Friday Night Lights

I don't have cable and tend to only watch television shows the DVDs of which my friends pass along. Since perhaps 4 years ago, I have not found anything worthwhile, preferring instead to geek it out inside of novels. For this reason, I rarely come across a television show which devastates me. Friday Night Lights is, undoubtedly, the most devastating of shows I have been an audience to in 30 years. (I love you, L for most recently handing me the DVDs; I have purchased seasons 1 & 2 so as to ensure that my support for the show is in fact counted.)

The family values, relationship and community values which this show speaks to are heartbreaking and hilarious and exactly where I wish to be.

Let me immediately get out of the way that: this is the best written, best directed and best acted show I have ever watched. In all technical incarnations, it is simply brilliant, filled with characters, each of whom is beautifully flawed and therefor more real than any famewh*re found in reality television; Friday Night Lights is a welcome slice of home-made pound cake. (As equally important is that there are no god-awful metrosexuals on this show; it is unapologetically a show where men are men and women are women, without falling into the stereotypical gender boundaries other television shows inevitably flop and default to because their writing team is a composite of idiots.)

Also, I am usually a crying mess at least once during every episode...

The characters
This is a show of man meat.
I should write Man Meat, more than man meat; everywhere there is Man Meat, and as follows.

Granmaw Saracen, who reminds me of my mama and who I wish to hug every time she comes on to the screen. I love her so and hope the writers never take her off the show. Ever. And if they must, then that they would please write a new show called "Tiara, Pie & Eye Wear Shopping With Granmaw Saracen". She breaks my heart every time and I love her as much as I love her fictional grandson...
Mattew Saracen, the sweetest kid in the world and what every girl should want for her daughter's first boyfriend; note, for our daughters not us, because we tend to be foolish and reckless and are instead drawn to the likes of...
Tim Riggins, troubled while wearing the sh*t out of jeans and any t-shirt (quite possibly the sexiest combination on the right man) boy with the world's most insane body; the stripper with a heart of gold, only he's not a stripper ('why not' is what I'd like to know, Writers?!). Perfect to look at, perfect for the weekend; let your imaginations run rip shod over the topography of that boy's body. Thirty-three also has a sort of mini-me, his brother...
Billy Riggins, who always needs more chap-stick and who is all kinds of redneck funny and probably a lady killer, much like Tim, when he had more hair. (Writers! Please tell us more about Tim and Billy and their drunk dad.)

There's also THE SMASH, who has the world's greatest smile and who is cocksure and arrogant and sexy and still scared of...
THE SMASH MOMMA, quite possibly the prettiest prettiest prettiest lady I have ever seen and on whose very large breasts I would like to be comforted and maybe take a nap, please. (Don't judge me until you've seen how comfortable everyone looks when she hugs them.)
A special shout out here to Nonni, THE SMASH SISTER, and an exquisite little actress.

Landry, hilarious geek who is the long-lost-cousin of Matt Damon, hopelessly in love with...
Tyra, whose character development has been fascinating, though predictable. I guess the alternative would have been the crackwhore in Fame, and I'm happier with this sort of a Tyra, who far outdoes...
Layla who, though am sure she is a really lovely girl in real life (or not), I wish would just Stop. Nose-Whisper-Talking, please. But while you're still there, why don't you - on behalf of the sisterhood, that is - cup Riggins' bum more often? And undo his shirt? And tousle his hair? And kiss his eyelids? And lick his neck?
Wait. What?
Oh...right. So, anyway, Layla is the daughter of...
Buddy who I hated during season one and then sort of felt sorry for and started to love in season two. He is a sloppy sort of character who clearly eats much too much steak and chicken-fried-chicken and chicken-fried-steak, but who you cheer for in the darker recesses of your mind. (GO! BUDDY! GO!)

Jason Street, maybe the first major character in a show who happens to be a quadriplegic. Good for you FNL! Bravo indeed. Jason is an amazing character, so innocent and sweet and honest and loyal and all kinds of good even though he looks like Ray Liotta who is capable of much evil in character. Even when six is angry, he is adorable.
His other quad friend, who is mean, but only because he really loves Jason (this sentence makes me sound as a 7 year old). I have forgotten his character's name; no matter, he is brilliant like the rest.

Julie Taylor, the perfect moon-faced teenager, angry, frustrated, perfectly irritating, bratty, in love with Mattew Saracen and daughter of...
Tammy Taylor, she of the greatest breasts on telly. Among the strongest female characters to ever hit the screen, with the perfect lines, always the perfect lines (e.g. "I gotta pump and dump, baby. I love you. Don't touch me."). (I would really like the Writers to have a phone line, where I could call in my problems, placed on pause, until they prattle off my next verbal strike.) The character is the perfect mix and balance of femininity, strength, devotion and loyalty without loss of self. The actress who plays Tammy is gorgeous - simply gorgeous and the chemistry between Tammy and her husband is palpable.

Who is her husband, you ask?

The one man with whom I have fallen in love: Coach Eric Taylor.
Coach Taylor, with his angry hair and eyebrows, biting-of-his-inner-bottom-lip, and adorable man shorts makes me weak at the knees. Especially when he doesn't know what to say, or is so frustrated all he can do is a sexy nose twitch in his terribly ugly sports sunglasses (which, by the way, ought to be outlawed and men only allowed to wear aviators).

This fictional character is, in my head and imagination, how a real man behaves. A man who fiercely loves and is devoted to his family and his team and his community; a man who really truly understands morality and does his absolute utmost to always maintain the fabric of that morality even while he knows he may be failing because he is, at the end of the day, only human.

(Is it a surprise that he is fictional? Honest question, this...)

My favourite line uttered by Coach Taylor (thank you Writers!): "Women are to be respected."
&
"You're wrong. You are dead wrong."
Such a man.

My favourite scene, driving home the strength of this fictional character: When Tammy tells him she slapped Julie (who, let's face it, deserved a solid beat down in that moment, if for no other reason than for dating what appeared to be an Elvin man-child.).

Why aren't you watching this show yet?
Please watch this show; it shall make your life a better place. Promise. (Don't thieve download it, though; make sure you are making your viewing count, or it shall vanish to The Cemetery of Excellent Writing, Acting & Directing All But For A Crap Audience.)

UN's Richard Falk: IDF seizure of Gaza-bound ship 'criminal'

Please take a moment to read this.

From the article: "Richard Falk [who is an expert on international law], an American Jew and the United Nations special rapporteur on human rights in the Palestinian territories, said the move was part of Israel's "cruel blockade of the entire Palestinian population of Gaza" in violation of the Fourth Geneva Convention prohibiting any form of collective punishment against "an occupied people"."

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hug a canuck, please & thank you

Happy Virtual Canada Day from a bonfire bbq with Gogol Bordello as our soundtrack. Have fun and be safe, kittens...xo

Please meet

Israeli journalist / writer Amira Hass.

If you read French, read her here, otherwise, find her works here.

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If you don't already love The Onion

Visit Our Dumb World to see more of this...

North Africa in August

I keep forgetting to mention that I will be in Tunisia in August.

I need this...I need to be in a place that reminds me of home; the Mediterranean, the smell of sand & sun-heat, real history and culture and tradition, ornate carpets covering absolutely everything, the sound of the athan above the crash of waves and muffled by humidity, traditional middle eastern wooden coffee tables inlaid with mother of pearl, older men playing sheesh-beesh at the cafes while listening to futbol, sweet mint chai, grilled lamb, fresh watermelon on the beach, and swimming from morning until night.

Last I was in North Africa was when I was 4 years old. This is the place where I was born and I need to go back to start again, it would seem.

(If any of you have recommendations as to must sees & dos, please email them my way. Thx & x.)

Geeking out a sushi order

I am an excitable sort of girl; little things make me extremely happy. One thing which never fails to excite is my love of sushi ordering.

In fact, I become so excited that much like a drunk I lose focus and coherency and become slightly short of breath. Sushi is a feast of an experience for me, no matter how many times I may have it. I arrive to dinner early and stare at the menu with great concentration and expectation. Usually, I also become extremely confused by the many sparkly menu items and flavors presented to my mouth by my eyes, as well as very agitated if someone interrupts my strategic approach to ordering, which usually consists of my answering the age-old question 'how much can I eat without puking'.

Aside from my sushi feast with Na.oh.mi this evening (visiting from Calgary), last I ate sushi was with A two weeks back. This image is the tissue upon which I placed my order. When I handed it to the waitress, she smiled at my clear mental awkwardness as I beamed up at her and then read the order out loud before starting to walk away.

A had to call after her to indicate that the tissue was filled with items for me. Alone. Just I, the piggy. It took me nearly three hours to eat the entire order and I am most certain the waitress had a bet with the sushi chefs as to on which piece I would tap out. I never did because I'm a strong piggy like that.

Aside: I really most appreciate my artistic rendition of a cone, not a roll, please. No doubt the sushi chefs were just as happy as I.

Question, my Question

Gold Star goes to the person who Googled: "Scat Fetish Islam" and landed here instead.

Aside from always being intrigued by the use of capitals when such individuals search the engines, I think the answer to your question can be found in Ayah 13, Surah 8, when Allah said "Are you kidding me? Uhm, no."

I think you should meet and befriend the individual who made this query. You'd likely make great friends.

Israel eyes sanctions against US

You read the title quite right.
Find the rest of the article here.

And by the way - this isn't Palestinians dying in 2009, but rather them being blown to bits in 2005. My apologies for the mix-up.

Comments closed.

Because many of you have been asking

For an easy-to-understand breakdown of the political power structure in Iran.

Comments closed.

Hate Mail on Iran

What we usually call "liberals" have been extremely quick to jump on this bandwagon > to the point where Twitter has set up a page asking people to point out 'suspect' pages. Most of the posts / recommendations being made by the general population is either from people pointing out spam Twitter accounts or Twitter accounts that say they are people who voted for and continue to support Ahmadinejad. Which, of course - after watching the news about EYE-fkn-ran for 5 minutes - must mean that you're informed and so are fully aware of the fact that everyone voted Mousavi. Of course. You're so smart. You're so politically en vogue.

From some of these people, I have received hate mail calling me a fascist.
Do you think they'll remember their brotherly and siterly love of the EYE-ranians when it comes time to bomb the shit out of them and steal their natural resources so that 'we' can drive around in our SUVs for cheaper still? Maybe they'll see it as a means to free and liberate the Shee-height Mozlims from a dictator.

Yay.

(Of course, here I must say that from many of these individuals, I have also received more links and information calling for caution, as well as thanks for a mini head's up about possible misinformation. Also that individuals who don't have any sort of label have been asking for more information and are interested in digging deeper. I don't need to post any of these emails.)

But - my favourite form of hate mail has come from the inidviduals who are so narrow minded that they see any argument - any argument posing even the slightest challenge to their own perspective, in fact - as one which supports Ahmadinejad. The following two are my favourites thus far:

"Shame on you! No wonder you support Ahmadinejad, you have already got enough money from him! You are selling younge Iranians blood killed by his regim to this idiot who most Iranians know him better and hate him. Shame on you. You support a criminal."

&

"Shame on promotors of facism.

Dear "leftist" :
The enemy of your enemy . is not your friend.

Join the fight against facism, rather than promoting it. Talibanism, Tehran or Kabul style, is at odds with humanity.

Do not presribe that at the expense of my people , and for the sake of your agenda."

I believe Ahmadinejad is a stain on Islam (& I wouldn't vote for either him or Mousavi; more to the point, I would never live under any theocracy), and yet, any call for caution and a more nuanced approach solicits this sort of a reaction. Absolutely amazing and fascinating and I love it. People's ignorance is both prolific and deeply profound.

Recommend that you please visit this link at Middle East Report Online and take the time to read and reflect. My article is extremely light on all subject matters and is intended to point out that reform is not 'revolution', that it is not a simple matter of black vs. white & that the destabilization of Iran serves greater ends (food for thought); if you wish to learn more and dig deeper on the internal political situation, then this is an excellent place to burrow.

He is dead

Upwards of 160,000 people die annually.
War
Famine
Poverty
Disease
Global Warming
...and people can barely get off their lazy asses to demonstrate or make a phone call to a politician or write an email or pick up a newspaper to be informed...
...and yet...and yet...and yet...they line the fucking streets for him within an instant.

Get. Some. God. Damn. Perspective.

Iran article & Crone's disease

Hi all - am not off radio silence as of yet, but must share following info. (By the way, rabble article on #iranelection goes live tomorrow morning at 9 am est.)

As has been mentioned previously, Baby J. moved to Halifax a wee while back. She has a new friend (yay!) named Jasmine, and from what Janey tells me of her, she is very nice, talented and is keeping sweet Baby Jane from feeling lonely in her new digs. (Thank you, Jasmine, she of the flowery name.)

What follows is an email from Janey, for your attention, please. Would greatly appreciate if you would share with all you know.
 
Dear Maha/Gorgeous/Raven/Meesho/Kove:
Remember I was telling you about my new friend Jasmine? I am hoping you can help her and I with a project by posting this on your wonderful blog so all your wonderful blog friends can help.
 
Jasmine has crone’s disease and has dealt with it all her life. Last year, she made a film called Glamour Guts, a funny short about how to stay fabulous with bowel disease – something lots of people struggle/live with, but don’t discuss. The film has been selected as one of three finalists for the CBC Short Film Face Off contest. If she wins, the prize will help her make her next film (a tragicomedy about grief).

The winner of the contest is determined by (40 hours only!) online voting.
 
Please join me in supporting Jasmine by:

First – watching it: Glamour Guts.

Next - between 11pm on SATURDAY JUNE 27 and 6pm on MONDAY JUNE 29 (Atlantic Standard TIme) visit: vote for GLAMOUR GUTS (if it pleases you. -maha).
 
Each person can vote up to 5 times (if you clear your cookies –you might be able to vote more than that)

Please pass on to your friends, friends of friends, family, friends of family, acquaintances, friends of acquaintances, acquaintances of acquaintances (who am I missing? family of friends of acquaintances) that you think would appreciate the movie. Family, friends of family, acquaintances etc. living abroad? No problem, they can vote too.
 
Kove yoy,
Baby J.

Comments closed. Radio silence still on. Check rabble tomorrow, please...x

hi

Hi all. About to observe a little radio silence for next few days, as day job is topsy turvy fun *and* I've just completed my June contribution to rabble.ca, which was an exhausting piece to write (will post here upon my return to the interWeb). It is extremely dense and I have a terrible tension headache, most certainly my brain is trying to break up with me. In short, it is a word of caution about the possible misunderstanding and blowback of spin re iran 'reformists'. If you wish to read it before next week, then just keep an eye on rabble over coming days.

Also, will start responding to all delinquent emails after this short absence from interWeb/mobile/email noise (Clay, your email is no.1).

Have a good rest and see you next week...xxoo

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Are you an American?

Then you must please set aside 10 minutes and read this analysis by John J Mearsheimer, titled Saving Israel from Itself.

Comments closed.

Quote-ity quote-ity

"We are cold to others only when we are dull in ourselves, and have neither thoughts nor feelings to impart to them."
-William Hazlitt, from On the Pleasure of Hating

boo

I have just finished the last of my Austin Slow Burn Habanero-Jelly.

Finishing it has made me somewhat sad.

Conversation snippet

"Part of the beauty of Vancouver is all of the greenery", said Maha.
"I agree! I think...I just LOVE the foilage in Vancouver. It's so great, isn't it?" said S.
"What?"
"I love the foilage here. It's gorgeous."
"And what colour would that foilage be?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean...is it aluminum? Shiny silver, this foilage of which you speak."
"The foilage. The foilage. The green around us."
"It's foliage."
"Huh?"
"It's foliage. It's called foliage not foilage. I'm just bein' an asshole, really..."
"Oh! Ha ha!! FOLIage. That's right! FO-LEE-IDGE."
"You call yourself a writer. You should be ashamed."
"My word was nicer."

(I love you half of KAWN!)

Two Texans and a Californian walk into a bar...

...and just kill it with their guitars.

Download:
Guitar Shorty's We the People.
Alejandro Escovedo's Real Animal.

Download in their entirety.
Trust.

Austin Wrap-Up

Austin 2000
In 2000, N and I visited Austin and had an absolutely fantastic time, even though N was nearly killed by a taxi.

We were students and on an extremely tight budget which forced us to stay at the Motel 6, off the highway. When our first room's air conditioning unit broke, the staff indicated that the only room available with a functioning a/c had a queen-sized bed in it, and hesitated before asking if we were interested.

N and I had no qualms about sharing a bed; as best friends do, we had shared a bed at different sleep-overs since the age of 15. We said yes, and the facial reaction we received made it appear as though we were the Antichrist and his boyfriend, since, clearly, the woman at the Motel 6 believed that we were "gay" (quotes here necessary indeed). Lucky we didn't get shot, or accidentally drowned in the Motel 6 pool which sat on the edge of the highway, delineated by the chain-link fence. Klassy.

We couldn't afford more than two taxi rides into the downtown core and so I paid for one and N paid for the second.
We survived on one large jamba juice each, so as to not die of dehydration, and one meal a day so as not to die of starvation.
It was one of the most fun and hilarious trips ever.
And as with my most recent trip, it was also one riddled with the kindest people you'll meet anywhere in the world.

Austin 2009
This time around, my trip to Austin was a surprise even to myself. Having originally planned on going to California to see both Kitty and Mozer, I changed my plans at the last minute and decided to head out to Austin instead. The one thing I did know, in terms of location, was that I needed to be somewhere hot and humid and away. For those of you familiar with my nomadic ways, I become extremely agitated and anxious should I stay in one spot for too long. And my "too long" is extremely short compared to that of the normal individual's. (Possibly worse still is that until I am physically seated on an airplane, I tend to change my ticket several times over both in terms of time and location, an annoying habit even to myself.)

Unexpectedly, this trip was cathartic on almost all levels - I hadn't realised how much I needed to have my faith restored in people until I met the kind of people who restored one's faith. I left Austin feeling completely regenerated and safe, which may seem an odd word, but is the most honest one to use.

Every single person I met there restored my faith a little bit...or a lot.

They are good people, kind people, gentle and generous people, none of whom is chocolate-cover-spoiled in bitterness, which is the variety of people I have run into most recently and from whom I needed to recover. Interestingly, I had been feeling this way behind my own back; discovering this only when I met the opposite in Austin.

People who, as adults, were capable of being openly and honestly vulnerable and kind.

It was a lot to swallow in a short 6 days, but it is amazing how quickly the human heart opens itself up when it's surrounded by like-minded kindness and grace.

I close with a very short little list of Texanese for your learning pleasure:

The Devil's Vinegar = Usually a "shot" of liquor which has the distinct flavour of bitter sh*t. (Courtesy of Austin Lisa, who nearly decked Jay.Dub when he offered her a shot of The Devil's Vinegar.)

Used to could (pronounced: uset'a'kud) = I used to be able to...

Right Quick = Immediately

Fixin' to = About to...

Git = Get the f*ck out of here right quick or I'll shoot yer a** with my beebee gun

(Thank you, Austin.)

Hello from VanCity

(Note: Austin wrap-up still to come.)

This trip to Vancouver becomes increasingly interesting with each second. At the same time which Baby Jane moved out to Halifax, Felice moved in the opposite direction to Vancouver. Felice is my dinner date and since she left Ottawa, sushi has taken a turn for sad and refuses to be enjoyed without her company. Last night we decided to make up for the lost dining time and feasted at Tojo's over the 6 course omakase Japanese dinner. Although both Felice and I are naturally inclined to indulging in good food, last night was an out-of-body experience which ended with exquisite green tea crème brûlée.

Aside from the hysterical laughter and masochistic gorging, we had the following interesting start to our evening...

I wore a black jump suit.
I have never, ever, worn a black jump suit, but last night, Felice poured me into a black jump suit and a thick belt. She loved it and I was too tired to argue not to mention that I too secretly totally dug it as the only word which came to mind was chic and I usually make fun of people in North America who use this word, unless they are Parisian, but I felt as though were I to articulate just how much I dug it, I would sound exceptionally vain. If she wasn't around, I would have tried to make out with this black jump suit (made of cotton jersey), but alas, she was here as this is her home and I had to feign normalcy and sanity.

Then. I had been locking the front door from the outside and so Felice decided to instead teach me how to lock her front door from the inside. Because I tend to push allpushies, pull allpullies and shift over allshiftoveries, I naturally locked and closed her front door. Only, she had left the keys inside.

Needless to say, Felice was forced to James Bond her strapless dress covered a** over a railing in order to get back inside. (I know she's really excited to have me in town. I could tell by the look on her face when she opened the door and I crushed her with a hug.)

On a closing note, I will tell you that the photo in this entry is what I peek at as soon as I sit up in bed while here. Lovely, right? Also, I fall asleep to the sound of the ocean which, apparently, isn't the sound of the ocean at all but rather the sound of the motorway. Felice nuclear-bombed my imagination when I shared with her how amazing it is to fall asleep to the sound of the ocean, but I don't think she knows what she's talking about. I heart all oceans.

More as it happens - we are off to Granville Island for lunch and tonight we are meeting all of my VanCity friends at The Chill Winston for 7.30pm (interestingly enough, about 10 Vancouverites are at the moment in Ottawa...).

Rape. Torture. The American Administration.

Read. Pay attention. Act.

I am responsible.
You are responsible.

To do in Austin (pics, finally)

For yummy treats in Austin, please find a list of restaurants here.

Please note: 90% of the images were taken with a disposable camera; please forgive the sh*t quality, but notice how interesting the detailing is on the trees. (Seriously.)

Hotel-ing
I stayed at The Kimber Modern - a spot I recommend to all, should you have the cash flow to support the luxury - as well as at Martha Gannon's Bat House (or, what the folks at the Kimber Modern call The Artist's Loft).

Martha is a world-class artist whose work you will recognise if you're at all interested in the universe of art. I didn't know she was who she was until I started poking around her website, at which point I was stunned and humbled. Apart from being one of the nicest people I met while in Austin - and with whom I wish I'd spent more time - my introduction to Martha came at the same time as meeting her momma, who struck me as a typical Texas spitfire.

When I arrived, Momma had been outside and didn't - for fear of slipping - want to walk past the plants which had just been watered. Martha indicated that she thought she should go past because the water wasn't slippery. Momma said a simple and flat: "I think it is" and that was the end of that. There was a clear strength (with a lot of honey) in the way Momma delivered her answer, which was punctuated with the unspoken "...now this conversation is over". That's a talent, my friends, and one I am learning slowly. Texan women have it in spades.

Staying in Martha's home was like staying inside of an art bubble as she had designed the entire space from zero to one hundred and then had it built (she worked construction to put herself through university and so was familiar with the inner workings, drawing everything to scale; also, her brother is a mechanical engineer and so helped with the creation of the Bat House) - I was almost too scared to touch anything because of its beauty. I must here give a quick nod of appreciation to her book collection where the quality of literature was a pleasure to peruse.

Bat House


Front 'porch'


Roof-top Patio - with a functional tub that I did not use, but should have as it is entirely private


Shower - my favourite space in the Bat House (this is weird, I know)


Living room / bedroom, which is behind the couch, and two 'walls' of which are in fact white curtains that you draw closed


Kitchen


More photos can be found here, where pictures 3-10 are of the Bat House.

SoCo
For those of you familiar with Austin, both the Kimber Modern and the Bat House are located directly behind The Continental Club. South Congress, a spot that in 2000, only had Allen's Boots (still there) and The Gun Shoppe (no longer there), is instead today riddled with great little eateries and boutiques.

The neighbourhood is called SoCo and is a must-visit while in Austin.
Among the shoppes you should walk into and greet are:
- Lucy in Disguise (1506 S. Congress)
- New Bohemia (1601 S. Congress)
- Uncommon Objects (1512 S Congress)
- Farm-to-Market grocery (1300 S Congress) - possibly the only spot where the food you may purchase isn't fried, breaded and / or covered in hot sauce; also, I recommend that pick up any variety of Austin Slow Burn jelly

Aside: I walked into the Hotel San Jose, which is directly on South Congress, and it is beautiful, with a greater hint of Texas feel than the Kimber Modern (which is more California, in terms of architecture).

Zilker, Barton Springs & Umlauf
Possibly even before visiting SoCo, you really must walk down to the Umlauf Sculpture Garden (605 Robert E Lee Rd) , arguably the most stunning spot in Austin. I spent some hours seated in the garden writing and reading, enjoying the calm and beauty of the space.

Among the stunning sculptures were

War Mother


Refugees II


Angel's Wing (which, for some reason, quite nearly made me cry)


Pictures of the beautiful garden itself...






Across the street and a little down the steps from Umlauf is a beautiful walk along the river, which takes you right into the heart of Austin. (This is one of my favourite pictures.)


If you'd like, you may kayak, canoe or cycle-boat (I don't know what they're called) along the river. Just make certain to take a photo of your finger, like I, while you're at it.




You may also swim, which I managed to do on my last day but only because I forced myself to do so as I didn't wish to leave Austin a second time without having swam in the river. But I didn't get baptised, though I'm certain it would have happened had I stuck around long enough. Most certainly, someone would have tried to de-Hell-ify my Muslim self, eventually.

Right down the way from Umlauf is the Zilker Botanical Gardens which is, unfortunately, not that great (it may simply be the time of year). I walked around for an approximate two hours looking for flowers and found only weeds; I may have also found one exceptionally creepy man lurking in the bushes, but I didn't stick around long enough to find out. What's even worse than the garden is their "map" of the garden, which looks like it was drawn by my best friend's 3 year old son. I'm pretty certain that if any employees from the botanical gardens read this, they will place a fatwah on my stupid a**, so for the record I will say that: YOU ARE ALL VERY NICE - it's just your flowers that I didn't much care for. (Instead of Zilker, apparently, you are much better suited to head over to the Lady Bird Johnson Wildlife Centre.)

While next to Umlauf and Zilker, you have to take a dip in the Barton Springs Pool, which is lovely and cool. Warning: Go during the week, or risk swimming in the Barton Springs & Pee Pool, courtesy of the million children free of school confines on the weekend.

This was the first thing I saw at the Zilker Botanical Garden. It was also the most beautiful.


The Capital
I mean, really? George Dubya started here. So, you also must take a walk through the more governmental spaces in Austin in order to visit the courts, the capital and the (now burned) governor's mansion.



...and where you will find gems such as the following, which I love (because nothing says Texas like the following). I waited around, lurking like a creep, hoping to see the - I will go out on a limb here and think it a man - dude who owned this car, but I got bored and instead went hunting for the UT campus:


University of Texas
I got lost. No surprise there; and was helped along by a very friendly English lit Professor who, instead of simply giving me directions, chose to instead go out of his way to walk my lost self over to where I was going. This was no small endeavour as he spent nearly 15 minutes with me chatting about literature and such...

You're in Austin, you must see both the notorious 'Death Tower' (and the football stadium, of which I would have taken pictures, had my disposable camera not committed suicide).


You must also see the beautiful (and much famed) Coppini Littlefield Fountain:



As well as play inside of this interactive piece (directly outside of The Blanton, which sits at the edge of campus). Can you see me?



Also while on campus, make sure to find both the fraternity and sorority homes in order to acknowledge the weird (and I would argue: dangerous) exclusionary pack mentality permeating the United States.

Museums
- Harry Ransom Centre (to see the Gutenberg Bible and the first photograph, as well as make fun of poor Harry's name)


- The Austin Museum of Art


- The Austin Museum of Contemporary Art
- Mexic-Arte Museum (where, oddly enough, the only language is English, and where this is the contributory note I wrote:


...and stuck on their wall, because I was offended:


- Bob Bullock Texas State History Museum (and watch the propaganda riddled Star of Destiny for a little giggle)
- The Blanton Museum of Art
- Austin's Children's Museum (SO MUCH FUN!)

Music
- The Continental Club (naturally...)


- Walk along 6th Street on any given night, listen for what you like and jump in head first

Miscellaneous Randoms Across Austin

Texan manner


'Vibrancy' on the city street


Cadillac


PUPPY! (For those of you in the know, I am terrified of dogs (because as a child, I was bitten by one and chased by another who nearly killed me), but this little guy was so tiny and squiggly and snugly, he was hard not to love...)


Gorgeous Lisa & Jay.Dub (both of whom are mentioned here)




Hurley (of Chance & Hurley, mentioned here)


And finally, if your feet don't look like this - covered in bandages - by the time you're ready to leave Austin, then you've not done enough walkin' and you need to git off yer ass a little more next you're there...


To see all Austin photos, feel free to pop over here...

(One last entry to come, just about my general state of head and heart re Austin.)

What & Where to Eat in Austin

Note: You will not finish any portion served up unless you're from Texas; it's not a joke that everything in Texas is bigger. I don't understand how it is that Austin isn't covered in immovable obese objects. (And by 'objects', I mean 'people'.)

.1. Have a burger and some steak fries at the Casino El Camino - the theme is horror and the place is as kitschy as it gets; you will love it.

.2. Visit Shakespeare's and ask for Dax, Joe or Jay-Dub. Tell them I sent you.

.3. Enjoy an ice-cold chai latte at Jo's, which is an awesome place to hang out and people watch.

.4. Right before you head down to Guero's to have a taco - I recommend the chicken al carbon taco. Thanks to Lisa for this tidbit: "Guero", pronounced oo-ero is Spanish / Mexican slang for "white boy", kind of like general slang "cracker", also for "white boy".

.5. Breakfast at Magnolia Cafe any time of day. Some of the best eggs benedict anywhere, though they are famous for the psychotically large pancakes, which are probably about 2.5 times the size of a normal pancake.

.6. Have a deep-fried chicken cone at The Mighty Cone "trailer", which is what Canadians call a chip-wagon. It looks disgusting but is heavenly. ("Trailers" are a very commonplace and acceptable location to dine. Seriously.)

.7. Enjoy a breakfast taco at Torchy's trailer.

.8. Try the banana bread and home-made ice-cream at The Driskill's 1886 cafe & bakery (6th street). The serving size is, yet again, huge, with the cut of cake being nearly 2" in thickness.

.9. Make certain to have traditional Texas bbq at Iron Works BBQ. They serve it with a piece of white bread, untoasted. I just sort of stared at mine and didn't eat it, choosing to instead merely appreciate the extra carbs they'd decided to throw on my plate.

More Folks from Austin

Lisa & Mike - a fantastic couple who have been together for 9 years, married for nearly 5. Their wee dog's name is Diego - Mike's originally from Memphis and Lisa from San Antonio - she is the prettiest girl I saw in Austin and super sweet. Instead of saying goodbye, she gave me the warmest hug and vanished into thin air...I look forward to seeing them again next I visit that wonderful city.

Papps - Quite possibly the funniest mother fkr I have ever met. We spent an evening making fun of random people in the most politically incorrect way (e.g. we saw a commercial for The Dwarf Family on TLC and it was all downhill from there). At Shakespeare's there is a television set and I got to watch cable (REAL CABLE!) - excitedly and like a child who'd never seen a television set, I watched with great enthusiasm a show called Weaponizers, and Papps simply watched me or rather, he stared at me in awe and with a little fear as I was "hootn'n hollerin'" when things were blown up on the television. Somewhere in my heart is a white trash girl dying to get out...

Originally from Wheaton, Illinois, Papps moved out to Austin 10 years back. Like myself, he is a cartoon character come to life and has no issues proposing marriage to a woman he's just met. Apparently, his father -- Papps Senior, The Greek -- would approve, though his mother wouldn't like me.

Jay.Dub. – left New Orleans with only his PlayStation one day before Katrina hit. His dad sells farm equipment in Plainview Texas (where Jay.Dub. was born and bred). We talked about gun control…because he owns a gun. A gentleman who tattooed the New Orleans area code on his bicep, next to the Texas flag. Funnily enough, he tends to lean left, or so he says (this is not a reference to politics - but rather to physical leaning - though generally I think he leans left). His tattoos are on his left arm, too. When he lined up that white ball on the pool table, it was sort of to the left. Kind of adorable, n'est pas?

He's traveled all over the world and knows more trivia than anyone I've ever met; also, he didn't finish uni and he's a super smart cookie, so I really really do hope he returns...tons of potential in that boy that can be reached would he set his mind to doing so. Super sweet & kind.

Martha Gannon - A tried, tested and true brilliant artist in whose loft I stayed for a part of this trip. She will receive an entry specific to her and her talent...

...that about covers it in terms of people. More stories to come, and finally, some photos (your lame webMistress forgot the charger to her camera's battery, so lost one full day of picture taking and ended up taking some pics on the berry, and others on two disposable cameras. Dumb. Dumber still is that had it not been for Baby Jane, I would not have thought to pick up a disposable camera, and would have instead kept shaking my fist at the idea of having forgotten my charger. My privileged ass didn't even know they still made disposable cameras.)

Them Folks I've Met in Austin (Nelson Algren had nothin' on this girl)

So far, anyway, here are the people who have livened up my stay in Austin...

Shawn, Irish ex-pat working at The Driskill bar - Has a general disliking of his kinfolk; “There’s a reason I left Ireland. Why would I like them if I left?” Also, he wants to punch people in their I Am Drunk And Going To Get A $200 Tattoo. I agreed wholeheartedly with him about everything starting at politics and moving right along to religion and even random general stereotyping.

Trenton, The Driskill’s concierge - We had a brief discussion about hockey and he was shocked that I (a) knew Canada has only 6 hockey teams, and (b) could name them all. As soon as he found out I was Canadian, he dropped “eh” into the conversation very appropriately.

Louisa & Rick-formerly-Wick, from Dallas – up in Austin because ‘their’ niece graduated college. Their is in quotes because I don’t think they’re in fact related, but rather refer to one another as the same entity when discussing each other. They met when she was 14 and he 15 and have been together ever since, with two young boys aged 17 and 21. When I met Rick, I called him Wick for the first half hour of our conversation; in Texas, Wick may very well be a normal name, and if it isn’t, then it damn well should be because who doesn’t want to name their kid ‘Wick’?

Some 22 Year Old Girl Drunk Off Her Ass – I walked into Shakespeare’s Pub to say hello to The Commonwealth Crew I had met on Thursday evening. There was an open casting call at Shakespeare’s for Bad Girls Live, aka Drunk Girls Bein’ Fkn Stupid, On Camera, While Surrounded By Degenerate Boys.

I digress…so, I walked in wearing my jeans, my hat, a hoodie and carrying my backpack.

“Would you like to register?”
“For what?”
“For (insert name)!”
“No. But I’d like to have a chat with the person running your show…”
She thought I was kidding.

A few moments later, Some 22 Year-Old Girl Drunk Off Her Ass came over and started chatting with us. Her first words to me were “Yer soooooo pretty. Argh yew hear fer thu castin’ call? They’ll take eww!” and then turned to Some Random Creepy Male Stranger and shouted “SUCK IT WEEEE-HEEW!” to which Louisa (of Rick-formerly-Wick & Louisa) said “This little girl’d better not blow chunks on my back ‘cus I swear to God…!”

For a solid 20 minutes, Some 22 Yeal-Old Girl Drunk Off Her Ass kept trying to buy us shots of liquor. None of us would take ‘em – Joe, the bartender, was serving "shots" ("shooters" are Canadian) of water, I believe, or maybe I made that up. Eithre way, this little girl had no idea what was going on.

Maha: “So, are you here by yourself?”
Some 22 Yeal-Old Girl Drunk Off Her Ass: “Yes I am! WEEE-HEEEW!”
Maha: “You’re not here with any girlfriends or a male friend? Some people to look out for you?”
Some 22 Yeal-Old Girl Drunk Off Her Ass: “NO! I do this ALL the time! YEEEEAAAAH!”
Maha: “We need to get you a cab. You need to go home, little girl. You need to go home or else you’re going to get yourself into a lot of trouble…”

After some minor grappling and after Rick-formerly-Wick pulled her off of a man as she was feigning felatio (a word not in spell check!), we shoved her Drunk Ass into a cab.

Jo, bartender, from Houston – Awesome Christian dude. We had some extremely interesting conversations – guy is bright and spot-on about faith. Much common ground between his brand of Jesus-lovin’ and my own, so we exchanged war stories, tag teamed when someone asked us about abortion and between the Bible and the Quran, helped get Some 22 Year-Old Girl Drunk Off Her Ass in a cab and home, after which we actually high-fived one another (…don’t like it? Think we’re being judgmental? Then respectfully, I say: Go fk yourself, please.).

Crazy Dude Askin’ About Abortion – “HOW CAN YOU NOT WANT TO MAKE IT ILLEGAL WHEN IT’S MURDER!??!!!!”

I don’t know how we did it, but Joe and I managed to calm his sorry self down even though we were at opposite ends of the political / moral / religious spectrum from him.

Allison, formerly of London, Ontario & her roommate Peter, formerly of Australia (aka The Commonwealth Crew) - She has a heart of gold and told me a hilarious story about her ex-husband, a Texan who when she gave him a Roots t-shirt, asked her if it was a "black thing".

Brian, Dude From Jersey – This is the guy to go to if you need something from someone in any place in Austin. Conversation topics ranged from: the Ottawa Senators to religion, adoption and birth control.

S from New Zealand – introduced herself to me while listening to Chuck Prophet at The Continental Club.

Nice girl...drunk, doing a tour of the deep south (should I capitalize this?) to listen to Gospel Music.

Chance & Hurly – Chance is the master, Hurly is his dog. I met Chance on Leavin’ Day –14. In exactly two weeks, he’s starting a road trip to learn about bio-fuels and how to grow your own food. He’s en route to New Mexico where he hopes to work for earthship.org.

We discussed the gentrification of East Austin, though I refrained from using that word, instead posing leading questions about what he thought happened to the poor when the rich went in and bought up the land so that they may then build little boutiques and cafes.

Edited to add: more good folks can be found here.

In Austin y'all

Hello - 24 hours in Austin have been crazy and wonderful.

I don't have much time for internet-ing so here's the rundown thus far:
.1. Austin men are thoroughbreds.

.2. The moment I stepped off the plane and was hit with the heat and the humidity and the smell of sand, I immediately felt at home.

.3. Though my hair did not as she remains frazzled and in a strong state of protest.

.4. I am staying 7 steps from The Continental Club, which is where I'm headed tonight.

.5. Dropped by our old haunting ground - a particular pub on 6th St - and met a lovely crew from The Commonwealth; one Canadian and one Australian.

.6. I dined on real serious Texas bbq at Iron Works BBQ. They served it up on a piece of white bread with corn and coleslaw. Texas bbq, for those of you unaware, is a particular rub and then the meat placed inside of a special oven which has indirect heat filtering in that cooks the meat. I ate with a gecko sitting next to me - very small, very lime green, very friendly. It didn't leave until I did. (Maybe it's not a gecko? What's lime green?)

.7. I discovered an amazing little coffee shop called Jo's -- right on South Congress, across from The Continental Club -- completely laid back and chill, open concept and an excellent menu.

.8. Hit up a little jazz club last night called The Elephant Room - highly recommended next you're in this City.

.9. No one wears a helmet in Austin.

.10. They're very nice to you while you're crossing the street - each and every single one of them will stop for you.

More tomorrow!

Obama denying access to photos

More pictures -- many more -- of US soldiers torturing human beings.

Obama's decided not to allow publication of the images, stating that the decision was because he felt that their release would endanger American troops.

Fail.

You know what endangers US troops, President Obama? The fact that they're acting like assholes in the first place -- the fact that they're torturing human beings. Full fucking stop.

It's not the pictures.
It's the actions.
Fail @ one million.

I am too tired to write something more coherent on this for rabble, so this will have to do. It's from the bberry so forgive spelling errors and grammatical tool-edness.

Comments closed.

On Aggressive Apathy

Based on my recent blog entry titled Not Lives of Girls and Women, I was asked to write about apathy. It's a little more philosophical than most rabble pieces, so I do hope you'll enjoy it!

Am off to Austin for the week,and completely off-line. Enjoy the next few days, please!

A Love Letter to Baby Jane

You are all quite familiar with Janey. This is her wearing the scarf I knit and sent her way two weeks back - it is 'The J Scarf', J not standing for Janey. Long, yes? It took weeks to complete and is meant to provide warmth when I can't reach over and hug her. It is me as a knit stitch.



She is among my best of friends and she lives in Toronto until 16h hours today, at which point she boards a plane to Halifax.

I miss her already, quite possibly more than words can express.
Janey and I communicate daily, all day long, never running out of things to say (thank you berry messenger). There is a solid energy of support as foundation for each other's actions - a foundation that both she and I would tell you can withstand absolutely anything.

It was in university that we met through my old friend Scott, a bartender at Oliver's Pub on campus. Janey was underage and so was the (greatest and sunniest) front door girl who took your money and stamped her approval of entry.

We met once, in passing, through Scott.

A few days later, I was standing in front of the Oliver's entrance staring at a phone wondering to myself whether I should call a particular number or not. I needed sisterly support, understanding and hand holding. I also needed an extra individual to remember the telephone number I was supposed to dial; I was so nervous that numbers kept falling out of my head against my will. None of my girlfriends were in the neighbourhood at that particular moment; I looked over my right shoulder, made eye-contact with Baby Jane, walked over and asked for her help and support, which she gave me without a moment's hesitation.

She stood next to me at the phone, repeating the last four digits as though they were a mantra. I dialled, the phone rang, she squealed, I responded to the 'hello', she smiled a little more and motioned to me that she would be over there.

Coming off the telephone, I went over and we had our first date. We had a drink at Oliver's and it felt as though we had known one another for the duration of our short lives. There was no hesitation in conversation, no holding back of details or information. It was, in so far as the way friendships are created and develop, most definitely magical.

The rest, as they say, would become history.

At different times in our lives, and depending on the situation and environment at hand, different people catch us and help us stand up again. Sometimes, they don't catch us but rather sit next to us while we refuse to stand, preferring to instead stay close to the ground a little longer for fear of another fall. Baby Jane has been doing this for me for the last little while - I for her, also.

Everything I have learned from the most gracious and loving BB, I have been able to apply to Janey this past near year. I love them both for the opportunity to grow and learn, understanding the possibility of honest and true and good friendships riddled with sentences such as
"I don't agree with what you're doing, but I will support you through this idiotic undertaking because I love you"
and
"The way you treated that person? That wasn't right. That wasn't right and your mother taught you differently and you know it. You need to make amends immediately."
and
"I need you to set your ego aside, my love, and really take a step back before I tell you what I'm about to tell you"
without there being a break in friendship or fear of hurt.

It is amazing. She is amazing. And so, on her new adventure to Halifax, I would love for each of you to please send Baby Jane your best energy and your greatest amount of warmth. Keep her in your hearts and minds as the next little while will be a challenge (which she will overcome, but a challenge nonetheless). Thank you.

Janey - I kove yoy very much.

Books n Boxing

.1. This is where I live during the week; watch the videos to understand. I've just graduated to level iii, and received 7.5 / 10 across the board, which according to my coach, are the highest marks assigned.

That was me gloating. WBK boxing training is hard work and I am proud of my marks. Just so you understand how hard it is, I'll share a sexy secret with you: if I don't take my last bite of food a full three hours before I start my training, I will puke within the first ten minutes. Nice.

Recall this little article here, please.
And then this follow up piece, for which I channelled my inner Valley-Girl.

I love my coaches.
I love WBK.

.2. Books I am currently reading:

A Tale of Two Sisters
-Anna Maxtead

Bloodletting & Miraculous Cures
- Vincent Lam

The Conscious Universe: Parts and Wholes in Physical Reality
- Menas Kafatos

Lives of Girls and Women
- Alice Munro

On The Pleasure of Hating
- William Hazlitt

St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves
- Karen Russell

The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction
- Walter Benjamin

Where I Lived, and What I Lived For
- Henry David Thoreau

(As always, some of these are being re-read.)

Not Lives of Girls and Women

I've just dined with Alice Munro. It was relatively quiet as I didn't say one word and instead let her letters slip off the page and create for me an alternate universe.

Every once in a while, I would be pulled from her pages by the loud voices of two late 20-something young women seated at the table next to me.

"I was with David Friday night."
"Whose David?"
"The guy I'm dating. He's why I couldn't see you Saturday. We spent Friday night together, went out for breakfast Saturday and rented movies and hung out with, like, his dog that night. It's what we do...but it's not a relationship. The sex is GREAT! And then there's Andrew."
"Whose Andrew?"
"The other guy I'm dating. He's perfect. He's a homeowner, he owns a vehicle and has an excellent job. He's tall, too, and the sex with him is GREAT also."

Pause. Check bberry. Look out window at protestors (Sri Lanka / tamil), and ask "who the fuck are they?"
"Who cares. They, like totally held up traffic last week. You're in Canada! God. Get over it, right?"

Pause. Check bberry, then continue
"Anyway. So like whatever happened to Mikey?"
"Sex with Mikey is even MORE awesome. I'm seeing him tonight."

Pause. Check bberry, then yell "WHAT!"
"Omg what's wrong?"
"READ!"
"Omg. Mikey has a girlfriend?"
"Yeah!"
"You're, like, The Other Woman. That's slammin' cool."
"And he's breaking up with her. Right. Now!"
"Awesomeness. You're a rockstar!"
"To the max, yo. I'm totally updating my FaceBook status to tell everyone about this...f*ck YEAH!!"

Droooooooone.
Focus on white tuna.
White noiiiiiiiiise.
Your daughters will not be like this.
Ugggggggggggh.
Tataki. Tataki. Tataki.
Huuuuuuuuuurrl.

I hate girls.
Also, I wish to run into the hills and hide.

Happy Easter

Jesus dies (and then rises from the dead, much like a zombie?) and hires technicolour bunnies to deliver chocolate eggs in baskets. No?

Then how about a simple Happy Easter from Captain UnderHead & Captain Ickreybull instead.

(Captain UnderHead's name is courtesy of Trenty who christened Nora May with the name when he saw that she had placed new underwear on her head (I merely added the 'Captain' part); Captain Ickreybull is Trentanese for 'Incredible'.

I can honestly write, beyond a shadow of any doubt, that "UnderHead" is the most clever observation any child / adult has articulated in well over six months.)

Comments closed.

Art, travel & skin care (more excitement than I can handle)

.1. Janey's movin' to Hali. Felice is already in VanCity, moving into a place in Yaletown, joining a kazillion of my friends out on the West Coast. I'll be heading all across Canada from East to West very soon; exciting.

.2. I've decided to support a local artist this year and so purchasing my yearly piece from one brilliant Amy Alice. Please find her works here; I will let you know on which I decide.

.3. Often enough, I receive emails about product, skin care specifically. Apart from a combination of olive oil, honey and water, I don't often use anything on my skin as it makes me clausterphobic. Make-up, too, so I stick to kohl, mascara & gloss. Recently, though, I began using coconut oil and avocado on my face.

Consider the three following recipes as tried, tested & true for those of you who have dry skin such as myself.

Exfoliant
Buy rolled oats in the cereal section of your supermarket, then stick 'em in that contraption that will eventually turn them into flour (a blender or a food processor, I can't remember which). Keep the oatmeal flour sealed and when you need to exfoliate, just place a little bit in your palm, mix with water and exfoliate away.

Moisturizing mask
1 avocado
1 teaspoon of apple vinegar
1 egg white
3 teaspoons of olive oil

Mash up the avocado, beat the egg white and then throw all of the ingredients together and apply; wash off after 20 minutes.

Cream
Coconut oil. Slather it on your face, straight & simple.

I never bother with any of the crazy expensive nonsense; everything God gave us is all we really need for the pretty. Also, don't forget to work from the inside to the outside by popping the world's most gigantic vitamin pill: the omega 3-6-9.

.4. Happy and lovely long holiday weekend, kittens.

"It all comes down to this:

Whose flesh are you touching and why? Whose flesh are you recoiling from and why? Whose flesh are you burning and why?"
- Daniel Berrigan

So crisp and clear with challenge.

(I am in love with this man, and I don't mind that he's over 90 years of age.)

Disaster Relief or Civil Rights Disaster?

My latest article has just gone live at rabble.ca

Read the entire article, if the following interests you:
The question we must ask ourselves is simple: if NECEA is meant to address natural disasters, then why is the scope of the Act so vague, large and open-ended? The flipside of which is: if NECEA is only meant to address natural disasters, they why isn’t NECEA crystal clear on this point?

Instead, we find that the purpose of these military-based emergency centres may be used to “meet other appropriate needs, as determined by the Secretary of Homeland Security.” It is when we attempt to understand the pocket of obscurity created by NECEA’s vagueness, and while factoring in the readying of the U.S. military’s response to the anticipated civil unrest (due to the economic war being waged on all but the ‘haves’), that the potentially insidious nature of the centres becomes evident.

Comments here are closed.

Quickie

It's been some time since I've done this, and I've not yet tagged all older groove recs, which I'll eventually get around to doing. For now, you should know what's been cranked around me because his angel voice inevitably forces me to wipe away tears that tumble in secret: Ben Harper's Diamonds On the Inside.

Sorry for typos; am once more en route (to elsewhere) and pinging this from bberry.

Toddlers & Tiaras

This spotlights one of the reasons why I think our world is going to sh*t. (P.S. While you're sl*tting up your babies, your government is r*ping you and other countries.)

Argh

I don't have the words to express anything...but...maybe that if she enjoyed herself so much, they should have left her there.

Happy "recreating", Dumba**.

(P.S. There were rumors that the above was an April Fool's joke, only now her "official" page says that it wasn't. Dumba** she remains, then.)

I am a sap

I pulled the attachments; sorry the second was a little wonky - I seem to have trouble posting attachments. If I can figure it out, I will repost...as for the girl, simply youTube Connie Talbot and listen to her - she has the voice of a little angel. I cried both times...x

Updated to add: Please make certain to read the comments to this entry. Thanks.

Snippet

Walking along Bloor on Saturday, I was approached by two young men, one of whom stopped in front of me and asked: "How are you today, ma'am."
I turned to look behind me in search of "ma'am", only to discover she was I.

"I'm well thanks. How are you?"
"I'm very good. If you have a moment, I'd like to tell you how The Book of Mormon brought me closer to Jesus Christ..."
"Actually. I'd love to hear about that - and then I'll share with you how The Quran brought me closer to Jesus Christ. Oh! We can share and compare. It'll be fun."
...blank stare, then: "Well, okay, you have a good day ma'am", and off trotted the two little Mormon boys in their black suits and black back-packs, so I sincerely asked "you don't want to share?", to which the other Mormon boy responded with "Is there anything else we can do for you today, ma'am?" as they continued on their way.
"No. I guess not. But maybe you could stop calling me ma'am...?"
"Good-bye, lady."
"Good-bye, young Mormon. Muslims love Jesus..."

Please feel free to consider me your own personal amuse-bouche.

Three recs re The Centre Of The Universe

Next you're in Toronto, take the time to eat at the following places:
(1) The Roxton > local neighbourhood joint that turns into a pub later at night. Get there by 7 or else you're not sitting your a** down for dinner. Try their grilled chicken sandwish with caramelized onions, brie cheese & special garlic sauce. Call to ask if they're serving it before you go as they regularly toggle their menu items.

(2) The Golden Turtle (Ossington) > go there just for the vegetarian spring rolls. You won't taste anything like these anywhere else. Cash only and the tables are extremely close to one another and the lighting is very bright...consider yourself warned.

(3) The Drake > they'll rock the sh*t out of your brunch. Rec the Eggs Caleb (poached, on ebglish muffin, soaked with hollandaise sauce and served with bbq fries). The Drake is among the 'see and be seen' joints in Toronto; if you're like me and find this obnoxious, note the following secret: the main dining room is for people who want that attention BUT the little cafe on the left, as soon as you enter The Drake itself, runs out of the same kitchen and has the same brunch menu. Go there to chill, then run before the famewh*res start arriving.

Enjoy...

(P.S. Pardon the spelling errors, am doing this from bberry without spell check.)

Beautiful Rain

I am on the softest and thickest bed buried beneath and inside of warm white sheets.

Three walls are pale orange. One wall is a window. There is only one dresser of old dark wood, whose shared and kept the secrets of many more than I can imagine.

It's grey outside and pouring. Rain's fingerdrops are playing music on my window.

I've found a little pocket of heaven inside of Toronto, it seems.

...I hope your weekend is as lovely as mine...x

Teaching About 'Twilight': Rape, Abuse, Pedophilia & Isolation

I couldn't have written it better myself. Please read this brilliant piece on the series that is Twilight.

If your daughters are reading these books and watching these movies, make sure to take the time to (1) read them first yourself so that you understand how 'relationships' are being packaged for these young women; and, (2) have the decency (stemming from your obligation and duty as a parent, you useless moron) to sit down and teach your daughters that the Twilight brand of 'romance' and 'love' are in fact abusive relationships in which the young female protagonist cedes control, isolates herself from her family and friends, is obsessive // dealing with a stalking-obsessive other, and is expected to give up everything (while he: nothing).

Remember to also mention the RAPE and the aspects of PEDOPHILIA prevalent within.

(Mamas, pay attention: After having sex for the first time, the female character wakes up bruised and battered and incapable of remembering the night or the sex. This is not healthy sexual intercourse (and if it is for you, then you need help), but rather it is what one might call date rape via roofies.)

I hate these books. I hate that our daughters are being taught this is proper love. I don't care that you, of sophisticated and thinking adult mind, are capable of deciphering and peeling the layers of grotesque that make up the Twilight series. It's the young women. The Twi-Hards, the 10 - 20 somethings (yeah, you're still a child at 20. Deal with it.) who are reading these books and romanticising the insidious messages within.

For those of you with young boys who are reading these books and watching these movies, then you too have a moral obligation to teach them that this brand of love and romance is unacceptable. That if they behave in this manner, they are (simply put): abusive and dangerous di*ks.

God, I hate Twilight.

(P.S. Since posting this bit, I decided to skim the entire series, so as to ensure I wasn't talking out of my ass & out of line about something I hadn't completely investigated. I stand by my initial visceral and violent reaction.)

If a person doesn't Twitter about it, did it really happen?

Note 1: This is not about those who Twitter interesting comments and observations (e.g. Fiery, Lisa, or any of the people following me who I was once able to see), but rather the freaks who tell you they've just come out of the bathroom and are heading out to McCrack's for a McCrack w cheese but only after they call their ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend a crackwh*re with a fat a*s.

Note 2: Obviously, I won't be twittering, though I have kept my twitter page because I think that little brown square with the blue eyes representing me is all kinds of adorable.

It's a little unbelievable how lax people are about their privacy, no?

Why so public?
Why the need for so much instant attention from others?
Is this a form of famewh*ring?
Why are people okay with making themselves so accessible?
Has privacy in North America lost its flavour?
(Do I care that you broke up with your boyfriend? In 140 characters or less, my answer is: No.
So why am I still reading your Twitter page? Because your willingness to share so much of nothing is both fascinating and grotesque to me.)

This cartoon, courtesy of Michelle (thank you!), says it all:



"Twitter-ebrity". Fkn genius considering how much our society trades on the currency of fame. Sad, too.

I am curious as to what Twitter says about our society; about how we interact today and how this will shape tomorrow - if at all. Also, I am really honest-to-God curious to hear your thoughts, so I'm encouraging you to either comment or send me an email about these things. Ask Qs of your own, too, please....

Note 3: The above Qs may appear to be entirely lame when coming from a girl who writes entries and posts them on-line, but trust me when I tell you the following things: (1) This place is a caricature of my life and truly is my life in crayon; and, (2) It is, first and foremost, an exercise in writing, always has been and will always be (this is why I have a problem with the term 'blogger'...I'm a writer, not a blogger. The blog is merely the medium, yo.).

Am I being too harsh?
Is Twittering the new medium to exercise one's writing skills?
Twitter: Friend or foe? (What do you think is going to become of our communication skills?)
Are we moving away from the short story, the epic novel, the trilogy to...the Twitter?

140 characters today.
Sign language tomorrow?
Is Twitter the secret fantasy of The Artist Formerly Known As Prince come to life as technology heaven?

Please...honestly...someone give me something to help me wrap my mind around this new technology. I am gripped by this Twitter frenzy.

Also, I am gripped by some funny dude named Tom Oatmeal (whom I wish to watch silently as he Twypes. Because I'm creepy like that. Was that 140 characters?).

'Moral Army'

I am not of the belief that there can ever be such a thing as a 'moral army'. I feel nothing but sorrow for the State of Israel - because although the death toll they amass against the Palestinians continues to rise, they're going to need national therapy to get over the idea that's pushed by their political and religious perverts: that they are forever victims, threatened by all, only safe in the State of Israel.

Forget that grouping all individuals following the Jewish faith in to one small area of the world is really nothing short of drawing a bull's-eye on them.

Many of my dearest friends, Jewish, are fighting this on a personal level, refusing to be victims, refusing to inherit this legacy, refusing to make the State of Israel the only place they can feel safe and protected. It is a daily struggle for them, a personal battle against their families and their community and one I watch with only the greatest admiration and respect.

(Yes: I lump fundamentalist Muslims and fundamentalist Christians into the same category. Also any fundamentalist who tries to force the idea of reincarnation on me, anarchy on me, communism on me, confusing the lines of politics and theology, discourse and ideology, fear and power.)

"The soldiers' testimonies also reportedly told of an unusually high intervention by military and non-military rabbis, who circulated pamphlets describing the war in religious terminology.

"All the articles had one clear message," one soldier said. "We are the people of Israel, we arrived in the country almost by miracle, now we need to fight to uproot the gentiles who interfere with re-conquering the Holy Land."

"Many soldiers' feelings were that this was a war of religion," he added."

Read the complete article here.

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Disarm

Please take a moment to read about this Campaign and support them in any way you can.

If the following appeals to you, then I encourage you to share this information, please:

"October 16, 2008 saw two coordinated actions against leading weapons factories in two different cities located in central Sweden. Equipped with hammers and bolt cutters, activists gained access to the manufacturing halls where they found and disarmed weapons used in the American-led war on Iraq and warfare material destined for India."

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FaceBook Break

Hi all - I've just deactivated my account and will keep it on radio silence for the next couple of weeks - it's spring and I've had enough face time with the virtual world to hold me over for a little while.

If you're someone I missed to notify of this via email or text, then forgive me and I'll see you back on Face soon, inshallah. (Until then, I'll look forward to seeing your new photos and updates...)

Enjoy the warmth!

x

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Conversations With Little People

"Hi, you've reached Cleo, Dane, Nora May & Trent. We can't take your call right now, so please leave a message and we'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you."

"Hey Cleo. It's Maha. I just got your email - I was out of town this weekend, but I'm home all week and would love to come by on Thursday night. I'll pick something up on the way over and we can watch Grey's..."

click

"Ello?"

"Hello Trenty."

"ELLO."

"How are you?"

"I GOO."

"Good! Me, too. What are you doing?"

"I PLAYEEN."

"How fun! Are you enjoying having mommy around over the holidays?"

"YEA."

click

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Hi Nora May. It's Maha."

"Oh. Hi Maha."

"Hi honey. How are you?"

"I'm good. We're playing."

"That's great. Is mommy around?"

"She's taken a shower. Please leave a message."

"Should I call back?"

"No, Maha. Please leave a message." (With the clear inflection that she thinks I must be a little slow in the head to ask such a foolish question.)

"Uhm. With you?"

"Yes please."

"Ok. Will you please tell her I called and that I will see her on Thursday."

"Yes, okay. Goodbye."

click

Kids amaze me.
I wish adults were as honest as them.

On Twilight and being moved to violence

On principle, I was opposed to reading Twilight because of the lunatic storyline communicated to me. Some sh*t about a teenage girl who falls in love with a vampire who then ends up with a werewolf (the girl, not the vampire), and then somehow has a child with the vampire (the girl, not the werewolf). Or something.

Opposed, on principle to reading this series of books because there are so many brilliant books waiting for attention, that I was extremely hesitant to instead surrender my precious hours to these ones.

I finally did. I went out to dinner with a girlfriend who was swooning over the storyline. She gave me her book and so I began.

But not for long.

As is often the case, I have extreme reactions to things or ideas or situations or people. I don't half-ass most anything, let alone a response to sh*t such as this book.

If I could, I would have stabbed this book. This is how much I hated it. Nearly as much as The Devil Wears Prada.

Not only was this horribly written, it also had a weird sense of sexuality-but-not sterility about it that was simply creepy as the storyline was about A CHILD in (obsessive sexual-but-not-really-as-the-mum's-reading-this-would-have-a-fit-if-these-two-got-groovy-in-this-first-of-three-sh*t-books) love with A VAMPIRE. Oh my God, looking at that sentence, I am ashamed to have given even 5 minutes to this book.

Obviously, I did not make it very far into the book; one afternoon wasted on a little under half of Twilight and I drove it back to my girlfriend's place and had to control myself not to throw it with all my strength at her door repeatedly until she answered...only to keep throwing it at her as she stood in the doorway.

We grappled for a little and she pushed me down on to the sofa, forcing me to watch the film instead. (Thankfully for free. I wouldn't give a cent to this stupid film.)

Much to her dismay, I lasted through the 2 hour comedy. She tried to turn it off, but I would have none of it, as I'd not laughed that hard in quite some time.

For the record no1: I think both the lead actors are equally sh*t. The girl looked as if she were in a perpetual state of stupid whereas the boy a perpetual state of puke.

For the record no2: Really? Seriously? How are any of you still believing in this unhealthy formula that is so repugnant?

Vampire = bad boy heightened who changes his very real nature for the girl of his dreams and forever.

This storyline, perpetuated by Hollywood and the stupid world of fairytales does not exist. It does. Not. Exist. There is no bad boy loner Vampire coming for you, who will change his nature in order to be with you, who will then spider crawl up the side of a tree with you on his back. Does this make you sad? Do you think I'm cruel? Possibly. Go ahead and tell me I have poor taste in literature, please, or that I am heartless. Please - I invite you to.

Still, though, right now I wish to slap my screen.

P.S. If I had a daughter, I would rip this from her hands and burn it.
P.S. to the P.S. I must admit that the baseball sequence in the film version was absolutely beautifully shot.

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O no.

I was asked to join a while back, and so I did.
I've only just turned it on and don't really know how to use it still.
I may eventually turn it off, but in the interim, here I am: Twittering / Twyping / Tweewing (?).

Poor judge-ment on display in scholarship discrimination

Please find my latest piece here at rabble.

And a little announcement, that I am very excited to make, as rabble is Canada's no.1 progressive voice: rabble asked me to become a regular contributor, and I've accepted...hurrah! When you click on my name, you'll now see that side photo and blurb.

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How To Feel As An Underachiever (& so off to Portugal & the Azores)

When I was 13, a boy broke my femur. We shall call him 'K'.

K was the son of our neighbors at the time. He was only a year older, but to my 13, he was an older man worthy of my secret crushing. I believed him to be the cat's meow, being drawn to the alpha of the male even as a child. He was the cool one, always at the gym, always busy, always with his equally cool friends while I ate twinkies and coveted from afar in my knee high socks, awkward shorts, puffy hair and glasses covering half of my face.

As a child, I would have followed K anywhere and on one unfortunate day, I did just that. He said we should go across the street to the store, and so I quickly pulled up my socks and followed. Followed is here the operative word, so please pay close attention to this next...

As we were about to cross the street, we noticed the You Should Not Cross But If You're Already Crossing Then Please Hurry It Up hand signal was already flashing. K said we could make it and so began to run. Naturally, I followed, only was incapable of running as fast as K. He made it to the median and sadly, I did not.

I made it to the pavement as I had been hit by a car.

Luckily, I wasn't run over, merely knocked over, and so what could have been complete devastation was just a broken femur. (Enter 5 weeks of traction in a hospital bed, 6 months inside of a body cast and 2 years of physio therapy to complete the cycle. Not only had my femur been broken, but so too was canceled the high probability of a very successful career in figure skating.)

That I should blame him for any of it never crossed my mind. I poke fun now only because he will be reading this (Hello K!).

I have very few memories of K past this point.

Fast forward to now.
Saw him, chatted with him for a few hours, and were caught up on bits and pieces of our lives and adventures as much as time permitted.

He has come a far cry from the boy who broke my femur.
He has achieved, my friends.
He is today a surgeon. Specializing in urology. Specializing in cancer in urology.

Bravo.

*****

You have all read me about H. She is among my handful of best friends who has kept my secrets hidden safely within her heart. H is a writer for Elle UK and last I saw her, I jumped over to London for a short weekend to do nothing more but be caught up face-to-face, eat at The Wolseley (yum) & The French House (yummier), attend a play, shop and become sleep deprived over the course of said weekend.

A little while back, H bought a summer home on one of the islands of the Azores. She is now in the process of purchasing a second stone cottage - also only for summer - in the hills of Portugal. It is to be a writer's retreat, with ramblings in the hills and many long luscious nights of food, drink and conversation.

We are working out details as I will be, inshallah, heading over to roam in Portugal and write while there. We may pop over to the house in the Azores, but we're undecided on that at the moment.

Spring is looking as though it will be among the best as trips are in the works for the above, also to Napa Valley, NYC and Paris. Late summer is to take me to London and one as-of-yet undefined destination, though I know it must be a hot one. I am inspired & excited by it all...

On Judgment: Monkey, Pippy & Thomas Shop @ Consumers

.1. All week, I have been thinking about the promise I made > to write a new entry < and I must admit that it's weighed heavy on me, this promise. Oddly, it seems to have both placed pressure on me to think of something coherent and also, to paralyze my move to puzzle old words together in an effort to create something new. For this reason, I have decided to simply write. This is more a stream of consciousness, rather than an entry with one specific idea and purpose. But it is an entry and it has been promised and now here it is...

.2. Because so many of you seem to have found something which resonated when you read The Story that Hides, I will provide a small contextualization for this written bit.

I began writing that in November of 2007, a couple of weeks after I had my heart completely beaten to a pulp by someone, an occurrence that had never happened before and one by which my entire self had become displaced. That's all anyone needs to know about that piece.

That and the fact that a slight variation of it will likely become the first chapter of a more complete story some day.

.3. I spent 10 days in Vancouver in October. It was lovely as Vancouver is a stunning city and the weather gorgeous.

The most incredible day spent there was the one during which I spent a few hours in Pigeon Park. This is the most notorious park in the City in terms of poverty.

I picked up 25 sandwiches, coffees and cookies from my favorite shop (Smart Mouth Cafe at 131 Water Street, no 117 - highly recommended next you are in VanCity) and took them, with the help of three employees across the way to the park.

There we handed them out to anyone who wanted and I spent some time speaking with the prostitutes and the junkies and peoples' grandchildren and grandparents covered in lesions and cuts and bruises, scrapes and scraps of clothing not warm enough for even a summer's day.

I left there a little broken and invigorated, a little sad and a lot confused. I wandered for a few hours in my own head considering that any individual making different choices or living different experiences could be in that park. None of us are immune and we must extend grace and love to all.

.4. Speaking of which, we were recently out to dinner and had a very heavy discussion about this particular idea of 'judgment'.

Among the folks at dinner was someone vehemently opposed to judging the actions of others: "People who judge are assholes. Who the f*ck are they to judge me?" Interestingly enough, in their judgment of individuals judging others and opposition to said judgment, they had become complicit in the very thing they were opposing: judgment. (Tautology is the vice of Dr. Seuss, didn't you know?)

I kept my mouth shut and didn't point this out, choosing to instead name the shrimp in my Yum Mamuang and wrote in my head their journey from ocean to kitchen. It was called "Monkey, Pippy, Thomas and Famke Fall Into A Trap, Are Caught, Then Get Grilled". Maybe I'll share it some day...

But. I think since judgment is inevitable and a part of human nature, perhaps the key is to temper it with a sort of mercy. Attempt to understand the actions you've judged and do so in as gentle a manner as possible, remembering that people are not inherently bad, though we all tend to act in foolish and hurtful manners many times in our lives (whether it's because we're spoiled a**holes with a heavy sense of entitlement, or because we actually didn't know we were being a**holes).

On this note, here we need to acknowledge the difference between understanding an action and justifying that same action. Also, that there are some things we simply can not stand for - now, extend this perspective to social justice and then make no difference between the shit and unacceptable behavior of one individual against an other individual (e.g. one man refusing to serve another because of the colour of his skin // one man abusing his wife) and collective behavior against any group (e.g. laws supporting segregation // women not being allowed to vote, own property, etc.).

There is great danger in us denying the direct link between the individual and the collective. (See below End Note.)

The moment we recognize and own the reality that each action we take must be a reflection of a social fabric wherein we look out and care for one another in an equal and respectful manner is a first step to doing away with the horrible atrocities we commit against one another, be it collectively or individually.

Don't ever think that we, as individuals, can act without impunity, or that our actions are disassociated from our world view or the freedoms we fight for, the social justice me must uphold.

(I am guilty of falling short of this on many an occasion and I've behaved like a Grade-A a**hole, but I work hard to recognize my stupidity and then remedy it when I can and as immediately as possible. The above is as much a reminder to myself as it is a reminder to anyone reading it.)

End note: If you are of the belief that we - and only we - are responsible for ourselves and no one else is responsible for us, and that we can't be held to a higher standard of extending responsibility and comfort to others who are hurting or who have been oppressed or whose rights have been sh*t on, then you can take your nihilistic individualistic perspective and f*ck off - this writing isn't for you, and neither are the opinions within.

.5. And in a small effort to end on a funny note, I'll ping you a little story that came to mind while out at lunch with S some days back.

Do you remember the store Consumers?

One would walk in, choose from their catalog, mark their choice on a paper, take said choice to counter, place order and then one of the employees would bring from the back room the item and the customer would pay.

It was, in essence, on-line shopping without either the 'on-line' portion or the waiting for the snail mail portion.

I would become so excited at the prospect of going to Consumers with my parents that I would reach a level of both near hysteria and near black-out excitement.

Seated in the back seat almost incapable of breathing, I would, as baba came to a rolling stop in the parking lot, shoot running from the backseat and into the store, aimed like an arrow for the Consumers counter.

Why?

Because they made pencils for Me. Each and every Consumers pencil was made specifically for Children - they were half the size of Adult Pencils and so made with only Me and my brethren in mind.

I coveted the Child Pencils and left Consumers with at least 10 lining my pockets each trip as my mother dragged me pouting and unhappy from the store declaring "there must be something else we can buy".

I was grateful for their acknowledgment that the world was not for adults alone. No one has come close since...

RIP, Consumers.

.6. Sorry this entry is completely lame. But it is an entry and it's a first step to me overcoming the shit writer's block that has placed my mind in a logjam...xxoo

'Modern' malaise, dread & boredom

Spiritual discussion contextualized within the aesthetic modern, specific to...read and find out to what.

If you are of the variety who believes they are not held to a higher moral ethic (specifically, of the Abrahamic traditions), then you should skip over this entry as it is not for you. I further extend this sentiment to those of you who believe that women fking like men renders the sexes equal.

For all others; click here to download another excellent piece by S. Hamza Yusuf titled Climbing Mount Purgatorio: Reflections from the Seventh Cornice. It speaks to the excesses of today (specifically pornography) and the spiritual and moral malaise / boredom which makes for fertile ground.

More importantly it speaks to the differences between men and women and how men could use to learn from women. This piece will not sit well with those of you who believe they have either a 'modern' or 'Western' perspective on life. Nor for those who wish to behave 'freely' in either the 'modern' or 'Western' definition specific to this part of the world.

It is a heavy theological read, but will make your mind expand. Even if you disagree. Thanks to Aamin for forwarding my way; he is a convert to Islam and a once 'playboy'.

(For those unable to dl the above, please find the article here.)
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New entry coming soon (I promise)

For the past several months, I have directed all of my storytelling, and what I like to believe are wit & intelligent observations elsewhere.

That particular energy ceased said direction one month ago. Since, I have suffered extreme writer's block, but I really feel as though I must write - that I must water One Female Canuck or risk her weakening to the point of death.

And I promise to do just that.
I promise that by this week's end, I will have posted one entry worthy of both your lovely attention and extreme patience...even if it ends being nothing more than a collection of randoms.

I want to thank each and every one of you for your pings and for coming back repeatedly though I've not taken the time to post anything substantial in quite some time. I think I write this every time I go away for a while - though, admittedly, this time has seen me away the longest - but you are incredible and wonderful individuals and I am every-time honoured and surprised that you think my entries are...good.

A quick and special hello to Kara O. She knows why, so HI!
(Look: I vanish a bit only to return the rhyming mouse from Today's Special.)

Also to Feras, The Berkeley Girls, Beatrice, Uzi, Yaznotjas, Michelle, Michael, Thomas, Aliya, Her?a (because I can't make out that letter as it is Russian font), BB, Lily, Nickie, Z, 'X', Marigold, Tommy of The Gays, Sarah, Sumaira, Paul & everyone I've forgotten to name but with whom I've communicated sporadically re OFC. To the others, who only sent pings of encouragement and hellos, I am supremely shit at remembering names, and so just know that I thank you all, though I...am shit at remembering your names. Your emails were a million lovelier than my poor memory.

See you by week's end...x

P.S. I've changed the picture on the side as a first step to new beginnings...the four photos are a mix of a wonderful few months passed...

25 Random Things About Maha

Fell free to make your own (the list doesn't have to compiled of 25)...

.1. I count things; all things as I compete with myself to count them before I walk / drive / cycle past them without slowing down.

.2. I write things out with my toes. I'll be thinking of something and then I'll spell it out with my toes (I don't hold a pen or anything...I just write it out with...my toes...).

.3. My books are in order first by genre, second by biographical info (my own).

.4. When it comes to emotional fight or flight, I choose the later...extremely. For all of my openness, I shut down and out when I perceive a threat to my emotional well-being.

.5. I am the not-pack-rat; I throw everything out.

.6. My favourite olive is a green olive stuffed with one tooth of garlic.

.7. Post grad school, I decided to become an artist. So I did. With one art show that sold out. But then I got bored.

.8. I get bored very easily.

.9. I am writing a book.

.10. The first game I ever learned to play was chess at the age of 3.

.11. I don't need to have the last word if I am confident that my actions were the proper actions in that situation.

.12. My favourite food is watermelon accompanied by a feta cheese sandwich.

.13. I am at my most peaceful when I am near water (not, like, a toilette...but a real body of water).

.14. I have hundreds of acquaintances and count, at most, 10 as 'friends'.

.15. It's only when I write about something - map it out with a pen - that I understand it and then can tuck it away.

.16. My lowest math grade in high school was 98%. Until I did grade 13 calculus, which was taught by our high school's football coach. He gave me an additional 2% so that I could pass the fkn class.

.17. I cry during sport movies; all of them. They are my favourite genre of film.

.18. I can't read only one book at a time; often, I am toggling between 8 - 10 books so as to keep my attention (see # 8 above).

.19. Literally, I don't get it. I don't really understand the difference between $1,000 or $100,000. The concept of money is entirely lost on me. I am an economist's worst nightmare.

.20. I prefer letter writing to email.

.21. I have zero desire to go to any part of East Asia. Not even for free, can you get me there. (I don't understand it, either).

.22. I throw a killer left hook; one that split a bag recently.

.23. I hate all forms of instructions (on boxes, on bags, on people...).

.24. I love and trust immediately.

.25. But can walk away just as easily.

Petition to be signed today (15 Jan 2009)

From friend Charles Glass:
"Attached is an open letter concerning the Israeli war on Gaza. If you agree with its terms, please send your signature directly to p.hallward@mdx.ac.uk . It has to be done today for some reason. Many thanks and best wishes."

Israel%20must%20lose%2C%2014%20Jan%202...pdf

White Phosphorous: And so the Israeli argument goes...

My article can be found and read here.

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Song for Gaza

Please share.
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Fashionable death in Gaza

This is my article at rabble re the war on Gaza.

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