Fabrizio J. Bonsignore
2004-10-14 21:22:39 UTC
I crossed the whole continent from LA to NY to speak with people from
the UN after I got the rumor that the thieves I have been fighting
already wrote to the missions. I sent several mails exposing my
situation and inviting the World to listen to m music and read my
economics but I arrived without money to make hone calls. After I
managed to get a few dollars I started calling the missions but nobody
was aware of them and explaining through the phone to the secretaries
was too cumbersome. It happened with Italy, Djibouti, France, Israel,
the Holy See; when I called the Belgian mission the person who
answered told me she know nothing, but gave me another address to
write to. The same day I worte telling them that I wanted to have an
appointment but since I didn`t have money I would go in person either
to speak with somebody or to make the appointment.
Next day at eleven I went to 823 UN Plaza. There was a group of people
in the lobby and people comg and going. I went to the security guard
desk and told him I wanted to see the belgian ambassador or get an
appointment. He asked for an ID I promptly produced and after a call
he gave me a badge with my picture, then he made another phone call.
After a minute or so I asked him what were we waiting for, if there
was somebody coming down to pick me up. He made a vague gesture and I
just kept waiting.
At that moment two figures appeared in the inner door. I believe they
were the King and Queen of Belgium, though I cannot be sure because of
a badly done lasik surgery in Mexico which left haloes in my keen eye.
They were just about to open the door when a man appeared from nowhere
and quickly stopped the couple before they could cross the door. This
man, dark bruneete, broad, with the features of a crocodile stopped
and asked me to empty my pockets. Nowadays everybody knows what it is
to go through metal detectors so I started emptying my pockets, metal
things, but the man insisted in *emptying* my vest. I was loaded with
lots of things, papers, toilet paper, my recently acquired shaving
razors, a deodorant, wallet, IDs, books with post stamps, my hard
drive, nail cutter, shaving creme...
By then I was already disgusted; it was far from a routine search. And
not happy with it he emptied my pants pockets, evruthing, searched me
and asked me to sit down in a chair. I was very upset. I started
talking, telling the witnesses the reasons I was there, about the
mexican criminals, my web site, my ideas... The couple in the door
were appalled and we just looked at each other with wide eyes and a
question mark in our faces.
The security guard went back to them, don`t remember if called
somebody else and the couple was shown another exit. The rest of the
wittnesses were very embarrased and soon the lobby was empty but for
people coming and leaving the office. I would tell them how
`dangerous` I was, as a composer, and they would just see me, amused.
In a few minutes the room was full of policemen, at least four
patrols.
It was a circus. They went through my things and asked questions. I
tried to explain, but was not getting across. I was worried about my
hard drive, told them; they put my things in bags and asked me to go
eith them to the police station for interrogation. I was being nice
and they were nice too but couldn`t get my appointment.
At the police station I was kept in a room with an officer chatting
about life lessons and then another officer came. I even dozed for a
while and it was not before three o`clock that I was left `free`. They
gave me back my things, but my bath stuff was gone! I asked around and
nobody knew about it. Broke, my last dollars spent in razors and they
were gone! Also my nail cutter, which I had had with me since at least
1997, after that assault in Mexico City by two policemen in motorcycle
and a gun, where my friend Espinoza almost lost his car (and I ended
losing my original US birth certificate from the hospital...).
I was very upset and the officers... well, they knew *nothing*. One of
them even offered me two bucks to buy another nail cutter, which I
didn`t accept. I kept asking and one of them told me maybe the
security guards in the UN building kept it.
After eating I went back to the building. I asked the new security
guard at the desk if he knew where were my things. It was five
o`clock. He didn`t know and I asked him if he could call the other
guard, the one that was before, to ask him. But instead of the _door_
guard it was the crocodile the one who came and very swift he push me
from the shoulder, hard, and made me take off my vest, which he let
fall to the floor far from I was seated, with plenty of space between
me and the rest of the furniture (a table and a pair of chairs). There
was a tall man there, nordic, with a badge, looking vaguely amused. I
was of course complaining; he made a comment about socialism and
taking away the jacket he just bought but didn`t let me reply. Of
course he read Alive and Human and didn`t understand it...
Lots of policemen arrived then. they brough papers and I managed to
see ONE mail I didn`t send, with a quote by Jefferson I think. They
accused me of harassment, but I pointed that that mail was not mine
but if they let me see th mails I could deduce who sent those mails.
They didn`t let me. Charged me of harrasment and tresspasing
(tresspasing a _public_ UN building a scholar!), handcuffed me and
sent me to the police stations.
Time there was not bad at all. There were, ah, nice details, but I
ended up in jail, spent there the night, I, who NEVER though of
visiting a jail nor being arrested, almost got hit by a guy who was
complaining about the lack of space (30 man in a cell, ten empty
cells?), somehow survived, waiting the whole day to be liberated after
dozing away most of it due to the shock and finally returned back to
the shelter, too late to have a meal, only to find my clothing and my
magical guitar were gone...
This is a plot by the mexican plagiarists who hunted me for years,
even here in America, my country. My mother and cats are still in
Veraruz.
Danilo J Bonsignore.
the UN after I got the rumor that the thieves I have been fighting
already wrote to the missions. I sent several mails exposing my
situation and inviting the World to listen to m music and read my
economics but I arrived without money to make hone calls. After I
managed to get a few dollars I started calling the missions but nobody
was aware of them and explaining through the phone to the secretaries
was too cumbersome. It happened with Italy, Djibouti, France, Israel,
the Holy See; when I called the Belgian mission the person who
answered told me she know nothing, but gave me another address to
write to. The same day I worte telling them that I wanted to have an
appointment but since I didn`t have money I would go in person either
to speak with somebody or to make the appointment.
Next day at eleven I went to 823 UN Plaza. There was a group of people
in the lobby and people comg and going. I went to the security guard
desk and told him I wanted to see the belgian ambassador or get an
appointment. He asked for an ID I promptly produced and after a call
he gave me a badge with my picture, then he made another phone call.
After a minute or so I asked him what were we waiting for, if there
was somebody coming down to pick me up. He made a vague gesture and I
just kept waiting.
At that moment two figures appeared in the inner door. I believe they
were the King and Queen of Belgium, though I cannot be sure because of
a badly done lasik surgery in Mexico which left haloes in my keen eye.
They were just about to open the door when a man appeared from nowhere
and quickly stopped the couple before they could cross the door. This
man, dark bruneete, broad, with the features of a crocodile stopped
and asked me to empty my pockets. Nowadays everybody knows what it is
to go through metal detectors so I started emptying my pockets, metal
things, but the man insisted in *emptying* my vest. I was loaded with
lots of things, papers, toilet paper, my recently acquired shaving
razors, a deodorant, wallet, IDs, books with post stamps, my hard
drive, nail cutter, shaving creme...
By then I was already disgusted; it was far from a routine search. And
not happy with it he emptied my pants pockets, evruthing, searched me
and asked me to sit down in a chair. I was very upset. I started
talking, telling the witnesses the reasons I was there, about the
mexican criminals, my web site, my ideas... The couple in the door
were appalled and we just looked at each other with wide eyes and a
question mark in our faces.
The security guard went back to them, don`t remember if called
somebody else and the couple was shown another exit. The rest of the
wittnesses were very embarrased and soon the lobby was empty but for
people coming and leaving the office. I would tell them how
`dangerous` I was, as a composer, and they would just see me, amused.
In a few minutes the room was full of policemen, at least four
patrols.
It was a circus. They went through my things and asked questions. I
tried to explain, but was not getting across. I was worried about my
hard drive, told them; they put my things in bags and asked me to go
eith them to the police station for interrogation. I was being nice
and they were nice too but couldn`t get my appointment.
At the police station I was kept in a room with an officer chatting
about life lessons and then another officer came. I even dozed for a
while and it was not before three o`clock that I was left `free`. They
gave me back my things, but my bath stuff was gone! I asked around and
nobody knew about it. Broke, my last dollars spent in razors and they
were gone! Also my nail cutter, which I had had with me since at least
1997, after that assault in Mexico City by two policemen in motorcycle
and a gun, where my friend Espinoza almost lost his car (and I ended
losing my original US birth certificate from the hospital...).
I was very upset and the officers... well, they knew *nothing*. One of
them even offered me two bucks to buy another nail cutter, which I
didn`t accept. I kept asking and one of them told me maybe the
security guards in the UN building kept it.
After eating I went back to the building. I asked the new security
guard at the desk if he knew where were my things. It was five
o`clock. He didn`t know and I asked him if he could call the other
guard, the one that was before, to ask him. But instead of the _door_
guard it was the crocodile the one who came and very swift he push me
from the shoulder, hard, and made me take off my vest, which he let
fall to the floor far from I was seated, with plenty of space between
me and the rest of the furniture (a table and a pair of chairs). There
was a tall man there, nordic, with a badge, looking vaguely amused. I
was of course complaining; he made a comment about socialism and
taking away the jacket he just bought but didn`t let me reply. Of
course he read Alive and Human and didn`t understand it...
Lots of policemen arrived then. they brough papers and I managed to
see ONE mail I didn`t send, with a quote by Jefferson I think. They
accused me of harassment, but I pointed that that mail was not mine
but if they let me see th mails I could deduce who sent those mails.
They didn`t let me. Charged me of harrasment and tresspasing
(tresspasing a _public_ UN building a scholar!), handcuffed me and
sent me to the police stations.
Time there was not bad at all. There were, ah, nice details, but I
ended up in jail, spent there the night, I, who NEVER though of
visiting a jail nor being arrested, almost got hit by a guy who was
complaining about the lack of space (30 man in a cell, ten empty
cells?), somehow survived, waiting the whole day to be liberated after
dozing away most of it due to the shock and finally returned back to
the shelter, too late to have a meal, only to find my clothing and my
magical guitar were gone...
This is a plot by the mexican plagiarists who hunted me for years,
even here in America, my country. My mother and cats are still in
Veraruz.
Danilo J Bonsignore.