tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38701123631442442042023-12-04T03:17:06.513-05:00Matt Freire | Undisclosed Afghan[after missions, i write on a small 50 cent memo pad. here are my photos & my words.]Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-43911501097312205132010-08-15T12:59:00.004-04:002010-08-15T13:42:34.649-04:00Running for Stabilityby Matthew Freire, Syracuse University, August 2010<br /><br />With a sober face and straight voice Staff Sergeant Smith said, <a href="http://mattfreire.blogspot.com/2009/07/soldiering-comes-with-cost.html">“I got some bad news. Marcy got hit.”</a><br /> <br />I wanted to laugh and joke like usual until I saw the Sergeant’s eyes. Staring into them I could triangulate the tone of his voice. Truth overcame my body. Hunger grew in my throat like a foreign object. I couldn't swallow.<br /><br />“What happened?”<br /><br />“We don't really know the full story yet but we do know he was hit by some type of rocket, and he’s in critical condition right now in the Bahgram hospital. He will lose one leg, possibly both. Once he’s stable enough they will send him to Walter Reed,” Sergeant Smith said.<br /><br />With hope I said, “so he’s alive.”<br /><br />“Yes,” Smitty said, “he’s still alive. When I get more information I'll let you know.”<br /><br />Silence suffocated the room. I stood looking at nothing, biting my lower lip, nodding my head. <br /><br />Smitty broke the silence. “Are you all right?”<br /><br />I was now staring at my tactical gear on the floor. Still nodding my head as if I could not breathe, I looked at Smitty and said, “at least he's not dead.” I needed air. I turned and walked out the door. <br /><br />It was dark outside. Only red lights were authorized at night at the FOB (Forward Operation Base). White lights provide directions to incoming rockets. It was pouring rain. In moments I was completely soaked, realizing this was the first time Afghanistan skies rained on me. My team of eleven had only been “in country” for three weeks and I had only been on four missions. Now five words were on playback in my head, “At least he’s not dead.”<br /><br />My mind was racing, so I ran to see if I could catch it. I began to reminisce about old times of fun and adventure Marcy and I shared. I wished I could be with him, and hear his loud Long Island accent. Will I see him again? What state will he be in? Marcy loved his job more than anything. Being a combat camera soldier was all he wanted to do. Will he be able to keep his job? My thoughts became self-centered. If Marcy died I would have to document his memorial ceremony. But my desire to do Marcy justice in documenting his fallen comrade ceremony would compete with my desire as a friend to be a pall bearer. There were more selfish thoughts. I had just arrived down range in Afghanistan. I wanted to stay. I wanted to do my job. There was so much I wanted to experience.<br /><br />Ashamed of my egocentric thoughts I started thinking about the process of thinking, of running for stability. The rain acted like the tears I could not shed. Tears were inadequate to honor my friend.<br /><br />Soaking wet I realized how crazy we combat camera soldiers are. We run into combat with weapons that cannot immediately kill the enemy. We run with our cameras up and our rifles slung at our sides. I was jealous of Marcy because he had already experienced combat. I had to slap my self-centered face and pivot back to those five words, “At least he’s not dead.”Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-70170104355451827422010-04-02T22:47:00.006-04:002010-04-03T10:52:24.273-04:00What is Combat Camera?Wayne Gray and I came up with this idea in Afghanistan. We both shot it and Wayne edited it. The target audience is 55th combat camera soldiers but I think more people can appreciate it for what it is. At the end it shows where our footage is used.<br /><br /><object width="400" height="225"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=10640061&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=289BCE&fullscreen=1"><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=10640061&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=289BCE&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="225"></embed></object><p></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-2017311649019274922010-03-23T21:04:00.006-04:002010-03-23T21:59:11.740-04:00Background on the Why We Fight Documentary<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyp4X13FhlraaveuCVZ2ZgOvbBUioaWGntoUYgAkCFRShrIijsHnOj6GP0dX4bUQkVk1V5vWeHB7YOsQRIHO2UZkE3mJYzSiNTHpO1wCtO2g_csLoOuNFdEBzuwLmYGfAFjJ2YSPyvypA/s1600-h/matt-friere.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 300px; float: right; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452004211934302946" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyp4X13FhlraaveuCVZ2ZgOvbBUioaWGntoUYgAkCFRShrIijsHnOj6GP0dX4bUQkVk1V5vWeHB7YOsQRIHO2UZkE3mJYzSiNTHpO1wCtO2g_csLoOuNFdEBzuwLmYGfAFjJ2YSPyvypA/s400/matt-friere.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>From <a href="http://www.digitalcinemafoundry.com/">Digital Camera Foundry</a>:<br /><br /></div>"I was impressed with the “<a href="http://mattfreire.blogspot.com/2010/03/why-we-fight.html">Why We Fight</a>” documentary on Tyler Ginter’s blog and so I got in contact with him about a write-up. As it turns out a friend of his Matt Freire was the one who had shot and put it together. So I contacted Matt to get not only his production write-up but what life is like in the Army as a combat cameraman. His piece documents the feeling and sentiment of the Afghan people who are tired of war and offer a perspective that most people don’t see.<p>"Here is his write-up:"<br /></p>I joined the Army in 2004 as a 25V combat documentation production specialist or more commonly know as combat camera “COMCAM." I joined the military because I was becoming lethargic and I had no real direction. I did a little freelance graphic design and weekly competed in slam poetry contests but something was missing. I heard you could be a graphic designer for the military and they would pay for school. On top of all that I was fascinated with the wars going on and I really wanted to go over and experience it for myself, do my part for my country. When I joined the recruiters said all the slots for graphic designers were full but they had a slot in combat camera. As soon as I heard the name I was hooked. I said I wanted that job.<br /><div><br />Life of a COMCAM in a war zone to me is bliss. (<a href="http://mattfreire.blogspot.com/2009/07/from-afghanistan-22-july-2009.html">The Passionate Fool Focuses</a>) I would go back in a second. I didn’t want to leave. I loved being in Afghanistan and doing my job. There is no other job in the military where you get to be around and experience everyone else’s job, not just in our military but all the coalition forces. I believe I’ve documented military from around 30 different countries.<br /><br />I never really thought of my job as dangerous even after my good friend on my COMCAM team lost his leg in the first month of being in the country. (<a href="http://mattfreire.blogspot.com/2009/07/soldiering-comes-with-cost.html">Soldiering Comes with a Cost</a>) There are hazards and dangers doing this job because we look for the high action missions and we get on as many as possible. It’s hard to juggle having a M4 assault rifle and a Canon 5D MKII slung around my neck and trying to decide which one I should use.<br /><br />One of the things I love about my job is I am the only one that does it when I go on missions. I am the one that’s documenting how it really is for history, for battle field commanders, for the soldiers, for the world. My job is different form the other camera jobs in the military because I just document. I don’t go out looking for a message, I don’t go out to try to make a story, I just document how it is. (<a href="http://mattfreire.blogspot.com/2009/09/as-you-pay-last-respects-to-your.html">As You Pay Last Respects to Your Soldier</a>)<br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The video "<a href="http://mattfreire.blogspot.com/2010/03/why-we-fight.html">Why We Fight</a>" just put itself together. I was with these Afghan fighters for a few months documenting what they do and one day they were doing some weapons training. I pulled a few aside with both our interpreters and started asking random questions like hows the training going on, why do you come out here every day and fight, how do you feel about America, and then I went on my way. A few months later I was looking over my footage and I found the interviews and that’s when it hit me how powerful their words are. These people are just like us. They are tired of war and they fight so their families can live in peace. I never looked at Afghans in this way until this deployment.<br /><br />My team was the first team in the military to deploy to a combat zone with HDSLR’s. I loved having the ability to do both photo and video in one small compact machine.<br /><br />Before the HDSLR I was using a Nikon D2x and a Sony PD-170. If I had a mission I would have to pick one or the other because there is just not enough room to carry both. When I go on missions with different units I have the same gear they have plus my camera gear so i need to be as light and compact as possible. HDSLR’s accomplish so much: they're light, compact, tough, have the ability to change lens quickly.<br /><br />My camera got beat up, it looked horrible by the end, the whole camera was covered in tape including the back screen because most of my missions were done at night and I couldn’t let light leak while doing video.<br /><br />The scene in "<a href="http://mattfreire.blogspot.com/2010/03/why-we-fight.html">Why We Fight</a>" that shows a 9 banger flash grenade going off was during training, so I just set my camera on the ground and took a few steps back from it. The camera was fine, it's a beast that can take a beating. I did go through many lens filters through my deployment though. I had two primary lenses. I used the 24-105mm f/4 and the 50mm f/1.4. Kept it simple and light weight. I also did use a lens baby on a few missions which I don’t recommend to anyone in a combat zone. It takes too much changing out f stops and manually focusing. I think I was the first for that and hopefully last.<br /><br />How I carried the camera, I would wolf hook it to a carabiner on my body armor and it would just hang on my left side while my M4 was laid across my chest. For audio I just used an onboard mic and a lavaliere for the interviews that I hooked up but in post realized I set them up incorrectly, so really only the onboard mic is all I used.<br /><br />Advice for those that might want to do this job: </div><br /><div></div>First, hit the gym. You go out on missions where you have body armor, helmet, ammo, ruck sack with food, supplies, everything infantry joe has, plus whatever camera gear you have, and when they stop to take a break you have to have the energy to run around and still document. (<a href="http://mattfreire.blogspot.com/2009/07/salvo-by-matt-freire-passing-time.html">I Don't Want to Limp Away from this One</a>) The job never ends. When you get back from your mission and everyone cleans their weapons and goes to bed, you have to capture and edit all your work and transmit via ftp.<br /><br /><div></div><br /><div>Second, get your mind right. Getting your mind right means understanding you might have to document some bloody gory stuff and then later go back and look at it again when you put a product together. (<a href="http://mattfreire.blogspot.com/2009/08/troops-in-contact-sound-you-never-want.html">Troops in Contact: A Sound You Never Want to Hear</a>) (<a href="http://mattfreire.blogspot.com/2009/07/im-not-in-mood-to-argue.html">I'm Not in the Mood to Argue</a>)<br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Third, if you feel like you want to do this job in my military, be worth a damn and give a damn. (<a href="http://mattfreire.blogspot.com/2009/10/afghan-interrogation-comes-with.html">Afghan Interrogation Comes with a Chill</a>) (<a href="http://mattfreire.blogspot.com/2009/09/frivolous-confabs-and-librettos.html">Send it With Technicolor Sauce</a>)<br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I <a href="http://mattfreire.blogspot.com/2009/08/someone-this-turkey-is-overdone.html">love this job</a> so much and I am so <a href="http://mattfreire.blogspot.com/2009/09/children-of-august-31-2009.html">passionate </a>about this job. If you are in my field don’t just steal oxygen and justify your existence!<br /><br />Matt Freire</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-51676017197380255642010-03-12T23:54:00.005-05:002012-04-22T21:40:32.142-04:00Why We Fight<object width="400" height="225"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=10100482&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=289BCE&fullscreen=1"><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=10100482&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=289BCE&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="225"></embed></object><p><a href="http://mattfreire.blogspot.com/2010/03/background-on-why-we-fight-documentary.html">Why We Fight</a> filmed by Matt Freire, edited by Matt Freire and Tyler Ginter.</p>"Why We Fight" contains never-before released footage of the Afghanistan Special Forces, Strike Force Lion, who describe their own personal reasons why they continue to fight the war against terrorist threats within their country.<br /><br />All footage was filmed entirely on the Canon 5DMKII by Matthew Freire during his nine-month combat tour under some of the most dangerous locations and roughest conditions in Afghanistan while supporting the elite United States Special Forces.<br /><br />Strike Force Lion is a hand-selected elite group of Afghan Fighters trained by the United States Special Forces with the purpose of eliminating terrorist threats in the Khowst Province of Afghanistan.<br /><br />These are strong, brave, and fierce fighters that do everything they can for peace.<br /><br />Filmed by: Matthew Freire<br /><br />Edited and Color Corrected by: Matthew Freire, Tyler Ginter<br /><br />Tools:<br />Canon 5DMKII<br />Canon 24-105mm F4<br />Canon 50mm F1.4<br />Final Cut Pro<br />Magic Bullet Looks<br />Magic Bullet Mojo<br /><br />All footage has been cleared for Public Release.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-18878371803746607912009-10-31T18:20:00.001-04:002009-10-31T18:22:12.832-04:00she would set a flashlight out for him every night<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil5cohssyt4LtMYIcA7FsMQ_kn86pAuO6PiSNXJABx0PHNeDghyxPeTnTeCYi_0tGTexTO7bXXhFwp71er70dIKqxL0pCfCejzhw-lmwIhKulslW1J-cgUpoaSET_PXCkCNMEUHWli3Gt4/s1600-h/3880192761_22d8d0391b.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil5cohssyt4LtMYIcA7FsMQ_kn86pAuO6PiSNXJABx0PHNeDghyxPeTnTeCYi_0tGTexTO7bXXhFwp71er70dIKqxL0pCfCejzhw-lmwIhKulslW1J-cgUpoaSET_PXCkCNMEUHWli3Gt4/s400/3880192761_22d8d0391b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398892967515777218" border="0" /></a><br />condensation on my left eye<br />by matt freire<br /><br />she would set a pillow out for him every night<br />because it’s cold out at night<br />and a breeze would set in<br />and the sun would come out<br />but it did not warm<br />there is always this chill<br />there is always this unknown<br />but don't ask me about it<br />because I suddenly don't remember<br /><br />she would set a blanket out for him every night<br />because its cold out at night<br />and he would climb the walls<br />but the walls came down<br />and he would take the rubble<br />and he would build a castle<br />and he got distracted<br />and he destroyed that castle<br />but don't ask me the castle’s name<br />because my mouth will suddenly stop working<br /><br />she would set a flashlight out for him every night<br />because it’s dark out at night<br />and he traversed hidden obstacles<br />getting farther than otherwise<br />yet eventually batteries drain of their strength<br />and the light flickers out<br />and because he depended on the light so long<br />he becomes lost<br />but don't ask how long it took for his eyes to get adjusted<br />because I momentarily looked the other way<br /><br />she would set a bowl of water out for him ever night<br />because its cold out at night<br />and the water turns to ice<br />and he tries to warm the ice<br />because he's dehydrated<br />but his breath isn't strong enough<br />and his hands aren't warm enough<br />and the water stays frozen<br />and he coughs<br />but don't ask me if he survived<br />because I will suddenly lose interestAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-17432782957720434892009-10-31T18:19:00.002-04:002009-10-31T18:20:31.612-04:00because you convinced me to become<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivEtLaBgrJJ0_y_gCspKPFCI8tb-_4a6nPD7MT5heWTBrfggthaM-ueeEaUaussM7-kPHlUQ5vbKCiGvNb9ZESL3aC5Erb56HthF-Wmm7YEdrgXUKKmWAXe8xs3i4Riqbum_gF32JdT3TC/s1600-h/3880192983_669c23fc78.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivEtLaBgrJJ0_y_gCspKPFCI8tb-_4a6nPD7MT5heWTBrfggthaM-ueeEaUaussM7-kPHlUQ5vbKCiGvNb9ZESL3aC5Erb56HthF-Wmm7YEdrgXUKKmWAXe8xs3i4Riqbum_gF32JdT3TC/s400/3880192983_669c23fc78.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398892510498141762" border="0" /></a><br />slow leak<br />by matt freire<br /><br />Thoughts like moths<br />caught in low lit lampshades<br />fluttering till they burn<br /><br />trying to express me<br />not to impress you<br />but I listened to you just the same<br /><br />what a fool I was<br />what a blockhead I became<br />because you convinced me to become<br /><br />something tethered<br />like a frozen bee<br />suddenly tied to way too short a string<br /><br />seeping gas<br />open mouths depleting oxygen<br />closed minds convincing otherwiseAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-59726522205771446602009-10-31T18:15:00.002-04:002009-10-31T18:17:38.249-04:00that I'm needy like an infant<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipeKM3K78gHstYYnnjMLvgbIfAwOeA3n0aNtIwrTW0ShCQcSfH1RkKQXNbSVT8W0Lts5pw1ysUVF0MIUkfdzxPOcXS2OqrmCdDLmeZt27FCOeW94jUo8MGsCMbqcHljUWBUcuw5440Xv5m/s1600-h/3974420969_3a1fa1cedd.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipeKM3K78gHstYYnnjMLvgbIfAwOeA3n0aNtIwrTW0ShCQcSfH1RkKQXNbSVT8W0Lts5pw1ysUVF0MIUkfdzxPOcXS2OqrmCdDLmeZt27FCOeW94jUo8MGsCMbqcHljUWBUcuw5440Xv5m/s400/3974420969_3a1fa1cedd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398891754333296290" border="0" /></a><br />something in my back pocket<br />by matt freire<br /><br />the problem with me is I think to much<br />typing away like it helps me swallow my lunch<br />and I clutter the page<br />with undecipherable babble<br />thinking this helps<br />but its just mindless ramble<br /><br />I like to say I'm resilient<br />but my life has shown<br />that I'm needy like an infant<br />still sucking on the tit<br />with a mild contentment<br />too afraid to get away<br />but too far out to stay<br /><br />so desperately<br />I pull some vocabulary out<br />but I lost my voice<br />and I can’t scream it out<br />and you’re so far away<br />and even if you heard it<br />you'd ignore it anyway<br />so I keep it to myself<br />in a mumble undecipherable<br />and I tap the return key<br />because there is more to the thought<br /><br />the problem with my logic<br />is there are too many loopholes<br />too many what ifs<br />and too many pitfalls<br />and many pockets I sport<br />and many outfits I wear<br />but only two pockets count<br />but my hands are warming there<br /><br />and when I think about me<br />I think about of pictures of me<br />because I forget about me<br />if these images didn't succeed<br />and a photo album is drawn<br />from the bookshelf in the corner<br />and on the first page<br />is when I first met me<br />but I didn't really like me<br />but as I got to know me<br />in different photos<br />that show me<br />the different quirks<br />that know me<br />and just between you and me<br />I still didn't really like me<br />and I guess that’s another problem with me<br />I don't really think at all<br />I just type away<br />watching my spit fall<br />seven seconds go by<br />till I hear the splat<br />so that’s roughly seven stories high<br />but thats just a rough estimate<br /><br />I confuse myself<br />I save random objects<br />and keep them in my pockets<br />and I have no use for them<br />but I think what if<br /><br />and I tap the return key<br />because I'm a stubborn<br />uneducated<br />inconclusive<br />determined<br />self analyst<br />that carries his wallet in his back pocket<br />so when I sit<br />I lean to the leftAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-72307272322666001952009-10-20T22:21:00.003-04:002009-10-23T10:17:59.059-04:00fading is a common theology<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia3Ua1LIz8d4zfTLHpeq665yO3qNqIK-WiwlacY9NCzmeU2w9OF_3-lazekB6pgREGdhe_oGJYKZTr9AEFtgMQKgugSB8O783tAHfOqQTclYBM4TLUQQkMYSywYa2nWNj11IFMs7giFG30/s1600-h/3880190747_212f7f50c6.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia3Ua1LIz8d4zfTLHpeq665yO3qNqIK-WiwlacY9NCzmeU2w9OF_3-lazekB6pgREGdhe_oGJYKZTr9AEFtgMQKgugSB8O783tAHfOqQTclYBM4TLUQQkMYSywYa2nWNj11IFMs7giFG30/s400/3880190747_212f7f50c6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394873870231076626" border="0" /></a><br />Siren song<br />by matt freire<br /><br />there's this ringing<br />constant ringing<br />medic told me to enjoy it<br />because when it stops<br />i'll never hear that tone again<br />the sound of the fading<br />the hum of the damned cells<br />the tone that soon for me<br />will be<br />non existent<br />existence is resistance<br />and sustainable movement<br />and the death lullaby in my ears<br />drifts me from contentiousness<br />to rsvp at a large banquet<br />a never ending table is laid out<br />in a massive and spacious building<br />where everything is feng shui<br />yet surrounded by people that annoy<br />where saffron tickles the nose<br />and congregations click with upturned stares<br />through the windows can be seen nothing but static space<br />darken urban deserts<br />that no one cares to ponder<br />because the feast is always about to start<br />stale food is the appetizer<br />and bad re-runs play on a jumbo-tron zeppelin circling the room<br />too drunk to stand<br />too sober to stay<br />or is it the other way<br />speechless I am<br />to the words of their tongue<br />a gloated pride murks<br />and contempt is at its utmost<br />startled I wake<br />A blank sheet of electronic paper illuminates the room<br />a small coalition of bugs hover around the light<br />0400 hours<br />but for sanity's sake<br />4 a.m.<br />There's this buzzing in my ear<br />airborne insects are attracted<br />to the death hum<br />to the siren's song<br />my hand shews the fliers away<br />and I cover my face<br />peeking between the light<br />breaking though my fingers<br />placed to the now<br />the place shall remain undisclosed<br />almost fading into decibels not audible<br />by any senses<br /><br />fading is a common theology<br />in an every-day minute<br />and every other second<br />a tone will come and go<br />to the songs whispered<br />by names not known or unknownAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-67767298473472126752009-10-20T22:14:00.006-04:002009-10-23T10:22:16.726-04:00like hardships now won't matter<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuWjahfRgoCY-SEuUabfsF9UGK7f8PF0jbTt_2qs-F_PVQXGtwODUFRw2RSZ1U0S_QbfEyzPcuPK0rFdzEovbDF1khiTjlTbAdxnDX79cgVc0_6hBMQtyDTrSuI69oJALTg5Aqik5qntmu/s1600-h/00+hardcastle.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuWjahfRgoCY-SEuUabfsF9UGK7f8PF0jbTt_2qs-F_PVQXGtwODUFRw2RSZ1U0S_QbfEyzPcuPK0rFdzEovbDF1khiTjlTbAdxnDX79cgVc0_6hBMQtyDTrSuI69oJALTg5Aqik5qntmu/s400/00+hardcastle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395800465532087586" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Photo: Spc. Frank Hardcastle from the 4th Brigade Combat Team 25th Infantry Division, Focus Targeting Force, listens to music between mission on forward operating base Sharana, Afghanistan, 19 Jul. 2009. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED) </span> </span><br /><br />It all gets better<br />by matt freire<br /><br /><br />pain<br />uncomfortable<br />annoyance<br />hard to breathe<br />back is killing me<br />moving too quickly<br />makes me feel dizzy<br />hard to sleep because<br />pains out to get me<br />but it all gets better<br />that's what I tell myself<br />nothing lasts forever<br />mountains erode<br />lakes dry up<br />suns burn out<br />even everlasting gobstoppers loose their taste<br />but change<br />that will last forever<br />and because of that<br />time is the best medication<br />just look at people's hardships<br />a few hundred years ago<br />there was a family that was average<br />their lives were so so<br />then strife found their lives<br />and struggles materialized<br />and the food did run dry<br />and infections killed lives<br />and then a little bit of time<br />a few hundred years or so<br />and poof<br />no more hardship for them<br />but it doesn't matter now<br />does it<br />like hardships now won't matter<br />in a hundred years or so<br />because it all gets better<br />at least I tell myself soAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-87656012993389585202009-10-20T22:08:00.001-04:002009-10-20T22:12:53.817-04:00there is an end and someday we'll get there<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTXF9OMckGP2WZZZU4i_aNJtXvPZPUZ81NpaCdby_p2IbLjtFjHws27xbzxU5EJKeJ4y3YiwPSaDaSg1N75J_UkHwGJTCMXEaDmrj0nyZMpDtt_8IJzPYtLCb8xq_wuRVKwkeH1_vCegJY/s1600-h/3844248347_806afec34c.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTXF9OMckGP2WZZZU4i_aNJtXvPZPUZ81NpaCdby_p2IbLjtFjHws27xbzxU5EJKeJ4y3YiwPSaDaSg1N75J_UkHwGJTCMXEaDmrj0nyZMpDtt_8IJzPYtLCb8xq_wuRVKwkeH1_vCegJY/s400/3844248347_806afec34c.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394870450150479506" border="0" /></a><br />Shake it off<br />by matt freire<br /><br />Monotonous<br />like scattered rounds<br />glistening the horizon<br />rolls seconds together<br />like cigarettes roll<br />breaths together<br />and days come together<br />and sets the same set<br />the same steady upgrade of death<br />the same building violent force<br />I'm now set in<br />this set<br />that's been set<br />that's gaining in sects<br />and gaining in deaths<br />erected a nostalgia<br />and I fell into a nap<br />to realize I'm wide awake<br />some things you can't shake off<br />like the last bit of piss<br />that drips down your leg after you pull up your pants<br />but there is an end<br />and someday we'll get there<br />but sometimes it's hard to admit<br />you pissed on your legAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-78440105337915288252009-10-20T21:59:00.003-04:002009-10-20T22:08:38.173-04:00my finger Brailles the wall for the light switch<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUKwh0BRDFstB3MvYIZPGD5isJm3NxqnCHK_aI0bCJgn5atbneP59gJ1W0_8di9et_Wia45esPbk-Iu657ktjptl5HyAsZvxoWECauwKOVjFOymygSK19VrFGeWPLepax1VYVISyZL03vE/s1600-h/Matt+Afghan+JSAM+Sept+2009.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUKwh0BRDFstB3MvYIZPGD5isJm3NxqnCHK_aI0bCJgn5atbneP59gJ1W0_8di9et_Wia45esPbk-Iu657ktjptl5HyAsZvxoWECauwKOVjFOymygSK19VrFGeWPLepax1VYVISyZL03vE/s400/Matt+Afghan+JSAM+Sept+2009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394869318361554114" border="0" /></a><br />knife fight<br />by matt freire<br /><br /><br />the cold has started<br />more layers I model<br />my air conditioner<br />that didn't work when the heat was ever present<br />now won't turn off<br />so it's even colder then afghan should be<br />but it's remarkably easy to sleep<br />0100 spindle of cd get knocked off my dresser<br />I jump up and grab my hidden seven-inch blade<br />thinking jihadist were invading<br />my worried cries echo<br />as a swishing sound<br />searches in the dark<br />stabbing in the dark<br />this is one they will not take alive<br />this one will not go with out a fight<br />my finger Brailles the wall for the light switch<br />knocking stuff over<br />knife still ready<br />to flick on the light<br />and I spy mice scattering<br />and I spy liquid stagnating<br />all over my floor<br />in the commotion<br />I must have<br />an open water bottle full of urine<br />it's afghanistan<br />yes I have piss bottles<br />all over my room<br />I like the wide mouth gatorade bottles the best<br />easier to relieve the bladder in the room<br />than to get dressed<br />and walk a few hundred feet<br />call me lazy<br />but call me efficient<br />would have been smart to put the cap back on the bottle though<br />so call me furious<br />I's still disorientated<br />and I spot a two eyed<br />4 inch<br />squeaking<br />sleep-disturbing menace<br />sitting on a folded pile of my clothes<br />just staring<br />taunting<br />acting all innocent<br />but I knowing the difference<br />I charged<br />only to dull my blade<br />stabbing holes in my clothes<br />and bless my humble resting quarters with a fine aroma<br />the scent of stale piss<br />only to loose my foe<br />and my pride<br />so now I am wide awake<br />wiping up my own piss<br />with clothes I just altered<br />I head down to the chow hall<br />because I can always eat<br />alone I sit<br />flip through the tv channels for an hour<br />eat seven bowls of cereal<br />with juice box haji skim milk<br />and two black bananas<br />and I realize<br />I have to get up for a mission in a few hours<br />so I head back to my hooch<br />to the familiar stench of my piss<br />and yes<br />no mice in sight<br />I have three hours till I have to get up<br />plenty of time<br />I reach out to finger the light switch when I notice movement<br />on my inanimate bed<br />some freaking cat snuggling up with my pillowAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-54196552978892448242009-10-20T21:54:00.001-04:002009-10-20T21:58:52.593-04:00afghan interrogation comes with a realistic chill<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFDAUiSWNeg1wu6AmsOYtw43bZvVoiBPDmYevYZOkJJkwvVUFlPe7QwuUUl9LBUk44QaKEbCp_nH0A_d8ktAtzjW1TJQ18-igdqm-rguSqMPxxGrIx1qPmVq0iwCCMpsJDRbv4edr5cVcl/s1600-h/3844353291_ae91bbccfb.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFDAUiSWNeg1wu6AmsOYtw43bZvVoiBPDmYevYZOkJJkwvVUFlPe7QwuUUl9LBUk44QaKEbCp_nH0A_d8ktAtzjW1TJQ18-igdqm-rguSqMPxxGrIx1qPmVq0iwCCMpsJDRbv4edr5cVcl/s400/3844353291_ae91bbccfb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394866813216579474" border="0" /></a><br />the selector lever<br />by matt freire<br /><br />engulfing darkness<br />swallows the sun's light<br />we make chase<br />the target has fled the scene<br />more darkness deliberates<br />the type that chokes uncertainty<br />the tone of shots ringing out<br />there is no sanctuary<br />be weary<br />there's nothing like unknown shots in the dark<br />as i peer through a pinhole world of black and green<br />weapons mark sectors<br />as yes bring it<br />slips out my clenched teeth<br />weapons swap places<br />instinctively select a field of fire to fix on<br />more shots ring out<br />to the tone of the night getting darker<br />so swapping decisions I juggle<br />as I rhythmically tap my safety<br />target is captured crackles over i-coms<br />an elation wafts as we re group<br />this is an afghan mission<br />we are just providing security<br />they are doing what we want them to do<br />take control of their country<br />this is a bad guy<br />and afghan said<br />this is good thing<br />another said<br />he has killed many for sure<br />rough judgments are roughly pressed<br />barrel locks down the back of the head<br />pressed cold on the blind fold<br />afghan interrogation comes with a realistic chill<br />too bad my camera stopped working<br />greatest shot I ever witnessed<br />as my merchant of death and I provided security<br />a mental imprint I shall never release<br />in idle chatter<br />this was a bad guy<br />and afghan said<br />this is good thing<br />another said<br />he won't kill any no more<br />we mounted back up<br />to hit another location<br />that their prisoner said he owned<br />miraculously<br />my moment catcher started working againAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-62609633574617800642009-10-09T14:30:00.003-04:002009-10-09T14:35:44.932-04:00six more years he contracted<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwUQbSJkNuTZuKRyCLrYCu4F9G_lOvrIJE2VOogw_SGnDwKDmxhGI0j3YpNu3z3C32AhADPh4KnzAgCNujsD6KYD1t9J9kMStGwbPgH1fHgM4OHkJ5L4UvT-UBT3laolBD_-sgNaRBATWn/s1600-h/3974420969_3a1fa1cedd.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwUQbSJkNuTZuKRyCLrYCu4F9G_lOvrIJE2VOogw_SGnDwKDmxhGI0j3YpNu3z3C32AhADPh4KnzAgCNujsD6KYD1t9J9kMStGwbPgH1fHgM4OHkJ5L4UvT-UBT3laolBD_-sgNaRBATWn/s400/3974420969_3a1fa1cedd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390670728787313074" border="0" /></a><br />pocket knife and a broken light<br /><br />don’t mind it he don’t<br />he say he don’t mind it<br />and i know him he don’t<br />he don’t mind it he don’t<br />power out<br />withered discolored fruit and dried trout<br />hot sauce hits the spot<br />the spot that churns the bowels<br />never-ending sniffles<br />eventually turn to crystals<br />that bleed when excavated<br />he debated if he’s crazy<br />that’s just crazy he ain't crazy<br />and he don’t mind it he don’t<br />don’t mind you and your support<br />or French freedom fries<br />and frilly foaming<br />sundays is the same as everdays<br />fridays sound cool<br />but he don’t know the last time he landed on one<br />days are never ending and always ending<br />he say<br />at least it seems like to me<br />it all gets better<br />just wait you'll see<br />but he can’t think of a better way to be<br />he don’t know how to fill his fill<br />chapped around his mouth<br />dark blood dries in the cracks<br />and black spots dot his sight<br />eyes keep searching<br />lights flicker as he knifes out hang nails<br />13 of the little bastards he knifes out<br />wondering how he can have more hang nails<br />than nails on his scarred hands<br />from random moments<br />he don’t mind but he never notices<br />how many cuts he has on his hands<br />they is all over<br />but he don’t mind it he don’t<br />over it’s all over sometime<br />and he wants to eat all the pie while it’s still warm<br />while it's still there<br />six more years he contracted<br />six more years he be active<br />left ears not as active<br />not too responsive<br />slightly passive<br />unlike his reactions<br />forcible and compacted<br />skin tight on the nose<br />and rough hands and elbows<br />but he say he don’t mind it<br />and i know him he don’t<br />creases defining<br />around his eye sockets and mouth<br />shoulder pops in and out<br />he talks to himself by word of mouth<br />dogs howl all through the night<br />some 5.56 stills the night<br />and he questions how a hair can sprout in that location<br />chaffed thighs is his combatant<br />man he thinks he’s had it<br />but he know he don’t<br />he gets past it<br />Vaseline a secret tactic<br />underwear need not have it<br /><br />it is so much darker at night here in afghanistan<br />were NVGs don’t even help<br />where thinking happy thoughts<br />and humming tunes in your head<br />only muffled the dark’s energy<br /><br />he does not mind<br />mind it he does not<br />but his mind does mind<br />minding musical chair thoughts<br />that tip tap on his right side<br />as the left jots off<br />the brain does mind<br />and he wants to make up lost time<br />but he does not rush thoughts<br />his mind mingles in thought<br />though he knows<br />he does not know<br />but he don't mind it he don'tAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-74755366925065629342009-10-09T14:25:00.003-04:002009-10-09T14:28:18.324-04:00as a wet hand wipes off the glass<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggysDTAW71KdPT-JazNhk6yLUi-K01xB3gq13E7ipZLCBbtTWJYQNvzFddYD_l5_Jin83-PLT2puwUn1Xqw-BflTqZfSeQ9uZ3ETaBHfYxlwnMyMStlZw5KHY3yRPTl-eFc4BGFH6rA9Gi/s1600-h/3975184326_e027b9bbeb.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggysDTAW71KdPT-JazNhk6yLUi-K01xB3gq13E7ipZLCBbtTWJYQNvzFddYD_l5_Jin83-PLT2puwUn1Xqw-BflTqZfSeQ9uZ3ETaBHfYxlwnMyMStlZw5KHY3yRPTl-eFc4BGFH6rA9Gi/s400/3975184326_e027b9bbeb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390668725087241890" border="0" /></a><br />better<br /><br />better<br />better said in a mirror<br />as fog dulls the reflection<br />better<br />better said in a mirror<br />as a wet hand wipes off the glass<br />better<br />better not talk too loud<br />someone better might hear me<br />better<br />better to not care<br />but statement to question mark<br />better is betterAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-80230834653505462902009-09-21T10:18:00.006-04:002009-10-05T19:06:25.127-04:00As you pay last respects to your soldier<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAoR9rwu48EpY3zS5gOhcfEVZszafyhSkLvj2li6Gq4r4IOTN-ycaGcI1Hy4Lbpczxp2DZ3f8QkPLw-j7dKgAd-DMTWdeYTblizluAdor6rmFOZp0K_T6oIkeplqIJsLJN2j4JsgRPUQ9N/s1600-h/3844246673_1dfa704faa.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAoR9rwu48EpY3zS5gOhcfEVZszafyhSkLvj2li6Gq4r4IOTN-ycaGcI1Hy4Lbpczxp2DZ3f8QkPLw-j7dKgAd-DMTWdeYTblizluAdor6rmFOZp0K_T6oIkeplqIJsLJN2j4JsgRPUQ9N/s400/3844246673_1dfa704faa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383926379334596706" border="0" /></a><br />I to eyes<br />by Matt Freire<br /><br />Yesterday we joked<br />Lots of laughs<br />Fun times<br />The times lives should be made of<br />And filled with<br />The companionship of friends<br />Even though my GPS coordinates are located in a war zone<br />These times I’m well acquainted with<br /><br />And today<br />Today is the same<br />At least for the majority of the day<br />But a small large part<br />Put life into play<br /><br />Yesterday while we joked<br />A rocket kissed our FOB and injured a hand full<br />And one<br />One gave<br />As they say<br />The ultimate sacrifice<br /><br />I haven’t met they<br />But I’ve heard they’s words<br />They create, conjure and destroy<br />They are welcomed, shunned and ever-present<br />They lurk<br />They stock<br />Some say they are indifferent<br />Some say they are passionate<br />But either way you phrase<br />We all hear what they say<br />We listen to they<br />We all are they<br /><br />And today<br />Because of yesterday<br />And those that are they<br />Fallen comrade ceremony was held today<br /><br />Honorable event<br />Emotional event<br />Real event<br />Just<br />Not the most enjoyable event<br /><br />To attend<br /><br />To photograph<br /><br />It’s long, hot and uncomfortable<br />That feeling is there<br />That tense feeling<br />That pain feeling<br />That emotional feeling<br /><br />That past tense feeling<br />That could have been feeling<br />That that’s how it can happen feeling<br />That I don’t want to be here feeling<br />That feeling<br />Feeling that feeling<br />That there’s a dead husband and father of six<br />In a red white and blue covered metal box<br />With scattered stars<br />Sitting in the middle of an empty C130<br />While six children and a wife….<br /><br />That’s a direction I will not go<br />As I listen to the Chaplin reciting scripture<br />Grieving sounds of tears, sniffling and marching<br />Vibrating off the metallic air-Hurst’s stomach walls<br /><br />I hate standing right here<br />Eye to eye to you<br />To the leaders<br />To the friends<br />To the loved ones<br />As you pay last respects to your soldier<br />Your comrade<br />Your friend<br />This<br />This is uncomfortable feeling<br />That feeling you remember<br />That feeling that’s with you forever<br /><br />I’m feeling I’m hungry<br />A feeling the deceased knows no meaning<br />Dozens march up in the belly<br /><br />Group halt<br />Right face<br />Present arms<br />Order arms<br /><br />They take humble knees to the floor<br />Giving respects with eyes closed so tight the dead become alive<br />And a final moment is shared<br />And you peek at who's next to you<br />Because you don’t know how long you should pay respects<br />Thinking those next to you know<br />But knowing that person next to you doesn’t know<br />Like anyone knows<br />Hand touching the cold box<br />Clenching the flag<br />Till one starts to stand<br /><br />Present arms<br />Order arms<br />Left face<br />Forward<br />They march shuffling composure away<br />As I stay and capture what I can<br />What I should<br />What I let myself<br /><br />A comrade<br />A soldier<br />A friend<br />A women no more than 5 foot 90lbs<br />Takes knee and places her strong blood pumping hand<br />On the flag<br />That clenches to a fist<br />And an agonizing scream echoes on the hollow<br />Vibrating in the living<br />As the emotional small fist pounds on the red and white<br />As the tears pour from her eyes<br />As memories flood out<br />As emotions break<br /><br />A friend close by reaches out to comfort<br />But sometimes there is no immediate comfort<br />Sometime all there is<br />Is time<br /><br />And I stand motionless<br />Wrists crossed at my waste<br />Camera pointed down<br />Without the “glory” of that great shot<br />Without the selfish distance so easily I could defend myself with<br /><br />Some moments should not be captured<br />Some moments are worth more than a thousand words<br />These moments<br />Moments that my digits, mouth and mind can’t explain<br />Just the feeling<br />The feeling of knowing what’s right<br />What’s human<br />An action<br />Some of us humans<br />Are dehumanized tooAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-27927279877875349502009-09-12T23:59:00.003-04:002009-09-13T00:07:36.508-04:00frivolous confabs and librettos<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjehVUIDwwBTWmypheyMFfBTfDkg1HQznK1p7I6c-cvOjiAYDq8Gi2m6gui6dtQ_cGssg4iLm-arD_V06VLNB1NLxGsP2hslM134YGZnok0jYCitIt67P3AQwMriZgUSqCV8kkorWxV5yp/s1600-h/3890579460_7a384ee12e.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjehVUIDwwBTWmypheyMFfBTfDkg1HQznK1p7I6c-cvOjiAYDq8Gi2m6gui6dtQ_cGssg4iLm-arD_V06VLNB1NLxGsP2hslM134YGZnok0jYCitIt67P3AQwMriZgUSqCV8kkorWxV5yp/s400/3890579460_7a384ee12e.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380798261498884114" border="0" /></a><br />send it with technicolor sauce<br />by Matt Freire<br /><br />i didn't write anything for awhile<br />and i didn't like it<br />but don't have writers block i have execution block<br />i have a desire to write about so much<br />but i can’t articulate and adjust my firing squad<br />to get a kill<br />because the rounds double feed<br />and jam my starved chamber<br /><br />con-<br />struct a reality<br />and commit it to memory<br />commit to the uncertainties of language<br />suspect the increasingly clear<br />is why i keep my windows dirty<br /><br />in hot pursuing<br />bullets tease the opposition's intuition<br />the self-<br />imposed fetish of objectivity<br />to write<br />words<br />frivolous confabs and librettos<br />wish to make their plight known<br />and how i construct<br />it depends upon isolated places<br />and the opposite of lethargy<br />and a magazine of insomnia<br />i pull from my plate carrier<br /><br />so<br />first of all<br />describe in<br />detail the various actions taking place<br />capable of disturbing the assumed<br />shall it inquire into<br />or onto<br />or has it<br />or should it<br />with an almost endless humanity<br />let us<br />then suppose<br />in the very process of laying bare<br />by ourselves<br />no limits can be assigned to the iterations of our minds<br />or alteration of our breath<br />or whatever you please to call them<br /><br />send it<br />like the buildings on fire and your cup of coffee is evaporating too quickly<br />leaving you without your security rush<br /><br />send it<br />like winos who go to grocery stores and steal grapes<br />that the produce man feels sorry for and lets happen<br /><br />send it<br />like it’s been vocalized to the deaf and blind<br />while you push to the front of rock concerts<br /><br />the digressive maundering perceived<br />is a consummate<br />pro-<br />portion swallow<br />problems involved<br />resolve<br />the finished<br />the working on<br />the approaching<br />wither like a time-lapse film of conception to submersion<br />pausing superficial at developmental millstones<br />because there could be a lot to coverAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-50202302373884700102009-09-12T16:39:00.004-04:002009-09-13T18:06:46.693-04:00a smidgen about the author<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTY-C7GEDsjW8HIkmxYIhhqchvi1frskJcQIidIQbTBws-OfdNzRMn17zx2ObUvmnGEqGy5m7OYSONt3-DuP3I79_FVMFsOVP03mrW1ZKgu6XacDDV2nozjL_-4yz1s253Wn4N1gxOPih-/s1600-h/matt+3+pic.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 291px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTY-C7GEDsjW8HIkmxYIhhqchvi1frskJcQIidIQbTBws-OfdNzRMn17zx2ObUvmnGEqGy5m7OYSONt3-DuP3I79_FVMFsOVP03mrW1ZKgu6XacDDV2nozjL_-4yz1s253Wn4N1gxOPih-/s400/matt+3+pic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380685994025952434" border="0" /></a><br />i am a Leo by month or an ox by birth year. That might mean something to some people but means absolutely nothing to me. it would be sweet, though, to be a large lion and eat an ox.<br /><br />i have brown eyes that are color blind.<br /><br />my forehead is aptly known by some as a fivehead giving the optical illusion that i have a large dome. in fact my hat size is that of a pubescent<br /><br />my clothes are medium regular housing a mildly ill-regular figure<br /><br />i love to write even though this cannot be done without spell check<br /><br />my hands are soft even though i constantly labor in work<br /><br />society describes me white even though i'm more of a reddish hue<br /><br />i'm average height even though everyone seems taller than me<br /><br />i have strong opinions even though i'm usually a quiet conscious observer<br /><br />most of my faults i keep hidden even to myself<br /><br />i love the hunt but i have never killed and don't plan on it anytime soon<br /><br />if it's you or i, you will die. if its me or my family, they will live<br /><br />i fear being alone but alone is what i am<br /><br />i spend a lot of time thinking but make most decisions spontaneously<br /><br />i am quiet and reserved in new situations but those who know me would tell you the complete opposite<br /><br />laughter is my favorite pastime but drama and action is what i fill my life with<br /><br />water is my favorite hydration tool. Cranberry juice is my favorite airplane beverage. if you offered an orange or grape soda, i'd decline it<br /><br />i urinate in the shower and i don't believe people who say they don't<br /><br />i'm generally positive or at least pretend that i am<br /><br />i don't always know what's going on but pretend that i do<br /><br />i learn the hard way, skipping a concertina wire jump rope on a road most traveled<br /><br />i would sing all the time but people would take me for simple<br /><br />when i'm confronted by people i always first think i did something wrong<br /><br />i turn red when embarrassed<br /><br />i naturally look at peoples' mouths when they talk to me but force myself to look at there eyes because socially that's norm. i never know what eye to look at though<br /><br />i have a lot of ideas and goals that i start then spend hours convincing myself they're stupid<br /><br />i think best at night, maybe that's why i sleep so well<br /><br />if i could survive on dreaming i would<br /><br />if you had an office and left me in the office alone for a bit, and if there was a paper clip on the desk of that office, i would bend the paperclip so it could not hold papers together<br /><br />i don't like cake so for my birthday i eat pumpkin pie<br /><br />if i could please everyone i think i would purposely piss off one or two<br /><br />my favorite defense mechanism is a projectile weapon<br /><br />i would rather play pictionary with friends then play any card game involving money<br /><br />i have never gambled for money but have done many things that put my life at risk<br /><br />i know i'm stubborn but don't think i am<br /><br />my goal is to one day be content with myself but being content means I'm not trying hard enough or I'm ignoring something<br /><br />when someone says don't look, i look<br /><br />i read all the imagery in magazines and look at the words<br /><br />i say how's it going for a greeting sometimes but almost never want to know how the person is doing<br /><br />what's up is a greeting i respond to with what's up.<br /><br />i like writing words that take a moment to think about to get the various meanings, but i when i read others works i like to understand them immediately<br /><br />if i wasn't me, i wouldn't read me's stuff<br /><br />i have a low bandwidth if i'm hungry<br /><br />i have one of the most eclectic music selections of anyone i know, but i don't know everyone's music collection i knows<br /><br />i keep trying chocolate thinking i'm going to like it this time<br /><br />i don't always condone what i do or do what i intend<br /><br />after rigorous activities to the point of exhaustion i like to take a semi-cold shower, enough for some steam to fog up the mirror. sometimes i wipe away the fog and make faces at my self<br /><br />i'm 24 and i act my age anywhere between the ages of 17 to 47<br /><br />if i had a super power it would be to grow a super cool mustache<br /><br />if trying times made me stronger, i might be able to come up with more to write<br /><br />i would write more to this smidgen but it now bores me and i want to move on, really i'm just lazy but i convince myself that it's done and since it's late and i'm tired and mosquitoes are draining my fluids i'm easily swayedAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-61451414221171181452009-09-09T10:58:00.003-04:002009-09-09T11:03:40.694-04:00some favorite photosSome favorite photos, either because of composition & light or because of the pathos in the faces or maybe the pathos the faces educe.<br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRX535u2JEcyMd0KLU553aPwdGMiIFVUwNjv9C1Rx95s1x1L5GzcgGztUf3_U6gEUMFEMBVGYfWUtjIofdBE3_drXZjtQPkHucWzPOIoC1PJzkbfVPgbIkbbdaEssuu-2ZH_6M85mQNkra/s1600-h/3880991292_c9dd4ca61c.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRX535u2JEcyMd0KLU553aPwdGMiIFVUwNjv9C1Rx95s1x1L5GzcgGztUf3_U6gEUMFEMBVGYfWUtjIofdBE3_drXZjtQPkHucWzPOIoC1PJzkbfVPgbIkbbdaEssuu-2ZH_6M85mQNkra/s400/3880991292_c9dd4ca61c.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379483167731102290" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpKy6lCSj7iB23yePaIzeIv-akXS0b7FPr__oRl1Mn5-XZU0Pj7m02L-BoyitZpLD-BVn7V5e0rBScdjTPPbAKUCpLP74jycJrnj32RQUAzGl2_q1hIp9qlEMiYjVfR94ryXbb-ViV0Tm/s1600-h/3785541059_b8ca935798.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpKy6lCSj7iB23yePaIzeIv-akXS0b7FPr__oRl1Mn5-XZU0Pj7m02L-BoyitZpLD-BVn7V5e0rBScdjTPPbAKUCpLP74jycJrnj32RQUAzGl2_q1hIp9qlEMiYjVfR94ryXbb-ViV0Tm/s400/3785541059_b8ca935798.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379483158540785218" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iyAmD0xWecC5TyFda1MbCbPPh9ieDhkVBI59GtsWMnZoJCR7rB20tbBQBh5x2Lh4yCc6bjTW8TUMGkHXEpnuh5cvMK-PXym1JgPrjzoNtrgxeynE4SEKMhe68G0UgBAvygzgstze1jz4/s1600-h/3889791765_f03ec30c1b.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iyAmD0xWecC5TyFda1MbCbPPh9ieDhkVBI59GtsWMnZoJCR7rB20tbBQBh5x2Lh4yCc6bjTW8TUMGkHXEpnuh5cvMK-PXym1JgPrjzoNtrgxeynE4SEKMhe68G0UgBAvygzgstze1jz4/s400/3889791765_f03ec30c1b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379483009391120354" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit_PbXbA2GpQuM2lIrbHGgrVZS4q3lfkyPmZi4uwgcOiRAPa-QaupsMM687hfpeO1VChMP98_fYp3WuNZz9R5-xzL7znljkxux3n_p75etpAY8yN9iazD7p7QTOlm7tEH1yIkwA_qszmzZ/s1600-h/3817870532_94b9e028ef.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit_PbXbA2GpQuM2lIrbHGgrVZS4q3lfkyPmZi4uwgcOiRAPa-QaupsMM687hfpeO1VChMP98_fYp3WuNZz9R5-xzL7znljkxux3n_p75etpAY8yN9iazD7p7QTOlm7tEH1yIkwA_qszmzZ/s400/3817870532_94b9e028ef.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379483000324542770" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaprlME3miYp8ScdkOoNlGaia_8SXPZGlGmqdS1-jywxIL474kchNPbVWx__sqf85Ni3wgae3SCaAmk07Q71VNhs_7DVl6UBjPOb419yA6pcD_diqw4Dwf1PdoeF1v93Z2_BogyEYMaEnp/s1600-h/3771635489_83801f9961_m.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaprlME3miYp8ScdkOoNlGaia_8SXPZGlGmqdS1-jywxIL474kchNPbVWx__sqf85Ni3wgae3SCaAmk07Q71VNhs_7DVl6UBjPOb419yA6pcD_diqw4Dwf1PdoeF1v93Z2_BogyEYMaEnp/s400/3771635489_83801f9961_m.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379482991973013138" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMB8BA4xYl-oY5uuKX7tCOf9yxmxEtZL9jT_bUac2xt0LT3PMSYlCFmEr-dL5I68bUQPFzFhbXxgW_L7VYmQyg_GNPDAdQ7OXP4F9plHZoxcInVvum_OhgahSkeI5o-PuArOjCL_cqs8w/s1600-h/3769132131_90109809d1_m.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 136px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMB8BA4xYl-oY5uuKX7tCOf9yxmxEtZL9jT_bUac2xt0LT3PMSYlCFmEr-dL5I68bUQPFzFhbXxgW_L7VYmQyg_GNPDAdQ7OXP4F9plHZoxcInVvum_OhgahSkeI5o-PuArOjCL_cqs8w/s400/3769132131_90109809d1_m.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379482985824691170" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH9GJf7qBRWWYt_8rOkME-2uXEjq6IQ7HA2Gv-7hlRi8Oeb2OvVxBmu9Xm_oMMpeyNc7VhN3H26zDTLMwpdXs-NDTz9uMEQUHQk9UvncrT4HtVDQ-iZOklcLhnci3GGTL8sLAw2l43ptEd/s1600-h/3762596676_7f19c348c0_m.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH9GJf7qBRWWYt_8rOkME-2uXEjq6IQ7HA2Gv-7hlRi8Oeb2OvVxBmu9Xm_oMMpeyNc7VhN3H26zDTLMwpdXs-NDTz9uMEQUHQk9UvncrT4HtVDQ-iZOklcLhnci3GGTL8sLAw2l43ptEd/s400/3762596676_7f19c348c0_m.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379482985137452130" border="0" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-32643693303931157472009-09-09T10:54:00.001-04:002009-09-09T10:58:23.344-04:00living like this has brought me to this<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHVrbQFuMyNXfdZmbdKpecSWPccQWqmIdnHs1BSHvIpK8pelsULJpynEGjrTKK1BJoqB6a7ueZ19FElMRyd_iPsUA9n5CNNp_dOQrAb-7rE61SqcCBKh2Kd9O5w1aF_uywqZlXvJYVrz5R/s1600-h/3889798209_7c0694e181.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHVrbQFuMyNXfdZmbdKpecSWPccQWqmIdnHs1BSHvIpK8pelsULJpynEGjrTKK1BJoqB6a7ueZ19FElMRyd_iPsUA9n5CNNp_dOQrAb-7rE61SqcCBKh2Kd9O5w1aF_uywqZlXvJYVrz5R/s400/3889798209_7c0694e181.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379482122153569186" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRIT0nboPbJfezfivkmrdH60wpuCz7LJgXuU7_ZvNfyj6hRTjzVCF6EoHb3nMM9QHQIIsxkxSnT5p0qJpf7eAFzHTXviRuS29RESAqlsflsvsFD9LEdo7apnCLVOrhzRqJtw3BgnRf_v0_/s1600-h/3890590646_6ef4e0b45b.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRIT0nboPbJfezfivkmrdH60wpuCz7LJgXuU7_ZvNfyj6hRTjzVCF6EoHb3nMM9QHQIIsxkxSnT5p0qJpf7eAFzHTXviRuS29RESAqlsflsvsFD9LEdo7apnCLVOrhzRqJtw3BgnRf_v0_/s400/3890590646_6ef4e0b45b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379482117978683442" border="0" /></a><br />PTISD<br />by Matt Freire<br /><br />if i had to choose between a rock and a hard place i would choose the rock<br />to knock myself out with<br />for even only a few hours<br />escaping this for just awhile<br />hoping this will pass<br />i don’t want to pass out in a hard place<br />that just doesn’t sound fun<br />but i am in a hard place<br />and i feel faint<br /><br />ive been foul, disgusting, rotten, grotesque<br />the presence i'm giving off is one inhuman<br />i have become a different person<br />i actually don’t consider myself human<br />i'm some type of vile creature who prays on the innocent and unsuspecting<br /><br />people don't want to be around me<br />people i don't want to be around<br /><br />i make a conscious effort to stay in solitude these days<br />a recluse i've turned into by necessity<br />i can’t control my violent outbreaks anymore<br />i never thought i'd come to this<br />i always thought myself a better man<br />maybe standards were unrealistic<br />maybe i didn't put everything into factor<br />or factor everything<br />too illogical for me to achieve<br />now as society is out of reach<br />because i devolved into something<br />that i can’t quite word<br /><br />i am the type your haste is a must<br /><br />i am the type you flee with child in hand<br />when i enter the room you better put your ear muffs on<br />because i'm vicious<br />i will attack you<br />i will show no mercy<br />attacking man woman and child<br />this matters not to i<br />at this<br />the current state of my life<br /><br />the army has a large part to do with this<br />war has a huge part to do with this<br />i have a ginormous part to do with this<br />living like this has brought me to this<br /><br />i don't like it when it’s quiet<br />i know the horrors that creep in the quiet<br />like masked ninjas throwing blades and poison darts<br />i don't like it when its loud<br />it creates discomfort<br />the noise wakes me up at night<br />and it tears me up at times<br />even though that’s hard to admit how odious i have become<br /><br />because i've never teared in the silent of the night before<br />like this before<br />i've never had to keep moving trying to get away from myself before<br />like this before<br />i can’t stand myself<br />before after or during<br />like this no more<br />i'm a nasty horrible evil<br />i will never be able to forget the things that i did<br />for sure<br />the people i did them to<br />not forewarned<br />it makes my hair fall out<br />and then want to burn my clothes<br />the air is torn<br />scrub my hands till they bleed clean<br />to get this horrid off my corpse because i am beyond the stench of death<br /><br />can there be a cure to this<br />i was not always like this<br />and i cannot live like this<br />i can handle it while i'm here in afghan<br />for a bit<br />but in the states<br />in society<br />my kind is not welcome<br />my kind is not asked<br />but poked with a long stick to leave<br />great shame i've become<br />great unease i've caused myself and those around<br /><br />borborygmus like no other<br />when i burp it taste like vomit<br />yes i can actually taste my burps<br />and if you were within a 15 foot radius you could too<br />i can even chew on my burps as if it were vomit flavored oatmeal jelly fish<br />with chunks of goat flesh and MREs<br />and that can not compare to<br />the methane that i produce<br />and the toilette food<br />i care not to describe<br />for i have self diagnosed myself with PTISD<br />putrid traumatic intestine sewage disorder<br />or maybe disease<br />i don't know it’s hard to think<br />i'm writing this from my porcelain island of relief and discomfort<br />with the door open<br />for being enclosed with myself right now is not an optionAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-32178276588577595672009-09-06T01:04:00.006-04:002009-09-12T13:40:06.918-04:00my camera and weapon in arm's reachBCP6<br />by Matt Freire<br /><br />Sitting overlooking the border of Pakistan<br />Listening to the vocal bugs ratchet Morris code song<br />Relaxing<br />Nice weather this night<br />Like a camping trip my mind drifts<br />Then I think of my weapon<br />We were just told attack is imminent<br />Word from multiple sources<br />We aren’t worried<br />We are dug in good<br />Only thing to worry about are mortars<br />But i have no confidence in their ability<br />We all take our positions<br />Mine with the radios and the medic<br />And I sleep as if I was on vacation<br />With my camera and weapon in arm's reach<br /><br /><br /><div id="photoImgDiv3890587940" style="width: 502px;" class="photoImgDiv"> <img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3482/3890587940_042b88fa3d.jpg" alt="090903-A-2946F-698 by getoffmyeye." title="" onload="show_notes_initially();" class="reflect" height="333" width="500" /></div><script type="text/javascript">F.decorate(_ge('photo_notes'), F._photo_notes).notes_go_go_go(3890587940, 'http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3482/3890587940_042b88fa3d_t.jpg', '3.1444');</script><form id="fave_form" method="post" style="visibility: hidden;"><input name="magic_cookie" value="5477e29bad9e001e5e127b607beb59a6" type="hidden"><input name="faveadd" value="0" type="hidden"><input name="faveremove" value="0" type="hidden"></form> <!-- PHOTO CONTENT: DESCRIPTION, NOTES, COMMENTS --> <div id="description_div3890587940" class="photoDescription"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Task Force Khwost test fire a ZSU23 at Pakistan border control point 6, Khwost province Afghanistan Sept. 3rd, 2009. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED ) </span></span><br /><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-77552355813676037832009-09-06T00:51:00.004-04:002009-09-06T01:02:35.303-04:00Naan<a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwrK8UHZ7sCAfrF_xcLTd3loHw3UN3Gn5LQHohGbVMhBgLYPOgX1qceGS4PYMgYuFKgiC-5Ho67hFJxu9WjzNBYaSYt2QcSMkZOQ_YzU6AHDruIG8isdtkUz10ba38O_vtuouSfZa-riOE/s1600-h/3890591790_1eaeea44d9.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwrK8UHZ7sCAfrF_xcLTd3loHw3UN3Gn5LQHohGbVMhBgLYPOgX1qceGS4PYMgYuFKgiC-5Ho67hFJxu9WjzNBYaSYt2QcSMkZOQ_YzU6AHDruIG8isdtkUz10ba38O_vtuouSfZa-riOE/s400/3890591790_1eaeea44d9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378213609834629026" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1GpZ433kouEMhqJPS_xzJCpjPM2ApdoQqiJDHCyrx4Z5_1aCO4uoAuVtA-JjlDxCsAEbRR6mt02BCZ2T2AsdkIK8xhhqCI_Dvfeu3hNfnnnY6cBmU1IlRU66pXcKku8eHODdLk4wCcC5J/s1600-h/3889794391_1132314a22.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 261px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1GpZ433kouEMhqJPS_xzJCpjPM2ApdoQqiJDHCyrx4Z5_1aCO4uoAuVtA-JjlDxCsAEbRR6mt02BCZ2T2AsdkIK8xhhqCI_Dvfeu3hNfnnnY6cBmU1IlRU66pXcKku8eHODdLk4wCcC5J/s400/3889794391_1132314a22.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378213099301930818" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrQWxr2OCksllvXYD_2YZ3kVG0w717x0tEFLBvb7UaXcZChaCPkpCgT6ihHbZZW5mvsft8m0r_RJqRD-GiGJPBEncTU8K5QwG626j8fVeW1aHdutAYSD2jGEju9bBD7ad62X_VzyZ0Use/s1600-h/3889796785_0e0cf9537c.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 275px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrQWxr2OCksllvXYD_2YZ3kVG0w717x0tEFLBvb7UaXcZChaCPkpCgT6ihHbZZW5mvsft8m0r_RJqRD-GiGJPBEncTU8K5QwG626j8fVeW1aHdutAYSD2jGEju9bBD7ad62X_VzyZ0Use/s400/3889796785_0e0cf9537c.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378213123044427474" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNlBNB6KtjeIefM_Ba4lKjfHHtUxxXOLz3t9UnH571Tow5w9AfoylGJZ-RFj_cZo6b-HzOhjHbpS4VMJvpglri3wjR-LhW0GJ2s-XOe93_3l1vvKQ9pMUVfHM_7RFrOJ2fmc35K9PaXzkU/s1600-h/3890590126_3b4f533560.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNlBNB6KtjeIefM_Ba4lKjfHHtUxxXOLz3t9UnH571Tow5w9AfoylGJZ-RFj_cZo6b-HzOhjHbpS4VMJvpglri3wjR-LhW0GJ2s-XOe93_3l1vvKQ9pMUVfHM_7RFrOJ2fmc35K9PaXzkU/s400/3890590126_3b4f533560.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378213612896641970" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNcA88DejpB1MiSUB-SuPvrADPpmXo-FoqAULaQswrHNfL1wPqikbYcwmaiWQwuHzKBJWkUwxXgjKZxOQW61AMjUQUET45KF_h-SUQ2mMgtmjGAQj67w3F9GFXcHiF8FDOqsBw74_zP5oE/s1600-h/3890591446_1a257b6913.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNcA88DejpB1MiSUB-SuPvrADPpmXo-FoqAULaQswrHNfL1wPqikbYcwmaiWQwuHzKBJWkUwxXgjKZxOQW61AMjUQUET45KF_h-SUQ2mMgtmjGAQj67w3F9GFXcHiF8FDOqsBw74_zP5oE/s400/3890591446_1a257b6913.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378213602093291506" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRx-xecOOhdRDvIG4BVb0gmwLJPNr0_pCJjTn0-btCfG7R45b_LUVjPgdNlzUWlAZMKBObp1Emo5tnmTCn2Ye-1IeErwBI1KczABzoG9Q6cuO4Gim35hMMBsPOFv7aSvn3MDKEamcryRDe/s1600-h/3890583428_59388dbb4f.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRx-xecOOhdRDvIG4BVb0gmwLJPNr0_pCJjTn0-btCfG7R45b_LUVjPgdNlzUWlAZMKBObp1Emo5tnmTCn2Ye-1IeErwBI1KczABzoG9Q6cuO4Gim35hMMBsPOFv7aSvn3MDKEamcryRDe/s400/3890583428_59388dbb4f.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378213130974440834" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhikEaMy0cVJqL8stzDXJIRQtZI9nHmBygRh9E8u1e2jIWWm2dSIog0bAx0v3imQB3l1nc_WU6tWwKeoFI5BZcHCQeJCXAZZVZUh1rIdBqZ8ITpzNCWtOdGpkAFF6OhcTdPTReCJozl744u/s1600-h/3889795323_e31187cf85.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhikEaMy0cVJqL8stzDXJIRQtZI9nHmBygRh9E8u1e2jIWWm2dSIog0bAx0v3imQB3l1nc_WU6tWwKeoFI5BZcHCQeJCXAZZVZUh1rIdBqZ8ITpzNCWtOdGpkAFF6OhcTdPTReCJozl744u/s400/3889795323_e31187cf85.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378213116254814434" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJwl6jWVX5jKizS0pblACKH8L7CS-Wsgk9oyBNs6aLNV6BKJgPZg7Oetb-W74IUc5lAUxrtwSSb60y5DZWoV0Vxw1SG0dYpVE0wcfVSJGqCtfSCar1iSPPyzS30EoR_STKV9w1dscTrnwa/s1600-h/3889794873_d3b9ffe3c5.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJwl6jWVX5jKizS0pblACKH8L7CS-Wsgk9oyBNs6aLNV6BKJgPZg7Oetb-W74IUc5lAUxrtwSSb60y5DZWoV0Vxw1SG0dYpVE0wcfVSJGqCtfSCar1iSPPyzS30EoR_STKV9w1dscTrnwa/s400/3889794873_d3b9ffe3c5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378213108736029970" border="0" /></a><br /><a></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Photos:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Task Force Khwost prepares dinner at border control point 6, Khwost province Afghanistan Sep. 3rd, 2009. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED )</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Task Force Khwost covers naan at border control point 6, Khwost province Afghanistan Sep. 3rd, 2009. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED )</span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-86691056192611557342009-09-06T00:28:00.008-04:002009-09-06T01:01:58.134-04:00Goat<a href="http://ohioline.osu.edu/as-fact/0014.html">"Goat is the most frequently consumed meat in the world." Ohio State University Fact Sheet</a><br /><br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4RAqu6nJ_mm2GoB2O3vnB6Ip_KP3xaMcAdbZ-BzbsHaRLj-ua1rhylmqBD2Eu8eWnAniDNQN506q0X9kzUYvxEjMsIxEtEnf3pbY75yvUwoaxVy_DGGYEc9lQRcr7GsVH_fpHsct5ylhd/s1600-h/3889792671_898a95fc06.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4RAqu6nJ_mm2GoB2O3vnB6Ip_KP3xaMcAdbZ-BzbsHaRLj-ua1rhylmqBD2Eu8eWnAniDNQN506q0X9kzUYvxEjMsIxEtEnf3pbY75yvUwoaxVy_DGGYEc9lQRcr7GsVH_fpHsct5ylhd/s400/3889792671_898a95fc06.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378207402043637346" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVMav7lSON-8kyZ56ZyVMES5Z7zaR0h3wHiX_aEoFyosHJVzGVsk9sXaJ7ic4Hw69USQZC-NDV68LVrn78yndVSQT_HzT9EghiKD8wLsQr3o6O0ghp8LZ3ZQUFAdWrsAgtAqhrqAzYkecs/s1600-h/3889784525_e77e551264.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVMav7lSON-8kyZ56ZyVMES5Z7zaR0h3wHiX_aEoFyosHJVzGVsk9sXaJ7ic4Hw69USQZC-NDV68LVrn78yndVSQT_HzT9EghiKD8wLsQr3o6O0ghp8LZ3ZQUFAdWrsAgtAqhrqAzYkecs/s400/3889784525_e77e551264.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378209408330235778" border="0" /></a><br /><a></a><br /><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2007/06/17/magazine/17food-t.html?pagewanted=1&fta=y">"[The] ability to survive in inhospitable areas has made goat the most widely consumed meat in the world..." Paula Disbrowe, NY Times Magazine</a><br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCTXwNolTzzUKt7yPtAeQZJepYEuj1qOsRen-QPETjXOeboTr4aUWlGxqsgAvUm1koDcEjHunOlNAo7gCLxZt7g0p4qwlW1W4gSFiqe0QuKb7A-smB5poUol4OF4jx2ddAao5lyYd9SFta/s1600-h/3889782329_c422113432.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCTXwNolTzzUKt7yPtAeQZJepYEuj1qOsRen-QPETjXOeboTr4aUWlGxqsgAvUm1koDcEjHunOlNAo7gCLxZt7g0p4qwlW1W4gSFiqe0QuKb7A-smB5poUol4OF4jx2ddAao5lyYd9SFta/s400/3889782329_c422113432.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378209368075393554" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0TerZsFSLF4pYDoG9v-8UeP9zQ4-c1HumWKwD2MUNdWkVm7lpUOsr5BDbXjDn5Vciyhp-wfDax0RRBfjGmH-1M1C6CDDXbx7mb2gnGuG22FEBcF8CXUoEg4t9Izu_wIkJBuYt4kZwTJmS/s1600-h/3890582882_8cf358ce02.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0TerZsFSLF4pYDoG9v-8UeP9zQ4-c1HumWKwD2MUNdWkVm7lpUOsr5BDbXjDn5Vciyhp-wfDax0RRBfjGmH-1M1C6CDDXbx7mb2gnGuG22FEBcF8CXUoEg4t9Izu_wIkJBuYt4kZwTJmS/s400/3890582882_8cf358ce02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378207375019644242" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnAItSV5vJispxPStU1sTpell2lUpNe6fYieK2h3B_7Cho1d6H0dO0RjuE6EFDQIpoOtQZVWMoNSRFec1mPg0XgTHnb_DmRBOPT7pAbWKQk9q4MFCNy_aOqAznBNCb9y1vsSDv_MJMXgR/s1600-h/3889795145_1fd8b8cbd4.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnAItSV5vJispxPStU1sTpell2lUpNe6fYieK2h3B_7Cho1d6H0dO0RjuE6EFDQIpoOtQZVWMoNSRFec1mPg0XgTHnb_DmRBOPT7pAbWKQk9q4MFCNy_aOqAznBNCb9y1vsSDv_MJMXgR/s400/3889795145_1fd8b8cbd4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378207382488625330" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEEP6LzBv9J1FvL5YyweybV2DarwAcZHsG8sLkdpxYQ81ysyVZE4t8vh6qrYCVVDVfTkWp1Rf4LPP20GpA-4wCHjpkIZxldAhQx-DZ1Ub0jHA2lRg2sjQ7xuH3bNH6FK7a4AUSMbH8H5bL/s1600-h/3889798209_7c0694e181.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEEP6LzBv9J1FvL5YyweybV2DarwAcZHsG8sLkdpxYQ81ysyVZE4t8vh6qrYCVVDVfTkWp1Rf4LPP20GpA-4wCHjpkIZxldAhQx-DZ1Ub0jHA2lRg2sjQ7xuH3bNH6FK7a4AUSMbH8H5bL/s400/3889798209_7c0694e181.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378207392423974098" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV_vS1LdQbsGvxwyE__phIt7Ae-pDtYEhirqlWUM6_uT2ZVWci1nY-3YL4RjfJa0yoXHW92pyvfN5hzeA9LVjhZTWdFUV2YdLNKnIMQLVd6Clt1_RvnRKlDFPDFFN6N3wSMNzpgIjAdkdA/s1600-h/3890591028_3a2f8752d2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV_vS1LdQbsGvxwyE__phIt7Ae-pDtYEhirqlWUM6_uT2ZVWci1nY-3YL4RjfJa0yoXHW92pyvfN5hzeA9LVjhZTWdFUV2YdLNKnIMQLVd6Clt1_RvnRKlDFPDFFN6N3wSMNzpgIjAdkdA/s400/3890591028_3a2f8752d2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378208227353989714" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_2jMcu3A8U3VjNqonns5IkOngdNGjwvBJqumPYCEYPYLkwTLNHDY4coFQfzGezqgaM_wDB3ff3NhuIrh-wA5yx7VwZOipDN8mUFDjLCIsDNZg7WtU8CRjwEb5yEKQqZ4LaegxkGBFbGkp/s1600-h/3889796473_1e6370a7ae.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_2jMcu3A8U3VjNqonns5IkOngdNGjwvBJqumPYCEYPYLkwTLNHDY4coFQfzGezqgaM_wDB3ff3NhuIrh-wA5yx7VwZOipDN8mUFDjLCIsDNZg7WtU8CRjwEb5yEKQqZ4LaegxkGBFbGkp/s400/3889796473_1e6370a7ae.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378208248536959122" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh49u6IU0UVDvP8mWfZ4TW94mRrffnBUs8ApOCpuQHywceBcIxAtmI0orM88rShNKC9r8qg21X2bfk_deZtViIDvk1Bmiyg929OUr_XOcOlibe0rGhQKs5s8MXRPqdJMIDAP2Uiyf3qLoVC/s1600-h/3889794543_25e9209804.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh49u6IU0UVDvP8mWfZ4TW94mRrffnBUs8ApOCpuQHywceBcIxAtmI0orM88rShNKC9r8qg21X2bfk_deZtViIDvk1Bmiyg929OUr_XOcOlibe0rGhQKs5s8MXRPqdJMIDAP2Uiyf3qLoVC/s400/3889794543_25e9209804.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378208242739112850" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4VZBpYrWtB6eLN4zM6t-Zwfzk1yTKHNRl_Fuwpm-1NdtqNvFy4vn9XLwwyfIt0C7ObUAPAQ0cjBplYdMqqiQ6hs0r1FRdakEPmuG1MzdV39LVHlC_22WUWr3A4ulBazb1ODu1jPGBf3E/s1600-h/3889792037_fda0c04583.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4VZBpYrWtB6eLN4zM6t-Zwfzk1yTKHNRl_Fuwpm-1NdtqNvFy4vn9XLwwyfIt0C7ObUAPAQ0cjBplYdMqqiQ6hs0r1FRdakEPmuG1MzdV39LVHlC_22WUWr3A4ulBazb1ODu1jPGBf3E/s400/3889792037_fda0c04583.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378208231828412482" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlaPTFAUf-v8aROc-yK0k4KZquVERCjjq_OrDv_esLQOuvj2i3xi7wFWTTQP60BOfIIiVDCPalhDQfzvUALvBlbFFSsCvnz9KR6jgQDuY2oI2RJQ8T09-7Z9PfkEJAvjRkmJ1H13ZohuEV/s1600-h/3890591222_517d7d0ce3.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlaPTFAUf-v8aROc-yK0k4KZquVERCjjq_OrDv_esLQOuvj2i3xi7wFWTTQP60BOfIIiVDCPalhDQfzvUALvBlbFFSsCvnz9KR6jgQDuY2oI2RJQ8T09-7Z9PfkEJAvjRkmJ1H13ZohuEV/s400/3890591222_517d7d0ce3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378208225437590802" border="0" /></a><br /><a></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Photos:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Task Force Khwost prepares a goat for dinner at border control point 6, Khwost province Afghanistan Sep. 3rd, 2009. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED ) </span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-33385359968087219672009-09-06T00:21:00.003-04:002009-09-06T00:27:36.909-04:00Ramadan is practiced by almost all<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Dclx3rSvLLX9YILKdoih3ndy41i7IBEGjym8jT_bqNwR23YgIkHoHpdx6g4kou_nWg08qLeJkR-Q8HIdFd4LUZVcRTY5FiE1B03ZKOybqG0MnY9aH3Sob5xkuigBWMmXYTXdBYC3jasF/s1600-h/3889791765_f03ec30c1b.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Dclx3rSvLLX9YILKdoih3ndy41i7IBEGjym8jT_bqNwR23YgIkHoHpdx6g4kou_nWg08qLeJkR-Q8HIdFd4LUZVcRTY5FiE1B03ZKOybqG0MnY9aH3Sob5xkuigBWMmXYTXdBYC3jasF/s400/3889791765_f03ec30c1b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378206065129812930" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLWiqeeBidyNpVYCiXkzbUFyP5d1_0RPX6XOBqYzzTBbsGLA-LZq_3pQsju28GSpo2Fwx5R7fK0mnjHmkcJhk4qS-FU6V8_Oc2hXWufdgih4bQVe9SdekP85tt4jr_y1i5EweqYawS2JE4/s1600-h/3889782741_54c154b71e.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLWiqeeBidyNpVYCiXkzbUFyP5d1_0RPX6XOBqYzzTBbsGLA-LZq_3pQsju28GSpo2Fwx5R7fK0mnjHmkcJhk4qS-FU6V8_Oc2hXWufdgih4bQVe9SdekP85tt4jr_y1i5EweqYawS2JE4/s400/3889782741_54c154b71e.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378206057336311170" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPm_SPN86tqDsWTfFuBL80LXHukP3h335AHoHai_rCyvcMMVAydkZ-ht45owuWw7RyY8robcyZbxc7BvxTm-HSv_k5QfrB1CstFnLoPwOrWJDzxPsoTWqQl-ZZTxqGwr0NZBWY73TuO1DE/s1600-h/3889797133_b2a90ef452.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPm_SPN86tqDsWTfFuBL80LXHukP3h335AHoHai_rCyvcMMVAydkZ-ht45owuWw7RyY8robcyZbxc7BvxTm-HSv_k5QfrB1CstFnLoPwOrWJDzxPsoTWqQl-ZZTxqGwr0NZBWY73TuO1DE/s400/3889797133_b2a90ef452.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378206047444900754" border="0" /></a><br />Antonym of tasteless<br /><br />by Matt Freire<br /><br />Fingers clench the head back as the rusty knife saws into the throat<br />The captives’ cries turn to sputtering then silence as blood sprays the gravel<br />The spine resists the blade<br />But the continual saw eventual separates the head from the body<br />the mouth still motions as if finding breath to call the body<br />The legs twitch and randomly kick as if trying to locate the head<br /><br />One down<br />The next bound victim is grabbed<br />Crying as if it knows its fate<br />yet helpless<br />even though only grass bound the legs<br />The blade draws a red line across the neck<br />This time stopped at the spine<br />Perhaps because blood sprayed into the knife bearer’s mouth<br /><br />An explosion in the distance<br />Diverts our attention<br /><br />From our vantage we can see the smoke<br />VBED<br />IED<br />Who knows<br />It creates a stir for awhile<br />Then back to task at hand<br /><br />These guys are hungry<br />It’s Ramadan and they fast when the sun is up<br />Waiting till 1820 tonight<br />It will be dark then <br /><br />Meet hook slides into the first’s leg and is strung up on a HESCO<br />And the years of skinning is witness by my virgin eyes<br />A slice in the ankle and then grab the skin<br />Pull the skin off as if it were a tight jacket that the zipper broke<br />Readjust, a few well place cuts<br />Bare hands digging and pulling<br />Until the whole coat is off<br /><br />Lot less bloody then I imagined<br />The only real bloody part has already happened<br />Even when they hack off the appendages<br />And when they slice the belly<br /><br />The organs are just as you would think<br />I thought as the intestines plopped on the ground<br />The same as you see in movies<br />More vivid in color though<br /><br />But hardly any blood<br /><br />A board is placed on the ground where the meat goes<br />Men get to work removing bone and the unnecessary<br />All without gloves<br />I imagine this process hasn’t changed much<br /><br />rusty knives and bayonets continue their worth<br />to the kitchen<br />the smell is ancient, as is the room<br />blackened walls<br />stale archaic presence<br /><br />well water is poured on the meat<br />and drained into a hole that puddles outside<br />the meat is rinsed and sifted through<br />cut even smaller<br />a pile of onions in the corner is sifted through and deiced by the same blades used on the flesh<br /><br />a man starts sweeping<br />I would have picked a better time<br />Dirt lands on uncovered flesh<br />as the fire starts<br />dust picks up<br />anything that can burn is thrown in flame<br />Plastic bottles create hot flames<br />and blinding smoke<br /><br />the dark room hardly ventilated<br />and my eyes burn and water<br />my throat and lungs shred<br />my nose pours relentlessly<br />yet these guys go about their work unaffected<br /><br />the fire starts dying<br />diesel helps it along<br /><br />a large iron pot is set<br />water and cans of lard fill half the pot<br />the chef hawks loogies on the ground as he stirs the goat<br />other ingredients are added<br /><br />flour starts to be beat in the other room<br />molded into little balls to be flattened and thrown into the flame<br /><br />my hunger builds<br />yet they must wait till dark before eating<br />more patient than i<br />I am starving<br />Ramadan is practiced by almost all<br />So I wait with them<br /><br />Actually I sneak off and eat an MRE<br />Then wait with themAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-75283251102786202472009-09-02T18:13:00.006-04:002009-09-02T18:30:54.153-04:00The Children of August 31, 2009<a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTyelwI5EAbHan3ZbOVGo7o-XwMKgCGKsnMnRiLs2vjScz7mNsQDXNiXZsythtrGCStm94ehivHmqhny0vtHQglFgp6ztuL4dFIwPlq0Ns6ETVlL0RANbI4Tp2SDidaQ03YznS0pg_yo4w/s1600-h/3880991292_c9dd4ca61c.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTyelwI5EAbHan3ZbOVGo7o-XwMKgCGKsnMnRiLs2vjScz7mNsQDXNiXZsythtrGCStm94ehivHmqhny0vtHQglFgp6ztuL4dFIwPlq0Ns6ETVlL0RANbI4Tp2SDidaQ03YznS0pg_yo4w/s400/3880991292_c9dd4ca61c.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376999405746575554" border="0" /></a><br /><a></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnPaqXu29pN5YB6cHJWDOcmWQq8ajXZAmcvXxSdutssE3L5O4KwVERosUhqxlanxcVVQ1NplN2qelq6uaLxXDp0bnlnutfbp062XmyKSYGc5XvE1zAGibDeC3osg7sLkLRTjuwhBLLZK6P/s1600-h/3880991014_9f40a438eb.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnPaqXu29pN5YB6cHJWDOcmWQq8ajXZAmcvXxSdutssE3L5O4KwVERosUhqxlanxcVVQ1NplN2qelq6uaLxXDp0bnlnutfbp062XmyKSYGc5XvE1zAGibDeC3osg7sLkLRTjuwhBLLZK6P/s400/3880991014_9f40a438eb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376999411446305842" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcCK1h4783oeCjTjMR89OvF1OP8hCgdu8dVzYsMbktFWN44JTi-dG6RCG9VVxoRMI8aYTUkJ8DJ5i0YSbdJ_j_E12ZeU9rQSWVn3rDxx1kj7sAMcqff6fGqtaHjA5FGmqPoXsrmb6VKh27/s1600-h/3880197321_f78892ef6c.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 323px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcCK1h4783oeCjTjMR89OvF1OP8hCgdu8dVzYsMbktFWN44JTi-dG6RCG9VVxoRMI8aYTUkJ8DJ5i0YSbdJ_j_E12ZeU9rQSWVn3rDxx1kj7sAMcqff6fGqtaHjA5FGmqPoXsrmb6VKh27/s400/3880197321_f78892ef6c.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376999083713154546" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEQaTlnpto1og8H6Z9Z1bnCdYHd2AKYivMyyBlXOU-4afiVI8s6IzAMPwVIS6x8AOZs8_7e9lhow2o6Aeg4tMAZYH5DBBr0mtZqjCf3GmY2Oex9TT1EB-RoSjq3KJ5w8A8xnVb_ctuZQ08/s1600-h/3880993838_fda48ac60d.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEQaTlnpto1og8H6Z9Z1bnCdYHd2AKYivMyyBlXOU-4afiVI8s6IzAMPwVIS6x8AOZs8_7e9lhow2o6Aeg4tMAZYH5DBBr0mtZqjCf3GmY2Oex9TT1EB-RoSjq3KJ5w8A8xnVb_ctuZQ08/s400/3880993838_fda48ac60d.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376999421902450290" border="0" /></a><br /><a></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-aFhEJw8UZsKrF4Acbze7ZRIW7QYpUpUnsH-yJEzIQnSfLAtk0XB8zmQ3nTL2QPo8ZxnZSg691pYsB77yP4yATJyyyKslsUlQkC0evL-Ar_GHLG0jZ4B0dRI2UlGhZ2-f9mvBgvIaYHC1/s1600-h/3880994232_84d3c84924.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-aFhEJw8UZsKrF4Acbze7ZRIW7QYpUpUnsH-yJEzIQnSfLAtk0XB8zmQ3nTL2QPo8ZxnZSg691pYsB77yP4yATJyyyKslsUlQkC0evL-Ar_GHLG0jZ4B0dRI2UlGhZ2-f9mvBgvIaYHC1/s400/3880994232_84d3c84924.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376999416452318594" border="0" /></a><br /><a></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfW8aT8-5F4_RwHsASL6sFdtZC3NqtRTmN41a1w0OaApmkhTJDxgCM_qG-UAIXkWat4QIKCMhN9aNcKbJt-mGVDv1Zy4-SRpoIDY8FjZZ1shkNwqhmWp_HzNTFymJ7XqZKCFxBgpdJ4Oil/s1600-h/3880991682_695f20dfcd.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfW8aT8-5F4_RwHsASL6sFdtZC3NqtRTmN41a1w0OaApmkhTJDxgCM_qG-UAIXkWat4QIKCMhN9aNcKbJt-mGVDv1Zy4-SRpoIDY8FjZZ1shkNwqhmWp_HzNTFymJ7XqZKCFxBgpdJ4Oil/s400/3880991682_695f20dfcd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376999106886278978" 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href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6e8mp5CeAkhCr5VQMXBi5p2pMCpIWWZXzLZVs2jJNMInxjjrg6OyOopHaCYWQPriFx0vuskOuhvXvdrKwXbdHCAx_DdRRaDeIXxKNaj4u5ByPpgFWBe8VBdU8LrChGhoCbNKfMi-UXbht/s1600-h/3880987570_4d288cf11b.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6e8mp5CeAkhCr5VQMXBi5p2pMCpIWWZXzLZVs2jJNMInxjjrg6OyOopHaCYWQPriFx0vuskOuhvXvdrKwXbdHCAx_DdRRaDeIXxKNaj4u5ByPpgFWBe8VBdU8LrChGhoCbNKfMi-UXbht/s400/3880987570_4d288cf11b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376999089345061970" border="0" /></a><br /><a></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuRisYFG_apcJM4mwiDdPiXfHy3wCVLwY5Cq_y9_5hq2LMrkhSchvaZY9Im-XxTIhl2w0oOcYrftaFLKsY9NHSTPsesab2mpIep2f6n2989PdwQx7y_E-GvvWOvnar5WJAIcnm6EltQ0Ag/s1600-h/3880192761_22d8d0391b.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuRisYFG_apcJM4mwiDdPiXfHy3wCVLwY5Cq_y9_5hq2LMrkhSchvaZY9Im-XxTIhl2w0oOcYrftaFLKsY9NHSTPsesab2mpIep2f6n2989PdwQx7y_E-GvvWOvnar5WJAIcnm6EltQ0Ag/s400/3880192761_22d8d0391b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376999074639075762" border="0" /></a><br /><a></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Photos:<br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">Coalition forces alongside 2nd Afghan Commandos question a family for information during a cordon and search of a compound as part of Operation Raven, Aug. 31st, 2009. Operation Raven is a joint operation involving Task Force Khowst and 2nd Afghan commandos, to search for an IED cell operating in the area east of Khowst City, Afghanistan. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED )</span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3870112363144244204.post-63648191344479274012009-08-31T19:35:00.010-04:002009-09-01T11:52:58.226-04:00troops in contact: a sound you never want to hear<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYX8bp6Yc9ND-4GzbUx9XTPWE3kMbMEGlacC2-Qhi0ttdFvcVSixmhrH_AatjlgQ9TLnSWR23RxesSvL7cvIGDSSHhjW77XYb8lwr1NXKDfaThEb1dF4bLAEZVnq41gsKtJjNMmkodmg64/s1600-h/3867415526_d0e60b91ea_m.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYX8bp6Yc9ND-4GzbUx9XTPWE3kMbMEGlacC2-Qhi0ttdFvcVSixmhrH_AatjlgQ9TLnSWR23RxesSvL7cvIGDSSHhjW77XYb8lwr1NXKDfaThEb1dF4bLAEZVnq41gsKtJjNMmkodmg64/s400/3867415526_d0e60b91ea_m.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376277098812604402" border="0" /></a><br />getting our money’s worth<br />by Matt Freire<br /><br />it’s interesting the things we don't say<br />the things that could make for stories<br />the things that lived through could make a profit<br />words cannot say all of the things<br />nor try to i<br />these things holding dear secular<br />if only penmanship could experience bring<br /><br />there’s a creature in the distance<br />i feel its lurking presence<br />i sense its closed fists<br />with all senses<br />i feel its rage is incontinent<br />i smell its musk<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLzb3S5vHSjDorFtfarrFus82L_R9Ok2g_qLwtBtxdTY3kaDFXD0hb66zsG8bXCgRtZpjgQDUcYZjAyZ4M_jRdZR-Ll0AoDOKH77W96o6Sk42qrYWs_aQDBNTbCzZnzVu-9QRcRv3F1XvO/s1600-h/3866631355_8f36f221e0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLzb3S5vHSjDorFtfarrFus82L_R9Ok2g_qLwtBtxdTY3kaDFXD0hb66zsG8bXCgRtZpjgQDUcYZjAyZ4M_jRdZR-Ll0AoDOKH77W96o6Sk42qrYWs_aQDBNTbCzZnzVu-9QRcRv3F1XvO/s400/3866631355_8f36f221e0.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376276963051646578" border="0" /></a><br />it’s relentless<br />i taste its compassion<br />it’s irrelevant<br /><br />stealth is key in the absence of speed<br />speed is key in absence<br /><br />i sit in darkness<br />as the droplets of rain distort the night<br />i recap<br />i suck in<br />I’m holding<br />in the night<br /><br />lightning hiding the thunder<br />and the explosions<br />and the awe spectacle of worthy display and recognition<br /><br />what a day it was<br />what a day it could have been<br />so many days filled with what could have been<br />i have not dared to mention<br />nor fingertips or lips able<br /><br />a lucky omen i am<br />such bullish thoughts are trifle and stupid<br />but for some unspeakable truth<br />it rings out<br />and we humans like truth<br /><br />explosions rocket the convoy<br />as we leave our ops<br />i not knowing the time<br />or status<br />results in pulling security in the midst of battle<br />and i<br />not pursing moments that can be<br />or distantly capable of being observed by many<br /><br />troops in contact<br />a sound you never want to hear<br />troops in contact<br />a sound that brings new meaning when your right there<br /><br />when you hear the boom<br />tenses your toes on up<br />when you hear the vibrations<br />clench every orifice shut<br />and feel the danger<br />of what's going on<br />fills the mind’s chambers<br />indescribable is this fever<br />but yet fulfills me<br />in every way much deeper<br /><br />troops in contact<br />we unload to secure<br />the distant sound muffled<br />now<br />in the rain and recording of prayer<br />attentive vigilance calms the night air<br />rifle and crew served weapons<br />that filled my day's air<br />doesn't release the could have been<br /><br />should i be<br />a question everyone asks<br />glad i am<br />that this day un-lived we did pass<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Photos:<br />Task Force Khowst soldier aids an Afghan man after his vehicle hit an improvised explosive device in the Khowst province of Afghanistan Aug. 28th, 2009. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED ) </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04516365352995062196noreply@blogger.com15