Writer On The Storm

Journey of journeys

2012-01-04T18:44:00.003-08:00

close the door, close it, close every one

close your eyes, close your heart for the storm is come

one ounce, two, then four, then eight

and suddenly you can't escape

your bosom crushed

your secret hushed

and you

a shadow in a shadowscape

climb high, climb high, climb higher still

hold fast unto the stars until

one beat, two, then three then four

you wake, your body washed ashore

your breath returned

your face upturned

bright

a simple servant, nothing more

The Hijab... Again

2011-08-20T06:54:00.002-08:00

Or
Let Us Put Things Into Perspective.

Whenever you wear a T-shirt or any of its derivatives, you're essentially wearing a glove. A glove for your body.
The difference between you and I is that I wear a mitten.

Are we really going to waste our time on this good earth arguing over gloves vs. mittens?

The Words You Shan't Say

2011-05-29T19:32:00.006-08:00

or
I Swear, We Were Talking About The Gays

- Not that I didn't like my old neighborhood in Montreal.
- Where did you live?
- In the village. Don't get me wrong, I like the gays. It's the bums and prostitutes that annoyed me. Oh, and the Gay Pride parade.
- I thought you said you like the gays.
- I do! But the Gay Pride parade attracts tourists, and where there are tourists, there are bums.
...
- You do realize that if CSIS didn't flag me yet, this conversation probably got me on the grid?
- Because of the gays?
- Not the gays, jerkface, but the terrorists and bombs they apparently attract. Thanks a lot by the way.

Why the Mosque Scares the Right

2010-08-16T09:47:00.000-08:00

by M.J. Akbar

There's a cynical reason that people like Newt Gingrich and Sarah Palin don't want a mosque built at ground zero, writes M.J. Akbar—it will prove that there's nothing scary about Islam.

Can there be any rational reason for such subliminal fear of a house without a door? A mosque has no door; it is always open to anyone. Submission is the guiding force of its spirit and simplicity is its objective. There is equality in the lines of prayer. Servant stands beside master to bow, and at the same moment, before the Lord. Divisions and pretensions dissipate. The whole world, as the great Indian theologian and mass leader Maulana Abul Kalam Azad used to say, is God’s mosque. Nations may claim to act in the name of God, but God does not need nations. A mosque is neither factory nor fortress: Why should it arouse either envy or fear?

The opposition of some sections of the American right, led by politicians like Newt Gingrich and Sarah Palin, to a mosque at the site of the 9/11 tragedy is bewildering, at the very least.

A war memorial is not built to perpetuate war. Its relevance lies in the promise of peace. It honors heroes who have given their lives, but this sacrifice, in the words of a famous testament, is ennobled by the promise that they gave their today so the living might have a better tomorrow. A war memorial is a symbol of conflict resolution, not conflict enhancement. A mosque near the World Trade Center will epitomize the partnership necessary for a common struggle against the horror of terrorism and its evil masterminds, wherever they might live.

A mosque at ground zero will interfere with their politics, in which the Muslim must be etched as an irredeemable zealot with manic eyes and foaming mouth.

Is ignorance a reason for the right-wing campaign against the mosque? I was at the East-West Center in Hawaii a few years ago for a faith-media seminar. On Friday, our very considerate hosts offered Muslim participants a chance to join a local congregation for noon prayers in a small room where the minute local community gathered regularly for namaaz and fraternity. Some non-Muslim colleagues came along because they had never seen a Friday prayer. We were all convivial, but I daresay at least one or two of them were relieved that the imam had not declared war on the West and we had not unsheathed scimitars as part of ritual.

Ignorance is too generous an alibi for Gingrich and Palin. They have been candidates for the most powerful job in the world. It is foolish to dismiss them as fools.

A mosque at ground zero will interfere with their politics, in which the Muslim must be etched as an irredeemable zealot with manic eyes and foaming mouth; the mosque must be distorted into a fountainhead of hatred, and every Muslim be blamed for the sins of the few bigots and terrorists who perpetrated 9/11. A range of political forces has a vested interest in the myth of the mad Muslim as the last evil standing between civilization and chaos.

The irony is that Palin and Gingrich do not represent the idealism and philosophy of America, a nation that is liberal, open, democratic, and secular. Gingrich is a false American; Palin is a falsetto American.

The true American patriot is Michael Rubens Bloomberg, the mayor of New York, who has supported the idea of a mosque. I use his full name deliberately: He is of the Jewish faith, from a family of Russian émigrés. Bloomberg reflects the idealism of America as well as the anguish and wisdom of his own heritage, of a people who have suffered the trauma of bigotry and threat of extinction for two millennia. He knows prejudice when he sees it, he understands the poison it injects into the human psyche, and he is willing to set aside the prospect of political advantage from hysteria in order to stand on the side of justice. Those who gave Barack Obama a Nobel Peace Prize without much reason might want to consider Bloomberg for much better reasons. He has, in the process, also exposed organizations like the Anti-Defamation League, who seem to have sold their principles for politics. Fareed Zakaria deserves our respect for returning the honorarium and First Amendment award given by the League.

Bigotry is not the exclusive property of any denomination; Muslims offer their share in the long list of self-appointed leaders who spawn the culture that leads to terrorism from pulpits which desecrate the meaning of a mosque. But it is utterly self-defeating to blame Islam, or the vast majority of peaceful Muslims, for the sins of a few. Terms like “Islamo-fascism,” George W. Bush’s intellectual contribution to this debate, are meaningless gibberish. Islam is 1,400 years old; fascism entered the dialectic only with Benito Mussolini. So whatever else Islam might be, it cannot be fascist. True, there are some Muslims who are fascist, but why blame Islam for the tyranny of despots? No one blames the Roman Catholic Church for Mussolini.

Terrorists conspire. A conspiracy is hatched behind closed doors. A mosque has no door.

How FIFA WORLD CUP teams qualify from the groups of four into the top 16

2010-06-20T13:51:00.000-08:00

Qualifying criteria

The ranking of each team in each group will be determined as follows:

a) greatest number of points obtained in all group matches;
b) goal difference in all group matches;
c) greatest number of goals scored in all group matches.

If two or more teams are equal on the basis of the above three criteria,
their rankings will be determined as follows:

d) greatest number of points obtained in the group matches between the
teams concerned;
e) goal difference resulting from the group matches between the teams
concerned;
f) greater number of goals scored in all group matches between the teams
concerned;
g) drawing of lots by the FIFA Organising Committee.

The teams finishing first and second in each group will qualify for the Round
of 16.

changing gears

2010-06-14T08:16:00.004-08:00

i dreamt a dream. i dreamt a dream of hope. i dreamt what i hope is a true dream.
i dreamt i was cycling in a city. i was totally unaware of my surroundings. i focused on pedaling as hard as a could but the gears were so high it was hard to move. the harder a pedaled, the slower I seemed to go. It felt like going up a hill, only there was no hill.

sweat was dripping down my face. the bicycle was almost at a halt despite my best effort. suddenly, it dawned on me: CHANGE THE GEARS.

i clicked once. the chain rattled and yielded slightly. i clicked again. moving was becoming easier. i clicked again, and again, and again, going faster and faster on the bicycle...

that's when I woke up.

Ce que j'ai trouvé à mon retour

2010-06-04T11:52:00.003-08:00

Reçu: 2010-02-03 16:16

Objet: J'ai remarqué
* * * * *
Bonjour,

J'ai remarqué ton absence depuis lundi (voire même peut-être depuis vendredi de la semaine dernière).

J'espère que rien de grave ne justifie cette absence… comme un épuisement professionnel, ou une dépression pure et simple.

Tu n'es peut-être qu'en formation, comme tu le souhaitais.

Peu importe la valeur de mes spéculations, je souhaite avoir tort de m'interroger sur le pourquoi, et je souhaite que tu réussisses à être "bien" et "heureuse", jusqu'au jour où tu deviendras simplement "bienheureuse"… comme toutes les bonnes personnes que je connais, et celles que je ne connais pas.

__________________________________________

Reçu: 2010-03-08

Objet: J'ai remarqué, et j'ai su
* * * * *

Alors, profite de l'occasion pour te refaire tout à fait émotionnellement.

Depuis la date initiale prévue de ton retour le 22 février, je suis monté souvent au 10e pour vérifier si tu étais de retour. Et c'est ainsi que je dois me rendre à l'évidence que ton congé a été prolongé. C'est pour cela que je te dis de prendre le temps de te refaire complètement. Je sais de quoi je parle, puisque moi aussi, je suis passé par un moment comme celui que tu vis présentement. Mais j'en suis ressorti plus fort, et plus compétent face à la gestion de mes émotions et de mes réactions vis-à-vis de mes superviseurs.

Parfois, c'est un mal pour un bien, crois-moi.

En attendant qu'on se parle en face à face, je te salue et te redis mon amitié.

__________________________________________

(à suivre)

Teapot Does Toronto

2010-03-10T12:57:00.001-08:00

Wednesday- Expand your Mind.

1. Lunch at home (prepared by Idil)

2. ROM (free 4:30-5:30)

3. AGO (free 6-8:30pm) 317 Dundas W (St. Patrick Station)

4. Waffles

Thursday- Explore your world.

1. ON Science Centre (10-5pm $18 and $13.50 or $25 and $19)

Pack lunch. Under the Sea (11am and 3pm)

Directions: From downtown Toronto, take the Yonge Street subway line north to the Eglinton station and transfer to the Eglinton East (route 34) bus. Get off at Don Mills Road.

2. A&C Games (706 Spadina Avenue close to Spadina station)

3. Explore Annex

4. Future Café- Dinner and Cake (meet Hodan)

Friday- Buy some shit (if you want)…

1. Eaton Centre and surroundings

2. Visit Kensington Market/China Town

3. Lunch: Simon Sushi- 409 Spadina Ave. 416-977-2828 (5.99 special before 5pm)

Saturday- Relax don’t do it.

1. Spa day

2. Home cooked dinner

3. Rent Movies/Games at home

Sunday- So long sucka!

1. Brunch at home

2. Walk to Yorkville (Window shop, Anthropologie)

3. Coffee and send off

the story that woke me from my nap

2010-02-17T13:28:00.002-08:00

the stupidest dream ever.

___________________

It is 1995.

My present 30-year-old self is rooming at my mother's home.

She has also rented rooms out to to other people, two single males.

I am full of angst for some reason. Maybe because it's 1995.

Suddenly, I discover one of the renters, a young Brad Sherwood, is trying to seduce my mother.

I am shocked because I thought Brad Sherwood and the other renter, Youtube user CMaddoxBiitch, were a couple. I call up a friend but don't talk to her because I am trying to get my mother's attention. She seems busy with other things and is avoiding me as well. I throw a few temper tantrums where I am very rude to Brad Sherwood.

I have a plan. I knocked on the master bedroom door where CMaddoxBiitch is rooming, and he invites me in. I smile and sit on the bed. I take up a lot of room cuz my butt is so fat. I make a comment along the lines of: oh sorry I am taking up so much space, my butt is fat.

The room is decorated in red and black velvet with gold accents. It's kind of ugly and strangely appealing at the same time.

"I love your Youtube channel," I say. "I decided I should be friendlier with you and Brad."

CMaddoxbiitch smiles politely but I can see he wants to get back to his nap. I'm desperate to be on his good side so I say: "Oh did I mention I think you have gorgeous features? Like an east African? So elegant, wow!"

I decide this is about as friendly as it's going to get, so I ask: "Hey, you know Brad Sherwood well, do you? Are you guys a couple? Is he a nice guy?"

CMaddoxBiitch's facial reaction tells me I blew my cover. He can tell I'm not here to make friends, and says: "We aren't a couple, and even if we were I wouldn't tell you about him". He gets up and crosses the hall dramatically, opens a door, and closes it behind him but in that instant I see Brad Sherwood sleeping in a bed with… MY MOM! I yell: "You are going to regret this!"

I go to my room and, from the window, I see my friend pulling up to the house in a Nissan Cube. I grab some stuff and leave the house running. Some of the stuff I took may or may not include wads of stolen cash.

"Hi!" says my friend.

I smile and reply: "Let's go to Vegas!"

Single Males (True Story)

2009-12-23T19:35:00.005-08:00

I had such a good time airing out grievances tonight.

Amarie and I went to all-you-can-eat sushi. We definitely ate more than what we could eat (that was our feat of strength, thankyouverymuch).

Then I got to drive her cube home. It was so much fun! I am telling you, between ye olde english jokes and making more fun of le le le le chum production (DO NOT click on that link) and his GF, there wasn't any room for any sulking about.

I got home to a house smelling of boiling turnips in date juice. Husband was making his favorite dish (boiled turnips in date juice). But even a husband boiling stanky turnnips couldn't get me down - I was on such a high, I decided to play xmas songs on the piano.

So I started... with Jingle Bells. As I was playing and having a grand time, who comes into the living room with a glowing smiling face?

Husband.

And what is he singing?

Single males! single males! single all the way!

I swear this really happened. Happy Festivus!

Iman

2009-12-11T19:38:00.003-08:00

your face glows

by the light of the crescent moon

you are a beacon for the believers.

you knit with the linens of your heart

a needlepoint of peace

of colors green and gold.

salam,

tis a quilt to shelter us

salam, salam, salam

The Most Valuable Pack of Peanuts

2009-10-24T14:47:00.006-08:00

or
A Lesson in Humility

A nagging need to write has been at me lately.

At one point I had this "awesome" idea for a book: the plot would take place in a parallel universe where it wasn't socially acceptable for women to wear anything other than bikinis... but that died away pretty quick.

Then I decided I was going to write a rant about how I am sick of the media making news out of miscellanea and how NO BODY cares about the special demands of a handful of Jews and Muslims. But other than the preceding, I have nothing to say, because I just don't care about a handful of stupid people making stupid demands.

Then I thought I would write about how much I love Karen Armstrong, but everyone who loves intellectual integrity loves Karen Armstrong and this blog isn't addressed to those who don't.

Then it dawned on me that no one reads this blog anyway because it was meant as an emotional outlet, a therapy of sorts, a project that is meant to remain anonymous, save for a chosen few.

Then I understood why I have been having a nagging need to write: I miss writing because I'm not writing, and I'm not writing because I have no need to, and I have no need to because everything is AMAZING right now.

So it dawned on me that my struggle now is remaining humble. It is so easy to forget the important things in life when all the hardships of the world seem so far away. It's easy to come home, shut the door and forget there is a world out there with injustice and poverty and calamity.

I am so blessed. Even when I fast, all I have to do is go to the local grocery store and choose whatever I want from every food imaginable. Hunger is not a real problem.

Even when I am home alone, bored, all I have to do is get 3 dollars from my change jar and bus over to Hiba's for dinner. I don't have to worry about things like war - I can't even go into detail about war because I don't even know what war is! Sure, I can google the word "war" and weave all kinds of "deep" sentences using all kinds of words like "tanks" and "mines" and "coup d'état", but what meaning would they have? alhamdulillah ala kulli hal, there is little I can be more thankful for other than the inability to discuss this topic adequately.

A family member recently told me about a very touching moment in his life. A customer came to the store he works at part time and called him "brother". He suddenly felt very happy at the idea of being called "brother" by someone who doen't share anything with him other than the fact that they are fellow humans. "Think about it, he said, we are all brothers, no matter our creed, so why should we be so arrogant?" That really put things into perspective for me. After that moment, I decided I wasn't going to hate anyone, no matter how heinous their crime.

It's so hard. I really hate Pinochet (1).

***

And so it was my mum who taught me the loveliest lesson in humility. Today. I woke up from a nap, in mum's Kingston home. Tiggy the cat was at my feet and mum was on Youtube, listening to folklore and eating peanuts.

She said: "Do you know where I got these peanuts? An inmate (2) gave them to me." Groggy, it took me a while to grasp what she was saying, so she continued:

"There was an inmate who came from another Federal institution. They prescribed a walker to him, but when he came to us, they decided he wasn't going to have one, so he couldn't walk. The first time I met him, I asked him to tell me about himself. When he got up, I noticed he needed to grab the walls. He said his name and I asked him why he was walking like that. He said 'Ma'am, I have problems with my knees. All my cartilage is gone. When I put my weight on my knee, it hurts'. So I asked him to tell me everything and made notes for the doctor, asking him to assess the inmate for a walker and any other orthopedic need. A few days later, he was given a walker. Next time I saw him, he gifted me this pack of peanuts. I told him: 'Keep it for yourself. I have my freedom, I can buy any food I want on the outside.' But he insisted, so I accepted."

Most people look at a hardened criminal and only see the heinous crime.

My mum, she sees her brother.

Peace is such a wonderful state to be in.

(1): Augusto Pinochet, the modern-day Pharaoh who said "Not a single leaf moves in this country if I'm not the one moving it. I want that to be clear!"
(2) My mum is an RN in a Federal Institution.

yo habibe ain't it totally inappropriate?

2009-09-23T18:32:00.010-08:00

After startling my friends and potentially ruining my whole reputation among the Muslim community with the previous post (which was not an essay on my beliefs, but rather an exploration of thoughts and emotions I had never had the strength to touch on before), I received a direct tweet from some random rapper on twitter with a link to this... this... thing.

Not only does this song lack musical sophistication (to my ear) but i find it profoundly distasteful and offensive.

I surprised myself. I didn't even give "attar mohammed" the time of day, i didn't even watch the whole video . Mind you, I spent 4 days researching the taqwacore scene, fascinated and confused and shocked and infatuated and disgusted and giddy and mad, yet this video, which is arguably equally provocative, strikes me as being profoundly inappropriate.

why?

seriously, i don't know... maybe i am just a big fat phony...

Whatever my problem is, one thing is sure. I think I may have an acute intolerance to "video hoes", pardon my farsi.

update:

(black nobility, who sent me the tweet, is the mixer for the track. he apologized to those (me) who felt offended by the girls' presence in the vid. i want to voice my appreciation of said black noble and thank him for his reply)

out of the word, into the paint III

2009-09-15T12:56:00.003-08:00

Life in the Ark Fleet, Ship "B"

The WYSIWYG Factor

2009-09-12T10:19:00.004-08:00

"What do I care what people have to say about me?"

"Yeah, who cares what people think, it's between me and Allah"

Ah yes. Indeed, who cares? People will talk, and spread rumors and be jealous... that's what people do. But does that mean you can do whatever you want without ever taking responsibility for your actions? Without any repercussions ever?

I'm a translator. At work, I always work in WYSIWYG. Why? Because I know what to expect when I send my document to the printer. I know where my margins are, I know where my page breaks are, and I know almost exactly what my print out will look like when I'm done.

Logically, what do you expect from a liar? Lies. What do you expect from a thief? Thieving. What do you expect from a gossiper? Gossip.

So if you're the kind of person who doesn't care what people think, more power to you, but remember that what you see is what you get, and when it comes time to judge your character, people will only rely on one thing: what they've seen.

The Islamic Prayer Times – Computational Philosophy with Particular Reference to the Lack of Twilight Cessation at Higher Latitudes

2009-09-10T08:24:00.007-08:00

OR
Praying and Fasting where the sun don't set

I was sent this "joke" today, about two saudis who died on the 16th day of Ramadan because they were working up North and weren't able to break their fasts*. It really is meant as a joke. Though I must admit, I don't get it.

Just for the record, the subject of breaking one's fast at the right time in areas where the sun never sets or rises is legitimate and is the object of serious research.

See for yourself (.PDF).

* I'm pretty sure this scenario is unlikely due to the social disease and poor management of funds that plague the saudi society. Money+ arrogance make for well paid american imports hired to do your work for you, innit?

out of the word into the paint II

2009-09-02T12:40:00.004-08:00

ergonomy, or the lack thereof

Trust your mechanic

2009-08-25T19:38:00.004-08:00

Your mechanic is like your physician or your accountant... or your lawyer (if you have a good one*).
In what way?
If you can't trust him (or her), you're in trouble.

When your mechanic makes a mistake and tells you it was an honest mistake, you need to be able to take is word for it.

If you think he actually MADE the superficial gash in your tire sidewall - the one you weren't aware of when you brought your car in to get your brakes replaced - then it is neither rude nor demeaning to suggest you go to a different mechanic.

But if he TELLS you he didn't have to put air in the front right tire, and two eye witnesses assure you AGAIN AND AGAIN that he DIDN'T in fact put air in the front right tire but only checked the pressure with the gauge, but you STILL insist you saw him put air in the aforementioned front right tire, then maybe you just need to recalculate your war strategies in the province of trust. Maybe you need to take a step back and rethink this whole "mechanics are unshaven little devils in overalls" thing.

Maybe you could pick a mechanic and give him a real running chance... then maybe, just maybe, that mechanic could develop a sense of loyalty towards you and you could get more out of him in the end.

*Please send good Gatineau-area lawyer contact info to yellow_larvae@hotmail.com

out of the word into the paint I

2009-08-21T09:19:00.003-08:00

suicide by desperation

The Ultimate Proof of Loyalty

2009-08-05T09:39:00.004-08:00

Last Friday, Tiggy arrived at the Ottawa airport from Winnipeg. She was very quiet. She hadn't peed or pooed and I suspect she hadn't eaten much since leaving in the early afternoon. Nerves, you know. It’ll get the best out of anyone.

I was so glad to see her! I let her smell me and I placed her on the back seat of my car. She quietly rested her head on her paws while I told her what the plan was. We are going to go to Kingston, where you are going to meet my mom, I said. She is going to take care of you! I am sure you will like her. Mum doesn't have any litter for you, though, nor food! Let's go to the pet store, Tigz, and I’ll make sure you’ve got everything you need.

So I drove to PetSmart and bought about $100 worth of stuff: dry food, a little soft food, a litter box, litter... I thought about getting a harness, too... but I thought I would be overdoing it. After all, Tiggy will be too busy getting to know the house to bother with the outside, I thought.

The man and I drove down to Kingston. We left at approximately 9PM. Sometimes I would say Tiggy! and Tiggy would answer Miu!

The man was so surprised! Tiggy! he said. Miu! she answered!

Everything was just so wonderful!

When mum finally saw the cat, she fell in love.

I assembled the litter box and put Tiggy in it. This is your washroom, I said. Then I gave her some fresh food and water and left her alone so she could get used to her surroundings.

For the next two days, reports my mum, the cat was very shy and didn't go anywhere. But it is understandable seeing as mum was working 12 hour shifts the whole weekend. At one point she thought the cat just didn't like her. At another point she thought the cat hated the house because it still smelled like the dog that the previous homeowners had. We did however notice that she recognize the Qur'an whenever we put it on - Whenever she heard it, she would follow the sound up to see where it was coming from. I suspect Iggy or her family listened to that surah or that recitor regularly. It is a little bit of home, I told myself. She is starting to feel at ease

Then, Tuesday evening, I got a call. My mom couldn't find Tiggy.

Monday, I was mowing the lawn, she explained, and Tiggy came out in the backyard with me a bit. She was pretty shy so after a while she just quietly wandered back in and went to sleep on my clothes in the laundry room. So today I let her come out with me again, she said, sounding sadder and sadder with every word. She was so happy! We finally bonded! She found a patch of light and rolled around in the grass! So I let her be... but then it got cloudy and started to rain and now i can't find her! She left me! She doesn't like me and she left me!

As my mom recounted the day's tragedy, my chest started to close in. Tears welled in my eyes and suddenly we were both crying.

The man tried to comfort me. He told about how when he was little there was a wild cat that kept coming around to their house, so eventually they picked him up and drove him 60 miles out of town... but the cat found its way back after 2 days. The man said not to worry, the cat would come back. Like the Fred Penner song. She would be back the very next day.

But I wasn't convinced. Tiggy has only been in Kingston for 4 days, I told him, and only just got used to my mom TODAY! She might not yet have developped any feelings of belonging! What if she’s trying to go back to WINNIPEG!

I burst into tears.

My mom's heart was broken.

My friend's cat was lost.

And somewhere in the cold rainy Kingston summer night a little cat was cold, scared and alone.

O the mere thought of it! I couldn't bear it! I prayed and prayed and prayed for her safe return. I don't remember praying this much for anyone or anything ever before.

Only YOU have the power to guide her back! Only YOU can bring Tiggy and my mum together!

I fell asleep, exhausted from weeping and worrying, my face tear-streaked and swollen, feeling guilty for not buying that stupid harness at PetSmart.

The phone rings.

It is 6:30 AM.

- Hello?

- The cat came back!

- What?

- The cat came back and she wasn't even wet! She was waiting for me at the door. I brought her in. She's back.

You were right, Iggy: She is my mom's cat.

How do you say "I HATE YOU" in French?

2009-07-11T12:15:00.003-08:00

i hate everything about you.
i hate how you take two different sets of data, add them up and accuse me of witlessness.
i hate how you think you're better than others.
i hate how you breed a culture of elitism and individualism.
i hate how your corporate ass is shit-crusted.
i hate how you make me feel useless and talentless.
i hate your clients.
i hate your offices.
i hate your shoulder-crisping desks.
i hate your forked tongues and whips that break spirit and bone day in and day out.
but most importantly
i hate myself for thinking i could love you.

Twenty Interviews and Five Conversations with "High Value Detainee # 1"

2009-07-06T09:37:00.001-08:00

A Sad Ending to an Otherwise Happy Friendship

2009-05-15T15:16:00.009-08:00

or
Please Adopt This Cat. Please?

When Iggy decided that it was time to get a cat, she had been weighing the pros and cons for years. Single, employed, stable... lonely? Would a cat bring more joy than heartache? At the time, the answer was a clear YES. The therapeutic benefits to having friends in the animal kingdom have been well documented and though she often argued that she "even managed to kill a cactus once", we, her friends, encouraged Iggy to make her dream a reality.

It has been 2 years since that fateful drive down to the farm. I remember the deer in the yard... the youthful retirees in their jeans... the raggedy tennis ball barely visible in the slobbering mutt's jaws... and the empty litter. Empty but for the runt: Antigone.

"She's so little" we all exclaimed! When Iggy took her in her arms, we could see in her face... she fell in love. Antigone (which we later shortened to Tiggy) was a doll: fuzzy kitten fur, over-sized ears, candy pink nose... and those eyes! aquamarine eyes that looked more like polished marbles!

Alas! the good days have come and gone. Iggy, who left her wartorn homeland at the tender age of 7, leaving behind her parents and her childhood, finally has a chance to get close to her mum - it's been over 20 years. No one would pass that chance up! But Winnipeg building owners are apparently godless baby eaters who deny their tenants the joys of furry companionship.

According to the Residenial Tenency Branch, landlords are allowed to deny tenency to pet owners. But pet owners in Winnipeg know it's worst than that. If you can FIND a pet friendly building, they are likely to charge you more upfront. Even though Iggy is willing and able to pay more for the priviledge of keeping her Tiggy, she hasn't found a single doggone building willing to set her and Tiggy up.

She is being forced to choose between shelter and companionship - a decision NO ONE should ever have to make.

Enter Andi: I am a cat lover living in a pet-intolerant environment. If I could, Tiggy would come to live with me. So would every stray and orphaned pet I ever come across and ever will. So I am asking you to take Tiggy in my stead. And if you can't, ask around you. Please! For Tiggy's sake.

Below you will find additional information on Tiggy and her current owner and human companion as well as my contact info, if you or someone you know is interested in having Tiggy FLOWN OVER TO YOU AND HANDED OVER IN PERSON - garanteed.

Owner will arrange for pet to be flown via WestJet or will bring her anywhere in Canada herself. hand delivered cutie pie.

Pet has insurance with Purina, which covers 80% of on most things, like annual check ups, minor surgeries, shots, some major surgeries.

Owner is willing to continue paying the insurance if the new owner is unable to do so for the next year - negotiable.

Tiggy has been spayed and in top health.

Tiggy is litter trained.

Tiggy eats a mix of dry and wet food.

Contact me for more information. I can get you in touch with Iggy. Deadline is May 31 2009 (because Iggy needs to move into an apartment in June) with a possibility of extending till June 30 2009.

Just call it what it is: Swine Flu.

2009-05-02T15:15:00.002-08:00

Inside the newsroom at CBC.ca

We are not renaming swine flu

Friday, May 1, 2009 6:12 PM ET
By Esther Enkin

It's the old clichéd question — what's in a name? But it doesn't feel clichéd if you think the name is doing you harm or causes confusion.

Swine flu or influenza A (H1N1)? What's the difference and what should we call it?

Many of you have asked us why we still use the term swine flu for the virus sweeping the globe now that the World Health Organization is referring to it as influenza A (H1N1).

It is a good question and, in the last two days, groups of us have asked ourselves the same thing, more than once.An electron microscope image shows an H1N1 swine flu virus culture obtained from a California patient suffering from the current international outbreak. (U.S. Centres for Disease Control)

But along with the New York Times, other Canadian broadcasters and international wire services, we have opted to continue calling the disease swine flu.

Here's why: in such an anxious and emotional time, our goal is to be as clear as possible in our broadcasts and publications. We think our audiences will understand the term (swine flu), which we have been using for the past week.

At this stage, it seems very confusing to change the name.

A confusing name

Also, we have an obligation to be accurate. Many public health officials and immunologists say there is already a virus by the name influenza A (H1N1). In fact, H1N1 is the name of a whole category of viruses.

In its most virulent form, influenza A (H1N1) caused the world pandemic in 1918. Estimated to have killed up to 30 million people worldwide, that outbreak came to be known as the Spanish flu.

In this instance, there are some, including our prime minister, who have referred to this particular outbreak as the Mexican flu. But we feel that is also a name that could cause confusion at this point.

There is precedent, of course, for naming a virus based on the species from which it has evolved.
Avian flu comes from birds. And in 1976, there was another outbreak of flu that derived from pigs — and it was called swine flu.

We understand pork producers and processors are very concerned that the constant reference to this disease as swine flu is affecting their industries.
We also understand that we have an obligation to continue emphasizing that eating pork can in no way lead to infection from this virus. And we will continue to evaluate our use of the name in light of any other developments.

But right now, swine flu is still the prevalent term in most mass media. If we think the use of that term becomes confusing, or if a more accurate and appropriate term is coined, we will change our practice.

We feel the more important issue at the moment is to bring you the information you need as this flu develops.

We are committed to bringing you the latest developments as well as any information that may be helpful in keeping you and your family safe.

We recognize that, in doing so, we may be raising anxiety levels in some cases.

But, as in our discussions about what to call this thing, we will continue to ask ourselves how we are doing in telling this story.

And Now For Something Completely Different: A Message My Mom Wrote To Her Roommate

2009-03-22T04:59:00.003-08:00

RE: Cat ‘Crapping’

Hi,

As you probably know, the cat doesn’t know how to use the BOX. This is a reason why the cat defecates outside the BOX and when she is lucky and does it in the BOX she doesn’t cover it up as cat do and that reduces the odour.
Please, don’t assume... The cat spent the night under closed doors IN THE LAUNDRY ROOM and I let it out this am at 0430 hrs and closed the door at that time because THE ODOUR WAS NAUSATING! The CRAPPING is not new from last night as you can see it. Why do you think that the cat did not bother last night?
It is because she was in the laundry room with the door closed so I could sleep in peace and not being awakened by the cat at midnight or 2 AM. Then, when I let the cat go out at 04:30 am, she started to MIAU again at my door steps. She was calmed down when I took my time to pet her.
(The cat doesn’t crap that much in a few hours or a night.)
The odour in the house from crapping is getting a little too much and also, the cat calls during the night, waking me up several times during the night. As I informed you, I will put the cat in that room if I am waken during the night. And that is what I did...
I am not here every day of the week, and when I come here to rest/sleep I wish to be able rest, eat and sleep in peace, and not be awaken by the cat or laud noises during the night or early am. I work long hours and I need to rest in peace.
Please take care of the cat, and train her how to use the BOX. The odour to crap in the house is a little too much. The cat should spend the night in the laundry room with the door close until she learns to use the box and SHE needs a flat and wide BOX, that box is too small and too high for the animal.
Please, don’t blame me without having the full history.

Thanks

oh my treacherous nation

2009-02-22T08:25:00.006-08:00

your words are poison
your illogical rhetoric suffocates me
you stab me where stabbed i have been before
and lick my wounds with your briny tongue
come and take me hostage
take my home, my mind, my soul
i care not

hark
your cloven-footed steps draw near
your fiendish voice cries out my name
enclosing me in guilt
even as you tower over me
i yield not
hear me now: you will not vanquish me

i have not forgiven you

idil: day 2

2009-02-18T18:46:00.002-08:00

another brief point-form account. sunday with idil.

we wanted to get started at 12. then at 12 we decided to start at 2. then at 2 hibz said she'd pick us up at 2:30. then she came at 4.
we bought hijabs and clothes at masjid el salaam.
we were late picking uo inti.
we were supposed to eat where ever idil wanted to go but... it ended up being hibz' choices. it was pretty funnny.
we went to efes, which is under new management. it isn't called efes anymore. it's a high end turkish restaurant now.
there were evil eye beads all over the place.
it waS good... but over priced, if you ask me.
idil asked for a shirley temple. i started laughing at her till i realized i was just jealous. so as i was still laughing i ordered one too. then inti ordered one as well. hibz had mango juice.
our drinks had umbrellas.
idil nate her marachino cherry and then asked if she could have mine. i said no. apparently this was quite the joke.
hibz said: "sharing is caring, from the church of jesus christ of latter day saints".
i ate so much my back hurt.
we went to brioche bakery. i bought canolis. like 10 of them. they weren't all that great.
hibz was our arab sweet expert.
we talked about rihanna and chris brown. again. for real. i know. let's move on.
the girls came over to my place. hibz and i had tea.
idil and i played scrabble. theme: how to hook up with your coworker.
winner: idil, with over 220 points. (even tho we played with french letter mixed in with english letter, so Ys and Ws were worth like 10 points instead of 4).
we took lots of pictures. it is hard to take a picture of yourself while keeping three other faces in the frame. not easy at all.
i didn't know diar never met idil! i wish they had had a chance to talk.
they left at around 11:30.

imma waiting for idil's pics. especially the scrabble one so i can post it.

k bye idil! luv u!

idil : day 1

2009-02-14T21:25:00.002-08:00

foreword
at noon, my friend anne picked me up and took me grocery shopping. i had a very hard start, this morning (i feel like i bombed my own castle to smithereens) and i really needed the company. after a subway breakfast and a race to the self checkout at loblaws, we drove up to an apartment she may be renting this july. after that, helped her make cupcakes and she gave me the giant one. i say this because my day with idil starts with the cupcake. (thanks anne!!!)

part I: overview
anne dropped me off at hilda. after that, hibz arrived. the three of us inhaled the cupcake. then inti came and we were on our way. we decided to go out for dinner (appetites not quite spoilt by the sugary goodness). we loaded ourselves up in the car and decided on the works. after eating, we dropped a woozy inti off and headed back to hibz's place to chill until it was time to go home. the following is an account of the more notable points of the evening.

part II: highlights
the cupcake was perfect. not overcooked at all.
idil's assessment day went well. there were all kinds of important people from all over the place, including this manhattan lawyer.
i decided that i'm OK with calling it Africa.
hibz's car was working. yesterday it wasn't.
idil wears high heels, although she claims it's only her boots. she looks like a calgarian now, too.
inti is into life coaching.
we heard about iggy's haunted room. inti had good adviceto give. hibz just advised they get the heck out of there as soon as fricken possible.
i had an olive oyl organic beef patty and had a fried egg added to it and it was delish.
hibz also had organic beef. idil had chicken and inti had tuna.
hibz and inti had milk shakes as well.
bernie was our waiter. he really took a liking to idil for the following reason: whe idil asked for coke and also a glass of water, bernie said " we don't serve water" so idil, playing along, said" oh no! well then i'll have two cokes". (i thought that was hilarious).
also, fyi (you know who you are) bernie has a GF.
idil also has a potty mouth. i told her i wanted to stop talking like a barmaid. eventually i dropped our guards and i may have said something along the lines of "she can ride him" in regards to a morbidly obese man who was getting married.
hibz taugh us that morbidly obese men can't get it up. get what up? isn't it burrid in flesh, anyway?
i ate all my food.
apparently there is a nfl player who is a devout muslim.
the word "nin" sounds like it is about this big (i didn't mean it that way)
i can't believe "nag" is what women are called. wow.
i paied cash.
hibz is a social butterfly.
we met an older white anglosaxon muslim man who took his shahada in kingston 3 yrs ago. i am going to tell my man so we can go down there and he can be his friend.
inti hurt her ankle recently and had trouble walking briskly.
also, inti has been a little sick with flu-like symptoms so she went home after the meal (but she will be coming out again tomorrow).
i really miss idil.
we tried to contact fadumo but found out, after txting mfeminista, that she was also in T.O., job hunting.
we went to jasmine but didn't ring anyone. it was too late, anyway.
hiba got a timmie's tea and it made her sick (i told you so. ew.). i had 1 chocolate timbit.
i admitted that my work environment is making me into a snob. hibz says she noticed.
idil likes hibz's apt. apparently, in calgary, they pay way too much and they live in a run down shack of a building. or something.
the snl opening sucked. jonas bros on snl sucked.
idil thinks bateekh is better than tiggy. apparently, all tiggy's got going for her is her looks.
we actually discussed chris brown and rihanna.

part III: best of
best line of the evening:
hibz: i'm so lame i don't understand how people flirt, or whatever. what do i say? "have you tested these fatty cells?"
idil (laughing): no you say " have you tested these sexy cells?" or something, gawd!
-laughter all around-
hiba (seriously): by the way, there is no such thing as a sexy cell.
idil (sarcastically): omg hibz! thanks for the lessons! i had no idea! :p

funniest bigot moment:
a latino family of 15 (i am NOT exagerating) wanted to eat at the works. but when they saw there were lots of people waiting, the family man suggested they go to chinese. the little latino boy cried out: let's go! let's go! let's go to the shineese boofet!
i swear we laughed about it for a good 15 minutes.

afternoon tea and social interactions

2009-02-13T19:47:00.003-08:00

i had something really fun planned for today. i took a day off, and everything! but in the end we only ended up going to have afternoon tea, mum and i. because of all the valentine's day nonsense (i saw a heart shaped pink rug at a department store. really? a heart shaped rug? pink? for cleaning your dirty boots on? ugh.) i wasn't able to reserve at the fairmont, even in advance. so i went through review after review online and settled on the tea party in the byward market.
my experience was fair. here is why.

ok. first of all, they call it high tea, which it isn't.
then, some of the bread was stale. i dipped it in my tea in order to eat out of embarrassment.
i tried with all my might to be cheerful and convince mum that it was great. but truth be told, the food was just OK (no butter for my scone! wtf? and when i was offered milk, it never arrived. and we were the only people in the tea shop so wtvr).

the tea however was so delicious and perfect. i would definitely go back for the tea.

i felt a little ignored and somewhat mistreated but i felt that way the whole day. everywhere we went, i felt like people were being deliberately rude and avoiding me purposefully. or might be perception, i dunno. ottawans aren't nice people i found out. they keep saying french people are mean. well imma gonna start being mean too then. stupid ottawans who ignore everyone and act all holier than thou-ish. but all this is beside the point.

two afternoon tea services: 27 dollars, incl tax.

in other news: IDIL IS GOING TO TOUCH DOWN OTTAWA IN 30 MINUTES! W00T!

OK. So English isn't my first language.

2009-01-17T18:00:00.003-08:00

But let's get something straight.
There is NO SUCH THING as "would of". What you mean to write is WOULD'VE, as in the contraction of the words "would" and "have", as in "I would have told you sooner had I known you were that stupid".

"Would have" is what happens to the verb TO HAVE when it is conjugated according to a tense called the CONDITIONAL PRESENT. It goes a little something like this:

I would have
You would have
He, She would have
We would have
They would have

HAVE, not OF, HAVE!

I thought they taught this in grade school.

My Husband Is A Cat

2008-11-30T15:53:00.007-08:00

Prologue

It was November of 2003 when my beard moved in with me. At first I was worried about it because I feared he and the family cat, Minu, wouldn't get along. Three days before the move, however, Minu died.
True, he was old and visibly weakened by age.
True, the weather was brutally cold and he was a wild cat.
And it may be that he felt the oncoming changes in our household and wished to remove himself from the situation... but sometimes I wonder... I wonder if the cat and the man weren't and aren't still one and the same.

My husband is a cat: Evidence

Likes to be scratched behind the ears.
Has fur.
Enjoys naps in pools of sunlight, on the floor.
Inadvertently rips paper.
Likes to spend time alone.
Doesn't respond to bossiness, indeed rarely even responds to his name.
Sleeps lightly and in odd positions (pictures not posted to protect aformentioned cat-husband's privacy).
Does not enjoy company very much.
Does rounds of the apartment to see what's new.
Needs to be around food at the moment I am cooking it. And needs to ask to taste it before I am done.
Likes meat.
Likes heat.
Likes all milk products such as whole milk, cream, condensed milk, whipped cream, all cheeses, yogurt, etc.
Indeed, the number one evidence that my husband is a cat, is this:

that... is a saucer of cream. A saucer of cream that my cat- i mean my husband- was not done eating and that he decided to refrigerate for later consumption. I believe the evidence speaks for itself.

Conclusion

My husband is a cat.

crinoline exposed

2008-11-10T16:50:00.004-08:00

tweeded, beaded
hypocrisy seeded
looked like a rose but
had to be weeded
walked like a queen
so her path I impeded
my troops she demeaned
so my party seceded
and cloaked in cochineal
I stood to reveal
that my call to alliance she never heeded

your monarchical empire bears no might unto me
from the threat of your canons I shall henceforth be free

ibidem

2008-07-13T09:28:00.003-08:00

three bones bridge a gap
by which means your tongue is silenced
whoever thought you pure thought wrong.
he'll give me it when hell freezes over
thought i, but
twas the milk that froze.
sticky juices of eaten fruits
deter you not!
why should they?
he thinks himself above the rest...
and so he is.

before jumping in

2008-07-01T06:50:00.003-08:00

i said to him, i said: I took two weeks off work to spend with you, and while it may seem to some as female capriciousness, it doesn't change the fact that i need it. there is no negotiating. a few days are not going to be enough for me to feel satisfied. i sacrificed and supported you for four months and i don't regret it. two weeks of your time isn't much to ask in exchange. that is the meaning of marriage: give and take. you wanted to have a take and take relationship, you should have looked somewhere else.
look, i said, after a small pause, have you ever been swimming in the deep end? it really doesn't matter how many times you've been swimming there, every time you jump in you gotta take a deep breath. why? because you don't want to drown, isn't that right? well these two weeks with you are my deep breath and i am warning you: if i don't get it, our marriage will drown. four months is a lot of time for a person to change, for the best or for the worst. we need time alone to make sure we are on the same level, that we have the same goals, and that our plans are explicit before we start working towards them.
like i said before, this is not up for negotiation.

ENOUGH WITH THE VEIL

2008-05-20T16:27:00.003-08:00

Quebecers should accept head scarf and move on, report concludes
JEFF HEINRICH, The Gazette

The Muslim hijab.
There's nothing wrong with it. It's no real threat to Quebec values. And most women here wear it by choice, not because of coercion.

That's what the Bouchard-Taylor commission has concluded after a year of study costing $5 million.

"And in the end, what happens to the freedom of each and every one to display her deeply held convictions, as long as they don't impinge on the rights of others and don't lead to anybody being put out?," Gérard Bouchard and Charles Taylor write.

In the final draft of their report - which was submitted to the provincial government yesterday and is to be made public at a press conference Thursday - scholars Gérard Bouchard and Charles Taylor say Quebec society will have a lot to lose if it restricts the wearing of the Muslim head scarf strictly to the home and outdoors.

Saying the province's 130,000 Muslims, especially Arab Muslim immigrants, are "along with blacks, the group that is the most touched by different forms of discrimination" in Quebec, Bouchard and Taylor plead for an end to bickering over the hijab.

"Let's finish with the head scarf, which has caused so much distress in the last few years," the reasonable accommodation commission's chairmen say in their report, parts of which The Gazette obtained last week.

"In light of a great number of unequivocal testimonies, we can take it for granted - believe us - that the young girls or women who wear it give it various meanings and are motivated in contrasting ways, some of which, it's true, don't jibe with the dominant values of our society."

(In a footnote, the professors explain some of those different meanings: "Sometimes it signifies submission and oppression, pure and simple, sometimes prudishness, respectability and modesty, and sometimes a way of affirming one's identity or autonomy or even feminism.")

"But by trying to combat these situations, isn't there a risk that we'll harm other citizens who made a perfectly clear choice? How is it possible to disentangle the two? And in the end, what happens to the freedom of each and every one to display her deeply held convictions, as long as they don't impinge on the rights of others and don't lead to anybody being put out?"

Devout Muslim women - a small minority of Quebec Muslims overall - suffer intimidation and discrimination in the Quebec job market for wearing the hijab "because employers fear getting demands for accommodations," the commissioners say, recounting testimony from several Muslims in public hearings last fall.

For example:
A young hijab-wearing woman studying to be a pharmacist "saw her job applications rejected by 50 pharmacies before she was finally able to land a job with an Arab pharmacist."

A 17-year-old Muslim girl "drew constant taunts at school and in the street" because of her hijab. "But her mother taught her never to answer them, because she doesn't want to 'fill her with hate.' "

The commissioners also write that the hijab is a lightning rod for a wide range of opponents in Quebec, all of whom see it in a negative light.

"Diverse voices are raised to denounce the Muslim head scarf: those of radical feminism, those of republican egalitarianism and - we heard various ways of it being expressed - also those of intolerance."

That condemnation shouldn't happen, they say.
one's conviction is recognized by all the great international legal conventions and by the Quebec charter (of human rights and freedoms)," they say in a footnote, also quoting the testimony of a Muslim man named Mohamed Chraibi, who addressed the commission at a hearing in Laval last November this way:

"No one has the right to impose nor forbid the wearing of the hijab by a woman." Or, as an unnamed Muslim woman at the Laval hearing put it: "My body belongs to me - I'll show what I want of it."

In another footnote, Bouchard and Taylor talk of some Quebecers' "often irrational" opposition to the hijab, which they see as a denial of a woman's femininity, a symbol of her submission to men and to God, or simply a restrictive piece of clothing that would be better left in a drawer.

They quote from a brief submitted to them in November by a woman in Longueuil, when their 17-city tour of the province swung through town: "In 2007, in Quebec, when a Muslim women wears the veil, I tremble," the woman wrote.

"To anyone who shares that feeling," the commissioners add reproachfully, "may we suggest they read the quite different testimony at the hearings in Montreal of Jean Dorion, the ex-director of the Société St. Jean Baptiste de Montréal?"

Dorion told the story that day of his friendship with a Muslim woman named Karima, a hijab-wearing immigrant whose family daycare was a home away from home for 18 months for Dorion's infant daughter. Although he hesitated at first because the woman wore "clothing that revealed only her face and hands," the experience turned out to be joyous and rewarding.

That's how the hijab should be greeted day-to-day, according to Bouchard and Taylor - as a possibility to connect with someone with a different way of life.

After all, they note, "the most publicized cases involving Muslims all involved activities where they were participating or integrating into our society: visiting a cabane à sucre, taking part in tournaments (soccer, tae kwon do), wearing the head scarf at public school, etc.

"Would it be wise to ban them for reasons that are, in the end, very superficial?"
It's wrong to think that all veiled Muslim women are somehow under a man's thumb, the commissioners also say.
"There's a strong feminist current among Muslim women. It follows an original path and is a model that differs from Quebec feminism. It goes along with the wearing of the head scarf."

Lest anyone think the veil is a sign of Muslim extremism - even a subtle form of terrorism - the commissioners try to set the record straight.

"A word on fundamentalism and the threat of terrorism," they write. "There is, indeed, among Muslims in Montreal, a small minority of rigorists who are solidly rejected by their religious brethren. It's true that in this type of milieu the germs of terrorism can appear. The threat is therefore not non-existent. What is the right attitude to take?

"Our position is this: Let's let the police do what they can to disrupt the terrorist threat wherever it is - and it does exist. For the rest, as citizens, we have the duty to treat people equitably and without reproach."

Montreal is not Paris, they add - breeding grounds for Muslim terrorists appear to be rare here.
"In Montreal there's little need to worry about the type of problem found in the Parisian suburbs," they say. "Contrary to what can be observed in France, the Muslims who are established in Quebec don't constitute a disadvantaged class that has long been oppressed and pushed to the margins of society.

"They're very educated here and have a great desire to integrate."
jheinrich@thegazette.canwest.com

© The Gazette (Montreal) 2008

Le navet qui voulait voler et le poulet qui ne pouvait pas

2008-04-21T17:43:00.008-08:00

Par une aube de printemps
le soleil paresseux lentement se levant,
poussait, sous le sol croustillant,
un navet, les cheveux frisants.
Le visage frais et les joues roses, avait ce navet
et nul autre désir dans sa vie n’avait
que de pousser des ailes.
« Dans le ciel je volerais, »
disait le navet,
« même si des ailes de poulet j’avais! »
et malgré sa courte et ronde stature,
et malgré sa chaire blanche et dure,
son âme cristalline et son coeur pur,
seraient ultimes vainqueurs, en ce jour.

Entretemps, dans l’enclos, à quelques pas de là,
caquetait un poulet, le bec bas
la cervelle molle et les talons plats
et récitait une liste de tout ce qu'il n’avait pas.
Des ailes, oui, il en avait
mais le navet n’en avait pas –
Hélas! Ses ailes, pourtant si belles,
à voler ne servaient pas.

« Hé! Ho! Toi là, le coquet poulet »
appelait du mieux que pouvait le navet,
« Dis-donc, toi, tes ailes,
à voler te servent-elles? »
Ne sachant quoi dire, et l’air niais
le poulet prononça les paroles aigres que voilà:
« Mes ailes, me servent-elles? Mes ailes me servent-elles?
et toi, tu sert à quoi, misérable navet?
Si moi-même je ne sais pas voler
crois-tu le pouvoir, toi, racine enterrée?»
Le navet de son courage en rien ne perdait
et répondit « prête-moi donc tes inutiles ailes, poulet,
et tu verras ce que peut faire ce stupide navet! »

et le navet s’envola et ne revint jamais.

2008-04-21T16:42:00.002-08:00

"he is eating his mother food! you are eating your mother food! eberybody is eating the mother food!"
-my mom

amies

2008-03-11T19:02:00.001-08:00

croupillons de pastillotes au crabenvers
vs.
croupillons en chosebinottes de pistachoin

synesthesia

2008-03-11T18:29:00.003-08:00

number form. prior to zero, there is negative. and negative numbers follow a roadmap that is mirror form of what is drawn up. until somewhere in the infinite they meets up and make a loop. but i dont see that in my head. it is in the shadow. the farthest i go in my mind is a few billion. and in fact, the farthest i have been in the negative, in my head, is minus 40 (for obvious reasons if you live in Canada)

that is all for now. read more here

2008-03-10T02:42:00.003-08:00

Recuerdas cuando todas las puertas parecian cerrarse?
Recuerdas cuando el no encontrar trabajo te quitaba el sueño?
Recuerdas que el no saber de adonde sacarias dinero para pagar las cuentas te ponia de mal humor y te enfermabas?
Recueradas que cuando mas querias trabajar y ganarte la vida, mas se cerraban las puertas y con mas fuerzas?
Recuerdas cuando llorabas porque la gente no veia tu poder del saber cuando vos mas querias y necesitabas?

VOS sabes que puedes trabajar bien y mejor que cualquiera y que Dios ya te habia regalado el poder del saber y el apprender, el poder de la inteligencia!
Pero vos no la veias o no reconocias en eses instante, por que la preocupacion invadia tu ser.

Y yo recuerdo, que todas las noche le pedia a Dios por vos.
Ahora toda las noches le doy gracias a Dios y ruego por los demas que tambien necesitan.

La vida da vueltas y vueltas, y todo en la vida pasa por alguna razon.
Yo creo que Dios te premio, otra vez. Pues ves? te dio la oportunidad de un hermoso trabajo, ahi nomas, debajo de tus narices!

Dios es justo, ahora agarra lo que el te da con orgullo y haz lo mejor de ello.TODO ES TUYO, cuida tu trabajo,cuidate, como asi tambien cuida tu familia.

Tu mama

cleft tongue

2007-12-08T21:37:00.000-08:00

worn soles
i've walked a mile in mine.
bright lights and bumbling crowds
hide not the ugly and the sick.
dainty hands, have you?
seem callussed to me.
the arrogance you exhibit
puts Satan to shame.

worn souls
brighter eyes have they.
two pairs, focussed as they are
see right through you.
blind, seem i?
ah, but i am not among those who fumble.
your graces, or lack thereof,
put womanhood to shame.

horned soul:
such a beast is sure to have one.
four-inch heels and low cut garb
are sure to decieve the lowly.
friends, are we?
while i smile, perhaps.
but what of the words you exhange in my absence?
i hear what you say of others
and why not of me?
may the blades of your heart cleave your evil tongue.

fugly uncouch

2007-08-12T08:21:00.000-08:00

vote for me on November 7th through 25th

this link will be a list of pictures, in November. and you are cordially invited to vote for the ugliest couch.
let me help you choose the ugliest couch:

thank you.

the dangers of a lovely summer's day

2007-08-10T12:47:00.001-08:00

my mum had to rush to argentina, after we learned my gran had a stroke and fell into a coma. mum, being a nurse, and a geriatric nurse, at that, felt it was better for her to take a few weeks off her new job and fly down to make sure gran was taken care of. so last week, we rushed around for her passport and tickets at the last minute. but this is not what i want to talk about.

i don't generally judge people. but secretly i ask myself: what kind of person does/says so and so. and i always reflected in this way.we are free agents, certainly, but i wonder what a person tells themselves in their most private moments to justify some of the behaviours that strike me as most outrageous.

so mum and i were going back for the nth time to thje passport office. we were stopped at a red light, and i was checking the pocket pc when mu said in spanish: look at her. a girl was crossing the street who was dressed like - theres no other way of saying it - a prostitute, and this at 4 o'clock in the afternoon.
now, i am accustomed to low cut tops, low rise pants, tight shirts, flimsy white capri, half exposed buxom bosom, i've even seen topless women downtown market. this girl however crossed the line, people. her skirt was so shor that when the wind blew, the butt-line hem fluttered to show us her tiny undergarments.

now, i don't care that she wears whatever she wants to wear, altho it does worry me, as a woman, knowing what kind of monsters roam the streets. i assumed she made a living off her body (which was, in her defense, FIIIIIIIIIIIIINE). but mum, well maybe it was the mother instinct turned sour, she worried about her. so after the initial shock she decided it was her duty to inform the poorly clad tween that she was exposing herself.

excuse me! excuse me! (girl comes to car). hi, we can see your bum.

(i hadn't the guts to look at the girl who was now leaning down my window talking across me to my mom who had a satisfied look painted on her handsome face)

what? (said the girl)

we can see your bum (repeated mum)

euh... ok.

im pretty sure, i told my mum, that it was purposely done. my mum suddenly realized that the grl didn't care that we could see, as my mum called it, her bum.

---

personal rule of thumb: if there isn't enough fabric for the piece to be worn as a head scarf, it isn't technically clothing.

ode to europeans

2007-08-08T09:47:00.000-08:00

rocks on the river shores
upon which rest wooden oars
curtained by cat tail bushes
and above which dragonflies soar
suit us, so we sit, moochers
of time

waves of blue propell them
shavings of sea, ripped at the hem
my thoughts sail like fish
and beneath, the water holds them
a sinking grave, darkness
and slime

omega park

2007-08-06T06:09:00.001-08:00

mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy
a kid'll eat ivy too, wouldn't you?

hibz and i, we were s'posed to go to laronde, last saturday. we had everything ready at 9 am. but the fear of death got me. it was so strange. i typically am not afraid of death. if i have to be honest, i wish i were. it was like impending doom. a gentle oscillation in my core that was slowly getting more difficult to ignore as I made my way to hibz' house. impending doom... it is one of the problems I had since the early stages of my PAD. But I would not succumb. so i decided to negotiate it.

we decided to go to omega park, instead. half the drive, a third the day spent, a fifth the adrenaline, but all the fun... plus animal noses the size of muffin tops rubbing up against my friend's car windows.

we were suprised to see how many cars were there, and even more suprised when they started honking at eachother for being slow. i was secretly thinking (and i am willing to bet hibz was thinking it as well) "who the heck pays 16$ to go to a safari, and then honks at people who are actually enjoying it?"
but no matter.

we went to the middle of the park to have our packed lunch (we should always pack our lunch, guys instead of going out, wallah. we'd save so much money!) and we went for a walk. i tried to find the ALLAH in trees that I had found with diar in 2004, but alas it seemed i could not. we did however see an albino deer from afar, and it was spectacular. we also saw a little one in the middle of the path that let himself be pet by us (excuse my syntax), and to my great joy i saw a size 16-18 babe who was enjoying herself with her hottie of boyfriend who was indubitably wearing jeans, 24-26 inches to the waist. adorable.

let the pixies and viddies speak for themselves ( narrated me, some voiceover is hibz being a Nazi (as per her usual lovable self).

caves for bears
bear crossing water hole

beautiful antlers
better angle on beautiful antlers

the moomoo talk

2007-08-02T08:27:00.000-08:00

hibz and umm-tiggy sittin in a coffee shop sipping tea. enter elderly woman.

hibz: umm-tig, look behind you.
umm-tiggy turns her head quickly.

umm-tig: OH MY GOD hibz! didn't I tell you you need to stop wearin moomoos! now you se what i mean!

hibz: I DON'T WEAR MOOM-

um-tiggy: i don't care what you call them: dishdasha, moomoo, it's still a moomoo!

hibz: ... whatever...

---

origin of the expression: "it's the moomoo talk all over again"

2-D sexy

2007-08-02T08:09:00.000-08:00

Hibz and um-tiggy were with me couple days ago for an afternoon of nothing and fun. we wanted to go and talk and had to leave bridgehead (the conversation turned to what does it mean to be horny... and a couple of scarf-clad tweens will certainly attract unwanted attention when tackling such topics) because the asian man on the laptop beside us, we suspected, was listening to our conversation. and who would blame him? we are so freakishly interesting, we are.

so we decided to go to Awkward Point (baptised by Hibz) but as per its usual state, it was littered with lovers tangled into each other and elderly people their hands tide in sailors knots, looking out to the least interesting (by far) of gatineau shores, so we decided to go a little farther, park the car and walk by the rocky shores of ottawa river.

our conversation never hovering away from the most juicy of topics, we were always returning to men. i confessed that i am attracted to ugly hairy men (viktor krum anyone?) and each of my accomplices confessed their own secrets (but i dont kiss and tell... so good luck pppl).

I am not sure what drove me to it. Maybe it was the fact that um-tiggy, departing rom her usual self, picked up a twig and started mock spanking hibz on the bottox. certainly it may have set the mood a little more than the steamy topic alone... after we sat down on a bench to watch the tide rolling in (hibz, we discovered, is much too proper to go down to the actual shore and sit on rocks) i yanked the twig from the misbehaving um-tiggy and decided to trace portraits in the path of pebbles.

First hibz: an oval smily face with a big scarf and a little blouse with a hand and... attached to her hand another hand!
hibz' hypothetical husband: long hair and a mouth (hibz asked why he didnt look as happy as her, so i mae his smile broader), wide shoulders and longer legs...
but they looked like a lesbian couple, as um-tiggy pointed out. so i erased hibz and co. and zoomed in on um-tiggy's hypothetical husband.

unfortunatey, his shoulders were too wide and muscular, so i decided t stand in the middle of the walkway and draw a life-size piece of sexy: kuffi. beard. thick neck. wiiiiide shoulders. large arms. (umm-tiggy says: ooooh is that my husband? DZAMN woman!) pecks. (hibz yells: come see your man's pecks!!!). abs... waist... damn... and then...

andi, someoe is coming.

i didnt know what to do with myself. i pretended there was nothing there and sat back down but the damage was done. the brwn dude who jogged over the 2-D sexy looked at the half done sketch, looked up at us, and laughed as he ran away.

i shud have gotten up and left, right? no the need to finish the sketch was stronger than me. i got the stick and finished him off.

andi someone else is coming. two of them... they're arab!! RUNNNN!

complete idiots we were, running away and hiding in the car. ufffffffff!

Yeah! Right!

2007-07-28T18:14:00.000-08:00

or
Bus Stop Asian Boy

Poor Gu
He had no clue
He shined his shoe
Poor Gu

roadtrip storytelling game unmasked

2007-07-24T09:12:00.000-08:00

nano-man's pan

by: box, star, hibz, jude and teapot.

one night, a long time ago, as night fell upon the city like a heavy bejeweled quilt and as the lights of the city specked the roads like suspended stars, a thick billowy shadow seemed to glide towards a deserted allewyway. The heavy bulk of a many limbed man was making it's way home. This man, a nano-man, had nine arms.No one would be surprised to know that he was the child of hindu parents. and although he was very well paid at the local ford company for his very swift and rapid manual work (which he did to pay off his many debts and to insure excellent credit), he was lonely. very lonely.

Despite his admirable financial situation, the nano-man was unhappy because he was sickly and very terribly in love with late night television infomercials. He would watch them into the night, enduring pangs of impossible love all through his sleep and into his days.

Tonight was one of those nights of infomercial binging. He only left the comfort of his home to go to the local masjid to make his wudu' and to pray. He prayed to find another being like him. He dreamed of an octopus-like equal that he would share his life with. Where to start? and suddenly, it dawned on him: India.

Before he had even made a plan, he was boarding on an international flight to mumbay. Upon arriving, he was guided by something invisible inside him towards a beautiful flower. He was struck by surprise for he had seen the flower on television, he was sure of it. Every night he watched her, straight into dawn, while women gamboled and frolicked around her. He was torn: This flower was so beautiful... he wanted to keep her with him forever, but if he plucked her from the dry ground that he treaded, she would wilt and die. NO he had to leave her there, and suffer without her. he sat on the ground and thought and thought and thought about what to do... suddenly, the flower broke the silence and, turning to her many-limbed visitor, spoke thus:
Hello, little boy. you are very pretty, aren't you?

The nano-man jumped up and had already run away before he thought better of it and returned to learn more about the flower. The flower talked a lot. and when at long last she asked him what he was searching, he told her:
I wish to find an equal, whom I could love and be loved back.

the wise flower encouraged him to consult the imam of the local mosque. And so he did.

Upon finding the local mosque, he approached the imam, after salat 'asr. Not surprisingly, but to nano-man's astonishment, the imam pulled out a zawaj catalogue and began turning paged, scanning each profile for a match.

Finally, on page 132, our nine-handed hero found what he was looking for. his heart skipped a beat. the imam smiled, and pleased with himself, closed the book and encouraged his guest to follow him, for he was to take him to the home of this indian bachelorette and to ask for her hands in marriage.

A small problem occurred to him, when he met her, however. While he had 9 hands, his bride to be had 8, and where he had 2 legs, she had three. He brushed aside this tiny snag when the imam suggested that her family could use an extra hand.

They were wed that very day. and although they were happy with each other, nano-man suffered spells of loneliness and severe pangs of hunger for pan. So he decided to go to the local pan-maker and to ask him for advice.

The pan-maker told him that such cravings for pan could only be cured by one thing: the immediate consumption of the petals of a very rare flower. The pan-maker described the flower. A lotus, blue in color, and according to legend, capable of talking to certain pious and righteous beings. the pan-maker was still describing the characteristics of such a being, but our hero was already running away, away from the village and towards a place where the ground was dry hard and hot, and where there grew a long lost friend.

He found the lotus, still as blue and as beautiful as ever. she lifted her head when she saw him and was about to say hello when, as swift as an 11-limbed being can be, he plucked her head off the stem. He hesitated as the memories of their first meeting came flooding back... but his stomach rumbled. He stuffed the petals into his mouth and chewed.

He lived happily ever after.

new blogspot display pic

2007-07-15T09:33:00.000-08:00

art found on the Sea Wall in Vancouver BC, a picture of which was uploaded on facebook. anonymous artist: thank you.

Shame on you, STO!

2007-07-14T18:26:00.000-08:00

it's time for me to stand up for human rights and to stop letting things slide. So I am taking action against anyone who trespasses on my rights and my god-given dignity as a human being, or on anyone elses rights, for that matter (look out, Congo Embassy**, you are going to crap yourself when I call you out on your despicable medieval behaviour towards your pygmy guests).

here is a letter i wrote to the STO about their biggot drivers. Incidently, the man waiting with us was a rather dashing asian looking man. If you don't understand French, go learn.

---

Bonjour,

Je vous écris au sujet d'un événement très particulier et plutôt déplaisant qui s'est produit ce soir. Le conducteur de l'autobus #0315, ligne 52, direction Rivermead, ce soir, s'est conduit d'une façon répugnante.

Nous attendions, trois personnes (une homme appartenant à un groupe de minorité visible, et deux femmes appartenant à un autre groupe de minorité visible – dont moi-même l'une d'entres elles) à l'arrêt Wilfrid-Lavigne/Chemin Aylmer pour l'autobus de 21 h 24. Lorsque l'autobus s'est arrêté, l'individu mâle qui attendait l'autobus s'est avancé et a cédé la voie aux dames. L'une d'entre elles s'est alors mise devant la porte de l'autobus. Le chauffeur l'a regardé, n'a même pas ouvert la porte, et est parti. Il a dû, cependant, arrêter à la lumière rouge, à peine quelques pas de l'abribus, alors nous avons tous couru pour l'attraper. L'homme qui attendait l'autobus avec nous a demandé d'entrer et le chauffeur lui a alors ouvert la porte. Ce même homme l'a demandé, en anglais « why didn't you open the door for us? we were waiting for you!» (Pourquoi nous vous avez pas ouvert la porte?). Il a regardé la dame, qui montait à bord après lui, et a répondu, agressivement : « why don't you get out of the fucking cabin».

Il ne faut pas vous le rappeler, nous payons cher nos voyages à bord la STO. Ce chauffeur reçoit bel et bien son salaire pour nous faire la navette. Nous ne devrions pas être obligés de courir dans la pluie pour lui supplier de monter à bord. Je ne sais pas comment vous choisissez vos employés, mais il me semble bien évident que, dans le cas de l'employé qui nous concerne, vous avez commis une grave erreur. Ce genre de comportement est absolument inacceptable.

Je voudrais recevoir une lettre d'excuse de ce chauffeur ainsi qu'une promesse que de tels incidents ne se produiront plus. Je vous informe également que je compile ces événements et que j'en ferai part à la Commission canadienne des droits de la personne, car ce n'est pas la première fois qu'un tel incident se produit à bord de vos autobus.

Vous devriez avoir honte.

Merci, Madame , de nous avoir fait part de vos commentaires,

Vos informations ont été transmises au serveur.

Cliquez ici pour continuer à naviguer le site de la STO.

Votre numéro de confirmation est le : 1621453

Page générée le : 14 juillet 2007 à 22:03

** i totally made a mistake about the French Embassy. sorry!

omega park 2004

2007-07-12T12:13:00.000-08:00

im surprised i never posted this up.
in 2004 i went to omega park for a day of fun. unfortunately i remember more of the bad things that happened that day (i.e. fighting with mum, taking bad pics of my obese self, being friends with a backstabber,e tc) but this one thing i discovered there with the man is undeniable an great great memory and i need to record it here for future reference.

wregime and pixies/video of antigone

2007-07-07T08:49:00.000-08:00

when i first started this blog, my p.a.d. was at its peak. today i am striving towards mntl health. with luck, faith and positive reinforcement from my immediate social environment, i hope to wean myself completely off FXR.

if i have been neglecting my weblog, it is because the purpose of the blog is slowly melting away like wax in the sun, and i will need to find a new, fresh purpose in order to keep this blog up, otherwise it will simply wither and die. perhaps a writing regime would help.

allow me to begin my "wregime" by recounting a joyful day that shines through the window to my life like a beacon of bliss.

yesterday, i escaped, my heels on my hips, from potential emotional and mental stress and decided to invest in a day of solitude and enjoyment. by 10 am, however, i had driven myself across the bridge and down to the south end of the capital region and, having no clue of what a day of solitude should imply, i parked my battered 91 corolla at the salvation army on alta vista and proceeded to delve into the land of hand-me-down treasure hunting, one of my favorite activities.

having only found an aluminum tray happily painted in bright colors and a brown round cushion with tassle-like embellishments, i decided to put away the idea of a day of solitude and enjoyment, and called hibz. unfortunately, hibz was sleeping, or so i learned when, after getting the voice mail services several times in a row, i called iggy to see if she'd like to have lunch. she couldn't, but she told me hibz was home sleeping so i shamelessly made my way down to hibz' and rang her doorbell till i heard her stagger sleepily, heels in the carpet, to the stairway and call out in her groggy voice "who is it". i suggested brunch and so groggy hibz became her regular "square 1!" self and we made our way downtown in her car... what is it? a buick? a pontiac? some piece of junk American't car, anyway.

we decided on mexican food, myself having finally ended my burger craving after 6 months of burger diet. (enrique iglesias is a disgrace and sounds like a cat being sodomized - refer to live earth). we went to a restaurant named after my (nonmexican) grandmother, felina's, and ate the special, a fresh crispy ceasar salad as a bed for marinated beef asado. thinking back, i am sad that the special was not more mexican because, at the exception of black mole, i really like mexican food (read: i really like fatty foods).

then we went for coffee and "a little sweet" as would say mum. bridgehead junkies in the glebe... we needed not even say the words! we just drove down the third avenue and practically wet ourselves from the excitement! finally a bridgehead fix! we were so eager to have a lemon square and chai that we forgot to pay parking, but lucky for us, the cops were probly too busy monitoring the under 20 FIFA parking at landsdown park to ticket us. thank goodness.(dear bridgehead: chai is not earl gray. you know better, bridgehead, i would expect that from others but not from you. luckily, my love is unconditional, so i forgive you).

iggy called us and reminded us to pick her up from work early so we could go to get her kitten. the kitten she was getting was living on a farm in stitchville, an ottawa village known for its taylors and haute couture. not really. anyhow, as the official navigator, i navigated hibz the nazi driver down a lovely country road. there it is! i yelled out, and we turned into the long dirt road driveway were i saw a dear and her fawn, to which iggy blurted out: those aren't real. almost on cue, the fawn moved and iggy spontaneously combusted. then we gathered her ashed, soaked them to a paste and remolded her. she came back to herself just in time for the farm owners, a lovely older couple, to come and greet us city slickers, as they called us (fo realz, dawg).

i played ball with their boarder collie bitch while the kitten's guardians passed on the charge to iggy. "did you choose a name for her," asked the gent, to which iggy answered: "yes, antigone". they must have given her a look cuz she explained: "from the theban plays by sophocles".

needless to say, we spent the rest of the evening playing and pampering antigone. muslim femme even came down for a little while to meet antigone. she left soon after tho, because we were so boring. WHATEVER AUDETTE! WHATEVER!!!

here are the lovely pics of antigone. my favorite is antigone in pearls.

the bean farmer's debate

2007-05-25T10:08:00.001-08:00

little beasts
pointy teeth
worship wooden things
and stooping low they hide beneath
their ugly little deeds
and swords unsheathed
then scatter home they pace and seeth
and close their eyes to sins
and wooden carvings
evil deeds
much worst
much worst
are they
indeed.

Merci, Karima (Le Devoir)

2007-05-03T08:22:00.000-08:00

Le Devoir
IDÉES, mardi 3 avril 2007, p. a7
Merci, Karima
Jean Dorion
Président général de la Société Saint-Jean-Baptiste de Montréal

En 2001, revenus au Québec après cinq ans et demi au Japon, ma femme et moi cherchons une garderie pour celle qui est alors la cadette de nos enfants, Blanche, deux ans et demi. Après des mois sur la liste d'attente d'un CPE, la direction nous téléphone: «Toujours pas de place chez nous; que diriez-vous d'une garderie en milieu familial? Voici le numéro à composer, demandez Karima.»

Tiens, un prénom arabe... J'appelle. Je reconnais l'accent maghrébin dans le français de mon interlocutrice. Nous voulons d'abord la rencontrer et visiter les lieux. Le lendemain, ma femme, Blanche et moi sommes à sa porte. Je sonne, on ouvre. Une femme apparaît, dont les vêtements ne laissent voir que le visage et les mains. J'ai un mouvement intérieur de recul. «Un hijab... Des pratiquants! Confier à ces gens-là une part de l'éducation de notre enfant? Une fille...» Globe-trotter, multilingue, père d'une famille binationale, je me pique d'être plutôt dépourvu de préjugés ethniques. Mais là, mon seuil de tolérance est atteint. De l'islam, j'ai peu d'expérience, hors la lecture de quelques sermons peu édifiants de l'ayatollah Khomeiny, qui m'avait déjà stupéfié à une époque où, exilé à Paris, son «islam progressiste» était la coqueluche de la gauche intellectuelle européenne. Face à Karima me reviennent aussi à l'esprit deux rencontres pénibles avec des intégristes en Malaisie, en 1983; j'en avais eu de plus heureuses avec d'autres musulmans malais, mais les mauvaises, même rares, laissent plus de traces. Karima nous invite à entrer. Soyons polis, entrons, tant qu'à être venus; après, il ne sera pas difficile de trouver un prétexte pour nous désister.

Nous parcourons la maison; cinq minutes ne se sont pas écoulées que mes préventions se sont ramollies. Tant on sent partout dans ce foyer l'amour des enfants: dans la décoration, les jouets, le jardin, le bonheur manifeste des petits eux-mêmes. Ma femme et moi rentrons chez nous en nous disant: «Essayons voir...»
Épanouissement

Les dix-huit mois qui suivent seront pour notre fille une merveilleuse période d'épanouissement social, au côté d'enfants de toutes origines, certains musulmans, d'autres dont les familles sont sans doute de toutes croyances et incroyances. De notre côté, nous découvrons en Karima une femme d'un bel aplomb, lectrice d'ouvrages de psychologie enfantine, bien au fait des réalités du Québec et qui mène sa petite entreprise avec amour et rigueur, secondée (pas dirigée) par son mari. En fin d'après-midi, les enfants se retrouvent autour d'elle au jardin pour l'heure du conte. Quand je viens chercher Blanche, il n'est pas toujours facile de l'arracher à ces moments de rêve.

Nous rentrons du Japon, pays très japonisant; la francisation de nos enfants est prioritaire. Nul ne peut mieux nous y aider que la Marocaine Karima: un matin, j'invite Blanche à se chausser: «Viens mettre tes p'tits bas» - «C'est pas des bas, c'est des chaussettes, Karima l'a dit», me corrige-t-elle.

Avec Blanche, Karima s'y prend mieux que nous, je crois. Nous avons alors quatre enfants, Blanche est «le bébé» et cela paraît, par moments. «Tout ce qu'il lui faut, c'est un peu de fermeté, me lance un jour Karima, et ça lui manque.» Elle s'arrête, l'air un peu inquiète de ma réaction aux quatre derniers mots qui lui ont échappé... Touché! En plus de principes d'éducation clairs, Karima a des principes tout court; cela ne l'empêche pas d'apprécier l'apport de gens d'autres cultures. «J'ai été éduquée par des religieuses françaises, me dit-elle un jour, elles m'ont transmis une valeur [elle appuie sur le mot]: le respect d'autrui.»

Aujourd'hui encore, quand on lui parle de Karima, le visage de Blanche s'illumine. Les visages de Karima et de son mari s'illuminèrent eux aussi le matin où je leur appris que j'avais manifesté, la veille, avec 100 000 Montréalais, à 26 degrés sous zéro, contre le projet de Bush d'envahir l'Irak. Aucune haine des Américains, chez eux, mais un brin de fatalisme: «Vous verrez, il y aura la guerre quand même,»
Au cours du débat sur les accommodements raisonnables, j'ai souvent pensé à Karima, à son mari, à leurs deux filles. Et aux nombreux musulmans du Québec. Ce chauffeur de taxi, par exemple, qui me confiait timidement son désarroi: après avoir fui les excès des intégristes en Algérie, il doit parfois, comme musulman, faire face ici aux insultes de quelques passagers ignares.

Nous sommes tous susceptibles d'avoir peur de l'inconnu, comme cette femme musulmane qui a été discrètement malade au moment de partir à la rencontre des gens d'Hérouxville, du si bon monde pourtant, je n'en doute pas. Ma femme et moi aussi, nous étions inquiets la première fois que Karima nous est apparue dans l'embrasure de sa porte. Le 11 septembre 2001 a eu son effet. Mais pensons-y bien: il y a cent dix mille musulmans au Québec, s'ils étaient tous des poseurs de bombes ou des lapideurs de femmes adultères, si même un sur mille l'était, n'aurions-nous pas infiniment plus de problèmes que ce n'est le cas?

Naturelle donc est la peur de l'inconnu, mais trop naturelle aussi la tentation de l'exploiter sans penser aux conséquences futures, pour vendre de la copie, augmenter sa cote d'écoute, ou engranger un vote vite, comme on dit parfois de certains entrepreneurs qu'ils veulent faire une piastre vite. On pensait que la liberté de croire, comme celle de ne pas croire, et de pratiquer ou pas, selon sa conscience, à condition de respecter aussi la liberté des autres, faisait partie des conquêtes de notre civilisation. Le principe est remis en cause à la fois par une majorité plus traditionaliste qu'on ne le croyait, mue par la peur de l'inconnu, et par la frange intégriste des laïcistes, dont la prétention fait parfois sourire: «Les religions sont la cause de toutes les guerres», écrit un lecteur de La Presse. Vraiment? Staline, Hitler, Pol Pot, étaient donc des grenouilles de bénitier? À la vérité, les responsables des guerres ne sont ni les croyants ni les incroyants, ce sont les intolérants, ceux qui vous en veulent de croire ce qu'ils ne croient pas ou de ne pas croire ce qu'ils croient.

Grâce à Karima, Blanche saura, et pour la vie, qu'on ne juge pas de la valeur des gens sur leur croyance ou leur incroyance, ni sur leur façon de s'habiller. Quel beau cadeau que cette rencontre avec Karima! Pour nous, pour Karima et pour Blanche, pour le Québec dont elles font toutes les deux partie et pour notre planète toujours plus petite!

here is a kid with literary potential

2007-04-26T07:05:00.000-08:00

Brought to you by facebook.com, my new obsession.
I give you:
Talal Mansoor (The Woodlands School)who posted this poem
at 10:12pm on April 23rd, 2007

Never did my people hurt an innocent soul
Whatever you wanted, we gave as a whole
Never cheated even once with you
Yet now you face a painful demise
When I take away all the cries
from the innocent eyes
who cant afford to die
They gotta give you supplies
for your school books and dictionaries
while you're going to dances and parties
'till one day you go down like Atlantis
To your country, i already say good-bye
Your schools are a complete lie
Your best preachers are fuckin high
All this can you even deny?
I can't wait till you're crushed like a mediterranean fruit fly
You think you preach democracy
but do you tell your students that its all hypocrisy
Am*r*ca, you're dominating the world with all bad reasons
you're the true world demons
cutting up this universe in mitad
you dont deserve the world's best khitab
you label me some sort of terrorized form
Calm though I am, I bomb with this lyrical storm

___

I said I would't edit it... but I did.
Thanks a lot Talal!

my new apartment, aylmer

2007-04-18T17:50:00.000-08:00

- dont mind the bedroom mess.
- yes, those are pink and green shower curtains.
- heated tiles.
- no stove yet.
- mac and pc are good work collegues.

flipper animation with trackpad

2007-04-05T11:13:00.000-08:00

i like it

heu. 2001

2007-04-03T06:17:00.000-08:00

i can't believe kissander kept it. and how pleasant it was to read it after so long!

when calidhuux and i became friends, we had a blast talking nonsense a lot of the time and laughing at little nothings. we really were a bunch of 8 year olds. we invented a word: heu. i was making fun of a turkish adhan, if i'm not mistaken. we then started using that word to describe things that we liked, and from it derived a whole family of adverbs, adjectives, nouns, and even used it as suffixes, prefixes and onomatopae. so i need to post it up least i should lose it again
---

HEU

Allaheu akbar! Allaheu akbar! Allaheu la ilaha illah heuwa, said the white dwarf. Jiggle, and giggle and white fluffypuffs, Heu is a monosyllable expression used, much like the Smurf’s “smurf”, to describe that which is indescribably pleasant.
Sweet and sour twitches, fuzzy winks, and all colours… with the exception of Pink, are examples of heuishness, in all their Heu.

When the short stubby orange marsupial finished painting heu univheuse on canvas of heu mind, before heu inner eye, blue and silvheu in a mist of celestial heu, she stood back, fuzzy-faces and pink, and smiled.
Heu Majesty Koala the Kween of Heu was no longer a simple ball of pfluph-substance. But prior to the exposition of heuself in the univheusal mind-art exhibition of heuity, she suffered a great many pink ordeals. This is the story of Heu.
[ed : go get some popcorn]

In the land of Pink [ed : i refuse to make the background pink], a very long time ago, when the Dodo ate the pomegranate seeds and died, there lived an orange somewhat sedated creature called Koala. Koala had three fingers on either paw; three very slow and counter productive fingers. One was pink, one was also pink, and the last one, the little chota one, was very much pink, too much pink… ziada. [ed : ziada is an urdu word and it means lots / many / excessive / too much]

As Koala slowly moved from leafless tree to leafless tree, all drained of their green freshness, she had a habit of suckling these fingers, for the bitter taste that exuded from their pinkishness brought upon visual hallucinations, which she very much enjoyed, seeing as her world was composed only of various aggressive pinks.

Baby pink, purple pink, hot pink, dark pink, fuschia, pink with red polka dots…

Koala was a miserable marsupial. Her fur was bristly, her nose was dry and her fingers were pink. Misery!
One day, as Koala sleepily dragged her feet on a foreign road made of pink sand paper, she encountered a sign that read:

Heu: Start at the beginning, and when you come to the end, stop.

Perplexed and intrigued, Koala walked on drowsily. On the horizon, she noted a blurry silhouette, something she had never seen before, something fresh, crisp, and cool. She ceased to nourish her “syst?e sensoriel” with dangerous amounts of pink provided by her fingertips, and approached this new hovering structure. There was freshness around it, soft winds that ran through her orange coat. It was terribly big, yet it seemed so light and airy, like a cloud.

The burning pink and red sun set. Koala circled her new discovery once and, beat by the fatigue and lack of pink stimuli, collapsed at the foot of the thing.

Koala woke to the sound of murmurs. “heu heu heuheu heu heu heuheu,” she heard. Like throbbing, like a heartbeat, like the sound from deep space nine’s central power unit; a sweet melodious sound, yet strange to her untrained and pink-conditioned ears. Blue is an acquired taste in these pink parts. She flared her nostrils and scratched her furry tummy. Koala looked up and tried, as Jack had apparently done in a neighbouring Story land with his beanstalk, to see where this enormous thing ended. Directly above her floated a massive figment of her imagination, but the upper part of it was lost, swallowed by the obnoxiously pink stratosphere. Koala licked her nose and resolved to climb into the unknown. After all, she had nothing to lose but a pathetic pink-dependant existence revolving around three-fingered hands, clammy from the sucking thereof. She lazily walked beneath the centre of the floating whispering novelty and daringly looked up for some entrance.
All she found, sadly, were large letters that read:

Made in Heu.

Suddenly, the sky ripped open and silver flakes of freshness floated downwards. Little light bulbs from afar shown against the new dark sky as the former pinkness melted away like hot wax. The earth beneath her feet grew purple moss with high stems that soon flowered in divinely intricate blossoms, which smelled *snif snif* like cocoa and vanilla.

The trees shed their rough bark and grew extra big and smooth. Their gold foliage shone in the starlight, and their fruits dripped of diamond water. Koala stood in awe. She turned around and around, witnessing this absolute heuness with wide eyes and open mouth. As she turned one last time to face that which was made in Heu, it was gone.

Vanished! Disappeared! Extinct! Died out! Faded! Dissolved! It was no more.

Koala was dizzy. These new scents and colours were a lot to handle. She retraced her steps to the sign she had read before arriving to the strange hovering no longer existing thing. But there, she failed to find the sign. Instead there was a red rubbery sphere waltzing around. As she came near it, it stopped and glided towards her and said: squeeze me!

Reluctantly, Koala did as the ball advised, and everything around her came to a halt.

A faint whistling was heard as Koala’s fur curled and grew. Her nose moistened as her body colour changed from violent orange to passive blue, a colour that most suited her temper. Then, a boisterous voice was heard clearing its throat. Startled, Koala looked around but no one could be seen other than the magnificent scenery.

“Is this thing on?” said the deep echo. “Oh. Well turn it off- where’s my line?”

The whistling ceased for a few seconds, and resumed, to the expectation of Koala.
She rolled her eyes and sat on a golden tree stump.

” You are within the Heu, and the Heu is in you. Yabok trilliuma toghbitsgroo, groo Froshtik mastin ka mavi.”

Little white dwarfs, at that moment, came out from various hiding places and began to cheer.

” Heu! Heu! Heu!” they happily yelled in unison.

Koala and the dwarfs danced and sang under the stars of Heu, for the rest of time.

The Heu.

working girl

2007-03-24T07:04:00.000-08:00

seven and eighty two
cents per word count
two hundred and fifty
words per hour count
is nineteen flat
per hour count
for three month probabtion
all i am worth?

te caistes un poquito asi que levantate pronto

2007-03-08T07:33:00.000-08:00

mi primo ale

sabes que? my cousin ale got into a huge car crash. just a few days ago.
hes in the marines in argentina. he's everyone's favorite kid. he's nice, smart, caring, loving, and cute too.
so when we heard that he was in a car crash, we just couldn't believe it. well i couldn't. i could not even shed a tear. it seemed surreal. impossible.

as the story goes, he was due back to service in a couple days and had his plane ticket all ready. his friends got their hands on a brand new sports car and suggested that he ditch the plane and have a road trip with them, just the four of them.
instead of heading straight down from bs as to ushuaia, they went west towards cordoba. and that's where they crashed.
apparently he was the worst hit. his face was smashed and his whole torso was crashed in. he was left unconscious on the road in the middle of the prairies for 2 hours before paramedics were on site. only once he was in doctor's care for a few days did we hear abt the crash. they told us he was in a coma, his head was bashed in and that they didn't know if he was going to make it. my mum the nurse was saying that he probly wouldn't make it and if he did he'd probly be paralyzed. i just did not want to believe it.

i don't think i ever prayed for anyone as much as i did for him. of all people, he should not be the one to go first. the world needs good people.

this morning we heard that he went to surgery. he can move his toes and arms, hes off life support and he's conscious.

my aunt says she never knew how loved her son was. people came from all over the place, people she didn't even know. like pilgrims to the grave of a saint.

creo que... it's the mercy of he to whom i prayed that brought him back. i just couldn't live in a world that would rid itself of a person so good.

abuela felina

2007-02-24T15:09:00.000-08:00

my gran is gonna be 90 years old this year.

so i decided to tell some stories about her. i only met her three times in my life, so i don't imagine the stories will be accurate. they will be interesting, at best, and reminiscent... and nostalgic at least for me.

i am told that when I was born, pictures were sent to her via air mail. and she was so excited to have them that she rushed to show them around. living in rural santiago del estero, she probably walked miles to get to her friend's homes. there was a picture of me mixing batter for a coffee cake, wearing sunglasses. there was a picture of me sitting on the living room coffee table with a letter from argentina. and there were other such pictures that i am certain made people ooh and ahh asthey often do when presented with childrens' pictures. well as the story goes, my grandad returned from the fields and heard on his way home that people had seen the pictures. infuriated, he barged into the small house (it didn't have a door) and yelled: how could you let them handle my baby's pictures with their dirty farmer hands!

my gran was married twice. she had 2 girls in her previous marriage. she escaped that marriage because it was abusive. then she met my grandad who was approximately a decade younger than her. and the black sheep of his family. he was born in the middle class, in a family that owned land and cattle... but he had been left with nothing. he fathered four more kids with my gran, a boy and 3 girls. they lived poorly, often moving about from city to city. grandad passed away in the mid eighties. he had a heart attack in the field. they didn't find him for days.

when we went to see my gran in 1990, she was widowed and living on a very small pension. she had the same house and land she has today: a small three room house with a backyard that houses a large tree and a chicken coop. there isn't any grass, the land is so arrid. she didn't have a front door, or a back door, and one of the rooms didn't have a window. so we bought her 3 doors endowed with three locks each and a lovely window that was installed in the front room. and then mum bought her a rifle. which she never used. ever.

in 1995 i visited her by myself. she wouldn't let me leave the house cuz it was the height of summer. so she would go out about her business while i lazed around the house, washing my clothes or reading. sometimes going in the front yard despite her rules. she used to wake up at 5am to feed the chicken. and then when i woke up shed yell at me for not making my bed. we'd have breakfast outside: a kettle on the fire and two bombillas with mate and sugar, some tortilla bread (not the mexican kind - our tortilla is thick and oven baked), and the morning sun shining down benevolently. then we'd do stuff, i'm not quite sure i remember what the stuff was, tho. we'D have a late lunch, at around 3, after siesta time. she'd make fideo with chicken or beef or potatoes or other such simple stew like meal, always delish. then we'd go out for walks or she'd tell me stories. she'd bring out old fotographs of my mom and my aunts and uncles when they were school aged. or she'd bring out my grandad's old relick box where he kept pieces of string or elastics that he'd find on the ground, matches and other such things that could be of use in emergencies when you are dirt poor. and then we'd visit with her friends, or have visitors over. at 1 or 2 in the morning, we'd sit in the backyard, she with wine and i with juice, and we'd have our supper: cheese and crackers or bread and fruit. the hot wind would sweep down in great gusts and rattle the tree we sat under. and it would push our hair into our faces, parting it at the back.

gran always slept in braids. and she always woke up and made her braid into a bun. gran still has in her old age such long and elegant legs reminiscent of her beauty and her youth.

when i was 4, after grandad passed away, my parents sponsored her to come live with us. the house was new. i remember planting the grass in the backyard. i remember playing in the front yard with my tank and my gran sitting on the steps enjoying the games i played. i remember sitting on her lap in the dining room and trying to touch her mole without getting my finger eaten. i remember her being unhappy here. i remember whenn she decided to go back. i remember my father crying in the afternoon when gran and my mom went shopping. but i dont remember why he was crying. i remember the friendships she made with my aunt's husband, and my father's brother, and other extended family memebrs. i remember the summer time going around the city and taking pictured with her.

she has hardly changed.

her voice is still clear. her face still radiates. but her eyes are sad and tired. so i just hope that when her time comes, death will be swift and peaceful.

kashmiri

2007-02-14T14:22:00.000-08:00

each hair is a raven strand of silk
langouriously resting along her back.
all are gathered into a plaited shawl and
daintily perched upon
her richly embroidered shoulder.

berries ripen upon her lips
ready to be plucked from
the golden bracken of late summer
and the pits of dragon's eye fruit are
embedded in her misty iris.

the movements of her body like
quiet ripples accross the indus
echo the tingle of golden bangles and
to the grassy shores
carry ambrosial scents of
frankincense and myhrr.

~~
the kashmiri plight

Why Gawab.com SUCKS

2007-02-12T13:39:00.000-08:00

Gawab.com, the unreliable arab

My hope is that Internet searches on gawab will lead to this review.

Gawab.com is an Egypt based e-mail service provider. The service has been really great in the past, boasting the most adherance internationally for a small scale emaill prodiver, a fast and reliable access with little to no spam and excellent filters, Pop services, and mock hotmail, yahoo and gmail interface themes as well as both gregorian and hijri calenders. A few years ago, before gmail and the googlution, gawab was a good alternative to the quickly disintergrating competition, hotmail and yahoo.

Since about a year however, I have noticed in increase in spam and phishing mail. I recieve on average 10 unwanted e-mails a day. The filter is no longer up-to-date and is useless in filtering my undesirable e-mails. Even after blocking and reporting some phishing mails, I recieve mail from the same crook.

Gawab has deleted all my archived e-mails that I had saved since 2003. I only have e-mails dating back to December 2006. For someone running a home business or working on personal or career oriented projects, this is deadly.

Gawab has locked me out of my account several times in the past few years making it impossible to access important information needed immediately. And to make matters worst, Gawab has never replied to my queries and requests about the problems I have had. The irony: Gawab is arabic for "response". Nice going guys!

Using gawab.com is virtual suicide.
Maybe they think I'll get 72 virgins in Heaven?

the bed next to mine is free

2007-02-11T21:17:00.000-08:00

During a visit to the mental asylum, a visitor asked the Director what the criterion was which definedwhether or not a patient should be institutionalized."Well," said the Director, "we fill up a bathtub, thenwe offer a teaspoon, a teacup and a bucket to thepatient and ask him or her to empty the bathtub.""Oh, I understand," said the visitor. "A normal personwould use the bucket because it's bigger than thespoon or the teacup.""No." said the Director, "A normal person would pullthe plug. Do you want a bed near the window?"

Did you pass or do you want the bed next to mine?

---------

I have several options for the changes that are to come to my life in the near future.
being far from the man is an option. well it was. recetly i met with my favorite niqab in the world and she reminded me that my family is my castle. i giggled thickly, looked at her through my tear stained glasses and stated that I would have to dig a trench as soon as possible if I was ever going to succeed in building my castle up to strength. More and more, as I play our conversation in my mind, i grow to believe that i should follow the man as much as i can, at least to prepare for that, to plan for it. In that cas, I would be accepting any job, even a teaching job (nauseous) in Malaysia. I've already sent my resume over for several translation cabinets.
The man would have me stay in Kurdistan and wait for him a couple of month and then stay there with him forever (doom doom doom). I'm afraid living with 15 people most of which are middle eastern men would not be a good option for me seeing as I cant even live with 1 person who is my own mother. Plus, that would give me very little to ween myself off the PAD meds.
Incidently, The man gave me this great workbook on anxiety disorders and the different ways to fight it effectively. Dr Bourn is at the forfront of the field!
Staying here would have me of course move away on my own asap but to where? inevitably it would have to be to where ever someone offers me a job because obviously i wont be having one here. Can you imagine the federal government? I pass the recruitement test, I pass the interview, I am 1 of 6 to pass in the Fall, Im done school and then they tell me I may never get a job with them? I thought there were 2.5 jobs for every graduate in this field! this is rubbish. Ive been applying in the rest of Ontario, in New Brunswick and even in Alberta. But I think that I'll be praying for an opening in Malaysia or Singapore.
At any rate, the man is leaving too soon. So Hbz and Iggy here i come, at least for a little while.
At least till I can get myself something in KL or Serawak or thereabouts.
I'm not even going to edit this post. It's just going to drive me out of my mind.
I'll just take the bed with the window.

nocturne en femme mineur

2007-01-16T09:34:00.000-08:00

which way would be the best way to materialize that which stirs within me?
two dimensional is a craft of color upon canvas
and such thoughts darker and thicker than ink.
yet the allegory and symbolism which emanate through art may yet cause to echo within the watcher a semblance of that which is in me.
or perhaps the forging of emotion through materials like clay would best suit me
each angle allowing for a new perspective and another possibility of reaching deep into the emotion of others. but the soft clay hardens and becomes still, while my thoughts are ever growing, ever changing, while my heart is ever beating against my bosom.
the limitations of words as a reflexion of reality are as a cage for those intangible things which cannot be expressed through man made language.

music.
although each instrument carries its own voice, music may well be the only way for that which stirs in me to be let out. sound can pierce reality and while it deflates, make way for things unspoken, yet unknown, yet unthought. it bridges the gaps between language and culture and moves the heart. it is the ideal method of airing out the fermentation of foul and rancid circular thoughts that run in me.

the pits of desolation

2007-01-02T07:57:00.000-08:00

the pits of desolation have grown deeper. darker, murkier.
they sleep there. they make a nest of gathered burlap and curl up inside.
they weep, when the night has cast her bejeweled cloak atop them.
but pride forces on their face a steely pretense of anger and severity.
they cannot see the ridged walls of stone that would lead them to the light.
they ignore it.
they cannot see that they could climb it.
they spite those who walk in the sun, and curse them.
they stare up from the deep, their glossy eyes a pitiful sight, and beg to be let out.
they decieve.
when a rope is lowered down to them, they pull.
they pull, they pull until they force upon me an insufferable choice:
i must abandon my effort or i will die.

the time has come to let go.

---

teapots happen

"why don't i feel better?"

2006-12-18T20:01:00.000-08:00

somehow good things are hard to come by. perhaps it is a perceptory illusion caused by my incessant pessimism, these days. so i've decided to deal with the negativity as if it really found its source within me. at least if the world isn't going to make me happy, i might as well be happy with it.
i want to reach a level in my life and deen where it really doesn't matter that people corrupt and are corrupted, abuse and are abused, harrass and are harrassed. I certainly hope to do some good, but how can i do good if good is not within me first?
so, julie andrews, thank you for lending your vocal bells and guitar strings to one of my favorite things.

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens,
bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens,
brown paper packages tied up with strings,
these are a few of my favorite things.

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels,
door bells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles.
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings.
Tthese are a few of my favorite things.

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes,
snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes,
silver white winters that melt into springs,
these are a few of my favorite things.

When the dog bites,
when the bee stings,
when I'm feeling sad,
I simply remember my favorite things,
and then I don't feel so bad.

the miracle of prophecy: "heart disease" vs "the disease of the heart"

2006-12-07T08:02:00.000-08:00

The Prophet (peace be upon him) said: “ Beware! There is a piece of flesh in the body: if it becomes good (reformed) the whole body becomes good, but if it gets spoilt the whole body gets spoilt! and that is: the heart.”

Sahih Al-Bukhari Hadith 1.49 Narrated by An Numan bin Bashir
~~

For centuries, this saying, and other like it, have been believed to refer to faith. The heart was percieved as a sort of house for the faith of people, clean, pure, reflecting goodness when close to the Almighty, and small, wretched, like a pebble, when corrupted by the worship of worldly goods. But perhaps there is more to this saying. Certainly the analogy to faith is strong and i certainly am not the one to argue it. However, when reading it, i was taken back to several Oprah shows (that woman should be President) in which Dr. Mehmet Oz was discussing the important of having a healthy heart.

The key word in the hadeeth is"reformed". Because heart disease is preventable and is reversable.

Here are some facts taht we have recently discovered:

Reversing Heart Disease
Original Air Date: November 15, 2006
source: www.Oprah.com

He was the first doctor to prove that heart disease can be reversed through diet and exercise. Dr. Oz talks to heart expert Dr. Dean Ornish about prevention and reversing the effects of heart disease and other chronic ailments.Recognizing the power of low-tech, low-cost healing measures, Dr. Ornish says things such as a low-fat, high-fiber diet, exercise and meditation can make a powerful difference in people's lives. "Surgery and drugs can be lifesaving in a crisis but they don't really address the underlying causes of what made the person sick in the first place," he says.

Although he initially focused his research on heart disease, Dr. Ornish says there are a wide range of chronic diseases that are directly influenced by one's diet and lifestyle, including prostate cancer, breast cancer, diabetes, hypertension, obesity and arthritis. "When you make comprehensive changes in your diet and lifestyle, these can have much bigger improvements than people had once realized and more quickly than people had once thought," he says.

To keep your heart healthy, Dr. Ornish advocates a low-fat, low-meat way of eating with less than 10 percent of calories from fat. The focus is on beans, fruits, vegetables and whole grains, with processed foods and non-fat dairy products consumed in moderation. Simple sugars and alcohols, says Dr. Ornish, should be avoided.
~~

The Facts:

Heart disease is the number-one killer in the United States—claiming more lives than the next six leading causes of death combined. The good news: Most heart disease is preventable.

Heart disease is striking women in epidemic proportions. Become knowledgeable about this silent killer. It might just save your life.
Heart disease is the number-one killer of women. It kills ten times more women than breast cancer each year, and more than all other cancers combined.
Heart disease refers to the blockages of the arteries. Dr. Andrea Pennington, medical director for the Discovery Health Channel, says to think of clogged arteries being "sticky"—and unable to let blood flow freely.
Dr. Judith Reichman says that it is estimated that one out of every two women will die from heart disease.
One in ten women aged 45 to 64 already suffers from some form of heart disease. According to one study, nearly one fourth of women who died of heart disease were between the ages of 35 and 44.

source: www.bbc.co.uk
The UK has one of the highest rates of death from heart disease in the world - one British adult dies from the disease every three minutes - and stroke is the country's third biggest killer, claiming 70,000 lives each year.Heart attacks occur when blood flow is blocked, often by a blood clot, while strokes are caused either by blocked or burst blood vessels in the brain. A range of other conditions, including heart failure, when blood is not pumped properly around the body, and congenital heart defects can also cause long term problems, and even death, for sufferers.

source: American Heart
Other Heart Related Conditions:
Other ConditionsAdams-Stokes Disease
AIDS and the Heart
Aneurysm
Angina Pectoris
Antiphospholipid Syndrome
Aortic Aneurysm
Aortic Regurgitation
Arrhythmias
Atherosclerosis
Atrial Fibrillation
Bacterial Endocarditis
Bundle Branch Block
Cardiac Disease in Children
Cardiomyopathy
Childhood Obesity
Cholesterol, High
Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease
Congenital Heart Disease
Congenital Heart Disease in Adults
Congenital Heart Disease Statistics
Congestive Heart Failure
Coronary Artery Spasm
Dental Care and Heart Disease
Diastolic Dysfunction
Enlarged Heart
First Degree A-V Block
Heart Murmurs
Hypertension
Innocent Heart Murmurs
J-Curve Phenomenon
Long Q-T Syndrome Marfan Syndrome
Mitral Valve and Mitral Valve Prolapse
Pericarditis
Peripheral Vascular Disease
Premature Ventricular Contractions
Raynaud's Phenomenon
Rheumatic Heart Disease / Rheumatic Fever
Rheumatic Heart Disease Statistics
Silent Ischemia
Sudden Cardiac Death
Ventricular Fibrillation
Wolff-Parkinson-White Syndrome

~~

Iverson's bloopers

2006-12-03T16:43:00.000-08:00

At Iverson Language Associates, Inc., our process of managing document translation involves adhering to strict quality guidelines and procedures. It also involves a healthy team spirit, a critical element in our company’s culture.

We invite you to share the bloopers on this page, which can be useful for a humorous boost to the spirit of your own team, or as a gentle reminder of the importance that quality plays in communicating business-critical information.

(Note: these bloopers do not come from any of our work!)

In the window of an Indian shop:"Why go somewhere else to be cheated, when you can come here?"

In a Bucharest hotel lobby:"The lift is being fixed for the next day. During that time we regret that you will be unbearable."

In a Belgrade hotel elevator:"To move the cabin, push button for wishing floor. If the cabin should enter more persons, each one should press a number of wishing floor. Driving is then going alphabetically by national order. "

In a Paris hotel elevator:"Please leave your values at the front desk."

In a hotel in Athens:"Visitors are expected to complain at the office between the hours of 9 and 11 A.M. daily."

In the lobby of a Moscow hotel across from a Russian Orthodox monastery:“You are welcome to visit the cemetery where famous Russian and Soviet composers, artists, and writers are buried daily except Thursday."

In an Austrian hotel catering to skiers:"Not to perambulate the corridors in the hours of repose in the boots of ascension."

On the menu of a Swiss restaurant:"Our wines leave you nothing to hope for."

On the menu of a Polish hotel:"Salad a firm's own make; limpid red beat soup with cheesy dumplings in the form of a finger; roasted duck let loose; beef rashers beaten up in the country people's fashion."

In a Hong Kong supermarket:"For your convenience, we recommend courteous, efficient self-service."

Outside a Hong Kong tailor shop:"Ladies may have a fit upstairs."

In a Nairobi restaurant:"Customers who find our waitress rude, ought to see the manager".

In an East African newspaper:"A new swimming pool is rapidly taking shape since the contractors have thrown in the bulk of their workers."

In a Vienna hotel:"In case of fire, do your utmost to alarm the hotel porter."

In an advertisement by a Hong Kong dentist:"Teeth extracted by the latest Methodists."

A translated sentence from a Russian chess book:"A lot of water has been passed under the bridge since this variation has been played."

In a Pumwani maternity ward:"No children allowed".

In the window of a Swedish furrier:"Fur coats made for ladies from their own skin."

On the box of a clockwork toy made in Hong Kong:"Guaranteed to work throughout its usefil life."

Detour sign in Kyushi, Japan:"Stop: Drive Sideways."

In a Swiss mountain inn:"Special today -- no ice cream."

In a Copenhagen airline ticket office:"We take your bags and send them in all directions."

On the door of a Moscow hotel room:"If this is your first visit to the USSR, you are welcome to it."

At a Budapest zoo:"Please do not feed the animals. If you have any suitable food, give it to the guard on duty."

In a Tokyo shop:"Our nylons cost more than common, but you'll find they are best in the long run."

Two signs from a Majorcan shop entrance:"English well talking. - Here speeching American."

cadet roussel - paroles

2006-12-01T17:19:00.000-08:00

CADET ROUSSEL

Cadet Roussel a trois maisons (bis)
Qui n'ont ni poutres ni chevrons (bis)
C'est pour loger les hirondelles
Que direz-vous d'Cadet ROUSSEL
Ah! Ah! Ah! oui vraiment,
Cadet Roussel est bon enfant.

Cadet Roussel a trois habits (bis)
Deux jaunes, et l'autre en papier gris (bis)
c'est celui qu'il met quand il gèle,
Ou quand il pleut ou quand il grêle;
Ah ! Ah! Ah ! ...

Cadet Roussel a trois chapeaux (bis)
Les deux ronds ne sont pas très beaux, (bis)
Et le troisième est à deux cornes,
De sa tête il a pris la forme
Ah ! Ah ! Ah ! ...

Cadet Roussel a trois beaux yeux (bis)
L'un r'garde à Caen, l'autre à Bayeux (bis)
Comme il n'a pas la vue bien nette,
Le troisième c'est sa lorgnette
Ah ! Ah ! Ah ! ...

Cadet Roussel a une épée (bis)
Elle est très longue mais toute rouillée (bis)
Aussi chacun de dire d'elle
Qu'ell'ne fait peur qu'aux hirondelles
Ah! Ah! Ah! ...

Cadet Roussel a trois souliers (bis)
Il en met deux dans ses deux pieds ; (bis)
Le troisième étant pour bancroche,
Quand il le met, c'est dans sa poche
Ah ! Ah! Ah! ...

Cadet Roussel a trois cheveux (bis)
Un pour chaqu'face, un pour sa queue, (bis)
Pourtant, parfois, avec adresse
Il les met tous, les trois, en tresse
Ah ! Ah ! Ah ! ...

Cadet Roussel a trois garçons (bis)
L'un est voleur, l'autre est fripon, (bis)
Le troisième est un peu ficelle
Il ressemble à Cadet ROUSSEL
Ah! Ah! Ah! ...

Cadet Roussel a trois gros chiens (bis)
L'un court aux lièvres, l'autre aux lapins, (bis)
L'troisième s'enfuit quand on l'appelle
Comm' le chien de Jean de Nivelle
Ah ! Ah ! Ah ! ...

Cadet Roussel a trois gros chats, (bis)
Deux qui n'attrap' jamais les rats, (bis)
Le troisièm' n'a pas de prunelles,
Il monte au grenier sans chandelle
Ah ! Ah ! Ah ! ...

Cadet Roussel vient de marier (bis)
Ses trois filles dans trois quartiers (bis)
Les deux premières ne sont pas belles
et la troisième n'a pas d' cervelle
Ah ! Ah ! Ah ! ...

Cadet Roussel a trois deniers, (bis)
C'est pour payer ses créanciers (bis)
Quand il a montré ses ressources,
Il les remet dedans sa bourse
Ah! Ah! Ah! ...

Cadet Roussel s'est fait acteur, (bis)
Comme Chenier s'était fait auteur (bis)
Au café quand il joue son rôle,
Les aveugles le trouvent bien drôle
Ah! Ah! Ah! ...

Cadet Roussel ne mourra pas
Car avant de sauter le pas (bis)
On dit qu'il apprend l'orthographe
Pour faire lui-même son épitaphe
Ah! Ah! Ah ! oui vraiment
Cadet Roussel est bon enfant.

strangest show...

2006-11-21T09:45:00.000-08:00

the man and i have very different taste in... pretty much everything. now i don't want to put his conteption of beauty down, but this is definitly the strangest tv show i've ever seen. Ibrahim Tatlises, the man's hero, has his own music concert show i guess on a daily basis. and he has guest on. i assume they are established singers. but maybe some of them aren't.
the following episode showcases a bald closet transvestite with zero talent dancing like the incarnation of flash dance.

Surat An-Nisah; ayaat 34-35

2006-11-19T22:05:00.000-08:00

i told my friend drew that i thought this whole an-nisah wife tapping thing was bogus. so he found me an article which deserves all the du'a in the world.

___

Question:

Could you please tell me why the Quran tells men to "beat them" meaning their wives? (chapter 4, verse 34)

Answer:

Thank you for asking about Islam. It is our committment to try our best to provide answers to questions to the best of our ability. However, sometimes we come across questions for which we do not have answers. In this case we will refer you to others who may be able to provide you with proper answers.

Please be aware that we as Muslims, must never lie about anything, especially our religion.

Secondly, we do have the original text of the Quran and the preserved teachings of Muhammad, peace be upon him. This enables us to verify exactly what was said, intended and taught by Muhammad, peace be upon him, as being the religion of Islam.

Third, I would like to remind myself and all who read this in the future that not all questions are purely questions. Some contain statements and implications, that may or may not be true.

Finally, it is important to keep in mind anytime we discover something in the answers to actually be better than what we already have, we should be committed to change our position and accept that which is true over that which is false and take that which is better for that which is inferior.

After taking all of the above into consideration, if we find that the answer to this question provides us with a better approach to understanding what Almighty God has provided us with as a way of life on this earth and in the Next Life, we should then make the logical decsion to begin to worship Him on His terms.

Having said that, let us now look to the particular verse in question in the original text (Arabic), followed by the phonetic sounds in Latin letters and then finally, followed by a translation of the meaning to the English language by experts in both Arabic and in Quranic meanings.

Transliteration
Alrrijalu qawwamoona AAala alnnisa-i bima faddala Allahu baAAdahum AAala baAAdin wabima anfaqoo min amwalihim faalssalihatu qanitatun hafithatun lilghaybi bima hafitha Allahu waallatee takhafoona nushoozahunna faAAithoohunna waohjuroohunna fee almadajiAAi waidriboohunna fa-in ataAAnakum fala tabghoo AAalayhinna sabeelan inna Allaha kana AAaliyyan kabeeran

Explanation (tafsir) of Sura 4:34
Here is the translation of meaning of the verse as best can be defined according to the rules of understanding Quran with the explanations following this translation:

“Men are the protectors and maintainers of women, because Allah has made one of them to excel the other, and because they spend (to support them) from their means. Therefore the righteous women are devoutly obedient (to Allah), and guard in the husband's absence what Allah orders them to guard (e.g. their chastity, their husband's property, etc.). Regarding the woman who is guilty of lewd, or indecent behavior, admonish her (if she continues in this indecency then), stop sharing her bed (if she still continues doing this lewd behavior, then), [set forth for her the clear meaning of either straighten up or else we are finished and when she returns to proper behavior take up sharing the bed with her again], but if she returns in obedience (to proper behavior and conduct) then seek not against them means (of annoyance). Surely, Allah is Ever Most High, Most Great.”

Meaning of the Words
For the three words fa'izu, wahjaru, and wadribu in the original, translated here ‘speak to them in a persuasive manner’, ‘leave them alone (in bed - fi'l-madage'),’ and ‘have intercourse’, respectively, see Raghib Lisan al-'Arab and Zamakhsari. Raghib in his Al-Mufridat fi Gharib al-Qur'an gives the meanings of these words with special reference to this verse. Fa-'izu, he says, means to 'to talk to them so persuasively as to melt their hearts.'
(See also v.63 of this Surah where it has been used in a similar sense.)

Hajara - Wahjaru (do not touch or moleste them)
Hajara, he says, means to separate body from body, and points out that the expression wahjaru hunna metaphorically means to refrain from touching or molesting them. Zamakhshari is more explicit in his Kshshaf when he says, 'do not get inside their blankets.'

Here is the translation of meaning of the verse as best can be defined according to the rules of understanding Quran with the explanations following this translation:

“Men are the protectors and maintainers of women, because Allah has made one of them to excel the other, and because they spend (to support them) from their means. Therefore the righteous women are devoutly obedient (to Allah), and guard in the husband's absence what Allah orders them to guard (e.g. their chastity, their husband's property, etc.). Regarding women guilty of lewd, or indecent behavior, admonish her (if she continues in this indecency then), stop sharing her bed (if she still continues doing this lewd behavior, then), [set forth for her the clear meaning of either straighten up or else we are finished and when she returns to proper behavior take up sharing the bed with her again], but if she returns in obedience (to proper behavior and conduct) then seek not against them means (of annoyance). Surely, Allah is Ever Most High, Most Great.”

Let me begin by explaining the English language is not powerful enough when it comes to translating the meanings of the Arabic of the Quran. Nor for that matter, is any other language on earth. So, all we have is translations of meanings according to the best understanding of the translators.

The operative word in this verse in Arabic is "daraba." While there are literally hundreds of uses for this word varying from "tap" to "walk in stride" to "strike at something" to "set a clear example", the only meaning that can be assigned to something in the Quran must be according to the rules of Quran. And Allah has used the same word a number of times with a consistent meaning. Let us examine them.

Here is what we find from the scholars of the Arabic language:

Daraba (to have intercourse, not to beat)
Raghib points out that daraba metaphorically means to have intercourse, and quotes the expression darab al-fahl an-naqah, 'the stud camel covered the she-camel,' which is also quoted by Lisan al-'Arab. It cannot be taken here to mean 'to strike them (women).' This view is strengthened by the Prophet's authentic hadith found in a number of authorities, including Bukhari and Muslim: "Could any of you beat your wife as he would a slave, and then lie with her in the evening?" There are other traditions in Abu Da'ud, Nasa'i, Ibn Majah, Ahmad bin Hanbal and others, to the effect that he forbade the beating of any woman, saying: "Never beat God's handmaidens."

Source: al-Qur'an: a contemporary translation by Ahmed Ali, Princeton University Press, 1988; pp78-79

Daraba (to set forth, to make a clear statement or proclamation)

One of the key rules of understanding words of the Quran is to go to other places in the Quran to investigate the usage in other places. This word is used by Allah in other places in the Quran to mean "set forth" or "sets up for you" or "makes known to you" - as is demonstrated in the following verses:

Surah Ar-Ra'd (13:17) yadribu Allahu al-amthala “Thus Allah sets forth a parable”
[here the word "yadirbu" is from the exact same root da-ra-ba]

Surah Ibrahim (14:24): Alam tara kayfa daraba Allahu mathalan .. “Don’t you see how Allah sets forth a parable?..”

And again in the next verse: Surah Ibrahim (14:25) wa yadribu Allahu al-amthala li-naasi
“..and Allah sets forth parables for mankind..”
[again the word yadirbu is from da-ra-ba]

Surah An-Nur (24:35) wa yadribu Allahu al0amthala lin-naasi
“And Allah sets forth parables for mankind..”

Surah Ar-Rum (30:28) Daraba lakum mathalan min anfusikum
“He sets forth for you a parable from yourselves..”

Surah At-Tahreem (66:10) Daraba Allahu mathalan lillatheena kafaroo..
“Allah sets forth an example for those disbelievers..”

In fact, the word daraba has not been translated to mean (beat) or (hit) or (strike) in any other verse of the Quran except this one.

The words for (beat) as in [to hit] found in Surah Baqarah 2:275 ... kama yaqoomu allathee yatakhabbatuhu ash-shaytanu mina almassi..
"..like the standing of someone beaten by the devil (Satan) leading him to insanity."

And in Surah Ta Ha 20:18 Allah Says, “Qala hiya Aasaya atawakkao Aalayha waahushshu biha Aala ghanamee waliya feeha maaribu okhra.”
"This is my stick, whereon I lean, and wherewith I beat down branches for my sheep and wherein I find other uses."
As you can see, these are not even related to the word (daraba).

Verses 34 and 35 in Surah An-Nisaa' need to be read together to understand this is the proper relationship between men and women in general and husband and wife specifically.

Islam seeks to hold the family together and to make peace and reconciliation between spouses. The next verse makes it clear what to do in the case where it seems that divorce may be the result of the uncorrected bad behavior. It stresses appointing arbitrators from both sides and seeks reconciliation.

The first part of 34 deals with all men taking care of all women. Then goes on to explain the wife's proper obedience to Allah because He is the One Who has ordained this relationship of provision and protection for her and to be appreciative and respectful of her husband, guarding herself and his property in his absence. The man is told the proper way to behave when he finds his wife not complying with decency and proper behavior of a Muslim wife. He has a direct order to begin with admonishing her and then if there is compliance to leave her be and don't give her a hard time about it. However, if this continues, he should not have sex with her and this makes it clear to her that he is most serious and this not a joke. Again, if she comes around then he is to let it go and not bother her about it. Finally, if she still insists on such lewdness and bad conduct, he is to make it clear to her in no uncertain terms that they are going to be heading for separation or even divorce unless she comes back to proper behavior. Again, if she complies, then he should not bring it up and return to the bed with her.

And of course, this is all in an effort to translate one short but powerful phrase from Arabic to English. The sources are quoted herein and there may be other interpretations but the only acceptable ones are those based on the teachings of the Quran and the prophet, peace be upon him.

And as always, Allahu 'Alim (Allah is the Knower)

Source: al-Qur'an: a contemporary translation by Ahmed Ali, Princeton University Press, 1988; pp78-79

In the past, some translators of this verse have mistakeningly used the word "beat" or "hit" or even "scourge" (as in the case of an old translation) to represent the word "daraba" in Arabic. This is not the opinion of all scholars especially Raghib and Zamakhshari as mentioned above and those who are well grounded in both Islam understanding and the English language.

34.
Men are the protectors and maintainers of women, because Allâh has made one of them to excel the other, and because they spend (to support them) from their means. Therefore the righteous women are devoutly obedient (to Allâh and to their husbands), and guard in the husband's absence what Allâh orders them to guard (e.g. their chastity, their husband's property, etc.). As to those women on whose part you see illconduct, admonish them (first), (next), refuse to share their beds, (and last) beat them (lightly, if it is useful), but if they return to obedience, seek not against them means (of annoyance). Surely, Allâh is Ever Most High, Most Great.

The understanding now is that some of the translations are not properly representing the spirit of the meaning. Therefore, they cannot be considered to be the representation of what has been intended by Almighty God.

Now we can properly understand that Almighty God has commanded the men to provide for the women and allow them to keep all of their wealth, inheritance and income without demanding anything from them for support and maintenance. Additionally, if she should be guilty of lewd or indecent conduct, the husband is told to first, admonish her and then if she would cease this lewdness. If she should continue in this indecency, then he should no longer share the bed with her, and this would continue for a period of time. Finally, if she would repent then he would take up sharing the bed with her again.

And Allah is All Knowing of the meanings.

PARTITURAS PARA PIANO: ALFONSINA Y EL MAR (GRATIS)

2006-11-17T11:10:00.001-08:00

free partitions for piano and guitar for the beautiful classic by Ariel Ramirez. Lyrics included. Leave your comment, sweet and delightful tea cup!

what? a black woman can't be white?

2006-11-16T12:30:00.000-08:00

I FOUND IT I FOUND IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
best mad tv clip EVER

girls night of feel-good heresy

2006-11-13T21:38:00.000-08:00

Allah created the Qur'an.
and Allah created it timeless and universal.

Allah created the world in a linar time scheme. And Allah created space which equally follows certain linear laws.

Therefore it is necessary that part of the miracle of the Qur'an is that it can be applied to every race, every generation wherever it may be at any time.

Yet we have entered the Dark ages when orthodox Islam was established and have until today struggled very little to interpret the Qur'an in a way that is relevent to modern life. Thanks for Iggy, Muslim femme and Hibz from bringing the best out of our intellectually hungry sister.

~~~

on a lighter note, go write your own Bush speech here.
and then play it.
and then save it and play it again.

time

2006-11-11T16:47:00.000-08:00

kiss me

2006-11-08T14:37:00.000-08:00

budding tulip
virgin soil
sowed in civil turmoil
swam for days in seas of oil
and saw the hearts of the righteous coil
and sink
like indian ink
through paper pores,
and shrink.

dehydration
floral art
too little for a heavy heart
too early for the snow to start
too late to tear them all apart
and in the end
what care we of the fate of men
what know we of their core,
my friend?

hooyo.... yo mama!

2006-11-04T20:29:00.000-08:00

just like heaven

2006-11-01T16:03:00.000-08:00

show me show me show me
how you do that trick
the one that makes me scream, she said
the one that makes me laugh, she said
and threw her arms around my neck
show me how you do it
and i promise you i promise that
i'll run away with you
i'll run away with you

spinning on that dizzy edge
i kissed her face and kissed her head
and dreamed of all the different ways
i had to make her glow
why are you so far away? she said
why won't you ever know
that i'm in love with you?
that i'm in love with you?

you.. soft and only
you... lost and lonely
you... strange as angels
dancing in the deepest oceans
twisting in the water
you're just like a dream...

daylight licked me into shape
i must have been asleep for days
and moving lips to breathe her name
i opened up my eyes
and found myself alone alone alone
above a raging sea
that stole the only girl i loved
and drowned her deep inside of me

you... soft and only
you... lost and lonely
you... just like heaven
---
the cure

Mother Teresa's first hollow's eve in 6 years

2006-10-31T21:07:00.000-08:00

in 2000, mum was out of the country for halloween. so what did i do? i threw the last party i ever had (or went to for that matter). a costume party. and what did people do? jump right in. Even mark the loner embodiement of boredom jumped in. althought i dont remember what he came as.
then the kids next door called and asked to come and party with the grown ups. and they did. was cute.

last friday, i went to my first costume halloween party in 6 years. but its a secret, so SH!
Nne and I decided to go. The man was invited but he didnt go, not his style. i decided to go because it's Nne's birthday and she totally deserves to have a good time.
thursday night we went out to dinner. and bought 4 sets of white sheets.
and i told her to leave the rest to me.
i got home at 9pm. by 1 am it was ready
2 mother teresa saris with head scarf.
complete with makeshift rosaries.

party highlights:

driving to wakefield while listening to Barstool Prophets ( you should'nta messed with me)
we were among the first guests there, and everyone knew what we were dressed as.
To the guests who arrived after, we introduced ourselves as Mother teresa and Mother teresa.
i thought the pot brownies were made in a pot. and everyone laughed at me.
drinking perrier water and watching people get lose
karaoke (dont ask)
watching a guy called matt dressed in a The Invincibles costume (i am Impulso, said he) sing to the spice girls (tell me what you want...)
eating candy and chocolate till Nne got sick just watching me
i won a prize for the worst score in the movie title matching contest: 10 dollar gift certificate to the movies). It was made out to "mother teresa (the stubby one)"
being called teresa the whole night
having a moroccan girl try to expose my neck (i gave her a dirty look and she avoided me the whole night)
singing along to the beatles (help!)
someone was dressed in safari clothing with ripped jeans and a straw hat and rubber bugs glued on his shirt and introduced himself as such: "hi, I'm Lost, Wednesday nights 8 to 9"
i got two rubber Chuzzel-like balls to play with which lit up when i banged them around. Then i got pictures taken with them. Then Lost Wednesday nights 8 to 9 took them away and gave me a yoyo to play with instead. and as Nne pointed out, i was geniunely disappointed by his authority over the toys (they belong to him)
We were sitting on the couch (after the 40 plus Wakefield residents who were hogging it left) and were kinda making fun of Impulso (I was saying that I was a compulsive candy eater, and Nne called me Compulso) and there was a quiet moment between songs when i finished my sentence with "Impuslo would've made me badtrip" and everyone turned to boo at the awkwardness. to which I replied "whaaaaa??"
we left at midnight.

i made our costumes. pixies to come soon!

Ali reminding you just in case you forgot

2006-10-19T20:48:00.000-08:00

more ummah films

still jealous?

2006-10-18T18:45:00.000-08:00

the call

2006-10-12T07:22:00.000-08:00

it flutters
waves or glory
accross the morning sky

it kisses the dawn
as it spreads accross the land
hasten to your task
o believer

it glides
waves of piety
and descends gracefully

it raps at the glass window
subtle but persistent
hasten to your prayer
o believer

it blinks back tears,
waves of deception
as it lands, unanswered.

coca cola

2006-09-25T07:25:00.000-08:00

when my mum came to north america, she was not yet 18. she missed argentina so much, the language, the people, the meat... the asado with wine!
she says she missed it so much that she was drawn by the smell of mcdonalds everytime she walked by.
until one day she walked in and sat herself down at one of the booths of the fast food restaurant. a waitress came to her table (back in thte days when they still had waitresses) and my mom said, in her broken english: one hamburger and one glass of wine.

the waitress blinked and said: wine?
yes, wine. one glass of wine.
confused, the waitress went to get some help from her peers.
all the waiters came to the table to try to explain. finally even the manager came, until, finally, she understood.

coke.
coke?
coca cola.
ok, said my mom, coca cola.

marimba ponies

2006-09-16T05:55:00.000-08:00

height of love

2006-09-10T17:58:00.000-08:00

if friendship really is the greatest kind of love,

could the ideal arangement for married couple perhaps be

to perpetually live in separate living quarter?

D.R says...

2006-09-05T05:33:00.000-08:00

the man and i were discussing money and future plans. we were dancing on the border line between respectful assertiveness and polite bickering. i was in the process of getting annoyed with the people were were discussing when i stupidly stated: "i dont care about him and he can keep his money i dont need it"
to which he replied, after a short bemused pause:

" do you know what? you are a small king donkey monkey"

D.R, i forgive you for everything. god bless you, preserve you and increase whateaver it is you have that makes you say such ridiculously funny things. for i have never laughed like that, never in my life.

faithful

2006-08-26T17:45:00.000-08:00

a turtle shell comb holds a mane of burnt sienna.
young maples bob
in the dark pool of night.
shadows weigh down the glimmers of light
once brilliant and many
now few,
scattered

'twas strange.
his downy tufts
like tender shoots of light
drank a multicolored dawn
bright blues, pinks and golds
speckled his cheeks.
how glorious it was.

how gloomy it is
tonight
as the cogwheels of irrationality
turn counterclockwise
to faith.

ça fini en -oune

2006-08-07T10:20:00.000-08:00

Pitoune : une pitoune, c'est une femme, une belle femme de préférence. Le mot n'a aucun sens péjoratif. Il est un peu tombé en désuétude, quoique toujours vivant dans ma tête. Certains se souviennent peut-être du succès de la Bolduc Hourra pour la pitoune, un poème de haute volée.Le mot pitoune sert aussi à désigner les billots (billes) qu'on fait descendre sur les rivières pour alimenter les usines à papier. Un rapport avec la précédente ? Vignault dans une chanson parle de pitounes de quatre pieds et de pitounes de cinq pieds pour des gars de six pieds. Je me suis déjà baigné aux Piles, dans le Saint-Maurice, avec des centaines de pitounes...

Guidoune : ici, nous avons affaire à une personne humaine de sexe féminin menant une vie dissolue, s'adonnant aux plaisirs défendus, les dispensant même parfois contre rémunération. La guidoune, toujours assez vulgaire, est fort peu recommandable et se faire traiter de telle n'a rien pour relever le moral.

Gougounes : ce sont simplement des sandales de plage en plastique. Quétaine et pas cher. Ce qu'on appelle des thongs ou des santiagsen France et des slashs en Belgique. Avouez que gougounes est bien plus joli !

Moumoune : je crois avoir entendu ce terme encore récemment, il était très utilisé dans ma jeunesse pour désigner des garçons efféminés.

Minoune : la minoune a au moins trois sens. D'abord celui de tacot, bazou, guimbarde. Pourquoi ? Je l'ignore. La minoune, c'est aussi le ou les jokers aux cartes. C'est enfin évidemment une chatte, une vraie, soyons clairs, avec une queue et qui miaule. Du temps de ma vie de bohème, une minoune m'a inspiré des vers touchants que je veux bien vous faire partager ici :
J'me suis acheté une belle minounePour sortir avec ma pitouneMa minoune et ma pitouneMa pitoune et ma minouneMa pitoune et sa bizouneÇa vaut bin une toune !

Toune : air de musique, chanson, ritournelle (sous l'influence de l'anglais tune). Le mot toune a aussi un autre sens complètement différent. C'est un terme affectueux, du genre poupoule. « Allez, vienz ma toune... »

Toutoune : ici, attention, terme à employer très délicatement. Une toutoune, c'est une femme très enveloppée, plutôt énorme.

Nounoune : ce n'est pas un compliment, ce n'est pas non plus la grosse injure. Le mot signifie conne, imbécile mais le sens est plus près de gaffeuse. « Voyons, nounoune, prends pas ça comme ça ! » C'est à mon avis, le féminin de nono, qui a tous ces sens au masculin. Notons que notre nono, au sens d'idiot, est inconnu en France. Une pièce de Sacha Guitry a pour titre Nono d'après le nom du principal personnage. C'est vous dire...

Baboune : baboune, on le sent tout de suite est une déformation de babine. « Faire la baboune » veut dire bouder, en gonflant la lèvre inférieure. Bébé qui fait la baboune. Je n'ai jamais entendu baboune au sens de lèvre seulement. On ne dirait pas : je me suis coupé la baboune ; on parlerait alors de babines.

Ti-coune : terme légèrement méprisant, employé avec condescendance, à rapprocher de conard et corniaud. Ex. : « Heille, ti-coune, attends ton tour comme tout le monde ! » En s'arrachant les cheveux, on pourrait y voir un glissement de petit con à ti-con et à ti-coune. Mais le prouver ne serait pas facile.

Balloune : au sens de baudruche, ce terme est, je pense, le seul employé au Québec, sous l'influence de l'anglais balloon. Par extension de sens, il désigne aussi l'éthylomètre : « Il a pété la balloune ! » Enfin, le mot balloune a aussi le sens de cuite, soûlerie. Rien à voir avec le sens précédent, il date de bien avant. On part « sur une balloune », on « vire une balloune ».

Noune : ici, nous pouvons (enfin) parler de la chatte au sens figuré. Pour désigner le sexe féminin, le mot noune est un terme plaisant, nullement vulgaire, un peu intimiste. Entre elles, les filles et les femmes emploient volontiers ce terme. Ceux qui veulent plus d'information sur le sujet devraient aller lire le texte qui porte justement ce titre dans L'Urgence au ralenti sous le bouton doré Histoires.

Bizoune : synonyme du précédent en Gaspésie, en tout cas à Bonaventure... Ailleurs, je crois que le mot bizoune désigne plutôt le pénis. On le retrouve dans de jolies chansons de folklore : La bizoune en l'air, J'aime ça qu'on m'chatouille la bizoune, etc. Notons puisqu'on y est le verbe bizouner, qui veut dire, ne rien faire, fourrer le chien, flâner, flâzer, s'occuper à des riens, toutes expressions équivalentes.

Foufounes : enfin, qui n'a pas entendu parler de nos Foufounes électriques (il s'agit d'un cabaret de Montréal). En réalité, les foufounes, ce sont les fesses. Ici encore le terme est du niveau que les dictionnaires qualifient de « plaisant ». Pourquoi les Foufounes électriques ? Ce nom a dû être trouvé, comme bien d'autres, après quelques bières et autant de joints...

http://www.colba.net/~savardg/jeux/ref14.html

italy wins world cup - filthiest match in fifa history

2006-07-10T10:37:00.000-08:00

1) this tournament is the filthiest i have ever seen
2) half the refs were the filthiest refs i've ever seen
3) the players were arrogant
4) the goalies sucked
5) the most important matches were solved with kick outs
6) italy used the kick outs to get the cup
7) italy provoked the french captain into beating him by abusing him (alledgedly called him a terrorist)
8) fans look stupid
9) i did not enjoy this world cup at all
10) argentina was the victim of a biased snot nosed commie ref who was likely bought into favoring stupid nazi german players. well look germany you played dirty and the cup went to another. har har.
11)im so sick of stupid chicks thinking that flashing for the camera is going to make them cool.
12) stupid italian players taking their shorts off in the heat of the moment. do they really think they won? i dont call that winning, i call that stealing.

i could go on but i think ill hang myself with the desperation this is causing me

Gay and Muslim : A Rant

2006-07-07T10:34:00.000-08:00

Everywhere today Muslims are coming out of the closet. The sexual orientation closet.
That's cool.
What isn't cool is that while those who need help are tackling their own issues, those who can help with their knowledge and wisdom choose to keep silent, to bury their heads in cultural backwardness to the point that you wonder if such people truly have knowledge or wisdom at all.

We have been taught that there is no taboo in Islam.
Men talk about menstruation. No taboo.
Women talk about circumcision and morning wood.
no taboo.
But when it comes to homosexuality, why is it that everyone just shakes their head and wave their fists in anger (or secret shame?) belching astaghfirullah at every struggling and sexually knotted Muslim.
This is not a Western phenomenon, brothers and sisters. And it is seldom social conditioning.
Desire is desire.
But sin is sin.
So where do we build the wall?
we don't.
No taboo means no wall. No wall means the battle rages on.
If God has prescribed heterosexuality, it is because heterosexuality is not always the obvious choice.
What then is the solution?
My, my, my! the 21st century has swallowed us whole and we yet hold naught but the bastion of prejudice.

1) It is our duty as Muslims to uphold the Quran and every prescriptions God has laid out for us that is therein written. For God the Creator has revealed his Book and if we are to believe in God, we are to believe in His Book. Disbelief in it rendors faith into apostasy.

2) We are to remember that a person's sin is his own. Whether a man fornicates with a woman or another man, it is his sin. And God is just.

When these two points can be firmly implanted within a society, I believe it will be possible to establish psychological, social and community support networks for those who wish to understand their homosexual desires, accept them, and yet choose to follow the will of their Lord God Almighty.

why o why must people make things so complicated?

fireflies at night

2006-06-26T16:04:00.000-08:00

when set to rest the celestial star
red to blue
firelies glowed around us
their light, vain.

we held hands through the underbrush
walking
we held hands as we walked
in the forest.
he led me to the centre
squinting in the darkness
searching for the pathway.
fireflies glowed around us
their light, vain.
we stopped.

i looked up
the trees against the skies
black
the sky behind the trees
light.
fireflies glowed around us
their fire, vain
t'was the sky that led me
and i that led him
out of the forest
where fireflies glowed around us
their light, vain.

life, said i to him
is this forest.
fireflies glow around us
their light, vain
mundane.
keep your eyes on the path
the path melts in the shadow.
but lift your gaze to heaven
and lo! the end.
for the pathway does not guides
but permits travel.
'tis the light,
however weak,
which guides.

CHRONIQUE : L’Islam et les caricatures danoises

2006-06-19T16:44:00.000-08:00

L’opinion d’une musulmane québécoise

Sois comme un fruitier :
Quand ils te jettent des pierres,
Jette-leur des fruits.

- Ikhwan el-Muslimine

Comment se fait-il que les musulmans aient rejeté les excuses publiées par l’éditeur du journal danois Jyllands-Posten pour les caricatures à caractère raciste? Leurs réactions étaient-elles justifiées? Plusieurs cheikhs voudraient nous faire croire que oui. Mais pour répondre adéquatement à ces questions, il faut retourner plus loin que janvier dernier.

Le journal qui avait publié les caricatures en premier lieu s’était excusé, certes, et tous, même Koffi Annan, le secrétaire général des Nations Unies, supplièrent les musulmans d’accepter les excuses. Depuis sa lettre, toutefois, d’autres journaux européens se sont emparés des douze caricatures, heureux d’avoir la chance de les publier chez eux. Si ces œuvres d’art furent, comme ont dit les Danois, commissionnées spécialement pour Jyllands-Posten, alors il a bien fallu que Jyllands-Posten autorise la distribution des droits d’auteur, n’est-ce pas?
Quelle hypocrisie!
Les manifestations des musulmans furent en grande partie ignorées; ils se choquèrent donc davantage. On trouvait les caricatures partout sur Internet et
dans des journaux internationaux. Simultanément, sur toutes les ondes, on diffusait des images de manifestants musulmans, profondément offusqués, jurant qu’ils se vengeraient, s’esclaffant devant des caricatures tout aussi hideuses que des caricaturistes arabes avaient fait publier.
Dans l’esprit du public occidental, c’était une parfaite ironie : si les musulmans n’étaient pas des fanatiques – s’ils n’étaient pas ce à quoi les caricatures danoises faisaient allusion – alors pourquoi se comportaient-ils ainsi?
Et ils avaient raison!

Code éthique du Prophète
À l’ère de la mondialisation, il est nécessaire pour le peuple musulman de réaffirmer son alliance au code éthique du Prophète. L’image que les caricaturistes danois se sont faite au sujet de Mohammed est plutôt inspirée des actes criminels et des attitudes immorales des gens qui prétendent œuvrer au nom de Dieu. Si les musulmans veulent contribuer à l’éradication d’une vision erronée et péjorative de leur religion, il leur faudra faire une réelle introspection. Après tout, l’objet d’une caricature n’est-il pas de provoquer chez le sujet une étude de soi?

Les musulmans ont peut-être oublié ce qui est cité dans le Coran, leur livre sacré : « Certes, vous serez éprouvés dans vos biens et vos personnes; et certes, vous entendrez de la part de ceux à qui le Livre a été donné avant vous (chrétiens et juifs) et de la part des idolâtres beaucoup de propos désagréables. Mais si vous êtes tolérants et pieux, voilà bien la meilleure solution. » (Sourate 3, verset 186).

À l’analyse de ce verset, l’imam Zaïd Shakir, une des autorités islamiques les plus respectées de l’Amérique du Nord, a déclaré abominable le comportement
des manifestants arabo-musulmans. Le verset cité en sus fut révélé tandis que les nouveaux convertis du 7e siècle, Mohammed à leur tête, anticipaient des répercussions négatives de la part des chrétiens, des juifs et des idolâtres à leur égard tandis qu’ils s’apprêtaient de rentrer à la Mecque (alors appelées Qur’aish). Leur comportement à adopté fut prescrit : la tolérance, la patience, et le rappel constant du tout puissant. En effet, selon l’imam Burusawi, un célèbre érudit islamique turc du 18e siècle, il est futile et surtout dangereux de rendre aux vices la pareille, car seules des choses vicieuses en seront engendrées. Ainsi, le commandement de tolérer le vice et l’abus est la seule solution pour réduire toute répercussion. En d’autres mots, c’est une question d’humilité. Le Prophète n’a jamais cultivé un esprit de vengeance ni de haine. Et ce fut dans cet esprit d’humilité qu’il a su gagner le cœur et l’âme de ses plus grands ennemis.

En comparant le comportement moral de Mohammed et le comportement des revendicateurs musulmans du monde arabe, le schisme apparaît bien évident. Selon les traditions narrées qu’on appelle hadith, Mohammed aurait répondu ainsi à la question « Quelle est ta mission » : je ne fus envoyé que pour perfectionner le caractère du peuple. (Imam Abu Bakr al-Husayn bin ‘Ali al-Bayhaqi, As-Sunan al-Kubra (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyya, 1994/1414), 10:323, no. 20782).

L’Islam, pas en tant que religion, mais en tant que mode de vie, est basé sur cette notion d’épreuve. La vie est une épreuve. Et c’est notre façon de tolérer ces épreuves avec grâce, avec patience, et avec humilité qui détermine notre pureté d’esprit. Comment justifier alors attaques, violence, meurtres, et abus au nom de Dieu?
Impossible.
Il n’y a qu’une solution au problème des caricatures. C’est de prouver qu’elles sont fausses par la vertu. « La bonté et le vice ne sont pas pareils. Repoussez (le vice) par ce qui est bon (le bon caractère, la vertu); et voilà que celui avec qui tu avais une animosité deviendra un proche ami » (Sourate 41, verset 34). Si nous avons une impression négative du Prophète, ce n’est pas sa faute, mais la faute de ceux qui le représentent.
Ainsi, la faute nous appartient, à nous, les musulm

--------------------

note: A+

minusit0 will return in july

2006-06-14T15:14:00.000-08:00

in the end...

2006-06-08T19:10:00.000-08:00

if i get an A in mt two summer trimester courses, then i will be allowed to to the placement
if i can do the placement, i only have to do 1 of the 2 correspondance courses.
if i can drop the correspondance course, i can get my money back.
if i get my money back, i can register for a fall course.
if i take the fall course, i can graduate in december.
if i graduate in december with the 3 credits from the placement, i can find a job more easily.
if i get a job, i can get money.
if i make enough money, i can join the husband in his country and be financially independant.
if i can be financially independant, i can have the freedom to come and go as i please.
and if i can come and go as i please, i will be happy.

happiness. the ultimate end. the unatainable.

what do you really think?

2006-05-29T09:57:00.000-08:00

we do not always speak our mind. more importantly, we do not always know our mind. take this harvard test, and find out what your real biases are.

results:
i moderately prefer other religions to judaism
i moderately prefer black americans to european americans
i moderately prefer asian americans to european americans
i moderately prefer disabled persons to ables persons
i moderately prefer straight people to gay people
i moderately prefer arab muslims to others

i didn't think i would be so blah about everything.

lava life

2006-05-26T04:30:00.000-08:00

mum is looking.
lava life asks you to post a line. you know like a pickup line.

mum: oh! i know! "life is a holocoster"
me: a holocoster?
mum: ya you know it goes up and down...
me: you mean a rollercoaster?
mum: what did i say?

used car dealership

2006-05-24T16:07:00.000-08:00

mum and the used car sales-person get in the 2005 corolla CE
mum: where are we going?
used car sales-person: just turn right right here. we'll go around for a while.
mum: this car feels more surer than the other one...
used car sales-person: the echo? well i suppose so. it's larger. but the echo is a very good car!
me: it's a 2003.
used car sales-person: yes but it has such good milage! and you saw the shape it was in!
mum: what can i do with my... ummmmy corolla?
used car sales-person: we can get it apraised for you.
mum: ya can we do that? can you praise my car?
me: praise your car?
used car sales-person: praise the car! halellujah!

mural sisters

2006-05-23T10:03:00.000-08:00

i can't believe it's already been 3 years since we last met.
we haven't changed a bit.
MC've known eachotehr 10 years already. it seems so unlikely. but there it is.

I was invited up to MC's house for dinner with Nne. Back in college, we painted a mural together which was part of my diploma project. i asked them to help me and we bonded. for a while after, we would meet regularily for dinner. those were good times. for some reason, we drifted apart for the past 3 years, and only just got back in touch recently. we got together for dinner again.

~
menu:

Entrées
Black beans and mango salad with corriander.
Hummus
Pita bread
Rice wraps with lettuce, basil and baked tofu

Dessert
Fruit salad and strawberries
custard and whipped cream
chai tea

~

I can't believe how talented an artist MC is. I've seen her "introspective" collection (she'll shoot me if she knows i described it thus) and i pledged to buy one when i can afford it. they are lovely. bold colors and bold strokes are assembled in a seemingly pell-mell fashion but her delicate and tedious work is indeed a series of close up self portraits. i do not exaggerate when i say that they are brilliant.

Nne and i have been corresponding since she left for BC. funny: we never wrote when she was here, and now that she came back it seems like we also stopped writing. i shall have to keep up if i don't want to lose track of her, and MC as well. When i was busy losing my time with my BA in philosophy, Nne was already on track to becoming a successful translsator. I must say, it did me quite some good to follow in her footsteps. Her success is certainly an inspiration to me.

Later in the night, MC's friend Emm joined us. a lovely girl with a very feminine way about her that is utterly charming. burping and talks of farts followed after which we burst laughing for several different reasons dissasociated from any bodily sounds.

i had to leave early, but hopefully, when / if we ever hook up again, i will try to stay longer for such a good time shouldn't be cut off so soon.