possible mass mail from salvador

Dear yous,

First ~
ignore the last mass mail that some of you may have received that claimed to be the mass mail to end all mass mails. Apparently, it was indeed like a war to end all wars.

Second ~
if you ever come across a place that has acai, GET IT. The ´c´ should have a little hook below it, but i´m not that clever. actually, i´m just too lazy to figure it out, but i´m on a mission here, people.
->The mission is to relay at least some of the life forms that I observe/create/come into contact with/what-have-you as I globe roam, and one of those forms of life is. ¨_Oof. Shluppum. Yum._¨
Acai. With a hook. Iced. With granola. This Brazilian fruit will bead your mouth Keats purple and leave you thoroughly refreshed and satisfied and buzzing with energy.
~No, I have not been paid by Nestle to advertise this alimentation so that they can then proceed to buy up the market and sell it at bloodthirsty prices.
~No. Nor have I been buying bottled water, a market that is, unlike acai, monopolized by Nestle, at least here in Brazil.
~No, I have not visited the Guarani aquifer, a major water source that borders Brazil, Argentina, and Paraguay, and is just one of the frontiers of the war between Life and Profit.
~No. It doesn´t help to see everything in terms of war, it only helps to further perpetuate war, but sometimes, hyperbole gets the better of me, especially when riding the wave of aforementioned Acai. I beg forgiveness for my shins, which are currently slightly beat up, especially my right one.

Third, yes, the rest of my emails just might be this ridonkulous, so.
* if you´re peacin out of this cyberspace, know that I send my love and good thoughts about the soul that is you, and if you ever feel like checking in on me, these sporadic spaced out emails will be posted at www.giispot.blogspot.com. The previous posts were of an entirely different nature, so feel free to ignore them.
*if you´re still pieced in to this cyberspace, and feel like asking please sir, can i have some more pieces (dont do it! save yourselves while you still can!!), then send me an itty bitty reply, and I´ll add you to a list, odd as that feels to say, after my passionately pendulumic past relationship with email and lists and other such virtual unrealities.

Fourth, I bid you all well, my wrists and neck and wallet are telling me to finish the job and get the hell out.

Fifth, I just found the c with hook key. It´s brazil. Of COURSE every keyboard has the apostrophe button stuck but also has a functional c with hook key. Here, see?
ç ç ç ç ç ç ç ç ç ç ç ç ç ç ç ç ç ç ç ç .
And just for good measure.
ç.

I love you all.
Me.

From anks computer, o bigode, Daisymali

dickson's heavy churches. buildings. whoomph, indestructible, the
others
are like, made out of cardboard, i mean...

{Daisy, taking over the keyboard, interjecting nonsense, childish
babble,
into my profundity, typed this: espeg jzdth dcar ran out the streset
daning with md feet. nd then the man was thinking such stange thoughts
about the beauty of touching another person and oveing them sooo
osoooooo
muc}

...just take the building cornering the church we were looking at when
he
(dickson) shared his heavy church thoughts, its this long candy pink
thing
thatll fall
timbrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. damn the man, dont let the
man
get you down.

yeah, so ok, but then here's the doozy, for me at least. dickson is
telling me about this heavy church thing while morphing massing
sections
of human beans are flowing past, a rep from each section hands me a
flyer
(funny, why do i take it, i never take flyers, save the trees and
whatnot)
sharing their path to salvation. mobile transitory carbon based live
churches. elemental. heaviness towers up around, lightness swims past,
licking every corner. god is contained and yet uncontrollably volatile
flowatile

and so i decided to start my lucy (lucy fer?) trip looking up through
the
line of energy of the cross on the church that we have postcard
memories
of.

and then god called on the cellular.

wtf?

my headspace is used to connecting religion with puritanism. carnaval
shows me, tis not so. disconnect myself. reconnect in revolutionary
space.
grow a moustache, in the town of the transvestite priest.

someones on the phone. its my mom and dad. not god. more than in god.
because god and goddess are contained in my mother and father. i go
now,
daisy will take over.

when we were young, so very long ago, we all thought that space was all
there was. the space did not end. and then we learned that there were
borders, edges, containers...boxes, if you will. the space was
sub-divided, cortado, pieced out into little bits and smidgens of
things
and beings and willingnesses to be contained. all that there is, it
fits
into different sorts of beingspaces. spaces for being, but being in
different manners and ways and means and doings. except that some of us
long to cross these borders, traverse these edges, and spill out of
these
containers, running and flowing our many different colors into the
other
potholes of being and comingling into different hues and shades and
tones
that vibrate with multifaceted being and exist in multiple colorspaces.
our heads yearn to rap around into varied brainspaces. and our loves
yearn
to expand into all of the desirespaces of the universe, allowing the
light
of love to give us energy that fills up all of our cellbeings, each and
every kind of differentiated unit. when we were young, we knew
inherently
that this was possible. then we learned about the containers and forgot
the wisdom, and replaced it with knowing. forget what you learned. you
can
be it all. you are the universe. thou art god.

From Salvador

If you´re strapped for time, scroll down to the paragraph that starts with ´My real point´.

Never say never, they say.
But then, they say it twice, that n-word, so does a double negative make a positive?

My point.
Is that some of you on this list received a ridiculously long mass email from me last year that announced itself as the mass mail to end all mass mails. The email went on further to claim that this was not like the war to end all wars.
Apparently the size of my nose isn´t just to do with genes or running full speed ahead into a glass door, but also has a Pinocchion element.

My point.
Is not what you want from me anyway, because if you´re reading this, you probably know me well enough to know that pointfulness is not my forte, and yet you love me anyway, just as I love you anyway, whatever you do and are (!@!).

My lack of point.
Is currently situated in Salvador, Brazil, in an internet/pizza place. No, I´m not eating Pizza, mainly because it costs a toe and a finger, but also because I´m stuffed and happy. I will explain why I´m stuffed and happy shortly, but first.

My real point.
I´m travelling right now. It´s an intense experience, as any traveller well knows. The environments and communities I´m finding myself in are worth telling about, so I´ll try my best, whenever I can. This probably means once a month but I make no promises given my erratic internet habits (*#*).
If you would like these updates through email, let me know.
If you want to read them online instead, I´ll be putting them up on www.giispot.blogspot.com. The previous writings are of a completely different style and purpose, so please ignore those, but feel free to dip in if you have ridiculous amounts of free time. The links section is badly organized, and missing important pages, but contain some worth, nevertheless.
If you still haven´t sent me your birthday, please do.
If I´ve missed your birthday, and also haven´t replied to your personal emails, I´m really sorry, but I won´t promise more. (see above *#*)
If you want/have to do something else entirely, feel free. (see above !@!)

Right. Onward ho. Why I´m stuffed and happy. I stopped at Restaurante Popular while walking from the Policia Federal, where I spent a measly 2 and a half hours getting my visa extended, to Pellorinho, where I am now. I had seen this restaurante yesterday (on the same walk, after I had gotten to Policia Federal at 4:30, half an hour after closing, after spending a draining, disgruntling