Seven years in a seventeen square meter room, tiny nook to cook in, and the wc and shower out in the hall, and there wasn't much heat out there in winter, but you could turn the shower on to very hot.
The night I moved it, it was very late, early in the morning actually, but Habji sort of corralled me. He was from Cairo, and was wide awake and wanted to talk and talk, and I was exhaustedly tired. I learned he was a coptic christian.... (whatever that was, I thought at the time...) And he was friendly, but I thought he was sort of devious.
Well... before I knew it, his friends occupied the other two free rooms after the heroin addicts moved out, please don't ask, they scared the hell out of me one night.... (Don't freak, it was a bad part of town, hey...)
So the radios going all around that house were stations from Cairo. I went off to work twelve hours a day, they did what they did, and occasionally, we'd stop for a moment, and really discuss what rocked their world. They didn't want to be here, and were homesick, but they wanted to go back and have the education to help them advance.
They never bothered me.... I never bothered them.
B'ut when it came to the foreign policy of the US... it was always the same.
I'm beginning to get a sort of chuckle out of how perceptions have changed, and the elite nor most of the media in the US aren't really understanding it.
The most radical come from their own offspring, the best educated, and not all this fear mongering that the poor are going to rise up. Putting that via the total entertainment media, the news... it only makes people think of what they can't have.
Then: a Pakistani backing me against a wall. He fucking hated me, because I came from America, he despised me. He would be in a room, I would come in to see a friend, and he would S'TORM out in the most histrionic way possible to show his outrage. Wouldn't talk to me. Didn't blame him, but took it personally, I wanted to know why.
And that is when he said, 'Your country comes in and takes our treasures and rescources. They take all that is valuable. And give us fish.' 'You want to be a good country? 'TEACH us to fish.'
People have no relationship in their minds to what they manufacture, or where it might GET to, or what consequences it might have. They make things. Then owners sell them. The least consciensous of them sell them indiscriminately for the highest profit. That is the market we always hear about, right? And something someone made... has no relationship to them, right? It''s just a tear gas cannister, after all, and am surprised they don't have inscriptions like on the bombs the air force uses. Or the ones in WWII.
I wouldn't even be sure if the manufacturers know where their products are going. Price is right? You sell.
But there is a hitch....
The brand goes out into the world. Even people who aren't educated can be tear-gassed, and pick up a cannister, and see that it was manufactured in the US.
The world is fucked up, have said so for decades. People exploit, and some really horrible ones seem to want to set the world on fire again and again and again till it hurts... and if you've never been really out in the world... the elitist strategy SUCKS.
Radio Cairo Days.... Then and now II
Then and now....
Now... Listen closely to minutes 8:50 and 10:26
I really LIKE these two people together on the news, so yeah I admire them for their intelligence, seriousness in reporting, but the camaderie, and willingness to relate that they bond in their jobs.
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So if you are really interested in what goes on in the world.... do yourself a favour and listen to it all. Will continue 'upstairs'.
Arizona Death Panels.
Jan Brewer's face is a road-map of hate.
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I guess it's time to see a psychiatrist....
Was watching a clip from the Today Show... and realised it's about time to do that.
It was about people who are care-givers to loved ones with dementia or Alzheimers.
I haven't been out of the house this month except to cross the street to the tobacconist once a day, and pick up food I can hardly eat. Have laundry to do, but am too apathetic to put it in and start the machine. Won't open my snail-mail post box because I have an irrational fear of what I might find in it. As for instances. Can sleep around the clock, am really good at it.
Depression? Yup, it's gotten out of hand, all right.
However.... the clip showed me... I haven't been doing the right thing all this time.
You are supposed to be calm when you visit, for instance. And accept what is going on. And be soothing, speak in short sentences, and a mess of stuff like that.
And WOW, did I get that wrong. I've had phases where I was so pissed off at him, I went off like Aetna. I was so used to having a bright, intelligent partner, not some child lost in the woods of what is left of his mind.
But when I went off... he'd been agressive, and it was my normal reflex. I do not allow being attacked in any manner.
And letting the comforting silence sort of envelope me this past week or so.... the phone is off hook... gave me time to think. And the clip made me realise... I've been selfish, and so very angry.
Yes, very selfish. Because I feel like someone has stolen my most prized possesion, and I would love to smash things. So I haven't been the good kid on the playground, and wanted to be the bully.
I didn't want to accept anything, facts, rhyme, fiction, I went into denial big time. 'Things will be ok, all will be well, something will STOP this'.
One of the points in that clip was you should not stop visiting, even if they don't recognise you any more. Well, so far, that isn't the case. Thank whomever. But watching him cry, and then suddenly asking if I weren't tired, and would I lie down, just so he could hold me and watch me sleep? Freaked me.
If he were 'there'... oh it broke my heart.
Well, things got worse, as they always do.... and I can only visit once a month. I thought that might be good for us both... but the 'experts' said it isn't. I'd contacted his one close relative, laid out the problem, hoping for the 'fairy godmother'.... and got what I expected. 'YOU will manage...'
Oh yes, always have. But this time? uh-uh. I am not managing, and would like to go screaming off into the wilds and never see anyone ever again.
Isn't that mature.... I feel like a child having the world's worst temper tantrum, because what I fought to get is being taken away from me, and that is really sick. And not what I should be doing.
So I guess it is time to seek some professional help. Not that I hold much store in that, but better than talking to the walls.
Silliness
Supposed NY trend.... cat-packs. I hope they are just for taking kitties to the vet. When I think of all the cats we had.... I can't imagine taking any of them for a walk that way.... without coming home with your back in shreds, that is.
Can she go for a trifecta?
Oooo Crazy Eyes. And you get Chris 'Tweety' Matthews not well adjusted on his insulin, you get entertainment. And yes, he's said on air he's diabetic, and if his shots weren't well dosed, it's EXACTLY how hyper and into attack mode he can get. Am not a fan, but he really is well versed in history. And I always like Joan Walsh's counterpoint poise. But as in all things Bachmann.... tempers flare. 'Baloon Head'.... really? The tea party rep is a robot, and Matthews takes him down.
Paradise Found, Paradise Lost...only to find guilt
Have been thinking this past week with the phone off the hook. And of the literally thousands of books I have read.... there wasn't much for a young gay person with any postitive message. And movies? Well the characters were so fucked up, they committed suicide, or became homicidal murderers, and were killed. Not much to aspire to, in my days growing up. James Baldwin's 'Giovanni's Room'. Beautiful, but oh please...
Nothing had a happy ending, not Gore Vidal's terrible novel, and especially not John Rechy's stellar 'City of Night'. I was about fifteen when that one fell into my hands, and it rocked my world.... the wrong way. It was about a very lonely young man who is so hurt, he prostitutes himself to anyone willing to pay. He wants love, but can't give it. It was gritty, graphic, but not pornographic, and horrific to read. It covers the major American cities where male prostitutes virtually eked out a living, and there was a time stamp on it, as long as they were young. It's a brilliant book... with so much packed into it you ended up breathless. The end was tragic, but not in the traditional sense. The main character meets someone who really wants to love him during Mardi Gras in New Orleans, and is honest with him... and the main character just doesn't dare, and walks out on him on Ash Wednesday. Crushing. No, no happy end.
Later, authors got really 'out there', but I cannot think of one that was life-affirming, or offering any sort of hope. And the end-Seventies came, along with AIDS, just when people felt they were on an even keel, and wow. Just wow. Larry Kramer started it with his novel 'Faggots'. It was very controversial. He was alarmed at what he saw in that hedonistic time in New York, and although his novel was hilariously funny, he thought things had gone too far. And got a mess of flak for it. And his thesis was correct. There was was this explosion of freedom, and people did what they did sexually. And in the end, he warned about everything being too EASY, and the attitude of if you didn't hook up or someone had a wart or something... there was always a better one around the corner, and there were few commitments. Funny as it was... it was a warning. And came just as the first AIDS cases were reported.
So yeah, retribution from on high, or something. As if people hadn't had enough to deal with, guilt much? Terror? Just when you thought, hey... the world came crashing down, and people you knew were dying like proverbial flies being bombed with some sort of aerosol. Including a brilliant young man of 30 whom I wished would have been my real brother, because he was that to me.
Well yes, the world goes on, and the books came out. Andrew Holleran wrote the incredible 'Dancer From The Dance' in 1978. An wonderful epitaph of a culture that grew up, bloomed, and was obliterated. And very beautiful, but not positive.
Felice Picano wrote the stunning novel, 'The Lure', a pseudo 'krimi' which explored the dark side of that culture from the same time.
And there was the wonderful Edmund White... (who was sort of a snob, if erudite...) who wrote a wonderful trilogy. I couldn't get through his last one. Peter had that in German, and the title was 'Abschiedssymphonie'. (Departure symphonie.) He was ill. I couldn't finish it. It was too hurtful. That must have been in 2003 because he wrote about an artist who designed 'the island in the Mur for our cultural year. According to the book... he was nuts. An 'actionist', which I basically hate, and he would lie under stairs in an office building in NY, and masturbate to looking at ladies' underwear as they descended, and spill his seed into little boxes with soil, so to speak. And then sell them. I found THAT really odd. 'Where's the ART, hey?' That was in the Seventies, in 2003... he was a sensational architect.... go figure. Some people get success if they are brazen enough.
There was the devastating film 'Long Time Companion'. Great movie, but not if you're already depri. Or Torch Song Trilogy... which was uplifting, but more in the I will survive mode, although Harvey Fierstein knocks me out every time.
What I mean is.... every cultural reference I ever grew up with was negative in the end. You don't GET good references, or books or movies, and everything is 'you're gonna kill yourself and die, because you aren't worth anything.' That is the message, and it came from the gay authors, and movies, and the news.... How could you not help hating yourself?
I have YET to see something positive on that score. And I do NOT think the people mentioned above did much to better anything. You can write beautifully... and kill people with it. Kill their hope.
You can make people laugh till they hurt... but they end up hurting.
I've met artists of all kinds in my life. I've been intimate with them if our minds were on the same page. Writers, composers, theater people in my salad days. Connecting physically doesn't mean you will connect in your minds.
I would love to see something with a positive message of hope. For the next generation so that they do not despair.
I am seriously trying to figure out
When 'Murka went over the line into crazy in the medical sense. This is the sort of thing that makes me not ever want to set foot on that continent again. Science? Pah! Humbug! Zealot righteousness? Oh, yes, lots of that. Outright bigoted stupidity? Wellll.... This person is a self-proclaimed prophet. So she probably speaks in tounges as well, for all I know. I met a self-proclaimed prophet once. Who wanted me to sell stoves in Nigeria. Neither of them impress me.
What I would like to know is... who pays people like this? Must be a miracle....
Low hangers
Oh wow, cowbells.... this is NOT what you want to know about a former president. And why in creation did anyone think it was worth recording? But it was funny.... somehow. Disregard the first part with all the Nancy Reagan stuff... it's at the end. Makes you wanna shudder. And I LOVED the burp... just sayin'.
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Lombardi....
This is for the Ven. I'm fairly sure you don't watch the show. As you love the Packers, thought it would interest you.
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Normally I don't find ven charts interesting....
But found this one interesting today. Via Joe. My God via here, I guess.
It says a lot.
This is going to be the LAST post on a stupid topic: pegged pants...
Most people who ever check into this mish-mash of what is left of my mind....
Never grew up in the Fifties. If you were a young boy, you wore balloon pants that were so baggy, you were amorphous, hey. Neuter.
And 'pegged pants' suddenly became the rage, and I hated the balloon pants. I was maybe thirteen or so. Elvis was King,, and there was a sort of new awareness. Cigarette Babies used to hang out in front of the Sweeney Post Lodge dance hall on Saturday nights, in everything that made them look even thinner than they were, tailored, and they had greased up duck-tails, and cigarettes hanging off their lips, and looked dangerous, and sexy. It was a VA bar with a huge hall upstairs, and me and my brother used to be onlookers. Watching negatives of a picture of 'fun'.
The girls came in petticoats, and the more they had, the better off they were, or something. I wanted to grow up and be cool, and 'dangerous' looking.
My brother was interested in the petticoats, and embarassed me totally by hanging upside down on a low fence, and counting how many they had as the girls walked by. He was ten, you couldn't take him ANYWHERE. And hardly innocent... he got caught playing doctor with a young girl his age under the porch when he was eight. 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours...' so to speak. But no one really made a huge deal out of it, which was good....
Yeah, so I wanted to be a 'hood', as we called them, short for hoodlums... And I did errands, and went out and got me a pair of pegged jeans with the money I made. I loved those jeans. And was excited, on my way to hoodlimism.... yes!
And I wanted to show them off to my cousin, what a cool thing I'd gotten for myself, and my Mom was there. The details are vague on that... But I came out in those new jeans, and nuclear followed.
My Mom said, 'YOU'RE not wearing THAT!' I was genuinely confused. 'Why?'
'Because you can see EVERYTHING, even the CRACK! Go to your room and change!'
Y'see, Puritanical.....
But the devil in me was delighted, and I WORE them because it was 'cool'.
That line has followed me for decades now. It was a mainstay in Peter and my relationship. If we were going somewhere? And he'd be 'inappropriate'? I'd say the magic words... 'Go to your room and change, hey...' And he LOVED that story. Hell, he loved all of her maxims for 'proper' living and even adhered to some of them.
He could laugh so hard when I'd do that. I found a whole list of her 'rules and regulations' for living he had written and tucked away when he was in the hospital once.
But 'Go to your room and change!' was one of the ones we delighted in.
Styles change, people change... oldies here go off the charts for kids wanting to look like Justin Bieber, or Goth or Punk and sort of become ghosts of my past, but it doesn't bother me. I just keep thinking... 'when they are 3o or so... someone will show them a picture of how they look now, and they are SO going to wince.' And I never had a picture of me in pegged jeans. But my Mom was more than cool. She was wise. 'Give someone enough rope, they'll hang themselves.' That was my favorite.
End of history lesson.
Just an afterthought to the previous post....
When I was thirteen, I was out shopping with my cousin. It was her favourite pastime, looking for sales... And she suddenly threw this 'thing' at me, and said, 'Wear this the next time you go swimming.'
It was a jock-strap.
She was embarassed, I was totally confused... and am sure my Mom put her up to it because she was too emarassed to tell me...
I thought it was weird.
So I shrugged it off, and didn't understand, really.
And I don't to this day.
Please explain. WHY is it bad if a man 'shows off his goods', but women make progress accentuatating their breasts?
Oh, will give you the benefit of doubt. But some women's breasts aren't exactly perfect, or what men perceive as such. But men?
Their Junk is sorta disgusting to women, and never to be seen, even clothed.
What is WITH that? I could understand if it were Mr. Cow Bells whose testicles came down nearly to his knees, and what would you wanna do with THAT, hey...
After much reading... ladies like a well-toned behind. Men like breasts. But men's reproductive organs? 'Seem to disgust people.
That is weird.
They didn't wear protective underwear in the 30's....
This photo made me laugh, after being sour all day and don't look at it in large till you read. It reminded me of a day at Rye Beach, to study, of all things. The Goethe Institut of Munich was hosting a summer school at my university, and we were in a group, faculty and students, and actually studying out in the open. I remember reading my first novella in a language that was very foreign to me, and one of the faculty saw me struggling with my dictionary, and gave me the best advice I ever had.
'Do NOT look up every word you do not know. Read the sentences. It will fall into place, and you will begin to understand. Use the dictionary only if you really get STUCK.' I trusted my mentor, although I was sceptical, and all of a sudden, it all clicked, and had to use it less and less.
They were all amazing. I acheived two semesters in eight weeks', and got praise as best in my class for progress. And it was sort of easy for me, and we had much fun, it was never pressurized.
I don't think I have ever laughed so hard or so much in one summer. And we would take short breaks and go into the icy waters of the North Atlantic as one does, when lolling around on a beach, just to keep fresh. And the guys on the German and Austrian faculty.... welllllll... they didn't wear a jock strap under their bathing suits. Which is a must for puritanical American males. So they attracted the attention of the female students, which led to speculation and commentary... because.. if you go into the North Atlantic water... your junk wants to crawl up into your abdomen, because it is so cold.
And one of the women in our group looked at one of the male European teachers clinically, and said, 'Ya know... if you see a guy like that on the beach? He's either European or gay.' I bust out laughing so hard...
Because it was probably true. I hated 'supportive underwear'. It was clammy after you'd get out of the water, and uncomfortable, and sort of disgusting. It would take me years to just go European style and leave it off, and be comfortable on a nude beach in Europe.
On the latter... if you are young and slim... most everybody is really nothing to waste a second look at, just saying.
So the picture... they hadn't invented jockstraps yet? I have no idea. But the kid became famous. He won five Olympic gold medals in swimming. Broke hundreds of records. And turned out to be THE Tarzan, King of the Jungle. Johnny Weißmüller. And was originally from Austria. That Tarzan yell? He once said it was part yodeling, I remember reading that. So he was European, no jock.... and as far as I know, never gay.
So much for that theory.
Freedom of Press, Freedom of Speech? Ya think..
Look, I KNOW Keith Olberman irritated a lot of people. I found an excerpt today on Scott's blog that I wish to quote. Am only doing it because his ads would probably offend some people, so it's cut and paste, but really supports my opinion. I will SO miss Countdown. I didn't agree with everything, I admired his humanistic activism, and the wonderful things he did, and his fearlessness in getting in people's faces when they were horribly wrong and more or less disgusting, the most recent being Arizona cutting off nearly 100 people waiting for organ transplants, and giving those people a face and a forum. He showed people who the REAL death panels are.
I think the following quote is fairly accurate for facts.
"So with Keith Olbermann’s by all accounts unceremonious firing last night by MSNBC there is one less liberal voice on the tee vee machine.
One less in a medium woefully bereft of liberal voices.
There are all sorts of conspiracy theories playing out over the blogosphere about why this happened — Comcast hates Olbermann and they told NBC to fire him as part of their unholy merger deal with Comcast.
Comcast is run by CEO and rabid republican Brian Roberts who is said to have long agitated to unload MSNBC’s biggest star from the networks highest rated show as part of a merger; the departure of Jeff Zucker as NBC prez removed the only layer of protection Keith had at the network; Keith was too difficult to deal with and they’d been looking to get rid of him for a while.
You choose. It’s probably a little of all of the above. Actually, its probably more of the first and second.
Love him or hate him there is simply no way that any honest, thinking person, either of the left or the right, can ever say that what Keith Olbermann said on the air was something he didn’t believe in.
You could see and feel the passion that he had for the positions that he took and advanced. And when he was wrong about something he corrected himself. Unlike pretty much everyone else in the public sphere who just assumes the viewing public is so deeply stupid and paying so little attention that there is no reason to correct one’s mistakes because . . . well, why fucking bother?
Apparently Keith is contractually obligated to remain off the television airwaves until 2012. Hopefully CNN will have the good sense to snap him up. Acquiring Olberman will go a long way toward rehabilitating their sadly diminished brand."
So yes, je suis d'accord. Genau meine Meinung. Agreed.I wish to expand on what I wrote last nite...
Mr. N. A boss I had. From Persia... not Iran... Persia, bitchez.... He emigrated to Austria the same year I did. And we had a TERRIBLE confrontation per telephone between me in Graz, and he in Vienna.
Because, you see, the tourist board of Tunesia was coming to visit for business with tourist people, and he wanted to be splendiferous, wonderful. Candles in the rooms, which were against our fire laws. Big welcoming baskets. I sorta nixed the candles, but... he wanted fruit juices and booze on the tables.
And I said, 'WHAAA?' NO, no way, will not DO that.'
And he got into his usual coaxing sweet-talking mode, and brought up one of his Persian sayings, 'You aren't supposed to go over 60 miles an hour on the Autobahn, but people do it...'
And told him an anecdote about how I unintentionally insulted an Egyptian in the Olympic village, which I will not relate. There was an Austrian businessman outside in the lobby pretending to read a paper, and was off the charts for 'amused.' And I said, 'I'm sorry, Herr N..... there is no WAY I would risk doing that again.'
He was quiet for a moment. And he said, 'You're probably right. If they want to do that, they will find a way.'
I was going way out on a limb about that. It wasn't about what I thought. It was about not being corrupt in any way, and swaying people in a way they might have regretted.
Herr N. respected my decision.
We came up with things that were good, in the end analysis.
I worked with him.... and he could make me laugh, and was very kind. I met his family, and his son was his world. He only had one child.
So... we got on. Had disagreements. But respect for one another.
It would be a wonderful world if people could act like that.
As to Moslims II
I seem to have gotten a lot of hits on that post so relatively long ago. Which confuses me.
Certainly, I can go off for incendiary on some topics.... but that? No....
I was trying... in my stupid way... to defuse things. And probably made a stupid analogy to make my point.
I am agnostic. I don't believe in any religion.
But I do believe in my fellow man, (or woman), and try to bring respect to everyone I meet, hoping to receive respect in return.
And respect means trust. So I used an extreme example. Trust.
I walk out of my house onto the square, and there are all sorts of people out there. Whom I find interesting, just visually... and who might be nice. And who might be kind. It doesn't matter how they dress. People are potentials.
Good, I'm gay. Someone else is a Buddhist. Someone else wraps themselves up. However... you see the eyes. And you know, this is a kind person, this is a troubled person, it doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure it out.
The PROBLEM is.... most people don't take time to look.
Eyes... the first thing I notice.
I do not think that most people are so defined by their religion. That is crazy.
Some adhere to their traditions, and it is their right to do so.
Stupid people feel threatened by what they do not recognise or know, and react badly.
I can't find the key to going off the charts for being unaccepting for anyone. Surely, they live their lives differently from what others deem 'appropriate', but that is really off the charts for unacceptable.
We have to learn to accept that, and treat our fellow humans as neighbors. Because I know from experience, they will enrich your lives if you only smile and keep an open mind.
I had one boss who was Moslem. He was from Iran. We got along famously, and he was a very lovely person. I thought it was so very ironic. But we did understand one another. When I left, he said, 'What I admire about you most is your loyalty.' And I sort of looked at him and thought, 'Whaaa?'
'Your loyalty. I admire that very much.' He meant Peter and all the catastrophes we had gone through.
I would have thought it was a 'Christian' thing to say to me...
But it was human.
So can we get to a place where humanity and caring for one another is what really counts?
It would be so nice.
Am sorta at a loss at the moment....
Oh, I know, I CAN be brave, and just muddle on through whatever life tends to dish out. But there is 'brave'... and brave, the former just brazening it out.
However... my phone is off the hook again. In order to STOP Peter's calling costs, because once I relent.... he calls.... and calls.... and CALLS till I go bonkers in my head. Because he has nothing to say. He just wants to hear my voice.
The few times I DO leave it on.... ow. ouch. aua!. He firmly believes for instance, that our former first boss (who is 75), comes into his room with the nurse, and interferes in what is prescribed for medicine, and he gets angry, and agitated.
Two days ago I lost it. I can't LISTEN at the moment. It drives me to distraction. So I did something cruel, because I did NOT want to deal with it. And told him I had talked to her, which is true, (after the first time he claimed she had been there). And that she had NEVER been there.
And wow, did he go off on me. I was everything evil, leaving him in the lurch, finally showed how much I never cared... it was fairly comprehensive. Ten minutes later? The phone rang.... and it never happened in his head.
I am so trying to get him to a place in his mind where he feels comfortable, and Aires that he is, he fights me every inch of the way.
I used to like it when it was just some sort of catastrophacal event, like diabetes, or stroke, or his two heart attacks. He was still himself, caustic, interested in everything, and we could talk about gawwd and the wurrld. And laugh so hard about anything we found absurd.
But that person is gone now. And all he remembers is me, it seems. And I don't know if I am up to the task. I do not. I loved and still love him, and am devastated, because the man he was is mostly gone now.
And there is no way I can tell myself, 'we're gonna get through this', or HOPE that things might improve in his condition.... it will never happen any more. Those things kept me going for a very long time, am a pessimistic optimist.... expecting the worst, and hoping for the best. Served me well for a long time.
So yes, this is a personal note. Interrupting normal broadcasting.
I can't GO to Gamlitz again this month. Due to crushing financial circumstances.
So he is gonna try to keep calling, and I get the pits, disenabling my phone. Which is not of consequence... no one calls me anyway except in a full moon.
It feels cruel to do what I am doing. But there has to be a break, here, and he has to get some peace, and I can't BE there. Listening to it per phone is really counter-productive.
