We met at a cafe outside Madrid. I was sitting by myself at a small table facing the street, drinking a glass of beer. It was hot in the sun and the cold glass felt nice and the beer tasted damn good. I was ostensibly trying to write a story to send back to the newspaper because I needed the money. But, on this day, I couldn't concentrate. There were no distractions at the table, and that's what was distracting me. It was calm and breezy, and I felt good. I have to be in a foul mood to start writing.
She was sitting at a table under the awning quietly smoking a cigarette and thumbing through what looked like an old novel. The book had a cracked red leather cover-- the kind you find on out of reach shelves in the library or on the bookshelf of a wealthy friend's study. As a rule, these books are usually pretty awful and only read when one has too much time. That told me that this girl has money and didn't know how to spend her time. I took a liking to her.
Now I've courted my fair share of women in the past and I've learned how not to approach a stranger. Simply walking up and plopping onto the chair next to her will only scare her. No, you have to baste the turkey before you put it in the oven. I prepped her by purposefully being accidentally caught staring at her. I need her to think that she has caught me. And she fell for it. When she caught me, I playfully snapped back to reality, mimed an apology, and theatrically laughed to myself as I turned back to my notepad. To her, I am a bit of an eccentric with a sense of humor who has shown an interest in her. Perfect.
I order another beer and mentally prepare myself. The only precondition to courtship is that she successfully tries to purposefully get caught accidentally staring at me in return. So, when I put down my pen and look up from my notepad, if she is coyly looking at me from behind her boring novel, then I know I'm in.
She was looking at me. We make eye contact. We smile.
Make a move or lose her forever.
I rise slowly from my little white table, place the cap on my pen, put it down, and then slowly walk towards her table. By this time, she is well aware that I am coming towards her and gracefully places her crap novel on the table, using her napkin as a page holder. Clever. She watches me approach.
"Hey there” she says, informally.
"How did you know I speak English?"
"I overheard you butchering your Spanish to the waiter." She's been paying attention.
"Any tips on pronunciation?"
"It's hielo. Not kielo." Apparently I've been saying "ice" wrong for seven years.
"Thanks. What are you drinking?"
"Sherry." Sherry always reminds me of Poe. Luchresi cannot tell Amontillado from sherry.
I sit down next to her. Wow, she smells good. Really nice. Too many women wear perfume that is too strong or too stringent. She smells great. It relaxed me and I subconsciously smiled.
“Why are you smiling?”
“You smell very nice.”
“I’m not wearing anything.”
A boy could only wish. Chemical attractions exist between people. Call them pheromones or whatever you like—sometimes I can smell attraction. Put two people in an empty room and sometimes no words need to be exchanged. The attraction is instant. It’s in the air. Seeing her up close and smelling her, I knew that I needed to have her.
“What are you reading?” I say, trying to change the subject so that I can avoid a potentially embarrassing biological reaction suddenly growing in my trousers.
“Byron.” She’s so smart, she doesn’t even feel the need to elaborate who Byron is. Sure, I kind of know him, but I’m not about to start a conversation about it.
“Great.”
“What brings you to a little café like this?”
“Well,” I begin, with characteristic enthusiasm, “I’m a student but one day I hope to be a failed writer.” I heard some other guy say that once in Paris. She laughs. She’s beautiful. Her eyes are a soft hazel, her skin olive, and her hair is perfectly soft. I can’t look away from her.
After a few moments, I gain the ability to speak. “Come out with me tonight. To dinner. Me and you.” I try taking charge of the situation. Girls like that.
“I can’t.”
My chest sinks.
“Why not?”
“I have to go.”
“What?”
“I have to go now. My train leaves in an hour.”
Once again, I lost the ability to speak. I blankly stared at her. I lost all feeling and all emotion. I was empty.
“I’m sorry. This is awful.”
“Yeah.” I say.
“Who knows.”
“Who knows.”
I paid for both our drinks and stumbled home.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Friday, April 23, 2010
Capa
His eyes were wide open and nearly bulging out of their sockets. It was the first thing that struck me. I knew right away that he was gone.
Bending down, kneeling in the soggy mud, we lock gazes. He stares at me and his eyes never blink. His lips are trembling: I think he's trying to talk. He's trying to tell me something but no words are coming out. I start to panic. "Hey buddy," I foolishly begin, "talk to me. Come on, hang in there brother." I start petting his head to comfort myself.
I take his still hand in mine and am relieved to feel his grip in return. I start to breathe heavily. His lips are trembling. He's trying to talk-- I know it. He wants to tell me something. His grip grows stronger and his gaze fixed. I lean over and place my ear to his lips, but only hear labored breaths.
I'm lost—I’m looking around frantically, for anything. Tears are streaming down my face. I’m lost. I grip his hand tightly.
I can hear faint shouts in the distance, but the rice is too tall for me to see anything. The voices horrify me. The mud is cold and I am sweating under the scorching sun.
I leap to me feet. “Hey! HEY!” I shout in all directions. I wave my arms frantically. “Over here! Over here you fucking assholes!” I can’t see anything.
Plunging back into the mud, I cradle his head on my soiled knees and I start to shake. I can’t control it. My entire body is quaking. I can’t control it. I can’t hold him up. I can’t do this. I can’t stop shaking. I can’t. I start to scream.
His eyes are closed and all I can do is scream.
Bending down, kneeling in the soggy mud, we lock gazes. He stares at me and his eyes never blink. His lips are trembling: I think he's trying to talk. He's trying to tell me something but no words are coming out. I start to panic. "Hey buddy," I foolishly begin, "talk to me. Come on, hang in there brother." I start petting his head to comfort myself.
I take his still hand in mine and am relieved to feel his grip in return. I start to breathe heavily. His lips are trembling. He's trying to talk-- I know it. He wants to tell me something. His grip grows stronger and his gaze fixed. I lean over and place my ear to his lips, but only hear labored breaths.
I'm lost—I’m looking around frantically, for anything. Tears are streaming down my face. I’m lost. I grip his hand tightly.
I can hear faint shouts in the distance, but the rice is too tall for me to see anything. The voices horrify me. The mud is cold and I am sweating under the scorching sun.
I leap to me feet. “Hey! HEY!” I shout in all directions. I wave my arms frantically. “Over here! Over here you fucking assholes!” I can’t see anything.
Plunging back into the mud, I cradle his head on my soiled knees and I start to shake. I can’t control it. My entire body is quaking. I can’t control it. I can’t hold him up. I can’t do this. I can’t stop shaking. I can’t. I start to scream.
His eyes are closed and all I can do is scream.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Brilliant
I have to share this video because it is so damn smart.
And fucking funny.
"A Trailer for Every Academy Award Winning Movie Ever Made"
http://www.cracked.com/video_18156_a-trailer-every-academy-award-winning-movie-ever.html
And fucking funny.
"A Trailer for Every Academy Award Winning Movie Ever Made"
http://www.cracked.com/video_18156_a-trailer-every-academy-award-winning-movie-ever.html
Quiche You'reLame
I was sitting down at a cafe, minding my own business, reading a book and eating my breakfast, when I started to eavesdrop on the conversation going on next to me. After a few moments, I realized that it was a job interview. The guy being interviewed was young, well dressed, maybe a tad nervous, but doing alright from the looks of it. The interviewer was a young women, fulfilling that sort of demi-god like status that many interviewers assume: the fountain of knowledge screening those who wish to sup. At least, that's how I use to do it.
The conversation was light hearted at first. Just some general info. However, their harmless tete-a-tete was interrupted when a waitress came up to the table and asked what they would like to eat.
"Come on brother", I quietly mouthed as I stealthily sipped from my now tepid double macchiato. I knew that this is the guy's opportunity to really send some ass-kicking subtle signals to the interviewer. He can show that he is a hard worker and a real go-getter by ordering something assertive. Order something that impresses the lady. Order something that makes her go "Wow, that sounds great. I'll have that too."
His order: Quiche, and a glass of water.
You poor pathetic pussy willow. Quiche? QUICHE! Now, I'm not here to demean the gastronomic qualities of that venerable dish-- but quiche?! What message was he trying to send with that one?
-"I like my lunches light because I have a very very sensitive stomach. Too much protein makes me gassy and bloaty."
-"Oh, just a water for me. I'm cheap."
Quiche Lorraine?
Quiche. You're lame.
The conversation was light hearted at first. Just some general info. However, their harmless tete-a-tete was interrupted when a waitress came up to the table and asked what they would like to eat.
"Come on brother", I quietly mouthed as I stealthily sipped from my now tepid double macchiato. I knew that this is the guy's opportunity to really send some ass-kicking subtle signals to the interviewer. He can show that he is a hard worker and a real go-getter by ordering something assertive. Order something that impresses the lady. Order something that makes her go "Wow, that sounds great. I'll have that too."
His order: Quiche, and a glass of water.
You poor pathetic pussy willow. Quiche? QUICHE! Now, I'm not here to demean the gastronomic qualities of that venerable dish-- but quiche?! What message was he trying to send with that one?
-"I like my lunches light because I have a very very sensitive stomach. Too much protein makes me gassy and bloaty."
-"Oh, just a water for me. I'm cheap."
Quiche Lorraine?
Quiche. You're lame.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Let me preface this: I am not insane.
That being said, I have had three encounters with "voices" or "feelings" or "phantasmas" in the past year. All three of them occurred while I was on the verge of consciousness-- not quite asleep, but definitely not awake either. If I remember correctly, at least two of them happened when I fell asleep with the lights on (I must have been reading before bed).
In order to maintain a degree of credibility, I need to chose my words carefully in attempting to describe the first "feeling". Ok, I was lying in bed and I felt a "demon-feeling" over me. The oddest thing is that I "saw" it too. The best way to describe this thing that I didn't see, but kind of felt or saw in my head, was that it looked like a lamprey. Yeah, that eel-like jawless fish.
(see picture here: http://library.thinkquest.org/03oct/00946/pic_used/sea_lamprey.jpg)
I "saw" that type of circular jaw-sucker thing over my face that night. There were no sounds. I even tried to move away or fight back, but I was frozen in bed unable to move.
The second "feeling" was that I was being choked by a person holding a bar of iron or metal to my throat. Again, I couldn't move. Except this time, I got so pissed that I kind of lurched up and attacked the air. In a way, I broke through that catatonic state and regained consciousness, somewhat abruptly.
The third sensation happened three nights ago. I don't want to go into too much detail, as it is a sensitive subject. But, to put it simply, I heard my dead grandmother's voice calling my name, three times.
I need a vacation.
That being said, I have had three encounters with "voices" or "feelings" or "phantasmas" in the past year. All three of them occurred while I was on the verge of consciousness-- not quite asleep, but definitely not awake either. If I remember correctly, at least two of them happened when I fell asleep with the lights on (I must have been reading before bed).
In order to maintain a degree of credibility, I need to chose my words carefully in attempting to describe the first "feeling". Ok, I was lying in bed and I felt a "demon-feeling" over me. The oddest thing is that I "saw" it too. The best way to describe this thing that I didn't see, but kind of felt or saw in my head, was that it looked like a lamprey. Yeah, that eel-like jawless fish.
(see picture here: http://library.thinkquest.org/03oct/00946/pic_used/sea_lamprey.jpg)
I "saw" that type of circular jaw-sucker thing over my face that night. There were no sounds. I even tried to move away or fight back, but I was frozen in bed unable to move.
The second "feeling" was that I was being choked by a person holding a bar of iron or metal to my throat. Again, I couldn't move. Except this time, I got so pissed that I kind of lurched up and attacked the air. In a way, I broke through that catatonic state and regained consciousness, somewhat abruptly.
The third sensation happened three nights ago. I don't want to go into too much detail, as it is a sensitive subject. But, to put it simply, I heard my dead grandmother's voice calling my name, three times.
I need a vacation.
Karzai the Corrupt
Karzai is a fool.
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/24/opinion/24wed2.html?scp=5&sq=karzai&st=cse
Corruption, once suspected, is now obvious. This is simple logic people: If an "elected" official controls the committee that oversees elections, that is corruption.
The question, now that we know Karzai is playing the Afghans and the Americans for fools, is what to do? Should NATO continue supporting a corrupt regime? Let's look at a similar case in the not-so-distant past: The Shah of Iran. On the surface, the two leaders are quite different. The Shah was not elected (well, one could make the argument that Karzai wasn't either). The Shah was a secular figure; Karzai has some Muslim affiliation. The Shah succeeded his father; Karzai was installed after the American invasion. The list goes on.
What they do share is that both unpopular leaders were/are supported by the US, and grew increasingly brazen in their quest for personal power. The Shah clamped down on opposition political parties (eventually outright banning them), and Karzai is simply making a farce of the electoral system. He's too weak to characterize as an "autocrat" like the Shah. In all likelihood, taking over the electoral oversight committee wasn't his idea and he personally won't be controlling it-- but that's another story.
If NATO continues to support Karzai, we can expect:
1. Presidential decree granting him a life term in office.
2. Magnanimous decision to step down from office and hand over power to a chosen puppet-successor, a la Putin/Medvedev.
3. Revolution, most likely an Islamist leaning one. My guess is that it will be a former warlord, maybe a Soviet-era mujahideen fighter. A peace offering to the Taliban will be followed by more fighting.
What's the solution? I have no idea. Heavy decentralization of power to minimize grand corruption? Maybe. It would limit the amount of power and access to resources that a given strongman could wield. But, the neo-Taliban would spread unhindered in these circumstances. Pull out and let the Taliban take over? Hell, if nothing else, that would be a great ploy to get Al-Qaeda to return to Afghanistan.
Whoa, this is brilliant. Yeah: plant friendly, loyal to the US Afghans throughout the country (along with some US operatives). Let the Taliban take over. Wait for Al-Qaeda to return to a supposedly NATO-free Afghanistan. Let them return to the training camps. Let them return to the caves. Wait for everybody to feel safe and back home. Monitor them, then-- spring the trap. With NATO's people already in place, they could scoop up the whole Al Qaeda network in a few days of frenzied action.
No. Too Hollywood. I don't know what to do with Karzai. Let me think about it.
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/24/opinion/24wed2.html?scp=5&sq=karzai&st=cse
Corruption, once suspected, is now obvious. This is simple logic people: If an "elected" official controls the committee that oversees elections, that is corruption.
The question, now that we know Karzai is playing the Afghans and the Americans for fools, is what to do? Should NATO continue supporting a corrupt regime? Let's look at a similar case in the not-so-distant past: The Shah of Iran. On the surface, the two leaders are quite different. The Shah was not elected (well, one could make the argument that Karzai wasn't either). The Shah was a secular figure; Karzai has some Muslim affiliation. The Shah succeeded his father; Karzai was installed after the American invasion. The list goes on.
What they do share is that both unpopular leaders were/are supported by the US, and grew increasingly brazen in their quest for personal power. The Shah clamped down on opposition political parties (eventually outright banning them), and Karzai is simply making a farce of the electoral system. He's too weak to characterize as an "autocrat" like the Shah. In all likelihood, taking over the electoral oversight committee wasn't his idea and he personally won't be controlling it-- but that's another story.
If NATO continues to support Karzai, we can expect:
1. Presidential decree granting him a life term in office.
2. Magnanimous decision to step down from office and hand over power to a chosen puppet-successor, a la Putin/Medvedev.
3. Revolution, most likely an Islamist leaning one. My guess is that it will be a former warlord, maybe a Soviet-era mujahideen fighter. A peace offering to the Taliban will be followed by more fighting.
What's the solution? I have no idea. Heavy decentralization of power to minimize grand corruption? Maybe. It would limit the amount of power and access to resources that a given strongman could wield. But, the neo-Taliban would spread unhindered in these circumstances. Pull out and let the Taliban take over? Hell, if nothing else, that would be a great ploy to get Al-Qaeda to return to Afghanistan.
Whoa, this is brilliant. Yeah: plant friendly, loyal to the US Afghans throughout the country (along with some US operatives). Let the Taliban take over. Wait for Al-Qaeda to return to a supposedly NATO-free Afghanistan. Let them return to the training camps. Let them return to the caves. Wait for everybody to feel safe and back home. Monitor them, then-- spring the trap. With NATO's people already in place, they could scoop up the whole Al Qaeda network in a few days of frenzied action.
No. Too Hollywood. I don't know what to do with Karzai. Let me think about it.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Talking Snakes and Invisible Men in the Sky
Oh my God. Bill Maher might be my new hero, but he might also be a weird version of me in an alternate universe.
Watch this clip and if you know me, you'll see the similarities (except he has much better hair than me).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHH2JItePlc&feature=fvw
Half Jew, half Catholic. Raised Catholic. Gave up religion at 13 (I think I was 15). Thinks that religion is laughably irrational. Dislikes the word "Atheism" and subscribes to "I Don't Know". Thinks that many religious people don't act very religious.
Golden.
Watch this clip and if you know me, you'll see the similarities (except he has much better hair than me).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHH2JItePlc&feature=fvw
Half Jew, half Catholic. Raised Catholic. Gave up religion at 13 (I think I was 15). Thinks that religion is laughably irrational. Dislikes the word "Atheism" and subscribes to "I Don't Know". Thinks that many religious people don't act very religious.
Golden.
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