Prolific Immigrant

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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.

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.

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.

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

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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.

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. Perspective.

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

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“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

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

Finishing it has made me sad.

“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!)

…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 2000
In 2000, Natasha and I visited Austin and had an absolutely fantastic time, even though Natasha 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.

Tash 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 Tash 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 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.)

(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…).