a better course of disorder may be possible for people with fewer negative interpretations of themselves and their life events, those who are less neurotic, and those who are less dependent on others_ opinions of them [I would qualify this as follows: that the issue of dependency upon the opinions of others really has to do with a disintegration between autonomy and relatedness, e.g., if autonomy is significantly sacrificed in order to maintain an attachment relationship]...Hence, psychotherapeutic interventions may be needed to help individuals develop more supportive social environments, positive self-evaluations [similar to Gaetano Benedetti_s concept of _therapeutic positivization_], and adaptive cognitions regarding stress. Maladaptive personality traits that persist beyond the recovery period may suggest the need for more intensive therapeutic interventions as well_ (p. 87).

Sneak peek

Get this:

Israel is calling the Swine Flu the Mexican Flue because swine aren't kosher. Mexico is up in arms about this "slander." When Palestine was asked if they, on account of all their Muslim people, call it Mexican Flu they responded, "No, that's an Israeli issue. Of course we call it Swine Flu."

It's like bickering siblings!

another love story

Saakashvili, Saakashvili my head is pushed into the pillow. Saakashvili is the sleeping a quiet creeping tremor. It is a mantra of vowels showing first the tongue and then the teeth.

I laughed when the man with the puppet said he wanted to hang him from the balls. Saakashvili from the balls! Never! His body will glow and burn from the inside before there are ropes and chairs to kick out from under feet. The body of his wife will light up between her legs, her polonium eggs.

But if the man hangs a noose, you know to push your shoulders up when they start. It's just too hard to do, though. They are back down before you realize and a ripe knot forms in your neck. The cloth is black with your animalness.

Saakashvili you are in love! There is so much metal with your name on it! I cannot sleep without your long sounds petting me! Do not bubble and fester, please.

The passport fee is non-refundable and there is a wild upheaval in my heart. I will straddle the machines that shoot long distance rounds!

Oh, Misha it is the vowels I want.

a casualty of the recession...

This woman's store went under and today her mannequin did, too.

One Sunday Morning

The smoke detector beeps every five minutes.

You had been hoping for a word. When it came, it was “You.” She's reworking your nose, the neat slip of your fingers, making your image less defined but more arresting. The surprise of sunburn after haze.

In the other room, the dogs are in heat. The neutered male whines, carrying a toy duck in his mouth. The girl dogs nip at his feet.

Migraines are electrical storms in the brain. They are something like seizures, but brought on by manic lethargy. Whole years slip into blind spots. Faces lose eyes and mouths. Let her fake sight, let her approximate lips.

The mail comes.