does my tail look fat in these scales?
even bananas suffer from shrinkage after a dip in the ocean
hey larry, your gill's in my face, waitaminute that's not your gill, goddamit larry!
a whole lot of cancer
a message to all you impressionable crustaceans: Being a mule will result in lobster cavity searches, stay away from drugs kids
mmm, cerveza
samirai jack, new wave new wave
slam, da da daat, da da daat, let the boys be boys
my hand as featured in the vw ad that never was...
thifting to loodakrith thpeed
bloggers in the mirror appear stupider than they really are
Sunday, January 29, 2006
hellophoto
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
SPAM, it's what's for dinner..
Don’t you hate getting chain letters - Or those “send these to 70 people and your wish will come true” emails - or bill gates will send you a jillion dollars if you email this to everyone on your mailing list..
I have to admit, I sometimes get these silly forwards, and then because I have a couple of minutes of free time, or I might be procrastinating the entire day, I’ll do the little quiz.. you pick your favorite color, you write down the your first initial, you spend the time of adding all the digits in your shoe size, birthday, and partner’s cycle. Then you make your wish - pluck out a strand of your hair and light it on fire repeating the chants in the email…
And then what? They tell you, now forward this to 5 people and your wish will come true, if you forward it to 10 people, your wish will come true before your next birthday.. Shit, you’re so close to your dreams of totalitarian world domination, but now you need to send this out to your friends.. This is when my neurotic thinking comes in, ok my friends will think I’m a totally mentally defective idiot for sending them this stupid forward, so what do I do? Plus what if someone else I send this to is also planning totalitarian world domination; do I want to ruin my chances? That’s when the address book scouring begins.. When I start searching for those old friends that I might have completely lost touch with, group partners from some of my classes in college, defunct emails, anything.. but then the thinking kicks into high gear, what will happen if the powers that be realize that I’m kinda cheating by forwarding this email to people I don’t really consider close friends? Will my wish not come true? You know what else pisses me off? When they actually include a story of how now you’re hexed, you must send this email out to this many people or something evil will befall you.. you really expect me to believe that? Beelzebub’s hanging around the web looking to cast evil down my way? “hmmm, that Bahraini rant bastard didn’t forward to 20 people, FIRE & BRIMSTONE HIS ASS EVIL MONKEYS!!!!!!!”
All this thinking then usually tires me out and I just delete the email forever giving up on my dreams to have the entire world sing praise to me… damn you good fortune forwards..
The other email spam I just can’t stand are the please give me your bank account emails..
It always starts the same way.. some poor kid in some underdeveloped country is sitting there telling you about how these rebels have killed his/her father who just so happened to be the ex-minister of mining gold, diamonds, and little people.. before the daddy got killed by Chuck Taylor Rebels (Klashnikovs and high tops) he took out 5 million dollars in unmarked US treasury bills, but they were locked up in a security firm in another underdeveloped country. The child then asks you for your bank account so they can transfer the money to your account and then have someone rewire the account and then they get your credit card number and then BABAM! You have USD 33,000 worth of calls to miss Cleo on your tab..
The thing that gets me on these emails, is that the grammar is atrocious.. I mean honestly, your daddy was the minister of mining gold, diamonds, and little people; and he couldn’t afford to give you a proper education? I knew a lot of kids in college that were the children of the most corrupt people in Africa, and they could all speak English or French good… and they get so chummy with you in those emails don’t they? Hello my friend, whoa whoa whoa, you’re asking me to be part of a money laundering ring, you’re not my buddy just yet… lets get to know each other first, lets maim some rebels together, do some ancient right of passage that would make me eat a living human thinking it’s a rib eye, maybe get a little militia going, poison a water supply or two, then we can get chummy pal..
What would really get my attention and would actually have me consider replying is if they just jazzed up their Spam email a little bit.. just a little more attention people, that’s all I’m asking, make it a little more enjoyable to read.. maybe they could change the circumstances.. the money could be in a security company in another town that’s run by the evil mayor who’s militia is made up of crazy drugged up rebels. Then what’s needed are the services of a crack ex gulf war rangers team, comprised of an aging leader who loves it when a plan comes together, the pretty intelligence dude, the psychotic transport specialist, and the big bad mothafuqa.. This team will have to make their way to the underdeveloped African country, meet the dead minister’s child, agree to the terms, devise a cunning plan to break into the security firms vault using a pimped out school bus and a map the pretty intelligence dude got from sleeping with the mayors wife. During their raid, they discover that the mayor is extremely corrupt and he’s pumping experimental chemicals from Pharmaceutical Corporation XYZ into the town’s water supply, leaving the townspeople feeling very nauseous and with irritable bowl movements.. A huge standoff could possibly ensue where the psychotic transportations specialist will get shot in the leg saving a malnourished child from being caught in the crossfire.. the battle rages on, the mayor captures the four heroes at gunpoint while he looks away the big bad mothafuqa throws a punch and lodges his fist in the mayor’s skull he dies and the militia disbands running off into the hills.. the security firm’s vault is broken open, the treasury bills are found, along with missing national treasures, a dodo, and a cure for AIDS.. and everyone goes home happy.. now that would warrant a USD 33,000 psychic friends network bill.. yeah…
Waitaminute, what? don’t listen to me.. I’m just babbling…
I have to admit, I sometimes get these silly forwards, and then because I have a couple of minutes of free time, or I might be procrastinating the entire day, I’ll do the little quiz.. you pick your favorite color, you write down the your first initial, you spend the time of adding all the digits in your shoe size, birthday, and partner’s cycle. Then you make your wish - pluck out a strand of your hair and light it on fire repeating the chants in the email…
And then what? They tell you, now forward this to 5 people and your wish will come true, if you forward it to 10 people, your wish will come true before your next birthday.. Shit, you’re so close to your dreams of totalitarian world domination, but now you need to send this out to your friends.. This is when my neurotic thinking comes in, ok my friends will think I’m a totally mentally defective idiot for sending them this stupid forward, so what do I do? Plus what if someone else I send this to is also planning totalitarian world domination; do I want to ruin my chances? That’s when the address book scouring begins.. When I start searching for those old friends that I might have completely lost touch with, group partners from some of my classes in college, defunct emails, anything.. but then the thinking kicks into high gear, what will happen if the powers that be realize that I’m kinda cheating by forwarding this email to people I don’t really consider close friends? Will my wish not come true? You know what else pisses me off? When they actually include a story of how now you’re hexed, you must send this email out to this many people or something evil will befall you.. you really expect me to believe that? Beelzebub’s hanging around the web looking to cast evil down my way? “hmmm, that Bahraini rant bastard didn’t forward to 20 people, FIRE & BRIMSTONE HIS ASS EVIL MONKEYS!!!!!!!”
All this thinking then usually tires me out and I just delete the email forever giving up on my dreams to have the entire world sing praise to me… damn you good fortune forwards..
The other email spam I just can’t stand are the please give me your bank account emails..
It always starts the same way.. some poor kid in some underdeveloped country is sitting there telling you about how these rebels have killed his/her father who just so happened to be the ex-minister of mining gold, diamonds, and little people.. before the daddy got killed by Chuck Taylor Rebels (Klashnikovs and high tops) he took out 5 million dollars in unmarked US treasury bills, but they were locked up in a security firm in another underdeveloped country. The child then asks you for your bank account so they can transfer the money to your account and then have someone rewire the account and then they get your credit card number and then BABAM! You have USD 33,000 worth of calls to miss Cleo on your tab..
The thing that gets me on these emails, is that the grammar is atrocious.. I mean honestly, your daddy was the minister of mining gold, diamonds, and little people; and he couldn’t afford to give you a proper education? I knew a lot of kids in college that were the children of the most corrupt people in Africa, and they could all speak English or French good… and they get so chummy with you in those emails don’t they? Hello my friend, whoa whoa whoa, you’re asking me to be part of a money laundering ring, you’re not my buddy just yet… lets get to know each other first, lets maim some rebels together, do some ancient right of passage that would make me eat a living human thinking it’s a rib eye, maybe get a little militia going, poison a water supply or two, then we can get chummy pal..
What would really get my attention and would actually have me consider replying is if they just jazzed up their Spam email a little bit.. just a little more attention people, that’s all I’m asking, make it a little more enjoyable to read.. maybe they could change the circumstances.. the money could be in a security company in another town that’s run by the evil mayor who’s militia is made up of crazy drugged up rebels. Then what’s needed are the services of a crack ex gulf war rangers team, comprised of an aging leader who loves it when a plan comes together, the pretty intelligence dude, the psychotic transport specialist, and the big bad mothafuqa.. This team will have to make their way to the underdeveloped African country, meet the dead minister’s child, agree to the terms, devise a cunning plan to break into the security firms vault using a pimped out school bus and a map the pretty intelligence dude got from sleeping with the mayors wife. During their raid, they discover that the mayor is extremely corrupt and he’s pumping experimental chemicals from Pharmaceutical Corporation XYZ into the town’s water supply, leaving the townspeople feeling very nauseous and with irritable bowl movements.. A huge standoff could possibly ensue where the psychotic transportations specialist will get shot in the leg saving a malnourished child from being caught in the crossfire.. the battle rages on, the mayor captures the four heroes at gunpoint while he looks away the big bad mothafuqa throws a punch and lodges his fist in the mayor’s skull he dies and the militia disbands running off into the hills.. the security firm’s vault is broken open, the treasury bills are found, along with missing national treasures, a dodo, and a cure for AIDS.. and everyone goes home happy.. now that would warrant a USD 33,000 psychic friends network bill.. yeah…
Waitaminute, what? don’t listen to me.. I’m just babbling…
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Vocabulario #7 (i think)
Hope you haven’t completely given up on me - I’m back, for now.. this week’s vocabulario is brought to you by words ending in “-ious” .. take a look at them, mull them over, think about how you want to include them in your talk this weekend, and then thank this blog for making your vocabulary so much more colorful.. Remember, if you have a good word you’d like included in vocabulario email me at bahrainirants@gmail.com. It’s been weird this break from you.. I really have missed you, my personal space of stupidity… anyways, on with the words..
Word #1 Vivacious
Word #2 Bodacious
Word #3 Ostentatious
Enjoy and be merry..
edu
Word #1 Vivacious
Word #2 Bodacious
Word #3 Ostentatious
Enjoy and be merry..
edu
Monday, January 16, 2006
Play Listing
Sitting with a jellybean, allowing the ol’Ipod to fill in the silence with its little memory banks of MP3s and good vibes. In my strange and twisted brain the subject of play lists came up, and that’s got me thinking.. how important they are in the life of today’s connected human..
I’m addicted to music.. I spent a good part of the 80s and the 90s making mix tapes.. I even perfected the pause between each track (a very concise lowering the volume on the recording tape and then pushing pause, so the break between each track wasn’t that obvious).. Nothing said I love you as much as a personalized mix.. the fact that you had two sides of recording - the fact that you could embellish the cover with artwork and print, or not – the fact that you picked the music and that you dumped that music on to this little wrapped up magnetic tape.. Ultimately, nothing made the cassette as cool as when you held it in your hand between your thumb and index finger a la Mike Myers from Wayne’s world “I think a little bohemian rhapsody, gentlemen” and then slipped it in the tape player for that moment of madness.. ahh yes the cassette tape, you brought so much joy, you brought so many young lovers together, so many breakups, so much emotion, so much everything.. I miss you Maxwell90 and even your little brother Maxwell60..
Over the years, as music got digitized, compact and mini discs came and went, people began ripping and sharing their music; the cassette tape brought less and less love into people’s lives.. The play list on the other hand, was a different story with a different purpose.. the play list continued to thrive and make people happy.. The play list still found a use in people’s lives.. the play list would be the indicator of your mood, your memory, your trip.. that specific album/mix/list/emotion/vibe allowed you to control the music that you were going to listen to.. you actually created how the tunes were going to flow, for that moment and forever..
I spent many afternoons preparing play lists for my road trips, my 80s fix, eclectically chilled out, pre-party mix, after party mix, super party mix, love in limbo, wise guys, bangbang headbangin’, cool days, snowy mornings, rainy days, fuckin’ hot, one hit wonders, brit pop, psychedelic, sinister sounds, damn it feels good to be a gangsta, guilty cheese, classically remembered, the me like series (me like dancin’, me like beautiful music, me like rockin’).. and I loved it every second of dragging and dropping.. I was wondering what other names people gave their play lists.. hmmm, well?
Looking back and flipping through old lists, the microfiche memories come rushing back like a drug induced flashback.. The music you listened to at that time, the feelings it brought back, the significance of the song and how it tied into that specific play list.. I’m not saying you had to be creative and make everything work and throw in a silly tag for each list.. but go through your old lists, listen to the music, do your little dance and remember. Associate feelings, conversations, with your music, this is the beauty of it all. I fell in love to my play lists, wallowed in my depression with them, got super hyper, invigorated my confidence, went back to the 8th grade, made beautiful love, people watched, connected with my dad and his taste in music, and so much more. Think about it the next time you want to arrange a couple of tracks in your library to provide you with something.. It’s just another way to retain a little piece of your life.. Enjoy it, cause memories like these are golden… To think, this whole thing was spurred from an inspiring play list entitled “release,” a tribute to a new life.. thanks for the moment jellybean..
love your music, cause it loves you back..
I’m addicted to music.. I spent a good part of the 80s and the 90s making mix tapes.. I even perfected the pause between each track (a very concise lowering the volume on the recording tape and then pushing pause, so the break between each track wasn’t that obvious).. Nothing said I love you as much as a personalized mix.. the fact that you had two sides of recording - the fact that you could embellish the cover with artwork and print, or not – the fact that you picked the music and that you dumped that music on to this little wrapped up magnetic tape.. Ultimately, nothing made the cassette as cool as when you held it in your hand between your thumb and index finger a la Mike Myers from Wayne’s world “I think a little bohemian rhapsody, gentlemen” and then slipped it in the tape player for that moment of madness.. ahh yes the cassette tape, you brought so much joy, you brought so many young lovers together, so many breakups, so much emotion, so much everything.. I miss you Maxwell90 and even your little brother Maxwell60..
Over the years, as music got digitized, compact and mini discs came and went, people began ripping and sharing their music; the cassette tape brought less and less love into people’s lives.. The play list on the other hand, was a different story with a different purpose.. the play list continued to thrive and make people happy.. The play list still found a use in people’s lives.. the play list would be the indicator of your mood, your memory, your trip.. that specific album/mix/list/emotion/vibe allowed you to control the music that you were going to listen to.. you actually created how the tunes were going to flow, for that moment and forever..
I spent many afternoons preparing play lists for my road trips, my 80s fix, eclectically chilled out, pre-party mix, after party mix, super party mix, love in limbo, wise guys, bangbang headbangin’, cool days, snowy mornings, rainy days, fuckin’ hot, one hit wonders, brit pop, psychedelic, sinister sounds, damn it feels good to be a gangsta, guilty cheese, classically remembered, the me like series (me like dancin’, me like beautiful music, me like rockin’).. and I loved it every second of dragging and dropping.. I was wondering what other names people gave their play lists.. hmmm, well?
Looking back and flipping through old lists, the microfiche memories come rushing back like a drug induced flashback.. The music you listened to at that time, the feelings it brought back, the significance of the song and how it tied into that specific play list.. I’m not saying you had to be creative and make everything work and throw in a silly tag for each list.. but go through your old lists, listen to the music, do your little dance and remember. Associate feelings, conversations, with your music, this is the beauty of it all. I fell in love to my play lists, wallowed in my depression with them, got super hyper, invigorated my confidence, went back to the 8th grade, made beautiful love, people watched, connected with my dad and his taste in music, and so much more. Think about it the next time you want to arrange a couple of tracks in your library to provide you with something.. It’s just another way to retain a little piece of your life.. Enjoy it, cause memories like these are golden… To think, this whole thing was spurred from an inspiring play list entitled “release,” a tribute to a new life.. thanks for the moment jellybean..
love your music, cause it loves you back..
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
vocabulario y adios
Still on this major whirlwind of self discovery… will be taking a break for a while - not sure how long, just need to realign my life.. it could take a couple of days, it could take a couple of weeks..
Here’s your last three words for a while..
Word #1 Daft-Days
Word #2 Cockamamie
Word #3 Bonzer
So enjoy the last of your daft-days having a bonzer time, thinking of how you’re going to incorporate cockamamie into your vocabulary.
Good bye for now..
br
Here’s your last three words for a while..
Word #1 Daft-Days
Word #2 Cockamamie
Word #3 Bonzer
So enjoy the last of your daft-days having a bonzer time, thinking of how you’re going to incorporate cockamamie into your vocabulary.
Good bye for now..
br
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Vocabulario #5
Week five and counting ladies and gents.. things are looking interesting – the weather’s getting better and people have started sending in their submissions for words. Remember, bahrainirants@gmail.com for your suggestions, Cerebral Waste has a good one for next week. but for this week, this is what you need to incorporate into your talk. I know I haven’t picked the easiest words to use, but you guys should be pros by now.
Word #1: Finicky
Word #2: Boondoggle
Word #3: Scallywag
I’m in the middle of a heavy moment right now, I don’t really have anything insightful or stupid to say, so I’ll just keep it short. Moo.
Word #1: Finicky
Word #2: Boondoggle
Word #3: Scallywag
I’m in the middle of a heavy moment right now, I don’t really have anything insightful or stupid to say, so I’ll just keep it short. Moo.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
10 minutes on music
Music is just another extension of my character… I use music when describing my mood, I use music to remember conversations, I use music to fill in awkward moments of silence… Music is what dictates my life and I dictate my music… Thought I’d lay down a 10 minute exercise on the music that’s defined my life..
The latest global underground compilation reminding me of days long gone, with that Depeche Mode Lexicon Avenue remix that Digweed and Cataneo made so famous… Foghat and Free for some unabashed 70s rock n roll. The Rolling Stones to remind me that you can’t always get what you want under my thumb… Coldplay for those silence filler moments in our lives (Even though their latest album got Paltrowed) … The “the” bands filling in that modern hipster appeal with that certain ‘je ne sais rien’ taste… Daft Punk for that robot in us all… Annie Lennox for being the most undervalued Diva in music (up your French Canadian ass Celine)… looking for jojo on his search for California grass with the Beatles… Sublime, cause they simply were… Ray Charles, Miles Davis, Satchmo, BB King, Muddy Waters, and John Lee Hooker for real Rhythm & Blues. Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, Dinah Washington, Nina Simone, Gladys night, and Queen Aretha for teaching me about lovin’ and fallin’ in love. Glen Miller, Bobby Darin, Nat King Cole, Dave Brubeck , Louis Prima, Sinatra, Deano, Sammy and the music that actually made you want to wear a suit. LL cool J, for making me want a girl with extensions in her hair, bamboo ear rings at least two pairs… Queen, cause without Freddie Mercury in my life I don’t think I would’ve ever been able to hold a mic with such panache. Getting back into the mid to late 90s alternative collection, toad the wet sprocket, tonic, dishwalla, remember that shit? Singing along with David Bowie and wondering if there really is life on mars… letting Bob Marley rub it to me belly like guava jelly… Spoon for quickly becoming one of my favorite current bands.. Pearl Jam live with Eddie Vedder’s incoherent ramblings and him just going off on a “won the lottereee” tangent. George Clinton and P-Funk: thanks to Depute T who brought the funk out… Sade for making me want to make love to her music, mermaid on no ordinary love is one of the best new agey love songs out there without it being too cheesy, trust me. The Wu-Tang clan: for keeping me still interested in rap – master the art of 52 blocks iron lungs… The Strokes for making me blast their music, seroo gets it (well she gets it all). Ani Difranco – for touching my heart in junior high in terms of her music and my fantasies. Wavy Gravy by Sasha – one of the best electronic tunes in the history of music – really – and Sasha’s such a nice guy, we’re pals.. right mohi… New wave, next wave, post punk, garage rock & the indie rock scene that none of us will ever fully grasp but love with such unbridled passion. The random bands that clap their hands in Brooklyn. Watching trance pass it’s expiration date and shaking my head, feeling the industry never really getting progressive house – leaving the jungle to the junglerats – wondering when people will wake up from electro. Marvin Gaye for being such a cool cat. French Pop rock like Phoenix and Zoot Woman. Nordic representation from Royskopp and the Kings of Convenience – id rather dance id rather dance then talk with you... Loving Dave Mathews in high school and then hating him in college and now liking him all over again, I wonder why? Rai, for bringing much needed credibility to Arabic music. Ricky, Jooj, n Nif for being the only people on this planet who’s taste in rap I trust. Idlewild for writing anthemic music. Aphex Twin-khalas. Asking God why Otis Redding wasn’t given a chance to rerecord Sitting on the Dock of the Bay. Franz Ferdinand for making ballsy music, the rakes for being the new franz, and whomever is going to be the new rakes... Devo, for being so misclassified as a wacky band with that one hit, it’s all about the gut gut feeling.. Cheap Trick for writing the best Karaoke song ever. Jamie Hewlet and Damon Albarn for making virtual musicians that actually rock, I had the hots for tank girl. “METLIKA” for making downloading digital music so much harder. Mylo and that 80s electronica rebirth. Radiohead, if you disagree with this, then I pity your ears. The Smiths – for writing some of the best lyrics ever- I would go out tonight, but I haven’t got a stitch to wear (marvelous?)… Maximo Park for being some of the most refreshing new music I’ve listened to in a while. must listens: Arcade Fire, Interpol, Postal Service, Stars, and throw in Spoon again…. Portishead for roads.. Massive Attack and Mezzanine, need I say more? Tori Amos for her piano playing skills - & a little fantasy dreaming. Harry Connick Jr. made me want to serenade someone. IRON MAIDEN – no questions asked no further explanation necessary. Bill Withers for that song that puts his two timing lover in her place – goddamn what a tune.. Duran Duran because I grew up on them and remained faithful to this day – NO NO NOTORIOUS NOTORIOUS.. Dancey Modern Rock, none of that bullshit on the radio..
there’s so much to talk about I just can’t seem to recall much right now, I’m sure my cd collection is jealous, but she knows I love her so.. Here’s to impulse buys on Amazon, incredibly roundabout reviews on Pitchfork, mistaken mapping on Gnod, shot in the dark searching on Myspace, and all the people that helped me discover new sounds. Special mention goes out to the mod looking fellow at the HMV in Heathrow Airport, Terminal 4. ok that wasn’t too bad was it?
The latest global underground compilation reminding me of days long gone, with that Depeche Mode Lexicon Avenue remix that Digweed and Cataneo made so famous… Foghat and Free for some unabashed 70s rock n roll. The Rolling Stones to remind me that you can’t always get what you want under my thumb… Coldplay for those silence filler moments in our lives (Even though their latest album got Paltrowed) … The “the” bands filling in that modern hipster appeal with that certain ‘je ne sais rien’ taste… Daft Punk for that robot in us all… Annie Lennox for being the most undervalued Diva in music (up your French Canadian ass Celine)… looking for jojo on his search for California grass with the Beatles… Sublime, cause they simply were… Ray Charles, Miles Davis, Satchmo, BB King, Muddy Waters, and John Lee Hooker for real Rhythm & Blues. Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, Dinah Washington, Nina Simone, Gladys night, and Queen Aretha for teaching me about lovin’ and fallin’ in love. Glen Miller, Bobby Darin, Nat King Cole, Dave Brubeck , Louis Prima, Sinatra, Deano, Sammy and the music that actually made you want to wear a suit. LL cool J, for making me want a girl with extensions in her hair, bamboo ear rings at least two pairs… Queen, cause without Freddie Mercury in my life I don’t think I would’ve ever been able to hold a mic with such panache. Getting back into the mid to late 90s alternative collection, toad the wet sprocket, tonic, dishwalla, remember that shit? Singing along with David Bowie and wondering if there really is life on mars… letting Bob Marley rub it to me belly like guava jelly… Spoon for quickly becoming one of my favorite current bands.. Pearl Jam live with Eddie Vedder’s incoherent ramblings and him just going off on a “won the lottereee” tangent. George Clinton and P-Funk: thanks to Depute T who brought the funk out… Sade for making me want to make love to her music, mermaid on no ordinary love is one of the best new agey love songs out there without it being too cheesy, trust me. The Wu-Tang clan: for keeping me still interested in rap – master the art of 52 blocks iron lungs… The Strokes for making me blast their music, seroo gets it (well she gets it all). Ani Difranco – for touching my heart in junior high in terms of her music and my fantasies. Wavy Gravy by Sasha – one of the best electronic tunes in the history of music – really – and Sasha’s such a nice guy, we’re pals.. right mohi… New wave, next wave, post punk, garage rock & the indie rock scene that none of us will ever fully grasp but love with such unbridled passion. The random bands that clap their hands in Brooklyn. Watching trance pass it’s expiration date and shaking my head, feeling the industry never really getting progressive house – leaving the jungle to the junglerats – wondering when people will wake up from electro. Marvin Gaye for being such a cool cat. French Pop rock like Phoenix and Zoot Woman. Nordic representation from Royskopp and the Kings of Convenience – id rather dance id rather dance then talk with you... Loving Dave Mathews in high school and then hating him in college and now liking him all over again, I wonder why? Rai, for bringing much needed credibility to Arabic music. Ricky, Jooj, n Nif for being the only people on this planet who’s taste in rap I trust. Idlewild for writing anthemic music. Aphex Twin-khalas. Asking God why Otis Redding wasn’t given a chance to rerecord Sitting on the Dock of the Bay. Franz Ferdinand for making ballsy music, the rakes for being the new franz, and whomever is going to be the new rakes... Devo, for being so misclassified as a wacky band with that one hit, it’s all about the gut gut feeling.. Cheap Trick for writing the best Karaoke song ever. Jamie Hewlet and Damon Albarn for making virtual musicians that actually rock, I had the hots for tank girl. “METLIKA” for making downloading digital music so much harder. Mylo and that 80s electronica rebirth. Radiohead, if you disagree with this, then I pity your ears. The Smiths – for writing some of the best lyrics ever- I would go out tonight, but I haven’t got a stitch to wear (marvelous?)… Maximo Park for being some of the most refreshing new music I’ve listened to in a while. must listens: Arcade Fire, Interpol, Postal Service, Stars, and throw in Spoon again…. Portishead for roads.. Massive Attack and Mezzanine, need I say more? Tori Amos for her piano playing skills - & a little fantasy dreaming. Harry Connick Jr. made me want to serenade someone. IRON MAIDEN – no questions asked no further explanation necessary. Bill Withers for that song that puts his two timing lover in her place – goddamn what a tune.. Duran Duran because I grew up on them and remained faithful to this day – NO NO NOTORIOUS NOTORIOUS.. Dancey Modern Rock, none of that bullshit on the radio..
there’s so much to talk about I just can’t seem to recall much right now, I’m sure my cd collection is jealous, but she knows I love her so.. Here’s to impulse buys on Amazon, incredibly roundabout reviews on Pitchfork, mistaken mapping on Gnod, shot in the dark searching on Myspace, and all the people that helped me discover new sounds. Special mention goes out to the mod looking fellow at the HMV in Heathrow Airport, Terminal 4. ok that wasn’t too bad was it?
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Vocabulario #4
Back to the board for this week’s edition of what words to slot in into your weekend lingo... If you have an interesting word you’d like considered for vocabulario, drop your suggestion off at bahrainirants@gmail.com. I cannot stress how important it is for you to use these words, for the sake of children, please, for the sake of the children.. You know me and my shenanigans, always trying to abscond from reality yet at the same time remain conspicuous to everyone..
Word #1 Abscond
Word #2 Conspicuous
Word #3 Shenanigan
I’m thinking a lot about Mastodons today.. don’t really know why, but they just look so furry and fun… imagine sliding down those tusks, grabbing on to their fur as they run.. ahh life in the Paleozoic, could have been interesting once you got past the fact you were wearing animal hides and fire was your best friend..
Word #1 Abscond
Word #2 Conspicuous
Word #3 Shenanigan
I’m thinking a lot about Mastodons today.. don’t really know why, but they just look so furry and fun… imagine sliding down those tusks, grabbing on to their fur as they run.. ahh life in the Paleozoic, could have been interesting once you got past the fact you were wearing animal hides and fire was your best friend..
Monday, December 12, 2005
Chemically Dependent
I strolled into work with minutes to spare - the drive to work had been done in a zombified state – breakfast was good but something was lacking… Waiting in front of the moneymaking corporation’s elevators, I avoided exchanging morning pleasantries. What is with mornings that everyone has to say hello? I mean it’s not just about being nice to the people in your department or on your floor – no, everyone says hello, everyone… Normally, I’d also be slinging my hellos and slipping my good mornings to the people around me. But today was different; I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I could feel it – there was a sense of total discombobulation. What the hell is going through my head? Something’s amiss and I can’t figure it out… The biggest problem is locating the source of discomfort – once you know what it is, that’s half the battle – whether it’s guilt, shame, pain, whatever, once you figure out why you’re feeling blue – you can now work on focusing your attention on the solution… This morning was a totally different case… I had no idea what the hell was happening in my world…
Riding the elevator with the covered mafia, my hallucinations began… Audio and Visuals – I could’ve sworn Bertha (the leader of the cackle of covered women where I work that refuse to have any form of communication or interaction with any member of the opposite sex, because they wouldn’t want to tempt me – sweetie, there is no way on Earth you will ever - let me repeat that, ever, tempt me) actually said hello to me… like lemmings one by one they all ensued in their good mornings… tears welled up in my eyes – what the hell was happening to me?
Leaving the elevator I took a quick right and then a left and made my way to my department’s designated work space… plunking down at my desk, turning on my computer, the lull of the machine normally puts my heart to ease, but this time, it was frustrating… my fingers were rapping the desk to some 99bpm. My knees started to shake.. the migraine began to pierce my head like a jackhammer – pain, debilitating short term pain, not something you couldn’t live with, but just pain that you didn’t need that early in the morning.
And then, like a ton of bricks, it hits me.. I need caffeine. The pain I’m feeling in my head is because of the caffeine, I need coffee and I need it now. Yes yes I know, it’s an addiction that gives you headaches if you don’t cater to it, stains your teeth, leaves you with nasty coffee breath, a diuretic (need I say more?) – but there’s nothing I can do about it.. I need coffee to start my day and then I might need some coffee before lunch and then I will definitely need coffee after lunch to give me that final push to the day’s finish line.
My derived use of coffee is split down the middle, I like the taste of it when it’s good coffee, and I use it to jolt my system. I’m a regulated addict, I’ll drink it when I need to pick myself up and I’ll drink it whenever I feel like it. it just does so many wondrous things to your heartbeat that you can’t really ignore the benefits of coffee..
When this whole thing started, I was particular with my coffee consumption; i had to be drinking something decent. I refused to go near the instant coffee tin at the office, save that for when you’re trapped in a hidden bunker hiding from the fascists. I’ve been known to slum it and drink the instant or folgers, but the pains in my stomach afterwards are just not worth it. And after a family donation, I was the proud owner of an unused Espresso machine that now resides at our designated workspace. She’s my little baby, she’s temperamental at times and can kick up a fuss, but she does get me going. Her steamer doesn’t work as well as I’d like it too, but she does give me good head, of espresso that is..
It didn’t take long before we’d become world-class baristas: Americanos, Macchiatos, lattes, we even created our own version of the cappuccino – notquiteuccino (told you the steamer doesn’t work). It’s not like we’re dolts that spend all our money ordering from these overpriced coffee houses (that does happen though) – no we buy our ground beans and make our own deliciously tasting coffee… well not right now, because it seems my coffee connection “Midel” can’t seem to find me a regular sized bag of ground espresso, and they’re trying to push the 1 kilo bag of pure Café Colombia.
This started with me being angry at my caffeine addiction and turned into my love affair with coffee and the little krups that could. Don’t you wish you worked with me? On the plus side, you’d be drinking delicious coffee. On the minus, you’d be dealing with highly caffeinated people who would probably get you to sing along to some Sinatra tune – maybe even some 50cent..
Riding the elevator with the covered mafia, my hallucinations began… Audio and Visuals – I could’ve sworn Bertha (the leader of the cackle of covered women where I work that refuse to have any form of communication or interaction with any member of the opposite sex, because they wouldn’t want to tempt me – sweetie, there is no way on Earth you will ever - let me repeat that, ever, tempt me) actually said hello to me… like lemmings one by one they all ensued in their good mornings… tears welled up in my eyes – what the hell was happening to me?
Leaving the elevator I took a quick right and then a left and made my way to my department’s designated work space… plunking down at my desk, turning on my computer, the lull of the machine normally puts my heart to ease, but this time, it was frustrating… my fingers were rapping the desk to some 99bpm. My knees started to shake.. the migraine began to pierce my head like a jackhammer – pain, debilitating short term pain, not something you couldn’t live with, but just pain that you didn’t need that early in the morning.
And then, like a ton of bricks, it hits me.. I need caffeine. The pain I’m feeling in my head is because of the caffeine, I need coffee and I need it now. Yes yes I know, it’s an addiction that gives you headaches if you don’t cater to it, stains your teeth, leaves you with nasty coffee breath, a diuretic (need I say more?) – but there’s nothing I can do about it.. I need coffee to start my day and then I might need some coffee before lunch and then I will definitely need coffee after lunch to give me that final push to the day’s finish line.
My derived use of coffee is split down the middle, I like the taste of it when it’s good coffee, and I use it to jolt my system. I’m a regulated addict, I’ll drink it when I need to pick myself up and I’ll drink it whenever I feel like it. it just does so many wondrous things to your heartbeat that you can’t really ignore the benefits of coffee..
When this whole thing started, I was particular with my coffee consumption; i had to be drinking something decent. I refused to go near the instant coffee tin at the office, save that for when you’re trapped in a hidden bunker hiding from the fascists. I’ve been known to slum it and drink the instant or folgers, but the pains in my stomach afterwards are just not worth it. And after a family donation, I was the proud owner of an unused Espresso machine that now resides at our designated workspace. She’s my little baby, she’s temperamental at times and can kick up a fuss, but she does get me going. Her steamer doesn’t work as well as I’d like it too, but she does give me good head, of espresso that is..
It didn’t take long before we’d become world-class baristas: Americanos, Macchiatos, lattes, we even created our own version of the cappuccino – notquiteuccino (told you the steamer doesn’t work). It’s not like we’re dolts that spend all our money ordering from these overpriced coffee houses (that does happen though) – no we buy our ground beans and make our own deliciously tasting coffee… well not right now, because it seems my coffee connection “Midel” can’t seem to find me a regular sized bag of ground espresso, and they’re trying to push the 1 kilo bag of pure Café Colombia.
This started with me being angry at my caffeine addiction and turned into my love affair with coffee and the little krups that could. Don’t you wish you worked with me? On the plus side, you’d be drinking delicious coffee. On the minus, you’d be dealing with highly caffeinated people who would probably get you to sing along to some Sinatra tune – maybe even some 50cent..
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
weekend talk..
The lack of posting is because I've been spending my time in a seminar in Dubai with Maury the Big Swinging you know what ex private equity banker of bankers. Happy Days Maury Happy Days. I've also been missing an internet connection, and now luckily find myself infront of an Afghani laptop that's got welcome to Kabul stickers on it (no kidding).
It's week 3 of building your weekend vocabulary with edu - So here are this week's words that you must and i mean must, incorporate into your conversations. i think you'll like this episode, me and waseem think they're so funny..
Word #1 Tomfoolery
Word #2 Preposterous
Word #3 Whimsical
I'm working on something.. be patient..
It's week 3 of building your weekend vocabulary with edu - So here are this week's words that you must and i mean must, incorporate into your conversations. i think you'll like this episode, me and waseem think they're so funny..
Word #1 Tomfoolery
Word #2 Preposterous
Word #3 Whimsical
I'm working on something.. be patient..
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
kalimaat
If you've just stumbled across this blog, then welcome, if you've been here before, then welcome back. I present you with the second episode of "building up your vocabulary with edu"... Last week I gave you three words to slip into your weekend vocabulary. This week, I have three new words for you to squeeze in your conversations with the boss, your loved one, the barman at your watering hole, et cetera et cetera et cetera.
Contrary to what my friend Mahmood from the hitlicious mahmood.tv says, using these words will not get you ahead at work, they will not grow more hair on your chest, they might get people around you to question your sanity, but they will definitely make you feel warm and fuzzy inside.. so here we go..
Word #1: Zing
Word #2: Shilly-Shally
Word #3: Formidable
good luck people, may the words be with you..
Contrary to what my friend Mahmood from the hitlicious mahmood.tv says, using these words will not get you ahead at work, they will not grow more hair on your chest, they might get people around you to question your sanity, but they will definitely make you feel warm and fuzzy inside.. so here we go..
Word #1: Zing
Word #2: Shilly-Shally
Word #3: Formidable
good luck people, may the words be with you..
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
TV
My favorite comedic (you might have to be from this part of the world to appreciate comedic) show of recent years was Arrested Development (fuck you very much fox network for canceling the only good program in your lineup). I got tired of Friends when I realized that it’s humanly impossible for those bums to be able to afford an apartment that big in Manhattan. Seinfeld got boring when you started chronicling the serious based on Jerry’s ridiculous haircuts. Law and Order got tedious after they made spin off a spin-off: Law and Order: the records department. All those ongoing legal dramas, who knew Boston had so many law firms and so much tension in them? The stupid teen dramas were so far fetched that it was ridiculously unbelievable for that kid with the cowboy hat to fit in Beverly Hills…
Then came the wave of reality TV, where everything was about putting Real People in front of the camera and filming it. Mary-Ellis Bunim held the world ransom with her Real World series and everything else, while Mark Burnett conned the world into making people live like animals on survivor for a measly million dollars. What happened next? A onslaught of the stupidest tv shows ever imaginable: Joe Millionaire, the Bachelor, the Bachelorette, Temptation Island, Mr. Perfect, Trading Spouses, Who cut the Cheese, who wants to be a wrestler, the apprentice, the list just goes on and on. They even had a reality tv show about failed reality tv stars trying to make a real movie, but the process of making the movie was a reality tv show – fuckin’ lame-o. The one thing you can take from these Reality TV shows is how gullible people are when it comes to spoon feeding them something to watch.. You take a bunch of people, throw them on a deserted island, give them 40 days and a bunch of tasks and then let them vote each other off… to me that was just half assed reality tv. If you’re gonna do it, you might as well do it all the way, go for gold. Throw those people on a deserted island, break them up into two teams, make them fight it out to the death and then when there’s one winner left, give him/her the money. They just outlived those other contestants, I’d watch that. Put in real emotion, have revenge twists where the family of one of the dead contestants is put on the island with AK47s and has three hours to extract revenge. As for the Real world, why don’t you really make it like the Real World and throw these people out on the street, or put them all in a 1 bedroom apartment, let them get jobs, let them try to survive, that’s when people really stop being nice…
Today’s TV has evolved to the next popular wave… now you have all these TV series with action and adventure, intense drama and humor. Some have outlived their useful life, while others are still plowing along. I thought I’d single out some of the more popular shows..
Sopranos – Great show but,, HBO should’ve killed everyone at least a season ago.. this is dragging a little too much.. Wiseguys running around Jersey, making the garden state appealing in a mobster kinda way - It’s JERSEY WTF!! Thanks to the defamation of Italian Americans, you now have a bunch of morons saying Bada Bing and hey fughedaboudit. I love all gangster movies, but thanks to the intense popularity of this show, you’ve got middle aged, overweight mortgage brokers in long island hoping to get cast as Tony’s “other cousin” Roberto, the one that just mysteriously showed up to give the story another season. I seriously did see a headshot of an overweight mortgage broker from long island wearing a black leather coat and holding a 357 magnum, ready to “off” somebody for a role. It’s the fucking Cosa Nostra! Not some carnival freak show you take lightly – show some respect.
24 – Thanks to OBL and his Al Qaeda posse of “I’m right and you’re wrong so let me inflict pain on you to get my point through” assholes, 24 became the hottest shit on tv. America is constantly under attack and the entire season is 24 hours long.. How much trouble can American get into in 24 hours? Apparently enough to resurrect Keifer Sutherland’s Career – you lost me with the musketeers movie Keifer.. you lost me..
CSI – following the Police Dramas now Crime Scene Investigators are the “in” heroes. They find the evidence to implicate people in crimes. Pretty cool right? yeah it actually is. Except for the unbelievable fact that the CSI team is so smart that they should actually be giving college lectures instead of searching for DNA with a cotton bud. What I also don’t understand is what is the CSI budget like? I mean the team in Las Vegas have all sorts of cool experiment aiding equipment: pressure testers, volatile chemicals, gadgets and gizmos, all sorts of custom modified gear. And how believable is it that the CSI team is hip and happening and everyone’s very beautiful?
Sex and the City – Damn you 4 ladies for making my life more of a living hell.. if it wasn’t for the odd nude scene every once in a while, there was no way I was going to be able to enjoy the show. I admit the first season and a half were very interesting (when the stars could pass for women in their early to mid thirties looking for love in all the wrong places). A novel show with a fresh approach to being 4 single women in the big city, each with her own agenda. The show blew up, and HBO had another winner. To me, Sex and the City lost its shine when prime time family sitcoms started quoting stuff from the show. You know everything’s gone downhill when an ABC Friday lineup sitcom is discussing Sex and the City and the slutty one’s love interest, the shawarma guy. The show’s over and there will be no more of those 4 ladies roaming New York looking for love in all the wrong places, well except on the rerun loop of eternity. Personally, I think the producers had to make a judgement call, who wants to watch 4 single middle aged women in New York discussing menopause – save that for, Golden Girls “The Next Generation”.
Lost (aka crack cocaine) – I can’t help it.. It’s just one kick in the nuts after another. When you think you finally have a grasp on what’s going on, the show throws you another curveball leaving you as clueless as an anagram solving dyslexic. Basic story – plane crashes on an island, survivors try to survive, all sorts of shit happens. There are holes in the story, but I’m still watching and I’m still addicted. Right now, because you’re in the dark (and have no clue as to where the plot’s heading), any shred of information that’s thrown your way puts you in a catatonic state and rushes through your blood stream making you want more.
So what has this ridiculous rambling on current TV taught us? Absafuckinlootly nothing, just wanted to go off on a rant. TV shows get milked and then butchered and exploited for everything they’re worth, and the networks survive on conning the viewer and sucking him/her in. Example: Matt Groening chained to his desk, by FOX (you guys were already on my shit list for your stupid news station, now you’re on my “sandnigga’s gonna go postal on you” list – what? I can say it, can’t I?) trying to think of the next Simpsons escapade. Or how about the nonstop reruns of Seinfeld and Friends – seriously guys, the party’s over, the only person that’s still laughing are the characters from those sitcoms with their royalty checks. Waitaminute… I think I’ve figured out the reason for this post – because you people were busy watching these stupid shows and not ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT, FOX cancelled my favorite show. Damn you Nielsens, DAMN YOU ALL!!!
Then came the wave of reality TV, where everything was about putting Real People in front of the camera and filming it. Mary-Ellis Bunim held the world ransom with her Real World series and everything else, while Mark Burnett conned the world into making people live like animals on survivor for a measly million dollars. What happened next? A onslaught of the stupidest tv shows ever imaginable: Joe Millionaire, the Bachelor, the Bachelorette, Temptation Island, Mr. Perfect, Trading Spouses, Who cut the Cheese, who wants to be a wrestler, the apprentice, the list just goes on and on. They even had a reality tv show about failed reality tv stars trying to make a real movie, but the process of making the movie was a reality tv show – fuckin’ lame-o. The one thing you can take from these Reality TV shows is how gullible people are when it comes to spoon feeding them something to watch.. You take a bunch of people, throw them on a deserted island, give them 40 days and a bunch of tasks and then let them vote each other off… to me that was just half assed reality tv. If you’re gonna do it, you might as well do it all the way, go for gold. Throw those people on a deserted island, break them up into two teams, make them fight it out to the death and then when there’s one winner left, give him/her the money. They just outlived those other contestants, I’d watch that. Put in real emotion, have revenge twists where the family of one of the dead contestants is put on the island with AK47s and has three hours to extract revenge. As for the Real world, why don’t you really make it like the Real World and throw these people out on the street, or put them all in a 1 bedroom apartment, let them get jobs, let them try to survive, that’s when people really stop being nice…
Today’s TV has evolved to the next popular wave… now you have all these TV series with action and adventure, intense drama and humor. Some have outlived their useful life, while others are still plowing along. I thought I’d single out some of the more popular shows..
Sopranos – Great show but,, HBO should’ve killed everyone at least a season ago.. this is dragging a little too much.. Wiseguys running around Jersey, making the garden state appealing in a mobster kinda way - It’s JERSEY WTF!! Thanks to the defamation of Italian Americans, you now have a bunch of morons saying Bada Bing and hey fughedaboudit. I love all gangster movies, but thanks to the intense popularity of this show, you’ve got middle aged, overweight mortgage brokers in long island hoping to get cast as Tony’s “other cousin” Roberto, the one that just mysteriously showed up to give the story another season. I seriously did see a headshot of an overweight mortgage broker from long island wearing a black leather coat and holding a 357 magnum, ready to “off” somebody for a role. It’s the fucking Cosa Nostra! Not some carnival freak show you take lightly – show some respect.
24 – Thanks to OBL and his Al Qaeda posse of “I’m right and you’re wrong so let me inflict pain on you to get my point through” assholes, 24 became the hottest shit on tv. America is constantly under attack and the entire season is 24 hours long.. How much trouble can American get into in 24 hours? Apparently enough to resurrect Keifer Sutherland’s Career – you lost me with the musketeers movie Keifer.. you lost me..
CSI – following the Police Dramas now Crime Scene Investigators are the “in” heroes. They find the evidence to implicate people in crimes. Pretty cool right? yeah it actually is. Except for the unbelievable fact that the CSI team is so smart that they should actually be giving college lectures instead of searching for DNA with a cotton bud. What I also don’t understand is what is the CSI budget like? I mean the team in Las Vegas have all sorts of cool experiment aiding equipment: pressure testers, volatile chemicals, gadgets and gizmos, all sorts of custom modified gear. And how believable is it that the CSI team is hip and happening and everyone’s very beautiful?
Sex and the City – Damn you 4 ladies for making my life more of a living hell.. if it wasn’t for the odd nude scene every once in a while, there was no way I was going to be able to enjoy the show. I admit the first season and a half were very interesting (when the stars could pass for women in their early to mid thirties looking for love in all the wrong places). A novel show with a fresh approach to being 4 single women in the big city, each with her own agenda. The show blew up, and HBO had another winner. To me, Sex and the City lost its shine when prime time family sitcoms started quoting stuff from the show. You know everything’s gone downhill when an ABC Friday lineup sitcom is discussing Sex and the City and the slutty one’s love interest, the shawarma guy. The show’s over and there will be no more of those 4 ladies roaming New York looking for love in all the wrong places, well except on the rerun loop of eternity. Personally, I think the producers had to make a judgement call, who wants to watch 4 single middle aged women in New York discussing menopause – save that for, Golden Girls “The Next Generation”.
Lost (aka crack cocaine) – I can’t help it.. It’s just one kick in the nuts after another. When you think you finally have a grasp on what’s going on, the show throws you another curveball leaving you as clueless as an anagram solving dyslexic. Basic story – plane crashes on an island, survivors try to survive, all sorts of shit happens. There are holes in the story, but I’m still watching and I’m still addicted. Right now, because you’re in the dark (and have no clue as to where the plot’s heading), any shred of information that’s thrown your way puts you in a catatonic state and rushes through your blood stream making you want more.
So what has this ridiculous rambling on current TV taught us? Absafuckinlootly nothing, just wanted to go off on a rant. TV shows get milked and then butchered and exploited for everything they’re worth, and the networks survive on conning the viewer and sucking him/her in. Example: Matt Groening chained to his desk, by FOX (you guys were already on my shit list for your stupid news station, now you’re on my “sandnigga’s gonna go postal on you” list – what? I can say it, can’t I?) trying to think of the next Simpsons escapade. Or how about the nonstop reruns of Seinfeld and Friends – seriously guys, the party’s over, the only person that’s still laughing are the characters from those sitcoms with their royalty checks. Waitaminute… I think I’ve figured out the reason for this post – because you people were busy watching these stupid shows and not ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT, FOX cancelled my favorite show. Damn you Nielsens, DAMN YOU ALL!!!
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
3 words
Ok here’s the story: I’m going to start making you all play my game.. It’s called “improving your random vocabulary with edu”.. Very simple, in fact it’s so simple, you’re gonna love it.. I pick three words in the middle of every week (I’m hoping every week, if I can get off my ass and make it happen).. It’s up to you to incorporate these three words into your vocabulary this weekend (whenever that may be).. They might be colorful, maybe nice sounding, maybe boring, who knows. But I guarantee you this, incorporating these words into your informal chitchatting will make you feel warm and fuzzy, or your money back. And that’s my guarantee..
Word #1: Saucy.
Word #2: Bamboozle.
Word #3: Pernicious.
Good luck with slipping these words in..
Word #1: Saucy.
Word #2: Bamboozle.
Word #3: Pernicious.
Good luck with slipping these words in..
Monday, November 21, 2005
A Tale Upon the Winds..
Prologue..
By the growth on my face, I know it has been almost 2 days since the battle at Jebel el Habash, and I had all but given up hope that anyone would come to my rescue. My captors continue to poke their sharpened spears into my cage, laughing as I dodge and delay my untimely demise for another few hours. Their language is foreign to my tongue and their actions barbaric. From what I have noticed, they are a well-assembled and disciplined group of marauders that have made it to our shores and have established the protected valleys of the green mountains as their own, looting all caravans and villages crossing their usurped lands. The Caliph from his throne in Damascus dispatched an army of a thousand strong men led by my father to suppress these savages. I have no recollection of the battle, and as far as I can see, I, Mukhtar ibn Saif ibn Waleed Al Fares, am the only living prisoner within their camp.
I have been stripped of all weapons and jewelry. All that remains is the ring bearing my family’s crest, hidden in my boot; a gift from a Christian goldsmith in Venice. Even if I could mastermind an escape from my prison, I will not go undetected for long. These savages appear to be expert trackers and quite familiar with this terrain. The cloak of night will be my only opportunity to escape.
They are a fierce warrior race, and by the looks of their stolen armor and organization, seem to have fought many adversaries: Christians, Muslims and their own. My memory of the battle does not exist, but it is impossible that they could have defeated our army; my count verifies that we outnumbered them tenfold. A master of the dark arts must be among them. My head still carries a pain as though Allah has sent a thunderstorm into it. I must rest.
My eyes have totally adjusted to the dark, a trick my uncle taught me while hunting the desert at night. The merciless heat of the sun forces all animals to take shelter underground, forcing a waiting game between the predator and its prey. Guards continue to patrol the campsite anxiously waiting for something or someone to attack, their weapons ready. These barbarians are anxious about something and I fear it’s not my Arab brethren.
A guard walks towards my cage with his weapon in hand ready to spear my soon to be dead carcass. Instead, he throws a piece of bread and a skin of water; I cannot remember the last time I nourished my body with food or drink. The savage mutters. I do not speak his language but the meanings of his words are clear. Soon enough, my short life will come to an end. As the guard pulls away, I pull my fingertips at the crust of this old bread, but my hunger has left my body weak.
“Be careful what you eat Arab, these savages poison everything. That is how they killed your army, they poisoned your water.” Turning back, I notice something in a neighboring cage move, there is another captor with me. “Who said that? Who are you?”
“I am a prisoner like yourself. These barbarians saw your armies advancing days ago and poisoned the wells on route. The poison left your troops in a trance, unable to defend themselves while these monsters slaughtered them all.”
“Who are you? And what are you doing here?”
“My name is Diego, I was a member of a Portuguese trading ship that captured these animals as slaves. Two days into our voyage back, members of the crew started dying from an unknown disease. Bruises and strange marks began to appear on the crew, and once you were infected, it would not take long before death came. The marks covered your body and then it attacked your spirit, killing off any human part of you. Some of the infected began killing each other like animals, while others threw themselves off board in fits of madness. I immediately went into hiding when the savages took control of the ship and they only discovered me when we crashed into the rocks off this coast. Be careful what you do stranger because these monsters eat the living, I have seen it with my own eyes, slicing off limbs like roasted meat – they are more demon than human.”
The guards reply to our conversation by jabbing their swords and spears into our cages. I begin my dance again to avoid the razor sharp blades, exhausted and clinging onto my last life. I cannot keep this up much longer, I must escape. They finally give up after a barked order from another savage. As they walk away from our prisons, towards the fire, a fragrant smell begins to find its way to my nostrils. It is soft and floral yet pungent, almost spiced. The scent is heavy, filling my head quickly, yet it is slowing down my movements, I cannot retain any proper thoughts. I turn to Diego, but he has already drifted into a deep satisfying slumber. My eyelids cannot hold their own weight as I drift off to my drug induced sleep.
************************************************************
“Kama” the fat one calls me. “Hurry with the drinks you ingrate! Your whore of a mother was quicker on her feet than you. Or would you like me to recreate the sounds of her passion as she engulfed my manhood like the whore that she was?” My mother will have her day of revenge, this I swear to you, you pot bellied bastard, you and every last one of you.
Kama served the drinks and took his place outside of the circle. He was a slave to them and was exempt from their rituals. Kama came from a farming land far away in the plains across the sea. His family had been enslaved by a warring tribe that was eventually captured and placed on a ship that crashed off this coast. His mind tried to erase the pains he had felt over the past three years, the scars and screams, the blood and tears. His spirit had been numbed to nothing but a lost feeling of freedom. He often kept himself busy with plans to escape, which were quickly followed by intense fear. He was no warrior, they would capture him and bring on another three years of torture and pain.
The tribunal gathered around the fire where the Shaman approached with his basket of flowers, plants and weeds ready for the intoxication ceremony. Mugo, the Shaman’s apprentice spent the entire day collecting petals growing on the side of a cliff – the shaman, insisted on having it, he claimed that the mana derived from the flowers would provide the warriors with true strength. As he crushed the ingredients together, making a paste, he added the drink to the mixture until it frothed. Taking the lead, the shaman took a sip from the bowl and handed it to the chief, who in turn followed and passed the bowl along.
Once the bowl made its way around the circle, Mugo approached the quiet fire in the middle with a basket of flowers and weeds. A group of slaves pulled a huge cloth over the heads of the circle and over Mugo as he began throwing the contents of his basket into the fire; smoke began to billow but was trapped under the cloth. The Circle members pulled themselves closer to the fire as they let the smoke fill their heads and enter their spirit. The drumming picked up and chanting could be heard from under the cloth. Kama hated the smoke, it burned his nostrils as he pulled the cloth tight over their heads.
On cue, the Shaman let out a piercing scream as the slaves pulled the cloth away, releasing the chamber of smoke into the camp. The tribunal lay there with their bodies convulsing following the shamans lips and providing the chorus to a rhythmic chanting. The smoke lingered throughout the camp as though weighed down by magic. Kama stepped back while he watched everyone run into the smoke to fill their souls with the Shaman’s magic. Bodies began to sway from side to side, eyes rolled to the back of their heads; hands shook as the drumming continued.
************************************************************
“Arab. Arab wakeup. If you want to escape, now is our chance. They have drugged themselves and are unable to fight.” I awake but cannot recollect my dreams. Diego, hunches in his cage with an arrow tip in his hand. The rhythmic drumming keeps my head from stringing any thoughts together – “Where am I? What has happened? Why do I feel like this?” Diego, not intent on pausing to explain the events to me, is busy jamming the arrow tip into his lock until it eventually gives in and opens up to him. “Never leave a sharp object within the reach of Manuel Diego Lopez, their error will set our fortune in motion”. He sneaks out of his cage with the ease of a seasoned thief and begins to pick at my prison cell.
As my lock clicks open, my exit is less nimble then my comrade, drawing the attention of a guard, who raises his weapon and charges. Grabbing hold of his sword hand as he lunges towards me, I spin myself into his body and feel a crack as my elbow meets his ribs. The sword falls to my hand and is quickly reunited with its previous owner, blade to chest. Blood sprays us both, and his screams alert the rest who awaken from their trance. Their mismatched collection of weaponry is an indicator of the armies they’ve fought, my sabre bears the resemblance of Spanish steel. Diego, brandishing two blades he found on the dead body, tumbles towards one guard slicing his chest open, while the other receives a stab straight to his neck. Able fighters we are, but vastly outnumbered and looking to die another day, we both break off into the darkness.
The drumming begins to follow us as we run. “Arab, they are not too far off, we must hasten our escape.” I could not agree more with my new friend, but the aftereffects of the drugging have left me unable to make out the brush in front of us. I lose my footing and crash to the ground, followed by another crash from Diego. As we pick ourselves up to start moving again, lit arrows glide over our heads as the screams and shouts become louder. “I cannot see where I’m going, I could be leading us off a cliff for all I know.”
“Anything is better than here Arab, anything. These people will kill us slowly, then marinate our flesh and feast on us. I would like to spend some time in the bosom of a woman before my time is up, what say you?”
“Very well, but stay close, the terrain is changing and I feel we’re going to be traveling downhill, so we must tread carefully.”
Three torches followed and picked up pace until we could hear their footsteps crunching on branches. I turn and swing the blade straight to the first torch I saw. Using the torch to block my attack, he pushes me away as he comes with his weapon. My opponent swings his sword, which I quickly parry and meet with a slice to his left arm. He screams as I dig my weapon into his torso. The blood feels warm as it trickles down my blade and onto my wrist. Drugged or not, these are warriors and I need to field my best tactics for engagement. A flash of silver flies by me and lodges itself in the head of the person carrying the second torch, his body drops to the ground. The third comes running, still chanting and swinging his sword in my direction. Our swords clangs as I block his attack, his strength is far beyond what I had expected from a drugged person. I strike my knee into his midsection; as he feels the strike and lowers his body, the hilt of my sword comes down on his head like a war hammer, knocking him to the ground.
Our little skirmish allows more savages to catch up with us, their screams frustrating me as I try to distance the fear from my heart. We switch our careful treading to frantic running through the darkness. Our breathing picks up weight: hunger, fear, and exhaustion are beginning to show; our impending doom can be felt in the darkness. Our doom comes in the form of an ambush with four savages and their chief. They must have followed a path we missed and caught up with us. Not willing to die at their hands, I ready my sword, while Diego says a prayer as he draws what he believes to be his last breath.
As the Chief approaches us with his sword, he breaks into a defiant speech. His words are foreign but his tone familiar, he is flaunting his capture to his troops, praising and laughing as he waves his blade past my face. Just then, his eyes freeze upon mine, his smile falls off his face replaced with a surprised painful look. A spearhead bursts out of his torso covered in blood. His innards, properly packed in his body just seconds ago are now spilling onto the floor in front of me. Behind him stands one of the other soldiers holding the spear, but this one is not dressed in armor like the others. The other savages stand there in shock as they watch their chief bleed to death at their feet. This is our chance; I swing my sword at one of the beasts while Diego lunges for the other. Their demise is quick and follows their leader on the floor. The final combatant drops his sword and flees in fear of being outnumbered. Once again we are safe, for the time being. Our savoir stands there smiling but convulsing at what he has just done, his actions have just bought him the same fate as us, if we were captured.
Without thinking I grab our new companion and run down the path. The drumming still follows us, and we can hear screams as the search party discovers our latest victory. “This is pointless!” Diego tells me. “They will catch us, we need a faster escape.” I am with him, but there is nothing we can do but continue to run in the darkness.
************************************************************
Kama, flushed with intense joy runs alongside his new companions. He is now a free man again, his family’s honor has been avenged and from the looks of the way those two have fought, he is safe. He understands their attitude in their speaking that an escape is needed. He checks his surroundings and amidst the darkness recognizes where they are. Days ago, he accompanied the Shaman and his apprentice when they sent their magic to poison the armies through the water supply. There is an underground river not far from here that leads water to the wells in this valley, if they could get to it, they might have a chance to escape. But they are traveling in the wrong direction; they need to cross back past the path of the oncoming army and drift into the darkness to the caves.
Kama tried to get the attention of his companions to stop, but they are not interested in slowing down. He shouts and they turn around to face him. The two try to communicate with him, but he cannot understand them. He beckons them to follow him, he tries to use his hands to signal a river under a mountain, he does everything he can, but they do not understand him. So he does what he can only do, he places his hands on their shoulders looks them straight in the eye, hoping to create a sense of trust, and begins running in the other direction. The two others look at each other, and begin following him; they are satisfied with having someone else lead them through this unfamiliar territory.
As they run, across the brush, the drumming continues to follow them and then moves away. The two foreigners breathe a sigh of relief to Kama as they make it to the caves. As he leads them into the caves, the sound of rushing water begins to bounce off the inside walls of this huge cavern. This underground network was the tribe’s definitive advantage in overcoming the Arab army, the water supply was poisoned and it traveled all the way down the valley to the beginning of the mountain range. The dark haired foreigner seems to understand what is happening and his face flushes with anger. The river appears to flow through a number of caverns into the rocks and out leading to a hole in the ground. Either way, the escape does not look too promising.
As Kama tries to explain what is to happen to them next, the Shaman and a troop of soldiers emerge from the entrance to the cave. A war cry drowns the rushing water as a barrage of arrows fill the air. Analyzing their options, the dark haired foreigner says a prayer, tucks in his arms and jumps into the flow of water, followed by the other one. Kama tucks his arms into his sides, blessed the four winds and believes he is one with the river as he jumps in.
By the growth on my face, I know it has been almost 2 days since the battle at Jebel el Habash, and I had all but given up hope that anyone would come to my rescue. My captors continue to poke their sharpened spears into my cage, laughing as I dodge and delay my untimely demise for another few hours. Their language is foreign to my tongue and their actions barbaric. From what I have noticed, they are a well-assembled and disciplined group of marauders that have made it to our shores and have established the protected valleys of the green mountains as their own, looting all caravans and villages crossing their usurped lands. The Caliph from his throne in Damascus dispatched an army of a thousand strong men led by my father to suppress these savages. I have no recollection of the battle, and as far as I can see, I, Mukhtar ibn Saif ibn Waleed Al Fares, am the only living prisoner within their camp.
I have been stripped of all weapons and jewelry. All that remains is the ring bearing my family’s crest, hidden in my boot; a gift from a Christian goldsmith in Venice. Even if I could mastermind an escape from my prison, I will not go undetected for long. These savages appear to be expert trackers and quite familiar with this terrain. The cloak of night will be my only opportunity to escape.
They are a fierce warrior race, and by the looks of their stolen armor and organization, seem to have fought many adversaries: Christians, Muslims and their own. My memory of the battle does not exist, but it is impossible that they could have defeated our army; my count verifies that we outnumbered them tenfold. A master of the dark arts must be among them. My head still carries a pain as though Allah has sent a thunderstorm into it. I must rest.
My eyes have totally adjusted to the dark, a trick my uncle taught me while hunting the desert at night. The merciless heat of the sun forces all animals to take shelter underground, forcing a waiting game between the predator and its prey. Guards continue to patrol the campsite anxiously waiting for something or someone to attack, their weapons ready. These barbarians are anxious about something and I fear it’s not my Arab brethren.
A guard walks towards my cage with his weapon in hand ready to spear my soon to be dead carcass. Instead, he throws a piece of bread and a skin of water; I cannot remember the last time I nourished my body with food or drink. The savage mutters. I do not speak his language but the meanings of his words are clear. Soon enough, my short life will come to an end. As the guard pulls away, I pull my fingertips at the crust of this old bread, but my hunger has left my body weak.
“Be careful what you eat Arab, these savages poison everything. That is how they killed your army, they poisoned your water.” Turning back, I notice something in a neighboring cage move, there is another captor with me. “Who said that? Who are you?”
“I am a prisoner like yourself. These barbarians saw your armies advancing days ago and poisoned the wells on route. The poison left your troops in a trance, unable to defend themselves while these monsters slaughtered them all.”
“Who are you? And what are you doing here?”
“My name is Diego, I was a member of a Portuguese trading ship that captured these animals as slaves. Two days into our voyage back, members of the crew started dying from an unknown disease. Bruises and strange marks began to appear on the crew, and once you were infected, it would not take long before death came. The marks covered your body and then it attacked your spirit, killing off any human part of you. Some of the infected began killing each other like animals, while others threw themselves off board in fits of madness. I immediately went into hiding when the savages took control of the ship and they only discovered me when we crashed into the rocks off this coast. Be careful what you do stranger because these monsters eat the living, I have seen it with my own eyes, slicing off limbs like roasted meat – they are more demon than human.”
The guards reply to our conversation by jabbing their swords and spears into our cages. I begin my dance again to avoid the razor sharp blades, exhausted and clinging onto my last life. I cannot keep this up much longer, I must escape. They finally give up after a barked order from another savage. As they walk away from our prisons, towards the fire, a fragrant smell begins to find its way to my nostrils. It is soft and floral yet pungent, almost spiced. The scent is heavy, filling my head quickly, yet it is slowing down my movements, I cannot retain any proper thoughts. I turn to Diego, but he has already drifted into a deep satisfying slumber. My eyelids cannot hold their own weight as I drift off to my drug induced sleep.
************************************************************
“Kama” the fat one calls me. “Hurry with the drinks you ingrate! Your whore of a mother was quicker on her feet than you. Or would you like me to recreate the sounds of her passion as she engulfed my manhood like the whore that she was?” My mother will have her day of revenge, this I swear to you, you pot bellied bastard, you and every last one of you.
Kama served the drinks and took his place outside of the circle. He was a slave to them and was exempt from their rituals. Kama came from a farming land far away in the plains across the sea. His family had been enslaved by a warring tribe that was eventually captured and placed on a ship that crashed off this coast. His mind tried to erase the pains he had felt over the past three years, the scars and screams, the blood and tears. His spirit had been numbed to nothing but a lost feeling of freedom. He often kept himself busy with plans to escape, which were quickly followed by intense fear. He was no warrior, they would capture him and bring on another three years of torture and pain.
The tribunal gathered around the fire where the Shaman approached with his basket of flowers, plants and weeds ready for the intoxication ceremony. Mugo, the Shaman’s apprentice spent the entire day collecting petals growing on the side of a cliff – the shaman, insisted on having it, he claimed that the mana derived from the flowers would provide the warriors with true strength. As he crushed the ingredients together, making a paste, he added the drink to the mixture until it frothed. Taking the lead, the shaman took a sip from the bowl and handed it to the chief, who in turn followed and passed the bowl along.
Once the bowl made its way around the circle, Mugo approached the quiet fire in the middle with a basket of flowers and weeds. A group of slaves pulled a huge cloth over the heads of the circle and over Mugo as he began throwing the contents of his basket into the fire; smoke began to billow but was trapped under the cloth. The Circle members pulled themselves closer to the fire as they let the smoke fill their heads and enter their spirit. The drumming picked up and chanting could be heard from under the cloth. Kama hated the smoke, it burned his nostrils as he pulled the cloth tight over their heads.
On cue, the Shaman let out a piercing scream as the slaves pulled the cloth away, releasing the chamber of smoke into the camp. The tribunal lay there with their bodies convulsing following the shamans lips and providing the chorus to a rhythmic chanting. The smoke lingered throughout the camp as though weighed down by magic. Kama stepped back while he watched everyone run into the smoke to fill their souls with the Shaman’s magic. Bodies began to sway from side to side, eyes rolled to the back of their heads; hands shook as the drumming continued.
************************************************************
“Arab. Arab wakeup. If you want to escape, now is our chance. They have drugged themselves and are unable to fight.” I awake but cannot recollect my dreams. Diego, hunches in his cage with an arrow tip in his hand. The rhythmic drumming keeps my head from stringing any thoughts together – “Where am I? What has happened? Why do I feel like this?” Diego, not intent on pausing to explain the events to me, is busy jamming the arrow tip into his lock until it eventually gives in and opens up to him. “Never leave a sharp object within the reach of Manuel Diego Lopez, their error will set our fortune in motion”. He sneaks out of his cage with the ease of a seasoned thief and begins to pick at my prison cell.
As my lock clicks open, my exit is less nimble then my comrade, drawing the attention of a guard, who raises his weapon and charges. Grabbing hold of his sword hand as he lunges towards me, I spin myself into his body and feel a crack as my elbow meets his ribs. The sword falls to my hand and is quickly reunited with its previous owner, blade to chest. Blood sprays us both, and his screams alert the rest who awaken from their trance. Their mismatched collection of weaponry is an indicator of the armies they’ve fought, my sabre bears the resemblance of Spanish steel. Diego, brandishing two blades he found on the dead body, tumbles towards one guard slicing his chest open, while the other receives a stab straight to his neck. Able fighters we are, but vastly outnumbered and looking to die another day, we both break off into the darkness.
The drumming begins to follow us as we run. “Arab, they are not too far off, we must hasten our escape.” I could not agree more with my new friend, but the aftereffects of the drugging have left me unable to make out the brush in front of us. I lose my footing and crash to the ground, followed by another crash from Diego. As we pick ourselves up to start moving again, lit arrows glide over our heads as the screams and shouts become louder. “I cannot see where I’m going, I could be leading us off a cliff for all I know.”
“Anything is better than here Arab, anything. These people will kill us slowly, then marinate our flesh and feast on us. I would like to spend some time in the bosom of a woman before my time is up, what say you?”
“Very well, but stay close, the terrain is changing and I feel we’re going to be traveling downhill, so we must tread carefully.”
Three torches followed and picked up pace until we could hear their footsteps crunching on branches. I turn and swing the blade straight to the first torch I saw. Using the torch to block my attack, he pushes me away as he comes with his weapon. My opponent swings his sword, which I quickly parry and meet with a slice to his left arm. He screams as I dig my weapon into his torso. The blood feels warm as it trickles down my blade and onto my wrist. Drugged or not, these are warriors and I need to field my best tactics for engagement. A flash of silver flies by me and lodges itself in the head of the person carrying the second torch, his body drops to the ground. The third comes running, still chanting and swinging his sword in my direction. Our swords clangs as I block his attack, his strength is far beyond what I had expected from a drugged person. I strike my knee into his midsection; as he feels the strike and lowers his body, the hilt of my sword comes down on his head like a war hammer, knocking him to the ground.
Our little skirmish allows more savages to catch up with us, their screams frustrating me as I try to distance the fear from my heart. We switch our careful treading to frantic running through the darkness. Our breathing picks up weight: hunger, fear, and exhaustion are beginning to show; our impending doom can be felt in the darkness. Our doom comes in the form of an ambush with four savages and their chief. They must have followed a path we missed and caught up with us. Not willing to die at their hands, I ready my sword, while Diego says a prayer as he draws what he believes to be his last breath.
As the Chief approaches us with his sword, he breaks into a defiant speech. His words are foreign but his tone familiar, he is flaunting his capture to his troops, praising and laughing as he waves his blade past my face. Just then, his eyes freeze upon mine, his smile falls off his face replaced with a surprised painful look. A spearhead bursts out of his torso covered in blood. His innards, properly packed in his body just seconds ago are now spilling onto the floor in front of me. Behind him stands one of the other soldiers holding the spear, but this one is not dressed in armor like the others. The other savages stand there in shock as they watch their chief bleed to death at their feet. This is our chance; I swing my sword at one of the beasts while Diego lunges for the other. Their demise is quick and follows their leader on the floor. The final combatant drops his sword and flees in fear of being outnumbered. Once again we are safe, for the time being. Our savoir stands there smiling but convulsing at what he has just done, his actions have just bought him the same fate as us, if we were captured.
Without thinking I grab our new companion and run down the path. The drumming still follows us, and we can hear screams as the search party discovers our latest victory. “This is pointless!” Diego tells me. “They will catch us, we need a faster escape.” I am with him, but there is nothing we can do but continue to run in the darkness.
************************************************************
Kama, flushed with intense joy runs alongside his new companions. He is now a free man again, his family’s honor has been avenged and from the looks of the way those two have fought, he is safe. He understands their attitude in their speaking that an escape is needed. He checks his surroundings and amidst the darkness recognizes where they are. Days ago, he accompanied the Shaman and his apprentice when they sent their magic to poison the armies through the water supply. There is an underground river not far from here that leads water to the wells in this valley, if they could get to it, they might have a chance to escape. But they are traveling in the wrong direction; they need to cross back past the path of the oncoming army and drift into the darkness to the caves.
Kama tried to get the attention of his companions to stop, but they are not interested in slowing down. He shouts and they turn around to face him. The two try to communicate with him, but he cannot understand them. He beckons them to follow him, he tries to use his hands to signal a river under a mountain, he does everything he can, but they do not understand him. So he does what he can only do, he places his hands on their shoulders looks them straight in the eye, hoping to create a sense of trust, and begins running in the other direction. The two others look at each other, and begin following him; they are satisfied with having someone else lead them through this unfamiliar territory.
As they run, across the brush, the drumming continues to follow them and then moves away. The two foreigners breathe a sigh of relief to Kama as they make it to the caves. As he leads them into the caves, the sound of rushing water begins to bounce off the inside walls of this huge cavern. This underground network was the tribe’s definitive advantage in overcoming the Arab army, the water supply was poisoned and it traveled all the way down the valley to the beginning of the mountain range. The dark haired foreigner seems to understand what is happening and his face flushes with anger. The river appears to flow through a number of caverns into the rocks and out leading to a hole in the ground. Either way, the escape does not look too promising.
As Kama tries to explain what is to happen to them next, the Shaman and a troop of soldiers emerge from the entrance to the cave. A war cry drowns the rushing water as a barrage of arrows fill the air. Analyzing their options, the dark haired foreigner says a prayer, tucks in his arms and jumps into the flow of water, followed by the other one. Kama tucks his arms into his sides, blessed the four winds and believes he is one with the river as he jumps in.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Ramadan Ramblings
So I just want to get out and say something about Ramadan.. “I’m done, I’ve had enough, the show’s over, someone call the cleaners.. I need an 11 month vacation from Ramadan before I can tackle it again”. Before you lambaste me with hate mail, let me get on the record and say, I love Ramadan, I enjoy the spirituality of this holy month, but there are other things that do get under my skin..
I miss breakfast – I really do, I wish I could have some coffee, have an omelet, hell, I’ll even settle for toast on butter with jam.. juice in the morning.. chocolate milk.. chbood sandwiches with crystal hot sauce.. I miss my breakfast. For the past 4 weeks or so, I’ve deprived my body of the essential nutrients and caffeinated products that make my day a little more stimulated.. 30 days of not eating something will make you forget how good it tastes.. I miss you chocolate milk, you’re my only real friend..
I’m tired of walking into a the supermarket before it’s time to break my fast needing only to pick up some cheese, pasta and heavy cream – and then walk out with a 5 pound bag of peanut M&Ms, three different types of pasta, chips, chocolate bars, a number of bottles of the overpriced starbucks coffee milk in a two sip glass bottle, some more chips, cookies, crackers, 3 pounds of ground beef, and a block of cheese.. Never walk into a supermarket when you’re hungry, cause you’ll end up buying more than you need..
Not that this is any different when it’s not Ramadan, but frantic driving is also a pain in the arse.. Right before futoor, everyone’s so hungry and they’re all heading to their parents/aunt/grandparents/insert appropriate family member’s name here to break their fast. Just fathom this recipe: hungry population, on arab time (which I don’t have to tell you is eternally 27 minutes late), with a tendency to drive recklessly and speed incessantly = madness on the roads.. you can’t help it yourself, it’s a kill or be killed type of environment…
Food food and more food.. I can’t believe how much Ramadan comfort food you get to eat during this month - enough to put you off basmati for a while.. Meat, Chicken, Rice, curry, Thareed, Mathroobah, samboosas and fried tidbits, qatayif, legaymat, etc... you break your fast with some dates and maybe drink some laban (light and nutritious), then you move onto the rice and meat, and then there’s the thareed (basically curry poured onto bread making it really soggy, meaty bread pudding), then there’s the tray of your favorite fried friends, there’s always a couple of more random dishes that someone was craving and had to be made.. After all of that stuffing, you then sit down, guzzle two cups of tea, some coffee, then there’s fried pastries and cream filled pastries, chopped nuts, fruits, and the list goes on - enough sugar to give an elephant a rush. Once you’re done with this huge meal (that you have for 30 days) then you start your evening and plan out what you need to do..
The tempers.. We all know how Ramadan is about patience, but sometimes it’s very difficult to control your hunger pangs.. these same hunger pangs transform themselves into headaches, which then magically become spewed mistimed snide remarks that have a way of building up into a full blown argument with name calling and lines drawn – all over why there is no vimto in the house.. Delightful..
The nighttime scheduling.. everything goes on at night, nothing happens during the day.. you go to a Ramadan Ghabgah (party) and no one starts showing up before 10-10:30… no one eats till about 11:30 (if you’ve got a nice host) and most of the time, it’s the same comfort food that was mentioned two paragraphs ago.. I miss daylight.. Birdman wouldn’t last one minute fasting Ramadan without the power of the Sun..
I can’t believe how much food I managed to bring into this post....
Happy Eid people.. you won’t have to endure this whining for another 11 lunar months..
I miss breakfast – I really do, I wish I could have some coffee, have an omelet, hell, I’ll even settle for toast on butter with jam.. juice in the morning.. chocolate milk.. chbood sandwiches with crystal hot sauce.. I miss my breakfast. For the past 4 weeks or so, I’ve deprived my body of the essential nutrients and caffeinated products that make my day a little more stimulated.. 30 days of not eating something will make you forget how good it tastes.. I miss you chocolate milk, you’re my only real friend..
I’m tired of walking into a the supermarket before it’s time to break my fast needing only to pick up some cheese, pasta and heavy cream – and then walk out with a 5 pound bag of peanut M&Ms, three different types of pasta, chips, chocolate bars, a number of bottles of the overpriced starbucks coffee milk in a two sip glass bottle, some more chips, cookies, crackers, 3 pounds of ground beef, and a block of cheese.. Never walk into a supermarket when you’re hungry, cause you’ll end up buying more than you need..
Not that this is any different when it’s not Ramadan, but frantic driving is also a pain in the arse.. Right before futoor, everyone’s so hungry and they’re all heading to their parents/aunt/grandparents/insert appropriate family member’s name here to break their fast. Just fathom this recipe: hungry population, on arab time (which I don’t have to tell you is eternally 27 minutes late), with a tendency to drive recklessly and speed incessantly = madness on the roads.. you can’t help it yourself, it’s a kill or be killed type of environment…
Food food and more food.. I can’t believe how much Ramadan comfort food you get to eat during this month - enough to put you off basmati for a while.. Meat, Chicken, Rice, curry, Thareed, Mathroobah, samboosas and fried tidbits, qatayif, legaymat, etc... you break your fast with some dates and maybe drink some laban (light and nutritious), then you move onto the rice and meat, and then there’s the thareed (basically curry poured onto bread making it really soggy, meaty bread pudding), then there’s the tray of your favorite fried friends, there’s always a couple of more random dishes that someone was craving and had to be made.. After all of that stuffing, you then sit down, guzzle two cups of tea, some coffee, then there’s fried pastries and cream filled pastries, chopped nuts, fruits, and the list goes on - enough sugar to give an elephant a rush. Once you’re done with this huge meal (that you have for 30 days) then you start your evening and plan out what you need to do..
The tempers.. We all know how Ramadan is about patience, but sometimes it’s very difficult to control your hunger pangs.. these same hunger pangs transform themselves into headaches, which then magically become spewed mistimed snide remarks that have a way of building up into a full blown argument with name calling and lines drawn – all over why there is no vimto in the house.. Delightful..
The nighttime scheduling.. everything goes on at night, nothing happens during the day.. you go to a Ramadan Ghabgah (party) and no one starts showing up before 10-10:30… no one eats till about 11:30 (if you’ve got a nice host) and most of the time, it’s the same comfort food that was mentioned two paragraphs ago.. I miss daylight.. Birdman wouldn’t last one minute fasting Ramadan without the power of the Sun..
I can’t believe how much food I managed to bring into this post....
Happy Eid people.. you won’t have to endure this whining for another 11 lunar months..
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Things about me
I drink my cereal milk: Yeah I’m not ashamed to admit it… I eat my bowl of cereal, then when the cereal is all done, I’ll add some more cereal to the milk, and eat that, and then when the sugar and coloring from the cereal has mixed into the milk –then I’ll slurp that bowl and gulp that sugary colored milk.. mmmm.. tasty.. this goes out to all you weirdos that made me feel uncomfortable about slurping the milk out of my bowl.
I can’t sit down during a stressful part in a movie: it’s true, if something’s about to happen in the movie and I know it’s going to happen, shit man, I need to stand up.. You should see me in the movie theater, moving around in my seat. I do this when Arsenal are playing as well..
I sing and dance in my car while I listen to my music: unlike some of my friends who immediately lift their hand to their ear like they’re talking on the phone.. I do a little smirk, and continue with my song. Music gets me going in the morning, so I’m not going to ruin my entire morning because some person saw me getting my groove on to “cross-town traffic”..
I will push my music on anyone who’ll listen and then get really aggravated with them when they don’t share the same opinion as me.. When I buy new music, I have to travel with my cd case… I take it upon myself to subject everyone listen to my music and put them through a br “new music listening session”.. that said, I pay very close attention to crown control, and I have a kick ass music collection – in fact... nono no I wont say it.. It’s a little too much..
I’ve stopped playing winning 11 and Fifa on the play station because it consumes me. I want my friends to stop.. it’s a bad addiction… I’ve contemplated breaking the disc, but then I’d have 4-6 of my friends ready to beat me senseless. I’ve threatened them a couple of times, but they know they’ve got strength in numbers…
I prefer contact grills than the triangle sandwich presses, if you know what I mean… they’re so much cooler, I hate having the ‘way my sandwich is going to get cut’ determined for me. Sometimes I like to cut it diagonally sometimes straight..
I have a little windup Godzilla on my desk.. he’s the coolest motherfuqing plastic reptile I know.. when you wind him up, he walks across my desk at work and sparks come out of his month… if anyone steals him, I’ll take a flamethrower to your grandma’s house..
I like buying different deli meats from the supermarket.. Then when I’m at home, I do the whole Tony Soprano thing: bust into the fridge and eat some of that ‘gabagol’ straight out of the packaging.. yeah.. There’s a definite feel good factor when you eat with your hands, I’m learning to enjoy it much much more..
THAT’S ALL FOLKS
I can’t sit down during a stressful part in a movie: it’s true, if something’s about to happen in the movie and I know it’s going to happen, shit man, I need to stand up.. You should see me in the movie theater, moving around in my seat. I do this when Arsenal are playing as well..
I sing and dance in my car while I listen to my music: unlike some of my friends who immediately lift their hand to their ear like they’re talking on the phone.. I do a little smirk, and continue with my song. Music gets me going in the morning, so I’m not going to ruin my entire morning because some person saw me getting my groove on to “cross-town traffic”..
I will push my music on anyone who’ll listen and then get really aggravated with them when they don’t share the same opinion as me.. When I buy new music, I have to travel with my cd case… I take it upon myself to subject everyone listen to my music and put them through a br “new music listening session”.. that said, I pay very close attention to crown control, and I have a kick ass music collection – in fact... nono no I wont say it.. It’s a little too much..
I’ve stopped playing winning 11 and Fifa on the play station because it consumes me. I want my friends to stop.. it’s a bad addiction… I’ve contemplated breaking the disc, but then I’d have 4-6 of my friends ready to beat me senseless. I’ve threatened them a couple of times, but they know they’ve got strength in numbers…
I prefer contact grills than the triangle sandwich presses, if you know what I mean… they’re so much cooler, I hate having the ‘way my sandwich is going to get cut’ determined for me. Sometimes I like to cut it diagonally sometimes straight..
I have a little windup Godzilla on my desk.. he’s the coolest motherfuqing plastic reptile I know.. when you wind him up, he walks across my desk at work and sparks come out of his month… if anyone steals him, I’ll take a flamethrower to your grandma’s house..
I like buying different deli meats from the supermarket.. Then when I’m at home, I do the whole Tony Soprano thing: bust into the fridge and eat some of that ‘gabagol’ straight out of the packaging.. yeah.. There’s a definite feel good factor when you eat with your hands, I’m learning to enjoy it much much more..
THAT’S ALL FOLKS
Sunday, September 18, 2005
"Making You Cooler.."
Yeah yeah yeah – it’s been a while..
Back at work and back to my mundy life... coffee dependence is at an all time high & Costa are out of Vanilla Syrup making my Vanilla Frescato with 2 shots of espresso unavailable (better supply chain management guys… that’s all I’m going to say). New music has kept me going and thrashing away at my keyboard – making work more bearable. Stuff I’m listening to: Spoon, hothotheat, the rakes, clap your hands and say yeah, stars, hail social, Interpol, verve remixed, royksop, OST: life aquatic with steve zissou, & my bloody valentine. "Gut Feeling" by Devo is an awesome tune, thank you 80s Ian…
Stroking my t-shirt fetish a little bit:
We’ve decided to launch a new project entitled: “Making you Cooler…” After much stomping and tromping around weirder sections of Manhattan, warehouses in Brooklyn, a couple of dodgy streets, underground shops in alleys in downtown Boston, and some other random places – We have procured some of the finest ultra-hip t-shirts to grace this part of the world. I’m talking about shirts produced by some of the coolest design incubators on this planet – from two of the most important epicenters of all things hip: New York & LA.
I have a really big problem with the quality and acceptable level of coolness of available t-shirts in Bahrain.. First off, Bahrain is such a small market that buyers from your favorite shopping mall clothing store here get their stock from the Buyer in Dubai who gets it from the company. So you’re getting fashion as per the Buyer in Dubai and then the Buyer in Bahrain – can you say leftovers? And then what happens? They order enough shirts to make your cool purchase seem insignificant because you’re guaranteed to see a bunch of people wearing the same thing. Is that cool for you? If not, read on..
Most of the shirts at your shopping mall are rip offs something else. Allow me to rephrase – these clothing corporations don’t give a shit about giving you an original quality product, they want to sell you a trend. I remember walking around Camden Town years ago and finding a vintage “Omaha Hammers” T-shirt. I thought that was unbelievably cool, why? Because there actually was an Omaha Hammers team, and this was their shirt from years ago - that’s what made it cool to me – it has history to it. You can walk into the “Push & Boar” store and see something very similar, but there’s no story, there’s nothing authentic about it. There could very well be a real “Wisconsin Warriors” team - but what you’re buying right now is a mass produced print on a t-shirt that someone thought would sell because they were going to take advantage of a fad – nothing original about that. And having everyone else buy the same shirt diminishes the coolness factor in multiples of 100. Do you like being original and unique? If yes, then read on..
After your personality and hair, T-shirts are the next best form of personal expression. So why compromise that and look like everyone else? Why did I even think about this? Because I love T-Shirts and I know there are people like me on this island that share the same passion and are willing to go the extra mile for an article of clothing that you’ll want to hold onto as long as you possibly can. Fashion and trends are invented in places far far away. People that dictate what is cool, dictate from places far far away. These shirts are straight from that fountain of funk.
They will be going on sale at a location near you pretty soon – but until then, I’ll entertain serious buyers via email – we are like this only – what to do? This stuff ain’t cheap, but being cool never was… If you want to go against the grain and purchase a t-shirt, granting you a slice of something globally hip – let me know…
Back at work and back to my mundy life... coffee dependence is at an all time high & Costa are out of Vanilla Syrup making my Vanilla Frescato with 2 shots of espresso unavailable (better supply chain management guys… that’s all I’m going to say). New music has kept me going and thrashing away at my keyboard – making work more bearable. Stuff I’m listening to: Spoon, hothotheat, the rakes, clap your hands and say yeah, stars, hail social, Interpol, verve remixed, royksop, OST: life aquatic with steve zissou, & my bloody valentine. "Gut Feeling" by Devo is an awesome tune, thank you 80s Ian…
Stroking my t-shirt fetish a little bit:
We’ve decided to launch a new project entitled: “Making you Cooler…” After much stomping and tromping around weirder sections of Manhattan, warehouses in Brooklyn, a couple of dodgy streets, underground shops in alleys in downtown Boston, and some other random places – We have procured some of the finest ultra-hip t-shirts to grace this part of the world. I’m talking about shirts produced by some of the coolest design incubators on this planet – from two of the most important epicenters of all things hip: New York & LA.
I have a really big problem with the quality and acceptable level of coolness of available t-shirts in Bahrain.. First off, Bahrain is such a small market that buyers from your favorite shopping mall clothing store here get their stock from the Buyer in Dubai who gets it from the company. So you’re getting fashion as per the Buyer in Dubai and then the Buyer in Bahrain – can you say leftovers? And then what happens? They order enough shirts to make your cool purchase seem insignificant because you’re guaranteed to see a bunch of people wearing the same thing. Is that cool for you? If not, read on..
Most of the shirts at your shopping mall are rip offs something else. Allow me to rephrase – these clothing corporations don’t give a shit about giving you an original quality product, they want to sell you a trend. I remember walking around Camden Town years ago and finding a vintage “Omaha Hammers” T-shirt. I thought that was unbelievably cool, why? Because there actually was an Omaha Hammers team, and this was their shirt from years ago - that’s what made it cool to me – it has history to it. You can walk into the “Push & Boar” store and see something very similar, but there’s no story, there’s nothing authentic about it. There could very well be a real “Wisconsin Warriors” team - but what you’re buying right now is a mass produced print on a t-shirt that someone thought would sell because they were going to take advantage of a fad – nothing original about that. And having everyone else buy the same shirt diminishes the coolness factor in multiples of 100. Do you like being original and unique? If yes, then read on..
After your personality and hair, T-shirts are the next best form of personal expression. So why compromise that and look like everyone else? Why did I even think about this? Because I love T-Shirts and I know there are people like me on this island that share the same passion and are willing to go the extra mile for an article of clothing that you’ll want to hold onto as long as you possibly can. Fashion and trends are invented in places far far away. People that dictate what is cool, dictate from places far far away. These shirts are straight from that fountain of funk.
They will be going on sale at a location near you pretty soon – but until then, I’ll entertain serious buyers via email – we are like this only – what to do? This stuff ain’t cheap, but being cool never was… If you want to go against the grain and purchase a t-shirt, granting you a slice of something globally hip – let me know…
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Adventures in Bremen, Maine
Whitmore Cottage
After three and a half hours driving up 95 North through to Route 1 Coastal and finally ending up somewhere in the mid-coast region, we get to Damariscotta, the last brush with civilization before we head up to our little getaway by the sea. Stopping off at the local supermarket, we cruise down the aisles planning out meals for the next 5 days or so – Leah grabs a ticket at the deli section, while I start getting overwhelmed by the amount of fruits and vegetables in front of me. Burgers, Steak, Chicken, Kielbasa (thank you Poland), Cereal, Eggs, Milk, Cheese, Burger buns, Tomatoes, Lettuce, Cola, pancake mix, Juice, Ice Cream (best enjoyed in the summer), the list just keeps on growing... Just before we get to the register, a quick mental note of our provisions is taken – do we need anything else? Babe, it's a 15-20 minute drive back to the supermarket – I am not driving back to fetch you anything. The closest thing you‘d remotely consider commercial civilization is a 15 minute trip away (one way) - but fresh lobster and clams, 2 minutes, tops… The barcode scanner is exhausted at checkout, money is exchanged, and back on the road to our final stop: the video store – Spending your holiday in a cottage on the coast in the middle of "no one can hear you scream" country, means that you do need something to keep you busy at night…
I've been doing the trip up to Whitmore Cottage with Leah for 4 years now.. A place that once seemed so foreign and amusingly rural is now like a dream-home to me, a getaway… The Cottage has been in her family almost 100 years & has come a long way since the days of the outhouse and eyes in the darkness... This is everything you'd picture a quaint cottage to be, wooden beams, creaky floorboards, fireplace, a lot of forest, and a path leading to a dock that leads to the Atlantic Ocean.
I don't even know where to begin… On a dirt country road that looks like a picture from a Credence Clearwater Revival vinyl album cover, your first reaction when you pull up to the cottage is "I am so done with being cooped up in a car" – then it's soon switched for a smile and a sense of really being on holiday - a place where you can do anything and nothing, you decide… the lobster traps set out at the entrance, the barrel filled with impatience (flowers, I shit you not) – the gas grill: my territory. A screened in porch with rocking chairs facing a path that leads to the ocean, a hammock for lounging around and enjoying the cool sea air while you read or just think…
Inside: Imagine an isolated house with enough things to keep you amused indoors for all sorts of people and all sorts of groups of people and all sorts of bad weather days (very important). Cards, Backgammon, Chess, Board Games, Movies, all types of Puzzles, Books Books and more Books - Leah‘s Granny has read more books than anyone I‘ve ever met, her entire library is spread over 3 delightful abodes - with a book for anyone at anytime (I‘m currently reading Noble House by James Clavell, see what I mean?)… The antiques present are true representations of American history: different tools and instruments giving you a visual understanding of the chronological order of life in America. Flags, signs, rugs, light fixtures, pictures, glass eye washes, heated bed warmers, all sorts of things that that instill the history, feelings and everyday life of America. Of how young it is compared to Europe, or different it is from the rest of the world - but still unbelievably awing..
Running down the path through the brush to your own personal dock and link to the sea when you first get there is awesome, often leaving you lightheaded… your lungs haven't enjoyed air this clean in so long that your brain does a little jiggle cause the oxygen is so good... the water, I don't have to tell you is cold, very very cold - It‘s the Atlantic Ocean, what do you expect… Dive in and swim back to the dock to let your heart get over the shock of that freezing water.. and then dive in again. Cannonballs and Jacknifes into the water work just as well... Talk about jumpstarting your heart.. you can feel the icy cold water keep your lungs fresh and your heart pounding (but a very healthy pounding)… There’s a little dingy with a little-engine-that-can and would probably just take you to the islands out in the distance where you can see the Puffins. 3 tiny uninhabited islands within rowing distance, with one of them home to an old wooden fort with rope ladders and all.. Great Pirate Rumbistifications relived once more.
Year after year, Leah and I have trekked up from Boston to enjoy our solitude in this beautiful place. strolls in different coastal towns - dinner on the dock with the sunset - getting sick from too much butter on our lobsters - enjoying your coffee on the porch and enjoying the Ocean view - heading to the beach - cooking our meals together - sun worshipping on the dock - Moody’s Diner - getting pushed into the water - watching the dog go nuts in the open - chain-sawing the hell out of an old picnic table - fishing - tin roofs and rainy days - just a place to be alone together… heavenly…
Country Folk Versus City Folk
People’s attitudes are completely different in the country… There’s a sense of trust and honor… Take my German Pie Lady for example.. She lives on Waldoboro Road and has a little bake stand outside her house where she has homemade pies, cakes, breads, cookies, and fresh eggs for sale everyday - and there’s no cashier, no till, no one to make sure you‘re paying the right amount, just a slot for you to put your money in and it’s all based on the honor system… I thought this was the most incredible thing I had ever seen, well until someone pointed out that her husband could very well be waiting in the window chugging his 6 pack and loading his shotgun to shoot anyone who didn‘t pay… That said, it’s thanks to my German Pie Lady that I’ve gotten turned on Blueberry Pie - in a very serious fatal attraction kind of way… thank you German Pie Lady…
Those extremely rough and tough lobster fishermen and Haggard-y Sea Captains keep excellent conversation over a single malt or a pint of whatevers yer pouring at the local. The people here are much friendlier than i had expected..
Wilderness Survival Instincts
Whatever skills or talents you have acquired to survive an urban jungle are worthless in the country… A bat once managed to escape into the house through the rafters and made its way for my bushy bird’s nest hair… After a quick panic attack and images of the bat going straight for my neck, Leah and I came up with an elaborate scheme involving a piece of string, a bowling ball, a match, a bottle rocket, a fisherman‘s hat, a paper bag, some cheese, and a shotgun.. Just before our far fetched plan was executed, she gets an anxiety attack and I’m left in the room with a bat flying circles around my head. I did what any neurotic city person would have done: I grabbed whatever resembled a racket and tried to whack the bat through the sliding doors and out of the cottage - returning service style… The attempt worked and the bat was sent back to the wilderness without receiving a single whack - directed him out quite peacefully.. (After our incident, a bat house was put up and we’ve had no problems since)…
You’ve got to be on your toes when you‘re not in your element: quickly learning to distinguish Poison Ivy from the herb garden variety - learning how to start up a gas grill with nothing but a piece of twig, and 4 gallons of paint thinner - learning it is always best to check with the authorities if it's red tide and if it’s ok to cook n eat the mussels that just wash up on your shore - how to properly apply and reapply insect repellent..
I'm just saying that there's a lot you can learn from mother nature - unfortunately, a lot of it happens through trial and error - unless you were a boyscout or even remembered anything about being a boyscout...
Meeting all things that move
The beauty of putting yourself in a different environment, you get to meet the many other animals that live with you… It’s like living in your own little nature reserve with all sorts of different birds, beavers at the pond, a red tail fox, snapping turtles, turkeys, dragonflies, insects, spiders, and all sorts of creepy crawlies, dogs, bats, fish, and humming birds…
meeting a hummingbird face to face is a pretty cool experience… because they flap their wings so quickly they can hover right across from you, letting you get a really good look at them in mid-air.. They just come out of nowhere, surprising you and making it an encounter where you feel the need to introduce yourself and say something like: “hello, my name is banzo.” (does it ever make sense?).
Insects and me do not get along… I really don’t know why, it’s not like I want to kill them, but they always come to bite me… and I really don’t know what it is with my blood, maybe it tastes like a ‘95 Valandraud Saint-Emilion, but these bugs just get a kick out of me plasma.. It’s a constant battle with the insect repellent - I’ve tried everything, I’ve been made invisible to bugs, made impervious to bug bites, unappealing to them, tried to keep them off with super quiet sonic waves, I've even considered taking the juice from dead bugs and rubbing it all over my body: warding them off as a walking cemetary for bugs - but I still manage to get at least 3-5 bites.. I wouldn’t mind the bites if they didn’t swell up into little welts… one time outside, I was grilling up some meat and exposing my feet wearing flip flops - I felt a little bite on my toe and just shrugged it off in a “I feel no pain“ manly fashion - three hours later, the venom from the spider bite makes my big toe swell up to the size of a mini kiwi - ridiculous - I couldn’t get my foot into my sneaker till the swelling came down…
In Closing..
Pulling yourself out of civilization for a while - spending time with your loved one but still enjoying solitude and peace is a real vacation… After spending all this time in beautiful and tranquil Maine - it’s time to rock the city…
Monday, August 01, 2005
absurd MJ rumors
So Jacko's still in Bahrain... There are all sorts of rumors circulating and floating around... I just thought I'd share a couple stories that have made the gossip rounds…
Absurd MJ rumor #1: Upon his arrival in the middle of summer in Bahrain, MJ decides to do a little shopping... So he throws on a ladies Daffah/Abbayah and a Burqah to remain incognito, and goes happily strolling around TOYS R US (frightened?). One of the security guards notices something weird about the covered lady and decides to stop her to ask a couple of questions.. MJ's cover is blown and once it's determined that the King of Pop is strolling around TOYS R US, everything gets sorted and back to normal.. MJ then continues his strolling and goes on a BD 900 shopping spree USD 2,385 (I love the fact the rumor actually has a definite amount attached to it)... Personally, I can see how MJ would like to stroll around alone in costume, he's always been into wearing face masks so the burqah would definitely appeal to him.. Also don't forget, he's visiting Bahrain in the middle of the summer - he'd need to protect his face from our relentless summer sun... Him traveling without a bodyguard? not sure about that one..
Absurd MJ Rumor #2: MJ is thinking of enrolling his kids in a private school in Bahrain for an entire year keeping them in a safe environment, rather than in the US where people will continually be talking about them. In order to protect their identities, the kids will be enrolled under fake names... I don't see the point to it all - I mean Bahrain is so small someone is bound to find out who the kids are... I'm wondering who's going to attend the parent teacher conferences?
Absurd MJ Rumor #3: MJ has been intrigued by Islam, and after much cajoling from Jermaine, he's decided to come to live in Bahrain and learn about the religion. He's also thinking of moving Never Land Ranch to Bahrain... I wonder if they'll bring the llamas..
Absurd MJ Rumor #4: He's here to record a new album... This isn't that absurd since he's running out of cash and needs to come up with something new instead of repackaging his old music. I'm just hoping he realizes that he needs to bring Quincy Jones to Bahrain… Come on Quincy, one more challenge, you know whatever you write, he will sing - and that will always go platinum…
Absurd MJ Rumor #5: The Michael Jackson School of Pop is opening up in Bahrain. MJ himself will be instructing young performers on the moonwalk, white socks, and the various props throughout a pop star’s career… Gyrating 101, “taaaheeeheee” for beginners and other classes will be on offer starting this fall..
The picture up top was snapped from someone's cellphone while MJ was strolling around Seef Mall... I like the medal MJ... Check out the bracelets...
What have you heard? bear in mind this is the King of Pop, this man has inspired many and changed the history of music forever - you must respect that... I just hope this doesn't blow up in our faces...
Friday, July 29, 2005
all my blogs are packed, I'm ready to go
me and the blog are takin' a holiday.. 5 weeks of absolutely nothing....
stay tuned for updates...
I'll try to post regularly ... hell, I don't think I ever posted regularly..
don't you hate the recirculated air on airplanes? makes you feel like your skin was getting exposed to everyone's germs... think of all the airborne bacteria floating around... sheeeeeaaaaat... why do all airport toilets stink?
hamama noody noody - the effect of a double jw black on the rocks with soda... can't believe my flight got delayed....
stay tuned for updates...
I'll try to post regularly ... hell, I don't think I ever posted regularly..
don't you hate the recirculated air on airplanes? makes you feel like your skin was getting exposed to everyone's germs... think of all the airborne bacteria floating around... sheeeeeaaaaat... why do all airport toilets stink?
hamama noody noody - the effect of a double jw black on the rocks with soda... can't believe my flight got delayed....
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