you can't drink without a fish

2006-10-01T06:04:00.000-04:00

It's been a while. For some reason in the last few months, even when I have felt inclined to write something in here I have been too lazy to actually sit and do so.

It's been a few weeks since arriving in California, and by extension a few weeks since I've seen a drop of rain. I had always heard that it's sunny pretty much every day in Southern California, but I think that I did not actually believe or comprehend it. The general concensus among the new people here is that, even if they don't find Irvine palatable, they still love the weather.

On the other hand, as the weeks pass, I am ever aware that I am missing my good old-fashioned Northeast autumn. I imagine that the leaves are beginning to turn back home. My parents have complained in the last couple of days that it's grown quite chilly. I envy them, and walk around every day here perceiving the marked absence of the smell of people beginning to burn their fireplaces around dusk on fall evenings.

I guess most people think I'm crazy, but I really miss bad weather. I went rollerblading at Newport Beach last week on the only mildly cloudly and cool day that we've had since I arrived. A middle aged man in a wetsuit with a surf board told me I'd come a long way and apologized for the weather, said that I should've gone the day before.

"No, today's perfect," I answered.

It's like something that "The Russian" said on a late episode of Sex and the City-- I like New York. It's honest. It doesn't wear a big, fake smile.

And it's so true. New York (among other places) isn't afraid to show its moody side. Sometimes it can be really fucking harsh with you. It can go days on end crying all over your designer t-shirt. You can freeze to death on your 30 minute walk to work or bake when Con Edison shuts the electricy off in your building so that the rest of the city won't have a blackout. New York is like someone an old, comfortable relationship, and I really appreciate that kind of honesty.

But a rainy day in New York is magic anyway. On a typical rainy fall weekend day, I'll wake up too late because the sun does not shine in your eyes. I know the weather without looking outside, from the distinct sound of tires rolling over wet pavement that accompanies normal traffic sounds. Perhaps I go with my room mate or meet a friend at Little Poland restaurant or Wavery diner for some eggs and french fries, none of us having taken the time to shower because of the crappy weather. Emily and Layla are smart and wear rubber boots. The bottom of my pants are wet and muddy.

I return home meaning to do homework but fall asleep instead. E! entertainment network might be playing in the background, and the next thing you know it's 6 or 7 o'clock and I've done nothing. It occurs to me that maybe I should stay in and work. After all, it's crappy outside.

But a rainy New York night following a rainy New York day is like the spring. While the streets were relatively bare during the day, you can tell around 8 or 9 o'clock that people want to peek their heads out of their little dens and step timidly into the world.

Sure, it's still raining, but we've been in all day and it's been so long since we've stayed in on a Saturday night we don' t even know what's on network television during this time slot any more. And from the look of the street lights and neon bar signs reflecting on the wet pavement, I know that there's romance and adventure to be had.

2006-04-02T11:27:00.000-04:00

And today's the day we've waited for.

The Cartoons

2006-03-29T15:04:00.000-05:00

I have been presented with a really interesting problem over the past couple of days at work. Basically, we have been bombarded with emails concerning an NYU event to take place tonight; it is advertised as a dialogue regarding free speech and publication of cartoons portraying the Prophet Mohammad in Europe. However, they plan to display these cartoons at the event. The Islamic Center at NYU is in uproar and plans on holding a peaceful protest outside of the event as it takes place. More urgently, emails have been flying around the campus asking those in different positions of power to intervene and stop the club from posting the cartoons, not only as not to upset Muslims in the NYU community and beyond, but also certain unnamed wealthy Muslim benefactors of certain programs within the university.

President John Sexton's decision thus far has been to allow the club to post these cartoons. While I myself would never post these cartoons, I tend to agree with Sexton's stance on the matter.

The bottom line is, freedom of speech is indeed at issue here. The Muslim students, who support the DIALOGUE but not the display, have every right to protest outside of the event today, just as Muslims around the world had every right to protest the Danish cartoons so long as it was in a peaceful manner (which was not always the case.) Ideally, people culturally insensitive enough to diplay these cartoons would be moved to see the Muslims' side. However, I think that it is absolutely wrong to, in law, place a ban on their display. Academic freedom, as well as general freedom of speech, allows for this. Restricting it would set a dangerous precedent.

I tend to put this debate in the same perspective as the debate over abortion. My view on the matter is a highly legal one, maintaining that whether or not one believes in abortion personally, the act is allowed following interpretations of a number of Amendments allowing citizens to use/treat their bodies as they wish. It is for this reason, and not for the right or wrong of abortion, that is must remain legal.

On the same token, whether one believes that depicting the Prophet is right or wrong, we must realize that the freedom to make this depiction is guaranteed by law.

Still, it saddens me to think that this type of racism is more morally permissable than racism against any other group. If such offensive cartoons about another ethnic or religious group were allowed by news editors to be printed in the first place, I am certain that public outcy would cause those in charge to pull the cartoons from publication out of common decency. Clearly, this notion of what is right and wrong in treating people does not yet extend to treatment of the Muslim community.

But, common decency, unfortunately, cannot be mandated by law, but instilled in time with education.

2006-03-20T02:49:00.000-05:00

Miranda: Why do I think living in Manhattan is so fantastic?
Carrie: Because it is.

A Stolen Survey.

2006-03-07T17:19:00.000-05:00

This is a survery just for girls. This is likewise a survey that makes me wonder if I really am one.

01. Eyeliner or mascara? mascara. can't do eyeliner.
02. Louis Vuitton or Dooney and Bourke? who?
03. American eagle or hollister? uuh...
04. Dolce & Gabanna or Louis Vuitton? Dolce outfitted Carry nicely on Sex and the City...
05. Skirts or pants? usually pants
06. Socks or leggings? can't you wear both? what do you definise a 'legging'?
07. Hoodies or jackets? jackets
08. Heels or sneakers? aw, sneakers.. who am I kidding?
09. Straight or curly hair? CURLS... c'mon people...
10. Hoop or dangling earrings? dangling! huzzah!
11. Side bangs or one length? bangs don't really go with my look. but I like Molly's side bangs.
12. Gemma Ward or Adrianna Lima? who?
13. Your best color: green!
14. Victoria's Secret or Bath and Body Works? I don't do smelly things, except jasmine.
15. Smoothies or lattes? I find both to be a little bougie for my taste
16. Diet or regular sodas? diet coke, regular sprite
17. Water or daquiris? need there be a dichotomy there?
18. Pearls or diamonds? pearls by a very very long shot.
20. Mary Kate or Ashley Olsen? i vascillate
21. iPod or cell phone? dang I wish I owned an iPod
22. Friends or family? I don't distinguish between the two. friends are family, and family who don't act as friends I do not put too much thought into.
23. Lip gloss or chapstick? the lip gloss would not look good without the chapstick..
24. Manicure or pedicure? pedicure. it looks less weird when I am too lazy to take the polish off.
25. Mac or sephora? Mac
26. Tiffany's or Chanel? Tiffany. isn't it just Tiffany?
27. Love or peace? I don't see them as being separate
28. Sunglasses or purses? If I have to choose, I'd rather not have to carry my shit in my hands. That gets in the way of dancing/activities/food eating that happens while you're out walking around. So purse.

X what you have:
[ ] a tiffany's bracelet.
[ ] a Louis vuitton purse
[ ] a coach purse
[ ] anything dior
[X] a computer.
[ ] a cd player.
[ ] a stereo.
[ ] a spice girl cd.
[ ] a cosmo girl magazine.
[ ] a teddy bear.
[ ] a build a bear.
[ ] an American eagle purse.
[ ] hollister jeans.
[ ] a hot topic shirt.
[X] a cell phone.
[ ] an aeropostale shirt.
[ ] the mean girls dvd
[X] a TV in my room.
[ ] a big bed.
[ ] diamond earrings.
[X] a pearl necklace.
[ ] a graduation dress.
[X] a book. (many, many books.)
[ ] a myspace.
[ ] curious perfume. (is that a brand? or do you mean that my perfume is curious?)
[ ] g-unit sneakers.
[X] a black shirt. (I'm a New Yorker.)
[ ] abercrombie skirt
[ ] hollister skirt. (What is this hollister business all about?)
[X] converse. (naturally.)
[ ] diary or journal
[ ]pink nail polish (not so much)

Girl Knowledge:
Do you know exactly where the blush goes? No. I turn red enough on my own.
Would you say you know how to put on make up? Yes. That I do, if I do say so myself.
Do you know how to french braid? Yes but I don't have the patience.
Do you have a specific color of cover up or foundation you wear for your skin? Nope.
Do you wash your face at least once a day? Not so much.
Do you use an eyelash curler? Do I know how to use an eyelash curler?
Do you use water proof mascara? No, it tends to be really clumpy and dry.
How much do you pay for make up? I dunno... I think I more often find it around the house/apt.
Does toothpaste really help acne? It doesn't help acne, but it can quickly bring "the right kind of pimple" to a head.
How many times a day do you apply lipgloss? one, if that.

Cookie Lady

2006-02-28T17:54:00.000-05:00

Let me tell you about a woman who made my day.

I far more often shop in small amounts than I do in large ones when it comes to food. I'll do a "big shopping" where most of the good will last me for weeks and then in between stop by the market only to pick up a few things. I am often embarassed when I go to check-out because these "few things" often include a box of cereal, maybe a milk and juice, a microwavable dinner and always a box of cookies.

Today was one of those days. As I approached the check-out line with an instant lasagna-bake, two peach yogurts, roll of paper towel, and box of rainbow chocolate chip cookies in hand, I felt that I must look like a little kid. I was made to feel better only by the man standing in front of me who had ventured all the way through a huge supermarket for three 20 oz bottles of beer. The girl behind me was justified in being in check-out; she picked up a box of domino suger and one other baking good. Clearly she is making something special and just ran out of a couple of things.

Then I had a good chuckle: two people behind me was this very old woman. Seeing as I have almost no peripheral vision to my left, the only thing in her stack that caught my eye was her Starbucks brand bottled frozen coffee thing in mocha flaver, which I really like. Then I looked closer: frozen mocha drink, three cups of yogurt, a frozen dinner, and a box of cookies. I could tell already that I liked this old woman. I imagined that, even though I say that I will one day grow up and buy adult food, that I will eventually end up like this old woman. Except there's no way in hell that I will buy vanilla cookies, of course. I'm about the chocolate.

As if to accent the occurance, for some reason the checkout lady seemed really sad that I did not have a club card to get discounts on my purchases. So she started asking everyone in line if they had a club card. Most didn't.

You see, I'd really like a club card. They'd come in handy. I just never take the time to do it.

Finally the checkout lady pouted, loudly: "Ooooh! But those cookies are on sale!"

Suddenly, an outstretched hand bearing a club card. It was Cookies Lady, passing on the love one cookie at a time.

I looked her in the eye and thanked her sincerely after thanking the check-out lady for her efforts. "You know, it's really worth putting in a little time to get the card," gushed Cookie Lady, "I waited years before I finally got mine..."

May I always take the time to get the card, and to enjoy a chocolate chip cookie.

Strange Times, My Dear

2006-02-21T19:28:00.000-05:00

در اين بن بست

دهان‌ات را مي‌بويند
مبادا که گفته باشي دوست‌ات مي‌دارم.
دل‌ات را مي‌بويند

روزگار ِ غريبي‌ست، نازنين
و عشق را
کنار ِ تيرک ِ راه‌بند
تازيانه مي‌زنند.

عشق را در پستوی خانه نهان بايد کرد

در اين بُن‌بست ِ کج‌وپيچ ِ سرما
آتش را

به سوخت‌بار ِ سرود و شعر

فروزان مي‌دارند.
به انديشيدن خطر مکن.

روزگار ِ غريبي‌ست، نازنين
آن که بر در مي‌کوبد شباهنگام
به کُشتن ِ چراغ آمده است.

نور را در پستوی خانه نهان بايد کرد
آنک قصابان‌اند
بر گذرگاه‌ها مستقر
با کُنده و ساتوری خون‌آلود

روزگار ِ غريبي‌ست، نازنين
و تبسم را بر لب‌ها جراحي مي‌کنند
و ترانه را بر دهان.

شوق را در پستوی خانه نهان بايد کرد

کباب ِ قناری
بر آتش ِ سوسن و ياس

روزگار ِ غريبي‌ست، نازنين
ابليس ِ پيروزْمست
سور ِ عزای ما را بر سفره نشسته است.

خدا را در پستوی خانه نهان بايد کرد

In This Deadend

They smell your breath.
You better not have said, "I love you."
They smell your heart.
These are strange times, my dear...
And they flog
love
at the roadblock.
We had better hide love in the closet...
In this crooked dead end and twisting chill,
they feed the fire
with the kindling of song and poetry.
Do not risk a thought.
These are strange times, my dear...
He who knocks on the door at midnight
has come to kill the light.
We had better hide light in the closet...
Those there are butchers
stationed at the crossroads
with bloody clubs and cleavers.
These are strange times, my dear...
And they excise smiles from lips
and songs from mouths.
We had better hide joy in the closet...
Canaries barbecued
on a fire of lilies and jasmine,
these are strange times, my dear...
Satan drunk with victory
sits at our funeral feast.
We had better hide God in the closet.
-Ahmad Shamlu

California dreaming on such a winter's day...

2006-02-16T12:39:00.000-05:00

Dear All,

Just got a letter today accepting me at UC Irvine, my top choice school. Now you'll have to come visit me in sunny Los Angeles (actually, I'm in the OC... cringe!)

Damn... I'm going to miss New York. Especially if I start doing crazy things like wearing shorts or pastels... aaaah!!!!!!!

Surf's up, dudes! Narley! (gnarly?) Hang ten! etc!

My Dear Friends at Hardy's

2006-02-15T15:54:00.000-05:00

For the past few days, in between swooning at photos of Bode Miller from the Olympics, I have come across New York Times article after New York Times article that have absolutely broken my heart. The mass circulation of ignorant cartoons has caused outbreaks of violence and the torching of "Western Businesses", which I am more inclined to think of as "someone's place of work; a family's livelyhood." Three siblings were killed in Iraq on their way to school, their innards stuck to walls of nearby shops. One of them was reportedly headless, the parent identifying the child because of his or her shoes.

Yet we want to up the budget and further occupy Iraq. Don't get me wrong; I am not one of those flighty types who thinks that an immediate and complete pull-out would be a good idea. Still, can't anyone see how ineffective we are? Will no one accept that we are aggravating the problem and causing increased violence with our world-wide double standards for those "with" and "against" us? Tighten our hold on Iraq, many Americans say: it's not their headless child that they're identifying by her Gap Kids jeans with the Britney Spears patch sewn on and toddler-sized pair of Puma sneakers.

The title of this article mentions Hardy's; I'll come to that one later.

One thing that has become painfully obvious in the past few weeks, between violence in Iraq and nuclear worries with Iran and Muslim World-wide cartoon protest, are the affects of double standards on a people's psyche. Sure, not everyone is participating in the violence, but in light of their status in the world, many peaceful people in the region seem more likely to lement the entire situation than to simply harbor hate for any terrorist, as many Westerners do.

Let's take Iran. When you get down to the heart of the matter, any given country does have the right to nuclear power. At the same time, we cannot be sure of this incredibly shady regime's actual intent. I am of the opinion that, in an ideal world no country should have nuclear weapons. This includes us.

So what are we witnessing here? The United States, the world's most nuclearly capable country, is, in conjunction with a wealth of other countries around the world, threatening sanctions and referral to the UN Security Council as a means of combating Iran's nuclear program. Obviously Israel, another veritable nuclear powerhouse, supports this whole heartedly. At the same time Israel, a country that has been extremely militarily aggressive in the past sixty-odd years, is allowed to have these weapons and is even supplied with them, no questions asked. Despite some fears over their use of the weapons, Pakistan and India have received no such punishment over the development of nuclear weapons.

We might as well re-write nuclear treaties to blatantly say that friends of, and governments installed by, the Western powers can quietly develop nuclear weapons, and non-friends (automatically labeled "foes") may not. And we wonder why many average Iranians, who don't actually give a shit whether they have a bomb or not, might just be moved to assert their right to nuclear power as a "fuck you" to the international bully that is the US and Europe anyway.

And the cartoons? Yeah, a newspaper has every right to publish whatever they want in the way of cartoons. But imagine a large newspaper printing such a cartoon about the Holocaust. Or better yet, printing a cartoon where Jesus is dressed as Adolph Hitler preparing to rape and/or kill everyone in sight (after all, more have died in Jesus' name than probably about anyone else- though it seems lately that Allah is catching up...). Anyone has the right to do this too. I doubt that anyone would be very happy about it though. Out of common decency and respect for other people, you don't do it. And sure, there would not be so much public violence as a result. On the other hand, the incident would probably be used as an excuse to take over whichever country printed it, kill their soliders and civilians, bulldoze their houses, all in the name of democracy.

The point is, it's really the same war on the both sides, with different armies and resources. The majority of military attacks are no more just than terrorist attacks. Both are fueled by some form of hate and greed and self-interest. What is the difference between a terrorist group and freedom fighters, other than a double standard. In my opinion, neither side is right. But we cannot alleviate the problem by creating false causes based on stereotypes and economic and strategic interest. We must stare the problem in the face, to look at what motivates each side and where our priorities should change to take care of our fellow human beings rather than adding to our wealth and power, which is already far in excess of what we really need.

Back to Hardy's.

I'm sure that I haven't really typed anything original in this entire post. You've all heard the arguments before, including those that are far more political and "scientific" than my own. Still, I think that talking about ideas while neglecting common decency as too unscientific is a trend that causes a lot of trouble in the world. Talking about sub-contracting and so-called "democracy" and strategic positioning and pretection of our borders against the evils of terrorism is a great and impersonal way to rally a country behind a war. Everyone does it. We already know that the United States does it an aweful lot. And I've got news for you- a lot of the resurgance of political Islam that is currently happening is not because Muslims are born freaks; it's the result of promises of change and being left with no other option. So much of it is about propoganda and "ideas". It's what causing people the world over to torch KFC's and kill 8-year-olds in the crossfire.

The one thing that too many people don't think about is people. So many Westerners read about the burning down of McDonalds and KFCs and Pizza Huts and feel personally affronted on an egotistical level.

I think of something different; I think of a possible target, the American chain restaurant, "Hardy's". Or more specifically, of my friends at Hardy's on Ismail Mohammed Street in Zamalek, Cairo, Egypt. These guys would not strike you as your typical fast food worker in the US. They value their jobs. They're really friendly. They are able to support families, though meagerly, on their salaries. They smile and remember where you live and where you come from. They wear Don-Juan, pointy, patend-leather shoes with their comparatively underdressed but neatly kept blue slacks and collared "Hardy's" shirts. They willingly put on their ugly Hardy's stars, which say "Team Member: Hossien" or "Team Member: Abd al-Hamid".

When you torch a KFC or a McDonalds or a Hardy's, this is who suffers. Sure, you're making a statement, but this sort of thing really does not hurt McDonalds much, with their world-wide empire. But it either kills or injures Hossein and Abd al-Hamid, or puts him out of a job, and while his kids go hungry.

These innocent people are the real losers in this game of chess. The more desparate of the population in these nations resort to killing or hurting their neighbors or countrymen. In large part, it is Western aspiration that fuel the entire phenomenon, going right back to colonialism and the eventual random carving out of coutries in poverty after years of hegemony. It is the United States using Egypt, of all countries, as a grand example of Democracy in the Middle East while turning a blind eye at the travesty that was their elections, a blind eye at a regime that suffers its people to be poor and illiterate by mainting absolute power and silencing an extremely vibrant political and scholarly community.

Unfortunately, one of the most difficult large-scale goals to achieve is to change attitudes. Because frankly, as of now, few people here give a shit. We're well off, and the price of gas will come down if we play our political cards right. Who cares about that guy at Hardy's?

2005-12-28T10:59:00.000-05:00

In the year 2006 I resolve to:

Getting deported.

Get your resolution here

2005-12-18T20:25:00.000-05:00

"Know that whatever you are doing is the most beautiful thing."

Happy Holidays

2005-12-14T15:34:00.000-05:00

I hope that my title does not offend too many of you. I'm really freakin' sorry that it doesn't say Merry Christmas. Please excuse my total bashing of Jesus Christ and my effots to obliterate Christmas.

Let me preface by saying that I don't agree with people who are really and truly offended by Christmas signs. The major Rash Hashana (sp?) and Yom Kippur presence and Chabad on Washington Square don't bother me. Hell, it's delightful to receive an apple and a packet of honey from a pair of Hassidic Jewish men on a nice fall afternoon. Express your religion all you want, and I'll reap the celebratory benefits. The more holidays the better, I say. Signs, decoration, and all.

But now the whole religious expression debate has gone to new lows. People offended at generic "Happy Holidays" signs and expressions?? Come on! To what depths is conservative America going in their political campaign that essential turns the United States into a hateful, isolationist, bigoted, evangelical Christian free-for-all? Is being inclusive really killing America? Is open-mindedness killing America? Are good relations with the rest of the world and good will to all regardless of religion, ethnicity, or nationality really killing America? No, Jerry Falwell and Bill O'Reilly, it is YOU who are killing America.

Is happiness contrary to the teachings Jesus Christ? Are holidays listed as one of the seven deadly sins? Then how is this simple phrase oppressing followers of Christmas? The New York City mayor's decision to label our tree "holiday" instead of "Christmas" in no way legislates restrictions on saying "Merry Christmas" or observing the holiday as we'd like. The tree hasn't changed in any way. It's simply a symbol of the true meaning of the season accessible to all religions, instead of being exclusively closed to Christians.

To you neo-cons: what is your obsession with the tree, anyway? Are you not contradicting yourselves? You claim to be mainting the presence of Christ in America and the holiday of Christmas in general and you're up in arms about a tree? I have never seen an evergreen present in a nativity scene. I've seen what is supposedly God's "burning bush" at the base of Mt. Sinai. That wasn't a Christmas-tree type evergreen either. My point is, in the realm of Christ's birth, the tree is trivial.

The same goes for the anger with department stores saying "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas". Aside from the fact that- oh my God!- there ARE other holidays taking place at this time of year that- oh my God!- real live Americans of other faiths are buying for, we should look deeper at the issue at hand. Like my above example of the tree, conservative Christians are up in arms about the Christmas policies of an institution that is inherently just what Christmas is mistaken for! One may validly argue that the department store frenzy has stolen some of God's thunder in the entire Christmas equation. But by knitpicking the stores for their signage, you are playing into this false symbol more than anyone else.

If neo-cons are really all about Christian values, they should drop all of the war-on-terror death of American values political propaganda crap surrounding these attacks on inclusive holiday well-wishing. Christmas is thriving. It is celebrated in millions of different ways in millions of households. I have never once heard of an instance in the US where someone was persecuted for celebrating Christmas.

If actual persecution does begin to occur, give us a call back- all people should be able to practice their beliefs freely. But until then, quit the politically underhanded "death of Christmas" campaign; using religion to control the masses and attempting to forcefully incorporate into everyday life is wholly un-American... and for that matter, wholly un-Christian.

Editorial: Death of an American city . NY Times 12/11

2005-12-13T15:39:00.000-05:00

We are about to lose New Orleans. Whether it is a conscious plan to let the city rot until no one is willing to move back or honest paralysis over difficult questions, the moment is upon us when a major American city will die, leaving nothing but a few shells for tourists to visit like a museum.

We said this wouldn't happen. President Bush said it wouldn't happen. He stood in Jackson Square and said, "There is no way to imagine America without New Orleans." But it has been over three months since Hurricane Katrina struck and the city is in complete shambles.

There are many unanswered questions that will take years to work out, but one is make-or-break and needs to be dealt with immediately. It all boils down to the levee system. People will clear garbage, live in tents, work their fingers to the bone to reclaim homes and lives, but not if they don't believe they will be protected by more than patches to the same old system that failed during the deadly storm. Homeowners, businesses and insurance companies all need a commitment before they will stake their futures on the city.

At this moment the reconstruction is a rudderless ship. There is no effective leadership that we can identify. How many people could even name the president's liaison for the reconstruction effort, Donald Powell? Lawmakers need to understand that for New Orleans the words "pending in Congress" are a death warrant requiring no signature.

The rumbling from Washington that the proposed cost of better levees is too much has grown louder. Pretending we are going to do the necessary work eventually, while stalling until the next hurricane season is upon us, is dishonest and cowardly. Unless some clear, quick commitments are made, the displaced will have no choice but to sink roots in the alien communities where they landed.

The price tag for protection against a Category 5 hurricane, which would involve not just stronger and higher levees but also new drainage canals and environmental restoration, would very likely run to well over $32 billion. That is a lot of money. But that starting point represents just 1.2 percent of this year's estimated $2.6 trillion in federal spending, which actually overstates the case, since the cost would be spread over many years. And it is barely one-third the cost of the $95 billion in tax cuts passed just last week by the House of Representatives.

Total allocations for the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and the war on terror have topped $300 billion. All that money has been appropriated as the cost of protecting the nation from terrorist attacks. But what was the worst possible case we fought to prevent?

Losing a major American city.

"We'll not just rebuild, we'll build higher and better," President Bush said that night in September. Our feeling, strongly, is that he was right and should keep to his word. We in New York remember well what it was like for the country to rally around our city in a desperate hour. New York survived and has flourished. New Orleans can too.

Of course, New Orleans's local and state officials must do their part as well, and demonstrate the political and practical will to rebuild the city efficiently and responsibly. They must, as quickly as possible, produce a comprehensive plan for putting New Orleans back together. Which schools will be rebuilt and which will be absorbed? Which neighborhoods will be shored up? Where will the roads go? What about electricity and water lines? So far, local and state officials have been derelict at producing anything that comes close to a coherent plan. That is unacceptable.

The city must rise to the occasion. But it will not have that opportunity without the levees, and only the office of the president is strong enough to goad Congress to take swift action. Only his voice is loud enough to call people home and convince them that commitments will be met.

Maybe America does not want to rebuild New Orleans. Maybe we have decided that the deficits are too large and the money too scarce, and that it is better just to look the other way until the city withers and disappears. If that is truly the case, then it is incumbent on President Bush and Congress to admit it, and organize a real plan to help the dislocated residents resettle into new homes. The communities that opened their hearts to the Katrina refugees need to know that their short-term act of charity has turned into a permanent commitment.

If the rest of the nation has decided it is too expensive to give the people of New Orleans a chance at renewal, we have to tell them so. We must tell them we spent our rainy-day fund on a costly stalemate in Iraq, that we gave it away in tax cuts for wealthy families and shareholders. We must tell them America is too broke and too weak to rebuild one of its great cities.

Our nation would then look like a feeble giant indeed. But whether we admit it or not, this is our choice to make. We decide whether New Orleans lives or dies.

Los Angeles Riots 1992

2005-12-09T15:48:00.000-05:00

"Cora Looney. Aged 102,
(as verified by her driver’s license)

After hearing on the news and on the street how officers were beating and shooting suspected looters, she went to every policeman she could find and pleaded for them to show restraint.

To not hurt anyone else. To please end the bloodshed and violence.

They laughed in her face.

She cried, but did not stop.

Accompanying Cora is her 78 year old daughter who drove her around in this 90 degree, smoke filled heat."

2005-12-02T16:08:00.000-05:00

I have been tricked by flying too close to what I thought I loved.
Now the candleflame is out, the wine spilled,and the lovers have withdrawnsomewhere beyond my squinting.
The amount I thought I'd won, I've lost.My prayers becomes bitter and all about blindness.
How wonderful it was to be for a whilewith those who surrender.
Others only turn their faces on way,then another, like pigeon in flight.
I have known pigeons who fly in a nowhere,and birds that eat grainlessness,
and tailor who sew beautiful clothesby tearing them to pieces.
~Rumi

Back in the day

2005-12-01T16:50:00.000-05:00

I just realized that every year I am surrpised at how late into the year the weather stays warm. It is December already, and the tempurature is not so bad. I don't even need a winter coat every day yet. Likewise, every Spring me, and many other people who grew up in this area, are bewildered as to why it is March or April and still freezing (save those two or three days every March when, for some reason, it is 80 degrees outside).

If I am surrpised at the same phenomenon every year, shouldn't it eventually dawn on me that what I am experiencing is reality, not this notion of weather that comes from God-knows-where? Shouldn't I know by now that, living on the water, it is often too mild to have a White Christmas, and that I cannot folic through the flowers in March and April, like I would in Washington, because it is typically just too damn cold?

I even seem the remember the weather being different. But now I have a feeling that my memories are like those of my older family members who claim that the snow was always 10 feet high all winter and that they could ice skate on ponds because it was colder and they froze better and not because there were no fire department regulations. My view of weather comes from some children's book published in the midwest for national distribution, and at age 20 I remain amazed at my own reality.

Unless it's all a matter of global warming, which apparently can make the weather colder also- as long as things are just generally fucked up.

racial profiling.

2005-12-01T01:24:00.000-05:00

I came to a conclusion about my Persian class that I guess I realized before but never thought much about- we are who we associate with. Or actaully, we associate with what we are. There is a clear division within the class by race/culture/whatever you prefer to call it (as you will see, a combination of things actually). The Urdu-speaking girls sit together, and the guy who studied Hindi (and I believe he is originally from the area) also sits with them. The two "most" Iranian guys often associate, and the two "moderately" Iranian girls associate. The "lesser" Iranian kids are sort of together, sort of with the non-Iranians. There are a few outliers. I am an outlier because I arrive to class really late and don't talk much. There is also this lovely Japanese girl who is an outlier. I mean she talks some but I find that she has no equivalent within the class. She is quintessentially what an anthropologist might describe as "The Japanese Student" (The with a capital T)- Disciplined, respectful, polished.

This phenomenon was first pointed out to me by my favorite professor (hopefully advisor next year) in my huge lecture class that I had with her two years ago. It was also a class on Modern Iran, and in a discussion that we had she pointed out how the Iranians- the largest single national/ethnic group in the class (the rest was mixed obviously) all sat together on one side of a room. I also remember when I used to take Italian class that the same thing happened. Granted, everyone in my high school was Italian. However, the "more" Italian kids definitely banded together and spoke their broken Italian slang together and frolicked and giggled about their shared cultural experiences (Yes, I was one of these).

Is this sort of association the most comfortable for us, so much so that we do not dare branch out? Or is this a necessary occurance in these odd situations where you throw a somewhat random and unassuming group of completely different people (especially in a language class- it's not like a game theory class where everyone is, guess what, a game theorist) in a room together four days a week? On any note, I am kind of glad that it happens simply because I can watch it all unfold, reminded yet again of just how cool IS the basharia....

2005-11-18T13:18:00.000-05:00

Fog's rollin' in off the East River bank
Like a shroud it covers Bleeker Street
Fills the alleys where men sleep
Hides the shepherd from the sheep

Voices leaking from a sad cafe
Smiling faces try to understand
I saw a shadow touch a shadow's hand
On Bleeker Street

A poet reads his crooked rhyme
Holy, holy is his sacrament
Thirty dollars pays your rent
On Bleeker Street

I head a church bell softly chime
In a melody sustainin'
It's a long road to Caanan
On Bleeker Street
Bleeker Street

Universal Tauhid

2005-11-15T23:48:00.000-05:00

Ali Shariati makes an interesting point, mainly that God and man are like man and his limb. Man needs his limb to recognize his command carry shit out for him, while the limb is like a corpse without someone breathing life into it.

This said, assuming there is a God, is it not wrong to compare him to the tree falling in the middle of the forrest. If a tree falls in the middle of a forrest and there's no one there to hear it, does it make a noise? From a technical point of view, no- the waves need a receptor to be transformed into sound. And philosophically? If no one is there to hear the tree falling, does it matter whether it makes a noise? Do we care? Should that tree even have baring on us in the first place?

2005-11-10T15:35:00.000-05:00

"...dealing with this (Iranian) regime is like playing chess with a monkey. You can have your next 18 moves planned, but the monkey might suddenly grab the queen and eat it." And that means nobody wins the game. (Abbas Milani)

Will:

2005-11-10T01:29:00.000-05:00

Why shouldn't I work for the N.S.A.? That's a tough one, but I'll take a shot. Say I'm working at the N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. Maybe I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, 'cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people that I never met and that I never had no problem with get killed. Now the politicians are sayin', "Send in the marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number was called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some kid from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. And he comes home to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile he realizes the only reason he was over there in the first place was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And of course the oil companies used the skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices. A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. They're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and fuckin' play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So now my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive, so he's walking to the fuckin' job interviews, which sucks 'cause the schrapnel in his ass is givin' him chronic hemorroids. And meanwhile he's starvin' 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State.

So what did I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. I figure, fuck it, while I'm at it, why not just shoot my buddy, take his job and give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? Then I could be elected president.

2005-10-31T16:52:00.000-05:00

Daylight savings time always amazes me. People tell me that I'm crazy when I say this, but I attach strong feelings to the angle of light. The sun setting earlier is a combination of the earth's position at any given time of year and the fact that what was once "6:30 pm" is now "5:30 pm". If you pay close enough attention over a long period of time (i.e. every day for a few years) you begin to develop a very innate sense of what the sun looks like at certain hours of the day at certain times of the year.

I began exploring this a very long time ago. My mother used to have to wear dark sunglasses when picking us up from after school activities during certain months because of her sensitive eyes and "that afternoon winter sun... it'll kill you."

So develops in my life a time that is no time and a space that is no space (sounds very Shi'i, doesn't it?). As I gazed up at the sun while walking down Bleecker Street today, I was all at once pumpkin picking with my father's fimily while listening to my uncle play the harmonica (a skill that I did not know he possessed), and sitting in a tree of an apple farm after going picking with my brother, mom, and my mother's friend and her son. I was picking up my grandmother from the hospital as she used a walker for the first time and was bundled up in a brown fur coat, marching down the football field with 21 other Falconettes with the band playing behind us, and falling asleep content on a futon after having eaten ham and cheese crepes, exhausted from the stress of yet another near miss in our three month sky diving odyssey. I was getting off of a school bus, seeing my uncle's car in our driveway (he lived in South Carolina at the time) and getting a strange suspicion that my grand father had died (he was in fact just placed in a nursing home).

Next year I will look up, from wherever I will be, and still be walking down Bleecker Street with a newly purchased bag of halloween Reese's peanut butter cups in one hand and a People magazine in the other (Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn!!).

It won't be last year or five years ago or ten years ago or even fifteen. It will just be that 3 o'clock autumn sun.

2005-10-19T16:42:00.000-04:00

I sat at the table in that monstrosity of a restaurant, eating alone. Finally, I thought of turning to the group of construction workers at the table next to me, opening my eyes wide as if I were committed, and saying slowly, in a high pitched voice, "I'm waiting for my love to join me! It's been a year! But today, he's coming!" The mood just struck me that day to make the best of my solitude and act like a loon.

I was a bit startled. That was me.

2005-08-21T14:28:00.000-04:00

"And then I thought, where on Earth would nobody notice a town full of robots?
......... CONNECTICUT!!"
~the stepford wives

2005-08-07T11:48:00.000-04:00

There is a 5 or 10 minute stretch of land between leaving Lebanon and entering Syria where there is no discernable law enforcement body, and Dunkin Donuts reigns.

No, I'm actually serious. It was the biggest Dunkin I've ever seen.

2005-06-12T13:09:00.000-04:00

I came to New York because everywhere else I was a misfit. Here, everyone's a misfit.

A story from Giza

2005-06-11T08:44:00.000-04:00

At the Sphynx there were all of these seven year old children selling statues and pieces of papyrus and dolls for a bit of money. While a few were allowed, then their numbers grew too high a man working there would come and kick them out (most would return after a few minutes). There were two little boys, however, that he grabbed simultanously by the collar (using only one hand for the two of them!) and dragged them out by the back of their shirts while they screamed and cried.

And it was not the sight of the man grabbing the children that brought tears to my eyes, but rather, the sight of the tougher one putting his arm around the crying one as the two of them walked away from the sight.

2005-06-10T01:50:00.000-04:00

Winter
Winter
Winter
Winter

(The winter of our discontent turned glorious summer.)

Spring is inevitable.

(wa ahsan fasl, bi nisba li, huwa al-kharif.)

2005-05-26T16:41:00.000-04:00

I never understood when people leave New York. I mean... where do they go?

2005-05-15T12:40:00.000-04:00

I noticed lately that everything around us is constantly moving, everything simultaneously in cycle yet relatively moving forward. People's roles change, we have deaths, the earth shedding that which is dead, and births to replenish itself. We are part of it but stuck in it.

In a world of moving forward and moving on I lay domant. Sometimes I see what I'm leaving behind and not what I am running toward. In some other cases I see what I'm leaving behind and seem to be running toward nothing. Sometimes, there just aren't enough rocks.

آیدا در آينه

2005-04-26T23:24:00.000-04:00

لبان‌ات

به ظرافت ِ شعر

شهواني‌ترين ِ بوسه‌ها را به شرمي چنان مبدل مي‌کند
که جان‌دار ِ غارنشين از آن سود مي‌جويد
تا به صورت ِ انسان درآيد.

و گونه‌هاي‌ات

با دو شيار ِ مورّب،

که غرور ِ تو را هدايت مي‌کنند و

سرنوشت ِ مرا

که شب را تحمل کرده‌ام

بي‌آن‌که به انتظار ِ صبح

مسلح بوده باشم،

و بکارتي سربلند را
از روسبي‌خانه‌هاي ِ دادوستد
سربه‌مُهر بازآورده‌ام.

هرگز کسي اين‌گونه فجيع به کشتن ِ خود برنخاست که من به زنده‌گي
نشستم!

□
و چشمان‌ات راز ِ آتش است.

و عشق‌ات پيروزي‌ي ِ آدمي‌ست
هنگامي که به جنگ ِ تقدير مي‌شتابد.

و آغوش‌ات
اندک جائي براي ِ زيستن
اندک جائي براي ِ مردن

و گريز ِ از شهر

که با هزار انگشت

به‌وقاحت

پاکي‌ي ِ آسمان را متهم مي‌کند.

□

کوه با نخستين سنگ‌ها آغاز مي‌شود
و انسان با نخستين درد.

در من زنداني‌ي ِ ستم‌گري بود
که به آواز ِ زنجيرش خو نمي‌کرد ــ
من با نخستين نگاه ِ تو آغاز شدم.

□

توفان‌ها

در رقص ِ عظيم ِ تو

به‌شکوه‌مندي

ني‌لبکي مي‌نوازند،

و ترانه‌ي ِ رگ‌هاي‌ات
آفتاب ِ هميشه را طالع مي‌کند.

بگذار چنان از خواب برآيم
که کوچه‌هاي ِ شهر
حضور ِ مرا دريابند.

دستان‌ات آشتي است
و دوستاني که ياري مي‌دهند

تا دشمني

از ياد

برده شود.

پيشاني‌ات آينه‌ئي بلند است
تاب‌ناک و بلند،
که خواهران ِ هفت‌گانه در آن مي‌نگرند
تا به زيبائي‌ي ِ خويش دست يابند.

دو پرنده‌ي ِ بي‌طاقت در سينه‌ات آواز مي‌خوانند.
تابستان از کدامين راه فرا خواهد رسيد
تا عطش
آب‌ها را گواراتر کند؟

تا در آئينه پديدار آئي
عمري دراز در آن نگريستم
من برکه‌ها و درياها را گريستم
اي پري‌وار ِ در قالب ِ آدمي
که پيکرت جز در خُلواره‌ي ِ ناراستي نمي‌سوزد! ــ
حضورت بهشتي‌ست
که گريز ِ از جهنم را توجيه مي‌کند،
دريائي که مرا در خود غرق مي‌کند
تا از همه گناهان و دروغ
شسته شوم.

و سپيده‌دم با دست‌هاي‌ات بيدار مي‌شود

I'm stickin' with you, 'cuz I'm made out of glue.

2005-04-19T01:03:00.000-04:00

People going to the stratosphere.
Soldiers fighting with the Cong?

But with you by my side I can do anything.
When we swing,
we hang past right or wrong.

~The Velvet Underground.

Marxism and other western fallacies

2005-04-17T19:18:00.000-04:00

"And the watchwords! Liberalism!- that is, apathy. Democracy!- that is, "Elect those who have already chosen your lot for you." Life? Material existance. Morals? Opportunism and egoism. The goal? Consumption. The philosophy of life? Satiation of the natural appetites. The ultimate aim? A life of leisure and enjoyment. Faith? Ideals? Love? The meaning of existence? The meaning of man? Forget it!.
"But Adam rebelled, even in this paradise on earth."
~Ali Shari'ati

OK, you all know that I am not into the Adam stuff, but it is an effective touch.

Travesty!

2005-04-14T00:54:00.000-04:00

Save Washington Square Park!

No sooner did I finish writing a detailed email about the perfection of Washington Square park on a warm summer's eve , when I heard that the entire park is going through a two year renovation! Contingent upon budget working out, which is likel will not!

Changes include moving the fountain, displacing the dog run, closing certain seating area, possibly MOVING GARABALDI (we won't be able to call the permanent puddle located in front of the statue "lake garabaldi" any more!!!!!). Fuck! Ok, as if all of this was not bad enough.... they want to build a large fence around the perimeter of the park, which will be locked at night!

:-0! I am about to take a heart attack here. This seems like a minor thing, but seriously- this is like, the meeting place of my life! This is the park where I first stood and looked up at Hayden Hall the summer before I moved in, trying to count every floor to find where 16 was. The park where I bid my family goodbye when I moved to college. It was on these benches that Morad told me fairy tales about princesses and birds. I gave Isley his very own Jim Beam belt buckle in the fountain. Molly had to pull me from a tree where I got stuck here! In the North West corner I got clotheslined by Hot Lucas playing slushy-style football (in a foot of snow, tackle football!). Sarah and I spend fourth of july soaking our feet in the fountain. I got into snowball fights with Paul, Matt, and Katie, even though we were 18 year olds among a bunch of small children. Do we see the significance here??

But worst of all is that fence. How can you close Washington Square Park at night? How will we look at the blazing white arch? How will I lie in the grass and look at the moon? WHERE WILL THE GROUP OF HIPPIE OLD PEOPLE, INCLUDING THE WOMAN WITH THE 1980'S ROCK STAR HAIR, JAM TO CLASSIC ROCK WITH ANYONE WILLING AND ABLE TO PLAY WITH THEM???? Fuck! The greatest thing about Washington Square Park are those nights when you're alone, or maybe with one good friend. Either way, you feel lonely but the warm air makes you hopefull. Everyone around is the same, and everyone feels it. Love stricken girls and guys either walk around or take their seat in the fountain, it really doesn't matter, and they look around for one of those New York Romance moments to happen while some instrument drones sadly in the background. It is right after sunset and the lights have just turned on even though they are not 100% necessary. Since it's the middle of the week at night, there are not so many tourists walking around. Only people who really get it...

Truthfully, I don't know how to fight this decision, it comes from the top down. Nevertheless, like so many things in life, the park is going to change. Some other NYU kid is going to have to enter the university with a fountain 25 feet displaced and no place to sit at night and fall in love...

The Life Before Us

2005-04-09T12:49:00.000-04:00

Fishes pulling a carpet through the air doenst't seem to make much sense, but religion is like that. -Momo

On a full stomach of Turkish food

2005-04-08T01:14:00.000-04:00

It was one of those lovely nights tonight, like one that I wrote about a good while back when my professor had a party where the people were amazing, the red wine flowed, the masto khiar and lamb was made with care, and the ney and tambur played never stopped playing. This one involved red wine again, per usual, some of the best people I know though a different group from the party, more masto khiar, and some kabob instead. No music other than Pablo and Emi's melodious banter, with Seba's occassional cackle drifting from the other end of the table.

When I got back downtown, Alvaro and I parted ways with a kiss on the cheek. I think that Americans would be an all around happier and move loving people if we kissed more.

The East Village had a muted sound. A couple embraced, soaking wet, in front of my front door. An old black man with a beard played a meloncholic improvization on his saxophone near Cooper Square, and it reverberated down Seventh St.

It was the first warm rain of the season. That rain that comes every year.

se'usaafer illah al-qahira!

2005-04-07T13:04:00.000-04:00

One of my thrills in life is explication songs, pretty much like explicating poetry except I play a lot less attention to sound devices and other linguistic crap unless they are terribly blatant. There has always been one song that I could not quite get- one of my favorites, "Take it to the limit" by The Eagles (and guess who missed TWO opportunities to win Eagles tickets on the radio?! Oh, yeah, me! :) )

Anyway, it all at once finally dawned on me today, and I wasn't even looking for it. The meaning!

It's about a last hurrah. I never quite got why they simultaneously talked about commitment/love AND setting out on one's own and living a crazy lifestyle. That's where the last hurrah comes in- this guy is finally about to settle down but, I imagine, he is going to set out on that highway one last time, for one last night of *romance and adventure*.

This song is terribly appropriate for me. No, I am not settling into a marriage or whatever, but after a whirlwind few years here at NYU (partying, not having a clue what the hell I am doing, dealing with family crap and my past, etc.), I finally have to come into next year working on a thesis and deciding what I am going to do about school after I graduate (quite frankly, I cannot afford to take time in between and start paying off my student loans, especially in my field which I would imagine does not have a high starting pay). But before that, before my partial "settling down" (yet ironically, I will be uprooting in about a year), there is...............THIS SUMMER. This summer is going to be the epitome of me not knowing what the hell I am doing. I have almost a month between when school gets out and when I go to Cairo. I think I'll die if I go to Rhode Island for this month. Therefore, it has occured to me that I will stay in New York, rotating between my *most appreciated* friends who have offered me a place to shack up for a few days. Then Cairo. What the hell am I doing going to Cairo alone? It's not through NYU, so I don't have the university to help me. I cannot speak Arabic, that's for damn sure. And I don't know anybody going there. I love it! As long as I can float adrift on the Nile with my face in the sun, I'll be great :). As for when I get back... it's looking like semi-freeloading (or at least really cheaploading, thanks Eben) in Astoria. I remember the first person I ever met from Astoria- it was my Greek neighbors' tough little boy cousin, when I was just a kid. Astoria really scared me after that, until I moved here to NYC at least. Who would've though that I might be a partial resident?! Not me!

I have definitely never lived with this much uncertainty in my life, but it's really exciting. I was talking to someone that I knew in high school the other day, and he was asking, "So, you're still going to be a lawyer? .... But you were good.... well what are you going to do then...." When I said I had no idea, he asked who the imposter was. And it's so true- this is so not me. I used to be so afraid of this sort of thing. I'm glad I'm not anymore, because a little adventure was always so appealing to me.

So put me on a highway and show me a sign and take it to the limit one more time.

2005-04-06T00:05:00.000-04:00

Maybe we were better off when we thought less and kissed more.

... to win the affection of small children...

2005-04-05T01:48:00.000-04:00

I didn't pay that much attention to Ralph Waldo Emerson in high school. I found him boring and I am sure I only completed about a fifth of his readings that I was assigned. I probably found the majority of what he said to be mindless rambling, as is the case with most people who are too smart and thoughtful for their own good and use 100 pages when 5 will suffice.

The smartest thing that came from his pen was a quote on the meaning of success. I won't quote the whole thing, though it's not really that long. But I want to bring attention to making the world a better place, whether by "a healthy child, a garden patch ora redeemed social condition." This is brilliant.

I for one was brought up in a society where success is graduating college, getting hired for a more than decent salary right out of college while kicking someone out in middle management who has worked at the company for 10 years and who is payed too much and is of too little value to the bureacracy. Then you should get married to a smart girl, not too threatening, one who is pretty, who your mom likes, and who miraculously manages to that extra half of a child, that half-child that puts you at the national average of 2.5. You have a house in suburbia and you just barely make the mortgage payments because of that car in the driveway that you can't quite afford. Hey, it costs a lot to outfit the children in Baby Gap.

The beauty of Emerson's quote is that it stresses not what success is, but its variability. Healthy children? I'd like one or two, please, the extra half is not necessary. Maybe I'll do nothing else of public note in my life but raise a kid who shares with others and makes old people smile because he holds the door for them. Or maybe I'll die only having planted a few hyacinths and a string of niloofar- but my little garden behind a chain link fence on a corner in the east village will be purple for at least a portion of the year, and that'll make people like me happy, and photo students will take pictures of it and dogs will have a comfortable spot to whiz.

A redeemed social condition? This one I only dream of achieving.

Taking a step back, I shouldn't be hypcritical. If you are happy in your house and Baby Gap makes you beam while you walk Missy, Junior, and Half Junior , then by all means. You're successful too, because you lived how you wanted to even though liberal schmucks like myself criticized you for it in their esoterically named weblogs. Cheers :)

i like the way your sparkling earrings lay against your skin so brown...

2005-04-02T13:36:00.000-05:00

Now, I found out a long time ago
What a woman can do to your soul.
Oh, but she can't take you any way
you don't already know how to go.

And I got a peaceful, easy feeling.
And I know you won't let me down.
'Cause I'm already standing on the ground.

I get this feeling I may know you
as a lover and a friend.
But this voice keeps whispering in my other ear,
tells me I may never see you again.

This one's for me and Jess...

2005-03-31T23:38:00.000-05:00

She would never say where she came from.
Yesterday don't matter if it's gone.
Whle the sun is bright
or in the darkest night
No one knows.
She comes and goes.

Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday
Who could hang a name on you
when you change with every new day?
Still, I'm gonna miss you...

Don't question why she needs to be so free.
She'll tell you it's the only way to be.
She just can't be chained
to a life where nothing's gained
and nothing's lost
at such a cost.

There's no time to lose, I heard her say
Catch your dreams before they slip away.
Dying all the time,
lose your dreams
and you will lose your mind.
Ain't life unkind?

Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday.
Who could hang a name on you
when you change with every new day?
Still, I'm gonna miss you.

The girl in the cafe during Arabic class

2005-03-31T12:35:00.000-05:00

I am not in Arabic class right now. I should be. There are 14 minutes left in the class. It seems pointless though. I wish that we could learn more, move faster, etc. We didn't even have any homework due today. Hopefully my grade will not be affected by this. I should really not skip a class from now on, seeing as this is the second I've skipped this week.

Speaking of Arabic, I was involved in somebody's intimate moment last week. One of those moments where you know everything about a person, exactly what the look on his orher face is about, but the person doesn't know that you know, or even that you're there.

There is a Yemeni girl in my Arabic class who is always late to class- she's the girl that always comes in a couple minutes after I do. I am thankful for her. Otherwise I would be the supremely late one. Now I am the mildly late one. Anyway, something told me that she was always the same amount of time late because she commutes. She strikes me as a New Yorker. I have no foundation for this. She just looks a bit funkier than everyone else, a bit more learned, a bit less willing to take crap from people. Also, a certain train schedule would explain the same lateness every day.

But one day, I was walking into class and looked in the window of a cafe next door. She was sitting there, drinking a coffee. Talking to a boy. Class had already started a good ten or fifteen minutes before. Btu she looked thus engaged in conversation. I walked the rest of the way into the room with a smile on my face- I knew her secret (this also could've been a one time meeting between colleagues or something. I could blowing this out of proportion. But I don't care!)

She walked into class a few minutes after me. I swore that I saw a smile on her face. And I was the only person in the entire world who knew what it meant, besides her. And we all walk around with this sort of disposition. Everybody has a story.

And on that note, maybe we should start thinking more about people's "stories" when we deal wit hthem. Like when I go into the market and the cashier is bitchy. You know. Maybe her boyfriend broke up with her or her aunt is in the hospital. Or maybe the girl with the goofy smile just got engaged.

This is why I like sitting in the windows of cares and calling shots at where people are going. Try it. It's fun. Some tool in a suit walks by with flowers- "oh, I'll bet he forgot his anniversary and is tryng to make it look like he had the dinner that they're going to all planned out in advance.". Etc etc.

Human life is an endless array of possibilities.

Old black water, keep on rollin'

2005-03-29T18:59:00.001-05:00

....Mississippi moon, won't you keep on shinin' on me?

Randomness for the day-

I had a revelation yesterday- I was lucky enough to notice that a great moment or few moments was indeed great. New York City, 2 or 3 AM or so, Ali and Kia: can I just say that we cruised down Broadway in a sky blue early nineties oldie but goodie, and while we entering the Times Square area (it's its own light source!) we rolled the windows down and blasted Elton John's "Candle in the Wind" (The "England's Rose" version, I think, though I am not sure). This was following a lovely rendition of Extreme's "More than Words" (blast from the past for all your high school dance goers, eh?!!). It was amazing- probably you, whoever you are, will not appreciate it. But at least maybe you'll be moved to appreciate the little quirky moments that constitute your own life. The ones that no one else would understand- they are yours alone.

See, Kia, I only indirectly revealed your affinity for adult contemporary ;).
woops.
Come on people- shut up. I'm a victim. You're a victim. We're all victims. We all love adult contemporary. Fess up. These are the songs of our lives here. Don't tell me that you don't break out in song when "Eternal Flame" or "I'll Stand by You" comes one the radio and you're alone in your room with nobody watching.

*************
On an unrelated note. What's your favorite element on the periodic table? I never used to pose questions, other than rhetorical ones, in this weblog because I figured no one would answer and I'd be embarassed. I still figure no one will answer. But that's ok. Just putting out some food for thought.

My favorite element is Radon 222. Not only is it a Noble Gas, but as far as I've researched, the only one radioactive in all of its isotopes. This is terribly .... good. And you know, Radon is not a common pick. It is off to the side on the chart. It is not an overly common and essential element like oxygen or nitrogen or hydrogen. It is not shiny or pretty. Nor is it one of those with the really freaking wierd names that people pick just to sound different. Radon is keeping it real- it's modest yet has amazing credentials. It's a quiet cool, and quite cool at that. I like its style. As for the particular isotope, 222 just happens to be my favorite number.

*************

Finally, I came to he realization today that life does not have to be a continuous, dragged on thing, but rather a mosaic of tiny moments. Kind of like my favorite painting, Sunday at Le Grand Jatte, by Suerat. Far away it's a pleasing scene of the profiles of a bunch of people standing on the shore, in a park on a Sunday afternoon. Up close, it's a bunch of different dots. Though we may be on a dot where we don't want to be, odds are we'll eventually end up on one of the really good ones, which for me would be a purple one. And this prospect is really exciting.

2005-03-27T22:15:00.000-05:00

این جا کسی است پنهان دامان من گرفته خود را سپس کشیده پیشان من گرفته
این جا کسی است پنهان چون جان و خوشتر از جان باغی به من نموده ایوان من گرفته
این جا کسی است پنهان همچون خیال در دل اما فروغ رویش ارکان من گرفته
این جا کسی است پنهان مانند قند در نی شیرین شکرفروشی دکان من گرفته
جادو و چشم بندی چشم کسش نبیند سوداگری است موزون میزان من گرفته
چون گلشکر من و او در همدگر سرشته من خوی او گرفته او آن من گرفته
در چشم من نیاید خوبان جمله عالم بنگر خیال خوبش مژگان من گرفته
من خسته گرد عالم درمان ز کس ندیدم تا درد عشق دیدم درمان من گرفته
تو نیز دل کبابی درمان ز درد یابی گر گرد درد گردی فرمان من گرفته
در بحر ناامیدی از خود طمع بریدی زین بحر سر برآری مرجان من گرفته
بشکن طلسم صورت بگشای چشم سیرت تا شرق و غرب بینی سلطان من گرفته
ساقی غیب بینی پیدا سلام کرده پیمانه جام کرده پیمان من گرفته
من دامنش کشیده کای نوح روح دیده از گریه عالمی بین طوفان من گرفته
تو تاج ما وآنگه سرهای ما شکسته تو یار غار وآنگه یاران من گرفته
گوید ز گریه بگذر زان سوی گریه بنگر عشاق روح گشته ریحان من گرفته
یاران دل شکسته بر صدر دل نشسته مستان و می‌پرستان میدان من گرفته
همچو سگان تازی می‌کن شکار خامش نی چون سگان عوعو کهدان من گرفته
تبریز شمس دین را بر چرخ جان ببینی اشراق نور رویش کیهان من گرفته

threes a charm

2005-03-27T20:48:00.000-05:00

dear mr or ms optimum online user:

please show yourself! who actually reads this crap on a regular basis?!!

~marisa-lyn marisa menna

number two today, on a roll

2005-03-27T20:24:00.000-05:00

I was walking down the street a little while ago, feeling pretty lonely. I was thinking about writing a weblog about how my last two relationships have ended for the same reasons, and maybe it's me. But I abandoned writing about that when:

A gentleman breezed down 2nd avenue on rollerskates- yes, skates not blades- dressed up as an Eastern Bunny.
Then I looked at the specials at my favorite establishment in the city, B and H vegetarian restaurant, and a nice guy walked by and said, "best soup in the city."
And I smiled, realizing that I still haven't lost the reaffirmation that I've had for nearly three years- at least I'm in New York.

random lingering thoughts

2005-03-27T17:37:00.000-05:00

I want to write and get a lot of things out there today but I don't know where to begin. It's like some sort of receptical with a very small openening- if you try to force everything out at once nothing will get out at all. That's what I feel like right now; a lot of different, random crap inside me waiting to exit my mouth or my fingers onto the screen but it's all clogged up.

The cloud cover is thinning and a nicely colored pink light is shining though. Looking into the east village from the beginning of seventh street, everything looks quite blue. I wanted to continue the rhyme but everything sounded too forced. One of my pet peeves is forced rhymes. Or forced anything for that matter. I was noticing that I cannot force myself to be a lot of things. Like flirty or girly or a kiss ass, etc. A lot of people see this as a weakness in me, that I don't make some sacrifices to get things. I like this in me though, personally. I kind of feel proud of myself when I don't get something (a guy, a job, whatever) because I didn't compromise my true personality to do it. Maybe I'm just stubborn though. Anyway, that point of all this was that looking down seventh st, i wanted to take a self portait in front of this pole. But I was too short for my face to be above this bright yellow piece of paper. That paper would add a bad color tone to my skin. The world is amazing after learning color photography. You notice colors more. How they work together. Influence each other. How they never look the same two days in a row, and how nobody views them quite the same way either.

There's a feeling I get when I look to the west, and my spirit is crying for leaving. In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees and the voices of those who stand looking.

In the morning mist, two lovers kissed and the world stood still.

WnstnCat2: I am weird.
Ebenanderson: marisa... everyone is weird.
Ebenanderson: Isn't it a question of comfort?
Ebenanderson: I just pretend everyone else is like I am.
Ebenanderson: :D

They played a song last night. It was about freedom. Azadi, I think. Everyone said, rather monotone: Azadi. Different people. Not talking to each other. Walking in different directions on the same big dance floor. It was solemn and beautiful.

Is it true what Timur says? Either you're lonely for the rest of your life, or you're pissed off for the rest of you life? :D. Either way, I like it.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
are heaped for the beloved's bed.

a light went off and angels sang

2005-03-24T17:14:00.000-05:00

I have been conscious of my laziness and procrastination this semester. But I get by. Today, however, I have finally realized what a complete and utter waste of a good mind, not to mention a human, I am.

Thank God!

It's going to be tough. I hate my classes with a fervent passion. But from now on I am going to start putting a little work in. You're not going to believe this is you've known me for longer than three months, but I used to work really hard. And finally, when I am finding my niche, something I am really good at, I am wasting it.

I have endless ideas that are wasted. I either don't articulate them correctly verbally or they are wasted on terrible, unthought-out writing coming from someone who actually writes quite well. I want to save the world but I cannot complete the reading for class next week. Maybe I am thinking a bit too big, but I think that I really could be one of "the ones"... the people that can do something good for this earth. But at this rate, I am going to be at the negotiating table with world leaders, sitting silent because I didn't read the background depositions the night before.

Damn me!

Today, not tomorrow, will be different.

on the back of my mask...

2005-03-23T02:19:00.000-05:00

In Memory:

Venice is always magic.

goftam man kistam...

2005-03-22T23:49:00.000-05:00

mmmorad: now you can understand the true meaning of the line
mmmorad: ba tost morad az che ravi har soo to
mmmorad: its you
mmmorad: the morad is you by mistake you are looking for it

moan...

2005-03-17T00:50:00.000-05:00

a poem written for (!Mar)isa.

Ok, it wasn't really written for me
but a man's perception is his own reality.

moan
(is)
ing

the she of the
sea
un

der a who
a he a moon a
magic out

of the black this which of
one street leaps quick
squirmthicklying lu

minous night
mare som
e w

hereanynoevery
ing(danc)ing
wills&weres

..............................and to adjust for the "ee cummings-ness" of the poem

she of the sea is moaning
under a who a he a moon
a magic out of the black
this which of one street
leaps quickly squirming
thick luminous nightmare
some where any, no every
ing dancing
wills and weres.

(ee cummings)

This poem reminds me of Tuesday night. I had my take-out jasmine tea from the Hungarian cafe and I walked up Amsterdam Ave. and for the first time in a long while I could see the moon and even a few stars. I looked up what I assume is the cathedral of St. John the Divine, across from the Hungarian, and I thought that I loved how it dwarfed me. I was tempted to sit on the stairs in front of it for a while and look up at the moon for a while which, though it's far bigger than the cathedral, does not give me the feeling of being dwarfed because most of the time something relatively minute or mundane yet tangible is what hits us in the chest on an idle Tuesday evening uptown.

It was one of my token "there's romance and adventure in the air" nights, the ones that you, friends, know of so well and probably make fun of me about. But it's there and I feel it. (and I infinitely appreciate you, Emily, who dare to understand it ;) )

Amidst the "magic out of the black" were these nightmares which, for my purposes, I am going to assume are not nightmares but dreams or realities and the like, dancing around. They were and are and will be. In some ways sitting under the Cathedral which supercedes me and will outdate me made me realize that these dreams or realities and the like will continue dancing without me, and would have been dancing in spite of lack of me.

Despite this view and its longevity in my life, I thought on that fateful night that perhaps I do influence those wills and weres more than I think. Some wills and weres are inherently part of me and only me. Maybe it is she of the sea who without which those nights of romance and adventure would not exist, not because nights where the moon shines right and the temperature is nonexistant and people are leaving thier dens, but because they would not have been labeled as such, no one would have been aware.

Flowers in the Window

2005-03-12T11:34:00.000-05:00

Excitement! My dear former freshman year room mate, Sarah and I used to listen to this song a lot. It was on a mix CD that somebody had given her but unfortunately we did not know the artist or the name of the song, and google is not very helpful in finding it. However, I was watching some British sitcom (Fools and Horses?) with Morad in Boston when I heard something ever-so-faint inthe background. It was the song! Anyway, I am in aboslute bliss listening to this.

And there is time, time , time
to plant new seeds and watch the grow
so they'll be flowers in the window when we go.

Wow, look at you now
flowers in the window.
It's such a lovely day
and I'm glad you feel the same.

I wanted to post the song, but I am a computer illiterate and I don't know how. Anyway, it's "Flowers in the Window" by Travis. It's not exactly a lyrical masterpiece. It's cheesy. It's BritPop. It's fine family fun.

a little experiment

2005-03-12T03:15:00.000-05:00

Don't call me crazy,

I am going to admit something that I've always wanted to do. Anybody that I have told this just thinks I'm crazy, but here goes.

I would love to be God. Not for all of the normal Godly kickbacks, of course. But I would just like to have a (literally) holistic view of New York cit y so that I could see the entire thing while at the same time not being too close while also at the same time being able to monitor individual movements.

I think that I would like to put a blue filter over new York city. The city would be different shades of light blue and the people would be dark blue. I would somehow be able to see everybody individually.

However, I would proceed to mark two people in red. They would be red dots. Chosen at random. Then I could just watch these people all day. Not their individual actions, just where to go. In short, I would like to see how many times in a day, in a year, in their lifetimes they pass each other. Do they walk by each other every day of their lives and never know it? Does person A spend his entire life with Person B working only two blocks away but is never aware? They even go to the same gym and each has an uncle that lives up in Westchester. Person A does not know that Person B would make a perfect life-long companion. Person B has no idea that person A, like himself, enjoys going to Tango lessons, eats omlettes every Sunday, and follows Michael Jackson tabloids as a guilty pleasure.

Oh agony! If only I were God...

said he couldn't go on the american way

2005-02-27T10:15:00.000-05:00

They will tell you you can't sleep alone in a strange place.
Then they'll tell you you can't sleep with somebody else.
Ah but sooner or later you sleep in your own space.
Either way, it's OK, you wake up with yourself.

2005-02-24T23:45:00.000-05:00

ooh child
things are gonna get easier
ooh child
things'll be brighter.
some day
we'll put it together and we'll get it undone
some day
when your head is much lighter.

nutty

2005-02-24T00:36:00.000-05:00

something strange just occured to me. let's say that you are in a mental institution in the late 1960's, when the educated elite managed to be more ignorant than they are today. you are in that mental institution simply because you are an individual or not willing to fill your chipper housewife role (think girl: inturrupted).

EVERYTHING THAT YOU DO SEEMS CRAZY!

It's so frustrating! Seriously, these girls are carrying out normal baviors but yet they seem insane, in ligth of the fact that these people are in a mental institution. People justifying why they are not crazy is just denial. Singing a song is disorderly and a sane person would know not to do it. Questioning your parents putting you there signals social ineptitude and depression.

you can't win! you are by yourself and nobody believes you! In our society, you just have to shut up and you're OK.

2005-02-23T23:34:00.000-05:00

It's weird... I just remembered an entry that I wrote in my journal for English class in the 12th grade. The assignment was to describe our perfect man or woman. .. I hadn't thought about this writing in so long. It's interesting looking back- what I wanted before and how it compares to what I want now. It's funny, seeing how what I want in a man hasn't changed too much. I think that the only real difference is that I used to want something a bit closer to "worship" of me. I had that for a while... and got bored with it.

But some things have stayed the same:
He'll have dark, curly hair and he won't be too big, but bigger than me... athletic build. He can't salsa dance, but he tries. He buys lemonade from children on the street. He is foreign and separated from his parents (we had to get pretty indepth with this). He'll argue with me, but he'll let me win (psh! As if I could not and cannot win myself!)

I don't know, I supposed I used to want a man who was stereotypically "sucessful"... I defintely wanted ME to be stereotypically "sucessful" too. Once Billy Joel asked "What would happen if my 20 year old self met my current self? What would he think of me? Would he like me?". I am pretty damn glad that while I liked myself three and a half years ago, I like myself even better now. I feel like I have put what's important in perspecive. I worry much less about petty things (yes, I actually used to be worse than now!).

The outcome of my perfect man essay remains to be seen. Is there a perfect man? Do we have to compromise? I saw a car commercial featuring a woman who was raving about the fact that she met a man and that she did not have to make an compromises about him whatsoever. But are these just the evil forces of the media which I hate so much at work again?

I'd like to think that the car commercial is bullshit. When I think about my old relationship in high school for instance, it was all so easy. I had the upper hand. I had the perfect boyfriend. I was bored to tears.

Maybe the truly good stuff comes with a bit of a struggle? It keeps us appreciative? Yes, I think that might be it.

Yo La Tango

2005-02-05T19:15:00.000-05:00

Doing the Tango proved to be a lovely metaphor for some of life's greatest aspects.

First, I realized that it is much better to dance with a friend. Yes, I met afew nice people and that was fun, but in the end I always liked to revert to my favorite Argentinian tango partner. Dance, as you probably know, is one of my favorite things on the face of the earth. But what's the point of having... well, anything... if you don't have someone to say 'remember the time' with.

Of course, there is something to be said for solitude. But let us forget that for now. I talked and laughed and felt lovely dancing.

The best part of the class, though, was the end, when we had to do the most amazing exercise in the history of ever. That is- the girls had to close their eyes in order to completely trust the leadership of the guys. Miraculously, it was a much better dancing environment. Sure, I happened to get a bad partner forhalf of that part, but still, all you have in that case is the music and the movements of your partner. You cannot concentrate on anything else. Your senses are heightened and suddenly it becomes easier to follow. Not to mention that you feel absolutely beautiful, because you cannot see your own feet or your reflection in the mirror or anything else that might hint at how poorly you are doing.

Sometimes you have to close your eyes to what is out side of your life and enjoy the basics for a moment.

Mr. Blue Sky

2005-01-23T19:13:00.000-05:00

Hey you with the pretty face,
welcome to the human race.

Mr. Blue Sky
please tell us why
you had to hide away for so long?

(...there ain't a cloud in the sky)

It's too sane

2005-01-20T13:05:00.000-05:00

New York is weird without you, Morad.
Like somebody pushed the mute button...

(I can no longer hear your attempts at "daaaymn" resonating down Second Avenue. Maybe you could try it just once ov e the phone?)

The Last of the Good Old Fashioned Steam Powered Trains

2005-01-12T10:28:00.000-05:00

The last of my friends are leaving for abroad in the next few days
(I'm the last of the good old fashioned steam powered trains?)
I've been having haunting dreams lately.
(These dreams go on when I close my eyes, every second of the night I live another life?)
Insecurity is a cancerous lesion.
(But every now and then I feel so insecure, I know that I just need you like I never done before.)
You give me the lower hand, the shaft, and sit me down in the back seat with a steering wheel and I think I'm driving.
(I'm going slightly mad.)
And I'm losing myself in more ways than one.
(I think I'm turning Japanese, I think I'm turning Japanese, I really think so.)

Em...

2004-12-28T20:07:00.000-05:00

Splenda: Made from sugar so it tastes like sugar.

........God bless America.

I am also now the proud owner of jasmine oil, jasmine perfume, jasmine tea, jasmine soap, and I am about to purchase jasmine laundry detergent, but I could not carry it home from the market today with all of my other groceries. This is all thanks to Ali for sending me 'seals and crofts greatest hits' featuing 'summer breeze'... and to his secret admirer in Iran sending him a card with a jasmine pen.

Peace, tea, and shisha.

2004-12-04T00:40:00.000-05:00

Tonight I discovered all that you really need:

friends. wine. old people to tell stories. persian carpets. plants with giant leaves. revolution. love. the midwest. masto khiar. a ney, a tambur, and a saaghi.

...or there is always peace, tea, and shisha
(absolutely beautiful.)

Phase one, in which Doris gets her oats.

2004-11-27T18:33:00.000-05:00

Is there really calm before a storm--
Or does the anticipation just make it seem so?

...there is romance and adventure in the air tonight. it feels like the calm before a storm. but it's windy. a lot of people are still wearing flip flops with their winter coats. why not just cancel both out, find a happy medium, and give the coat to Mac out in front of the YMCA? he doesn't have any shoes.

friend of mine found this in UK's 'mirror'...

2004-11-08T00:07:00.000-05:00

GOD HELP AMERICA
Nov 5 2004
THE PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN..

THEY say that in life you get what you deserve. Well, today America has deservedly got a lawless cowboy to lead them further into carnage and isolation and the unreserved contempt of most of the rest of the world.
This once-great country has pulled up its drawbridge for another four years and stuck a finger up to the billions of us forced to share the same air. And in doing so, it has shown itself to be a fearful, backward-looking and very small nation.
This should have been the day when Americans finally answered their critics by raising their eyes from their own sidewalks and looking outward towards the rest of humanity.
And for a few hours early yesterday, when the exit polls predicted a John Kerry victory, it seemed they had.
But then the horrible, inevitable truth hit home. They had somehow managed to re-elect the most devious, blinkered and reckless leader ever put before them. The Yellow Rogue of Texas.
A self-serving, dim-witted, draft-dodging, gung-ho little rich boy, whose idea of courage is to yell: "I feel good," as he unleashes an awesome fury which slaughters 100,000 innocents for no other reason than greed and vanity.
A dangerous chameleon, his charming exterior provides cover for a power-crazed clique of Doctor Strangeloves whose goal is to increase America's grip on the world's economies and natural resources.
And in foolishly backing him, Americans have given the go-ahead for more unilateral pre-emptive strikes, more world instability and most probably another 9/11.
Why else do you think bin Laden was so happy to scare them to the polls, then made no attempt to scupper the outcome?
There's only one headline in town today, folks: "It Was Osama Wot Won It."
And soon he'll expect pay-back. Well, he can't allow Bush to have his folks whoopin' and a-hollerin' without his own getting a share of the fun, can he?
Heck, guys, I hope you're feeling proud today.
To the tens of millions who voted for John Kerry, my commiserations.
To the overwhelming majority of you who didn't, I simply ask: Have you learnt nothing? Do you despise your own image that much?
Do you care so little about the world beyond your shores? How could you do this to yourselves?
How appalling must one man's record at home and abroad be for you to reject him?
Kerry wasn't the best presidential candidate the Democrats have ever fielded (and he did deserve a kicking for that "reporting for doo-dee" moment), but at least he understood the complexity of the world outside America, and domestic disgraces like the 45 million of his fellow citizens without health cover.
He would have done something to make that country fairer and re-connected it with the wider world.
Instead America chose a man without morals or vision. An economic incompetent who inherited a $2billion surplus from Clinton, gave it in tax cuts to the rich and turned the US into the world's largest debtor nation.
A man who sneers at the rights of other nations. Who has withdrawn from international treaties on the environment and chemical weapons.
A man who flattens sovereign states then hands the rebuilding contracts to his own billionaire party backers.
A man who promotes trade protectionism and backs an Israeli government which continually flouts UN resolutions.
America has chosen a menacingly immature buffoon who likened the pursuit of the 9/11 terrorists to a Wild West, Wanted Dead or Alive man-hunt and, during the Afghanistan war, kept a baseball scorecard in his drawer, notching up hits when news came through of enemy deaths.
A RADICAL Christian fanatic who decided the world was made up of the forces of good and evil, who invented a war on terror, and thus as author of it, believed he had the right to set the rules of engagement.
Which translates to telling his troops to do what the hell they want to the bad guys. As he has at Guantanamo, Abu Ghraib and countless towns across Iraq.
You have to feel sorry for the millions of Yanks in the big cities like New York, Washington, Boston, Chicago, Los Angeles and San Francisco who voted to kick him out.
These are the sophisticated side of the electorate who recognise a gibbon when they see one.
As for the ones who put him in, across the Bible Belt and the South, us outsiders can only feel pity.
Were I a Kerry voter, though, I'd feel deep anger, not only at them returning Bush to power, but for allowing the outside world to lump us all into the same category of moronic muppets.
The self-righteous, gun-totin', military lovin', sister marryin', abortion-hatin', gay-loathin', foreigner-despisin', non-passport ownin' red-necks, who believe God gave America the biggest dick in the world so it could urinate on the rest of us and make their land "free and strong".
You probably won't be surprised to learn of would-be Oklahoma Republican Senator Tom Coburn who, on Tuesday, promised to ban abortion and execute any doctors who carried them out.
He also told voters that lesbianism is so rampant in the state's schools that girls were being sent to toilets on their own. Not that any principal could be found to back him up.
These are the people who hijack the word patriot and liken compassion to child-molesting. And they are unknowingly bin Laden's chief recruiting officers.
Al-Qaeda's existence is fuelled by the outpourings of America's Christian right. Bush is its commander-in-chief. And he and bin Laden need each other to survive.
Both need to play Lex Luther to each others' Superman with their own fanatical people. Maybe that's why the mightiest military machine ever assembled has failed to catch the world's most wanted man.
Or is the reason simply that America is incompetent? That behind the bluff they are frightened and clueless, which is why they've stayed with the devil they know.
VISITORS from another planet watching this election would surely not credit the amateurism.
The queues for hours to register a tick; the 17,000 lawyers needed to ensure there was no cheating; the $1.2bn wasted by parties trying to discredit the enemy; the allegations of fraud, intimidation and dirty tricks; the exit polls which were so wildly inaccurate; an Electoral College voting system that makes the Eurovision Song Contest look like a beacon of democracy and efficiency; and the delays and the legal wrangles in announcing the victor.
Yet America would have us believe theirs is the finest democracy in the world. Well, that fine democracy has got the man it deserved. George W Bush.
But is America safer today without Kerry in charge? A man who overnight would have given back to the UN some credibility and authority. Who would have worked out the best way to undo the Iraq mess without fear of losing face.
Instead, the questions facing America today are - how many more thousands of their sons will die as Iraq descends into a new Vietnam? And how many more Vietnams are on the horizon now they have given Bush the mandate to go after Iran, Syria, North Korea or Cuba...?
Today is a sad day for the world, but it's even sadder for the millions of intelligent Americans embarrassed by a gung-ho leader and backed by a banal electorate, half of whom still believe Saddam Hussein was behind 9/11.
Yanks had the chance to show the world a better way this week, instead they made a thuggish cowboy ride off into the sunset bathed in glory.
And in doing so it brought Armageddon that little bit closer and re-christened their beloved nation The Home Of The Knave and the Land Of The Freak.
God Help America.

Theology of Discontent

2004-11-03T16:03:00.000-05:00

I cannot even begin to comprehend the outcome of this election. I have a lot to say, yet I cannot even write about it, other than:

What planet are you people living on?

I don't understand the racist, close-minded, self-seving disease that has swept this country in the past couple of decades...

I would also like to point out my favorite poll question: Do you feel more safe now, since Bush has been in office?
............the answer being "YES" in every single state EXCEPT Connecticut, New Jersey, and New York. Yes, I am the one who lives in Manhattan. It'll be my ass when George Bush pisses off a few more people with his *terrible* foreign policy. We are the ones who have to walk around all day to the sight of National Guardsmen with machine guns... to the tune of tens of helicopters running in circles over our heads.

I also feel bad for the millions of middle class families who have been fooled into thinking that they are going to be helped by "lower" taxes, and the government "getting off of their backs" with regard to health care-- my family being one of these. Perhaps you've been watching Fox News a little too often. Anyway, why you save a few dollars in a phony tax cut, your health care premiums are giong to increase by a drastically greater amount, services from your city will be cut (and you'll complain about it), and your social security will dwindle. Meanwhile, I have a number of friends who STILL have not been able to see a doctor in years. But I am positive that they are happy that the government is off their backs about it and all..........

... hang in there till next time: "Now is the Winter of our Discontent
Made glorious Summer..."

it's official

2004-11-01T21:47:00.000-05:00

so apparently it is documented; election anxiety. it was in the new yorker magazine. unfortunately i was too cheap to buy it and read the article. but i think that i have it. (i also think that alexis has it ;) ). this completely overwhelming, burning suspician that half of america is going to be sucked by fear and propaganda and false logic etc etc into voting for george bush, thus ruining our future and probably screwing up the future of a few more nations, not the mention the ones in progress. let's stop this "weapon of mass distruction that we call our president". wow. that was an eminem quote. and yes, it is probably a bit off.

this election also brings me anxiety with my parents. i went home this weekend and i felt so much better informed than they were that it actually made me feel like something was wrong. i don't feel like i should be "smarter" than my parents. but they were the ones, after all, who sent me to a university. didn't this want this? regardless, while my mother kind of dodged politics, my step father was telling me that i was young and that i'd become like he was when i get older (a bushie?)... i had to sit there and know, "no, i will not lose my social conscience and begin hating the rest of the world just because i get old,"... it was just kind of rest of the general conversation that, i don't know, i can't explain. i hated hearing rediculous things that they were saying and me SHOWING how rediculous these things were and worst of all, knowing that i am right instead of just arguing with my parents for the sake of rebellion. but like i said, maybe this is supposed to happen... like that day that you find out your dad isn't invincible or something...

where are all the good men dead? in the heart, or in the head?

2004-10-24T22:25:00.000-04:00

"Well I tried to make it Sunday
but I got so damn depressed
then I set my sights on Monday
and I got myself undressed.
I been one poor correspondent
and I been too too hard to find
but it doesn't mean you ain't been my mind.

Well I can't stop thinkin' 'bout you
sister golden hair surprise
and I just can't live without you
can't you see it in my eyes?
I ain't ready for the altar
but I do agree there's times
when a woman sure can be a friend of mine.

Will you meet me in the middle?
Will you meet me in the air?
Will you love me just a little,
just enough to show you care?

Well I tried to fake it
I don'd mind sayin'
I just can't make it."

on iran, israel, and the rest of the world

2004-10-22T01:30:00.000-04:00

marisa: why does anyone want to take anyone else out?

morad: i dunno... i guess they think it's fun...

songs of an old woman

2004-10-18T21:56:00.000-04:00

I haven't seen my great-grandmother in a while. She's 101 years old, so I should go soon. She looks pretty frail and has shrunk to about 4'10'' over the years, not that she was ever that tall, I don't think. But if you meet her, you'll find her to have quite an impressive hand shake, and she'll stare you down with her light blue eyes, and pull your face down to her and point at you if she's giving you advice (this is the same woman that used to chase my mother with a broom when she hid under the bed after misbehaving). She's buried a husband and two of four kids, married the only man that was a match for her on the dance floor, and packed up and moved to Japan for a spell when she was in her 70's. She still wears heels and pants suites, from the 80's I presume, and carries a queen-of-england-type hand bag in front of her with two hands.

She isn't so capable of normal conversation any more, in that she'll repeat the same thing 100 times unless she is carefully guided into talking about something else. My point here is, after 101 years, there are only a few things that she consciously remembers to talk about on her own. So I figure they're pretty important.

"You done good." no matter what it is "you done". She worked in a factory when she was young and then left when she got married and never worked outside the home again. Feminism is of no use to her. Keeping your home and your family and helping your husband with the rose bushes and grape vines out back is worthy of pride and respect. She'll tell you "you done good" regardless of whether you are a janitor or a CEO.

"Good to know you." She never says, "nice to meet you." At my grandfather's (her son-in-law) funeral about a year and a half ago, she greeted countless people, probably about 50 that she had never met, and rose and said, "good to know you" to each of them . You should mean it when you say this though. It's more personal. You believe it when she says it.

"You keep your head in the books. That'll never let you down." This one in particular, she holds your face and points at you. Her parents took her here to live the American dream. The point is for the next generations to have it better than you did.

"Take it one day at-the-time. It's all you can do." You don't live to be 101 by stressing out. You don't even get there by planning for it. You get there by having a good cry or taking some time to rest when things to wrong, jumping rope with your husband and your daughter's bride's maids when you're well into adulthood, and eating organic.

"Now I'm waiting for Him to call."

good thing it's not a goat.....

2004-10-13T00:49:00.000-04:00

"I am not mounted on a camel, nor, like an ass, am I saddled with a load; I am not the lord of subject people, nor am I the slave of any monarch."
~ Saadi

Raindrops keep falling on my head...

2004-10-10T22:28:00.000-04:00

So by some force of nature, sometime between 3 and 7 am today, a plastic BB&B carton for holding shower supplies, suction cupped to the wall of our shower, containing a large bottle of standard-issue aquamarine colored body wash, fell and conveniently knocked on the water in the bathtub. For the next three hours the tub overflowed and flooded 2/3 of our apartment. Our neighbors downstairs complained that, "it was raining" in their apartment, including right around the flourescent light on their ceiling. Regretfully, I was not present for the subsequent five hour clean up. Cheers, Shannon.

I am trying to think of a life's lesson that can be gleaned from this.

The problem is, if I WERE present at the time, I would've found this funny. Had I answered the door when my downstairs neighbor knocked on it to tell us that we were flooding (which Shannon did, and she had only JUST found out that there was even a problem, as she could not hear the water running from our room), I probablyh would've laughed in his face. Not to be rude to him or anything. It's just... I get an odd kick out of stupid misfortunes such as this. It's like the time at Hayden when we have a fire drill that kept us st anding outside in the cold from 4:45 am until 6:00 am on a school day, when I had a 9:30 am class. The commotion, the convenience of it all... hoards of students complaining that "John Sexton is going to be getting a strongly worded letter about this." It's hilarious. Nights like that make my life. I see it more as a bonding experience than a huge problem. A good story to write in your weblog.

I guess it can also relate to that song line that says that the REAL problems in life are the ones that blindside you at 4 pm on some random Tuesday afternoon.

Sometimes, even when you're sitting in your ugliest pair of boxers and t-shirt with the tomato sauce stain on it on an idle Sunday morning, you can get caught in the rain.

You might as well make like a seven-year-old and try to see how many drops you can get in your mouth, plodding through the puddles.

Or make like my dear friend, Ari Levine, and try to jump over the puddle, thus kicking it with your foot and soaking the stuffy old woman in front of you, and running away as she yells at you, never seeing her again, and laughing about it a year and a half later.

err... but tell this to Shannon who was there for the five-hour cleanup????

And one for Charlie...

2004-10-05T09:05:00.000-04:00

We are the music makers.

And we are the dreamers
of the dreams.

magic in the air

2004-09-19T21:10:00.000-04:00

Skydiving was officially cancelled for the fourth time today. Rescheduled for next Saturday at 1 pm... in sha'allah.

And yet... a most lovely and unexpected day, or series of days. Saturday night everyone met and watched a movie and drank, etc etc... ahem. Today, an early morning movie post-aborted 7:30 AM bus ride, loads of crepes, and a looong afternoon nap. The day was beautiful (despite the wind) and the city was lovely, eclipsed only by the loveliness of having these friends around.

Oh, and I found this poem today, here is part of it:

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life ;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

.................. hmm. in a romantic mood lately. There is such an energy in the briskness in the air, and it is filled with romance and adventure and the feeling of a drop of dream on your fingertips.

And I'm not into this cheesy stuff... but thanks for being my romance and adventure. You know who you are.......

And is this real? Or am I dreaming?

2004-09-06T11:08:00.000-04:00

Anyway, it's over. The summer is over, and my life is back on track again.

Take care of each other.

Cheers.

2004-09-02T08:13:00.000-04:00

If you smile at me I will understand, 'cause that is something everybody everywhere does in the same language.

You're only human (second wind)

2004-08-29T15:28:00.000-04:00

You're having a hard time and lately you don't feel so good
you're getting a bad reputation in your neighborhood
It's alright, sometimes that's what it takes
You're only human, you're allowed to make your share of mistakes.
You better believe there will be times in your life
when you'll be feeling like a stumbling fool
so take it from me, you learn more from your accidents
than anything that you could ever learn at school.

All I have

2004-08-26T09:43:00.000-04:00

I never carried a rifle
on my shoulder
or pulled a trigger.
All I have
is a flute's melody
a brush to paint my dreams,
a bottle of ink.

All I have
is unshakable faith
and an infinite love
for my people in pain.
Tawfiq Zayyad

http://www.mosdefinitely.com/mypalestine/poetry.htm

FOUR MORE WARS!

2004-08-22T21:39:00.000-04:00

As you probably know, the Republican National Convention is coming here to New York City in just over a week. Many of you (granted, I do not think that the number of people who read this can be characterized as, 'many.') have probably heard the news that I am being forced to work on the 29th, directly through the pre-conventional protest to which I have been looking forward since the beginning of the year. This just in: thought I have to get up at the unGodly hour of six-something, I am working the morning shift until 2:30, after which I will join the ranks of sane people everywhere in an effort to cut the BUll SHit.

I have found what is quite possibly the greatest protest ever. Go here: http://billionairesforbush.com (I don't know if this actually works as a link... probably not. I am not computer savy. Cut and paste if you must, or do it the old fashioned way and type it in.) This combines some of my favorite things- protesting, getting dressed up, anti-Bushism, anti-Conservatism, anti-RichBastardsism, and flat out sarcasm.

What they do is this. Show up at these protests in your mock-finest. They usually have one main meeting spot but this should work even if you are on your own as well. Men, put on your suites or tuxes, top hats, grab your fake cigars, and blah blah. Ladies: tiaras, long gloves, gowns, sunglasses, pearls, etc. Then print any number of clever and witty signs and get them enlarged, then mount them on a board to carry during the protest. Keen phrases include (though not all verbatim), "Small government, BIG WARS," "Corporations are people too!" "Leave Haliburton Alone," and "widen the income gap."

I suppose that a lot of uptight people might think that this sort of thing is stupid. However, the signs show a good deal of political awareness (much more than some of these hippies that cry 'free palestine' at an Iraq protest just because the entire Free Tibet movement went out of style, and the other people that only join the marches for the keen drum circles and ability to yell at the po-po), and this humorous and outrageous method just plain attracts attention. People who would not otherwise care might at very least stop to see what the hell is going on. I also find sarcasm to be a powerful too. It causes us to examine just how rediculous we are in ways that few other things can.

Join me on Sunday the 29th at 2:30ish. If you do not know my contact information, well... obviously, you do.

Golden Slumbers

2004-08-22T00:42:00.000-04:00

I saw a beautiful story about women in the Olymics today. It talked about the single Iraqi female athlete, the lone female Pakistani swimmer who competed despite government disapproval, the 40-year-old Afghani basketball player who was their flag bearer, since she is now too old to compete, a chubby, bobbed-haired Afghani judo fighter who lost after only a few seconds, and an adorable Afghani sprinter, barely older than I am.

The sprinter struck me. She was the only runner to run in pants and a looser tee shirt, as not to expose her body in an inappropriate manner. She ran the 100 meter dash in probably 14 or 15 seconds. This seems fast, but is 3 or 4 seconds behind the pack. She lasted only one round, finished her race, and smiled at the finish line, and tears came to my eyes. I was reminded about what the olympics stand for. Here was a woman, who has barely had time to train because her training facility had just been rebuilt after the Taliban had burned it down (not to mention the fact that she couldn't do much of anything at all a few years ago [no, I do not condone American military efforts there]), who has come in last place, and was probably happier than the gold medal winner.

At the same time, I see vain athletes who are totally pissed at winning a silver medal. I see an American media that asks silver medals how they feel about their failure after they come off of the podium. I see the Olympic spirit lost in some madness. And I see that this little Afghani girl, or the chubby judo fighter, should be the ones going home with the medals. They are the true olympians.

2004-08-09T01:56:00.000-04:00

gosh, i haven't done one of these since elementary school......

Mentions it one too many times
Arrives only at the conclusion that it's time to go to bed
Reads between the lines of a circle and skims over the text too quickly
Indigenous, a native of nowhere
Survived Hurricain Bob, the Blizzard of '94, and the Great Blackout of '03 (mom ran to the market for bread and milk)
Anomaly, paradoxically

now you try!

2004-07-26T00:52:00.000-04:00

"What a glorious garden of wonders this would be, to any who was lucky enough to be unable to read." GK Chesterton, on Times Square signage.

Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,
Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
I hear a Negro play.
Down on Lenox Avenue the other night
By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light. Langston Hughes

"Well, there's always an excitement in the air-- whether it comes from the slight chance of being mugged or the slight chance of seeing Pavarotti at Lincoln Center." Bernadette Peters

"I could not pull another bell if I tried. I turned back to Elizabeth Street. Entering a yard I saw an open door- a woman near it. I made my first sale- a cup for ten cents- the profit was not bad!" Samuel Cohen, How We Lived: A Documentary History of Immigrant Jews in America

"He adored New York. He romanticized it all out of proportion." Woody Allen "A sunset view from the Empire State Building has inspired many a romance."

"I guess I'm here because everywhere else I go I feel like a misfit. Here, everyone's a misfit." Joe Jackson

"In New York, people who thought they were alone find htere are more people like themselves." Chita Rivera

unscripted

2004-07-24T00:02:00.000-04:00

Feelings are kind of funny-- I mean, what they actually are and what our expectations of them are. It seems like so many of our feelings are pre-scripted, like from a movie. No, in fact, they are exactly from movies, or songs, or now less often, books. We feed people with lines like, "you make me whole," or, "i cannot live without this person now,"... blah blah blah. Personally, I think that this is a load of crap. And I think that most of these lines that we feed peopls come from media that we've been exposed to. That we THINK that this is how we should feel, or that this is what love is, or that that is how to label this wonderful feeling that we have inside. And this is what gets us in trouble. People so often say these things and OBVIOUSLY they are not true. Don't say that you cannot live without somebody! YOU CAN! Or talk about the ONE that'll make everything so easy. I'll bet that there are two or three people that you meet in your life that could be 'the one'. and ZERO that you meet will take no effort. Call a relationship a bed of roses if you wish, but certainly they were not dethorned. Roses with thorns are more beautiful anyway... unlike that genetically engineered crap that maybe never grows them at all.

Do not attribute this to my never having been in love. Although one of the relationships met its unfortunate desmise, I can confidently and without pause say that I've been in love twice. You don't see me writing about it here though. In fact, I see very few weblogs with authors above high school age that write about love. Dont' get me wrong-- SOME people can pin it on the nose. But most of the time we are fed the same bullshit that we see on movies and the person is over the next week anyway. One of the best descriptions of love that I've heard was on the movie "Good Will Hunting"-- no, not the quote that I put below. I just like that. I prefer when he talks about his wife farting in her sleep and waking the dog up.

To wrap this up, I think that TRUE love is something you do. No, I am not talking about sex, wise-ass. I mean, love is unspoken. It's going over to your significant other's every day when their foot is broken to bring them medicine and ice cream and just to see if the person needed anything. Or spending an hour and a half brushing the seaweed out of the person's hair, when the curliness made it resemble chewing gum, even though you think that seaweed is one of the most disgusting things on the face of the earth (ahem, ahem). Or it's jumping rope with your wife on your daughter's wedding day even though your clothes will get dirty.

Love is the difference between microwave and home made dinners. You need to put in a little bit of effort to DO love, instead of using the pre-packaged crap.

(or to quote my favorite drunken utterance... it is like translating latin in a more difficult declension. it takes more effort, but in the end, you get a more beautiful product.)

your movie, chief

2004-07-23T23:51:00.000-04:00

And if I asked you about love you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone could level you with her eyes. Feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you... who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel and to have that love for her to be there forever. Through anything. Through cancer. You wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in a hospital room for two months holding her hand because the doctors could see in your eyes that the term, 'visiting hours,' doesn't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, because that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself. I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. I look at you, I don't see an intelligent, confident man; I see a cocky, scared shitless kid.

(good will hunting)

I would like to issue a disclaimer regarding the previous post

2004-07-21T21:33:00.000-04:00

*throughout the previous post, i in no way meant to insult my beloved grandmother, catholic priests, fundamentalist christians (even bonnet wearing ones) or small animals. (damn it! see how i have been roped in! see the guilt!!!!!)

Only the good die young

2004-07-21T21:27:00.000-04:00

well they showed you a statue,
told you to pray
they built you a temple and locked you away
but they never told you the price you would pay,
the things that you might have done.

Would you believe it? I used to think that I would go to hell just by having a bad thought about a person that clearly deserved my distaste. Word of the day: CATHOLIC GUILT. OK, two words. But what an indescribable phenomenon. Seriously, all of you non-catholics will think that you know what I am talking about here, but there is no way. Growing up, any bad thought that would ever come to my head, let alone any bad action, would have me worrying about my status as a descent person for the next week. For instance, when I was in the third grade I wrapped my arm up in a pair of salmon-colored GAP stockings, forged a note from my mother in my third-grade handwriting (which, in actually, is not that far off of my mother's penmanship) saying that I had fallen on a rock playing soccer and sprained my arm, all in an attempt to get out of writing my class work for the day. I though I had gotten away with it, but then I guess the teacher had called my mother while I was in gym class and she showed up at the school . I cried even before my mother said a word, and I didn't even get punished. My mom told me that if I ever wanted a day off to just tell her and she'd grant it, and the teacher even covered for me when my class mates asked me during the second half of the day why my "cast" was gone. My point is, I never told ANYONE that I did that until I got to college. I felt so guilty about, so stupid, so ... just plain BAD ... that I could not even let the story leave my lips. I couldn't even let it enter my brain. My stomach would absolute turn. A kid in my third grade class also threw another guy out the window. Yet I was embarassed about getting out of a little spelling and arithmetic for a day.

But you cannot blame Catholics for catholic guilt. I mean, come on... we are forced at age six to sit in a room alone with a stern priest and tell him all of our 'sins'. How can a six year old sin? We would have to sit there every week and think up lies to tell the priest so that we would not sound like we thought that we were too perfect or anything. I guess I should go to confession now and confess my sin of lying all those weeks in confession. Hell, my very religious grandmother even made me go to confession when I was eight for not attending church one Saturday afternoon because of a blizzard. As if I can drive! Luckily the priest told her, who had entered the confessional to apologize first, that the Bishop Mulvee or whatever his name was had been oh-so-kind as to pardon everyone for missing church when their front doors had been baracaded by five feet of snow. Now, I say that it was lucky that he pardoned us not because I felt bad about missing church or anything, but rather, because I felt pretty fucking stupid going to confession for such a thing. Send Tim McVeigh and Craig Price (for all you Rhode Islanders) to confession first, then I'll go say a few Hail Mary's for my church truancy.

Then there is the masterbation guilt thing. I guess that this has been a point of guilt through a lot of history. However, even still the Catholic church passes it off as evil or something. The devil must cause orgasms. The funny thing is, the Catholic church, while telling boys that relieving themselves every so often is a crime, is, in my humble opinion, doing nothing but promoting an unhealthy prostate gland. Maybe even prostate cancer!

Ironically, I feel that only now I have been saved. I would like to thank Sarah, formerly of Brooklyn, NY, for being the first integral part in dropping my catholic guilt. If it were not for hours and weeks and months of walking around naked, random hook-ups, boozing, making mocking dances to Christmas songs, and engineering dild-o-chairs, I might never have realized that pretty much every college freshman does these sort of things, and that if I confessed the them the priest would probably just blush and tell me to go to AA. I think that God has bigger things to worry about than dild-o-chairs. In fact, I'll bet Jesus even got a kick out of the idea. There are fundamentalist Christians who make their women walk around, uneducated, in blue floral dresses and bonnets as they never get to see any of the beauty and wonder that the world has to offer, while the men sing Christian rock and bash the Quran while never having read it. And I cannot discuss saving the world from hate and ignorance over a glass of Jim Beam?

2004-07-19T23:19:00.000-04:00

I really want to get back to school. I have too much time to think during the summer, which leads me to analyze everything that is wrong with. This is good in a way, as it causes me to better myself, but on the other hand, I am sure that much of what I think is wrong is simply boredom in disguise.

I feel like I am stuck between two eras. I am not a kid any more. I am supporting myself completely for the summer, developing my own life and opinions, and my relationship is with someone a few years older than I am. On the other hand, I am hardly an adult-- which bothers me-- but what can I do? I am easily upset and frustrated about tiny things, I am still finding my interests-- who "I" am, and I still have this foolish pride and need to prove myself to certain people. I guess I am still having a bit of trouble saying "ok, I am not this, this, or this, I am that, and it's OK, because it is me."

I think that the biggest reason why I want to hurry this grown process is that it is the cause of what little strain there is in my relationship. I have a foolish need to be right all of the time, and I am stuck between my intense desire to be with this person and my natural distaste for having my time and space infringed upon. I am immature and upset by some things that are completley... well... nothing. Today I was unclearly asserting an opinion about Iranian weblogs, which caused a debate with my boyfriend. And I got SO frustrated and upset at having been wrong at the time. First of all, I wasn't wrong in my assertion, I just wasn't getting out what I wanted to say. Secondly, who cares if Iwas wrong? It is so asanine. Why do I feel the need to prove my intelligence all of the time? I am exactly aware of how smart I am. Sometimes I like to have intellectual conversations. And you know what? Sometimes I like to act plain stupid. That's me. Why do I think that there is something wrong with this?

Now I know what is wrong at least. The more difficult part is what to do about it. I think that there is not so much that I can do, as time and experience change these sort of things. Still, I feel like my freshman year in college I had these things figured out. I was truly happy and relatively worry-free, and excited about expressing who I was while at the same time open to a lot of new ideas and experiences. Have I regressed? Are the stresses of family problems and reality just settling in? I think that I will never find that out, but at least I know that I was able to live like that for a time. Sooner or later I will once again have that kind of peace.

Keeping the Faith

2004-07-18T22:47:00.000-04:00

Well it seems like I've been lost in let's remember
If you think I'm feeling older and missing my younger days
Oh, then you should have known me much better
Cause my past is something that never got in my way

Still I would not be here now if I never had the hunger
And I'm not ashamed to say the wild boys were my friends
Oh, 'Cause I never felt the desire til their music set me on fire
then I was saved, yeah
That's why I'm keeping the faith

We wore matador boots
Only Flagg Brothers had them with the Cuban heel
Iridescent socks with the same color shirt
and a tight pair of chinos
Oh, I put on my shark skin jacket
You know the kind with the velvet collar
And ditty-bop shades, oh yeah
I took a fresh pack of Luckes and a mint called Sen-Sen
My old man's trojans and his Old Spice after shave
Oh I combed my hair in a pompadour
Like the rest of the Romeos wore a permanant wave
We were keeping the faith

You can get just so much from a good thing
You can linger too long in your dreams
Say goodbye to the 'oldies but goodies'
cause the good old days weren't always good
and tomorrow ain't as bad as it seems

Learned stickball as a formal education
Lost a lot of fights but it taught me how to lose OK
Oh, I heard about sex but not enough
found you could dance and still look tough anyway
I found out a man ain't just being macho
Ate an aweful lot of late night drive-in food
drank a lot of take-home pay
I thought I was the Duke of Earl
When I made it with a redhead girl in a Chevrolet

Now I told you my reasons for the whole revival
Now I'm going outside to have an ice cold beer in the shade
Oh, I'm going to listen to my 45's
Ain't it wonderful to be alive
when the rock'n'roll plays, yeah
when the memory stays, yeah
I'm keeping the faith.

2004-07-18T13:59:00.000-04:00

I came here with a load,
and it feels so much lighter since I met you.

I will never want that wagon wheel coffee table.

2004-07-16T19:26:00.000-04:00

After my recent marathon of watching "When Harry Met Sally", I got to thinking of the disappointment of watching these kind of movies. And the silliness of it as well. I mean, you sit and watch these things with this s tupid sort of grin that you do not realize is there until two hours later when your cheeks are a bit sore, and then you leave the movie rejuvenated, with the hope, or the actual expectation, that "yes! this will happen to me! it is out there right now for my own taking!"

Yet the fundamental fact that makes this all so stupid is that Harry and Sally were quite apparently lonely/miserable/heartbroken/bored/etc/etc throughout the greater portion of the movie. So while everyone leaves "When Harry Met Sally" thinking of how romantic that first car ride was in retrospect, they neglect to recall the fact that these two people HATED each other in the beginning. And you know what? Each and everyone one of us meets people that we hate all the time. Perhaps, instead of looking at these people as detestable, we should treat every moment as the possible Harry and Sally moment. Our misery will come and go, but maybe we should still just give everyone a second chance? I suppose that my point is that not all romantic comedies are necessarily so romantic and perfect. We just conveniently forget about the bad parts of the movie, or we find some way twist them into something cute. Luckily we are able to do this in life too, so hang in there.

In other news but perhaps worthy of being put in the same section (lifebeat? metro), I have always wanted to try this experiment with New Yorkers. Over 8 million of us, I suppose. I think that it would be fun to be able to have this overhead grid of the entirety of new york which shows traffic flow, of people of course. (OK cars too. but only because the people are within.) Anyway, I would then like to randomly select two people, mark them with a fuzzy red dart, and follow them in their daily lives around the screen, in fligh fast forward mode because frankly my attention span is not always up to par and i have a tendancy to fall asleep just sitting up in one place. The point is, I wonder how many times during a week, month, or their lifetimes, do these two people cross paths? How close have their fates come without becoming intertwined?

Maybe everything is right in front of us, if only we looked. Forgive my Farsi,but ba tost morad az che ravi he soto? What you want is right in front of you, so why do you go elsewhere?

Homeward Bound

2004-07-11T02:18:00.000-04:00

The lovely passengers on Bonanza Bus:

~Yo, I can't believe we came all the way here and we only actually got to see the city for 4 minutes before getting arrested.
~Yeah, we smoked mad blunts though.

~Yo, man. My wrists are still red from those handcuffs.

~Shit, I don't even know where my car is. I mean, it is at the impound somewhere in New Jersey... the address is on the paper, but I don't know how to get there!

2004-07-08T12:06:00.000-04:00

(Never did a man so ruiniously rise

to kill himself

as I settled the task of living)

(Let me rise from sleep so
that all the lanes of the city
perceive my presence.)

And the dawn awakens by your hands.

((shamloo))

Old Blue-Eyes

2004-07-07T22:50:00.000-04:00

While baking a fine banana bread tonight, Asha confided in me (confided is a bad word... it is not like it is any secret. On the contrary, it is well publicized) that, despite her NYU education and the social norms of going out to get a big-shot, "success" oriented job, she would like to sell vegetables at the farmer's market.

Asha studied writing with a sort of ethnographic twist. She now has a good job in a public relations firm while she attends graduate school. Asha would really like to marry a tossled-haired magnolia baker, perhaps the one that ices the cupcakes. And maybe he'll smell like warm bread when he comes home each night and leave her notes on the night-stand when he leaves for work on the 7 train from Queens at 5:30 every morning, except for Mondays, his day off. Asha would like to be the beautiful lady that sells produce from an old wooden table in Union Square four days a week, freelance writing the rest of the days.

She feels like she can't. I guess that in a way, I almost feel like I can't. Is that a waste of a 40,000 dollar a year education? Nonsense; my contention is that it is just sad that we live a country that no longer rewards seeking a stress-free, simple lifestyle... at least not until you've made your first few millions and you are driving to your small produce farm in your BMW. Also, your produce farm should be in a fashionable area. Sun Valley Idaho, or Napa, perhaps.

Admittedly, I am also quite attracted to the idea of this simple lifestyle. One of my few romantic moments that occurred in the state of Rhode Island took place in an old Italian bakery. I was buying bread or pizza strips or frittata, when an old man told me that his son would love me. "Blue-eyes, a-come here," he yelled to a young man hauling heavy bags of flour and pulling bread out of an oven, and all at once I felt like I was amidst a scene in a movie... you know, where the small-town girl who only graduates high school falls in love with the beautiful Italian baker down the block, and they get married and have ten babies and water their rose garden every day.

So I told Asha that if she really wants to write and sell vegetables that she should start a garden, get a vending license, buy an old wooden table..... and make her stand.

Arthur

2004-07-06T07:32:00.000-04:00

Dr. Ramon even went back and got Arthur my umbrella. I was worried about him b ecause nobody'd want him for his sentimental value, it takes loving.

Oh, Taffy, you look FAB!

2004-07-05T16:07:00.000-04:00

So my sky diving date is set: August the 1st at 9 AM. I have not heard of anyone who has gone and not liked it. On the other hand, I cannot really talk to the people who did not like it, because they are dead. Of the friends I have interviewed, about eight to ten have gone and loved it, and two know people who went and their parachutes didn't open.

This is a slight deterrent for me. However, I have made the decision, instead of cancelling the appointment, to endeavor to live this next month so that I will be content even if something happens.

"Don't let your throat tighten with fear. Take sips of breath all day and night, before death closes your mouth."

I go through these periods every so often where I fear, not dying, but the whole non existing thing after death. Imagine not existing? Then I discovered Sufi poetry. These cats have it all together:

1) You will not exist some day. But the moon will keep rising.
2) Life is but a breath, so drink! Be the cup and the wine I suppose. The word tomorrow does not exist for the Sufi.

That is the way it goes. Not to say that an afterlife would not be a superb added bonus. I would very much like to bowl with my grandmother, meet my great grandfather who jumps rope and hear about his grand love affair, watering the roses every evening with his wife, and maybe smack a few certain former world leaders upside the head... nah, mistakes, grudges, and politics, I would imagine, are left at heaven's gate, should you make it there.

Or maybe a few worms will eat me, and they will die and sprout a tulip. You know, those nice reddish-orange ones.

The one legged dance.

2004-07-03T23:01:00.000-04:00

It is a Saturday night, and I am in the house. No one is online, and I am too lazy to open iTunes from the far reaches of the start menu, since I elected not to have a desktop icon. In an apparent effort to rid my life of excess carnage, I cleaned off my desktop except for the bare essentials, e.g. Snood. Speaking of ridding myself of excess, I have trinkets in my dorm room from as long as five years ago. Something tells me I might need them some day.

Maybe if I were lonely or love sick or had just won a prize I would have something more interesting to type here. If I were more ambitious in the realm of applied mathematics I might have attempted to construct a curve showing the indirect proportion between happiness/contentness and number of blog entries. The "Marisa Curve," a concept which began in twelfth grade economics back when I wanted to rule the capitalist world, could become a reality, and Mrs. Byrd would no longer look at me in disdain every time I visit her and crush her dreams of having a former student as a prominent member of the Fed by letting her know that I intend to spend the rest of my life as an academic. That I'll be sipping black coffee from standard-issue "deli" cups while translating Rumi and begging Becky and Said down on the second floor to attend that tedious speech given by some pompous Middle Eastern Scholar who was born in Silver Spring, Maryland, just for the free crackers and bean dip.

Back to my curve... now, no one ever really reads daily blogs about how content, uneventful, and worry free someone's life is. That's what some people use lunch dates for; calling some old friend that you know just got canned from Citigroup because they spent a little too long in middle management, or your cousin who worries about the size of her hips, just so that you can meet with them over a ceasar's salad with no crutons and a water with one lemon wedge and not too much ice, in the meantime taking a half of an hour to go on about your raise and new pair of Italian shoes to someone that, you are fairly sure, anyway, is more pathetic than you are. Then you thank your karma or some other trendy eastern concept of higher power, 'cause no one with Italian shoes seems to need to believe in the standard sort of God, that your lunch break is only an hour and you'd better get on the 4 or 5 down to wall street before you hit afternoon traffic. Oh Snap! Marcy, can't listen to how your your kid has to join up just to get through college now that you're underemployed, but call you in a week or so! Now you've just made Marcy feel like such shit that she guiltily ate that ice cream bar, sat down on a Wednesday afternoon since she can only find part time work, and wrote a weblog.

The shadow is not the substance :D