Middle Eastern Debates

So, the beginning of the Middle Eastern Debates were today. I gave a rough-edged, sketchy, and somewhat rushed speech, but I can blame that on the way Chris controlled the television camera to pan away from me. Whatever. I'm optimistic about the next few days of debate. But first, some time off for the weekend. If anyone wants to hang out, call or IM me; I got a relatively full weekend but I can shuffle stuff around easy.

I'm a little worried about Sharif. He says he has something on me (Olmert) in the debate which I apparently don't know about. It involves nuclear weapons...and me giving them to someone. Plus he wrote a 70 page paper to prep. But I can play psychology well enough too. We shall see what happens.

Today, after school, a couple of friends and I walked downtown to the Commons. After grabbing the obligatory coffee, we...no joke, we hacked a sack for I swear like two hours. Something transcendental about it; I definitely improved mad skeeelz today. Granted, we did eventually leave and chill over at Sasha's. And then saw 300. It's my 3rd or 4th time seeing it, but it doesn't get worse, it just becomes more...internalized. Unfortunately, it came at the cost of coming home at around 12:30AM.

It's strange, but I have a sudden urge to listen to Japanese-German techno music. What's it with those two countries, producing the cheesiest shit ever? Maybe it's a post-axis-of-evil syndrome of some sort...perhaps one day, North Korea and Iran will come up with their own versions of disco-house. Oh god, I'm so politically incorrect.

...and now I know why everyone hates Israel.

I hesitate to call it Math Class Zionism, but that's what it was.

That was OUR fucking table.

____________

On a totally different note:

[22:17] yuvali611acs: ok we can escape
[22:17] inqualcanto: i don't fit in with people, i don't smoke pot, i'm not vegitarian, i spend half my money on clothing, i play jazz, and i don't like hippie folk music
[22:18] inqualcanto: szdjklgsdkljasdgf

I also find it funny how the number of tags on this post is disproportional to its size.

The United Nations/New York

Isn't the UN being a little unrealistic?

They try and mediate a war. They try to outlaw war crimes, they urge captors to respect prisoners' rights, and they keep people from attacking civilians.

But isn't that like a family therapist trying to mediate a conflict and telling his patients, "Stop! Nothing below the belt! Can't you people LISTEN, you can only hit each other in the stomach!"

_____________

The Israel-Palestine conflict sucks.

I'm losing friends faster than I make them.

This whole Arab-Israeli conflict thing which I'm supposed to be researching is really getting to me. I didn't realize that I would lose so much of my normal life outside of being Ehud Olmert, but I find myself putting off my friends, trying desperately to stay rooted in normal life instead of worrying about the conflict every day. I'm so physically unattached to the conflict in any way, but in some perverse little way, it's become a dismal part of my life.

And I can't even claim to understand the conflict. All I can claim is that thinking about it so much is making me angry. It's made me denounce religion to the point of hatred. And at the same time, my mood swings and depressive tendencies have led my mom to tell me that I need to stop placing my friends in such high regard and I need to start believing in something. She clearly insinuates religion. I'm only mildly offended because I know she has good intentions.

But at the same time, why should I ever place my friends in such a low regard? I felt particularly horrible yesterday night when I realized that I had maybe 5 real friends and no explanation why. And her response was that people tend to end up with only one real friend as they age. So I thought to myself, what the hell is the point of life?

Maybe that's what happened to the Palestinians and Israelis. Maybe they couldn't deal with the prospect of having no friends so they started to believe in nothing but hatred towards the enemy...they live for nothing else! Religion aside; this is no religious war anymore, or even a geographical war. No, I am almost convinced that the Arab-Israeli conflict is a war of ethics.

And today I became so frustrated with my state of mind that I ended up bitching about nothing. I complained about nothing...about the prospect of being unhappy for the rest of my life and the lack of real friends. When she told me I was being self-centered, vain, and unrealistic, I panicked. I panicked because firstly I was scared she was right. She was right, though. I do think of myself too much. I also panicked because I had the notion that she would forever know me as the self-centered, vain, unrealistic kid that can do nothing but sit on his ass and complain.

But that doesn't keep me from complaining about nothing. Oh, look at me! Right now I have everything I'd ever want! I have a house, clothes, food, and most of all, I have opportunity. I thought of the Israelis who feel so physically insecure that they keep M16 rifles in their trunks, or the Palestinians who are so engrossed in their own hatred that they would be willing sacrifice their own life to annihilate others. And I'm complaining because there's something wrong with my life that I can't even identify.

Something tells me that when these debates are over, I'll feel a lot better.

___________

Star-crossed lovers quit West Bank

By Matthew Price BBC News, Jerusalem

The couple married three years ago after meeting in Jerusalem

She is a 26-year-old Jewish Israeli. Her name is Jasmine Avissar. He is a 27-year-old Palestinian Muslim, Osama Zaatar.

Jasmine and Osama's is a love story, and it tells you so much about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. They met when they worked at the same place in Jerusalem, and three years ago they got married. First they tried to live in Israel, but the Israeli authorities would not allow Osama to join his wife there. Then they tried living in the occupied West Bank, but some Palestinians made life difficult for them. Now they've given up and are moving to Europe.

Strangers

"We ran out of choices of finding any solution to live in either Israel or Palestine," says Jasmine as she packs her bags.

"We were naive and thought we could win this fight but we can't. So we have to go abroad and start a new life."

Jasmine We were naive and thought we could win this fight but we can't Osama The moment I decided not to be part of the mainstream I was told that I was not a part of my country anymore

Jasmine already has permission to go. Osama hopes to follow her soon. We go up onto the roof of their village home. The sunlight is so harsh you have to squint to look at the view. Stone walls hold earth terraces onto the hillsides, olive trees hundreds of years old are dotted across the landscape.

"I feel like a stranger here," says Osama. "Even in my homeland. This place is a holy land, but they're killing each other. It's like it's already a lost cause."
"Here there's no chance. I just want to start again."

Under investigation

They are an almost unique couple. Neither Israeli nor Palestinian society has accepted their marriage. On official Israeli documents, Jasmine tells me her marital status is described as "under investigation".

"Our marriage was a human thing. We just fell in love," says Jasmine. "The society around us is making it political."

"I feel like a refugee. The moment I decided not to be part of the mainstream I was told that I was not a part of my country anymore."

A taxi turns up, and Osama helps Jasmine with her bags. The drive takes them through occupied Palestinian lands. They pass a tall grey Israeli army watchtower. They drive through army checkpoints. Israel has been in control here for almost 40 years.

Given up

"Even here in Osama's homeland I am superior as an Israeli," says Jasmine, as she looks out the window.
"It's easier for me to move around. The soldiers let me through checkpoints. They don't arrest me like they might arrest Osama."

A final embrace at the Israeli checkpoint Osama is banned from crossing

Jasmine has given up on her own country. "Jewish people were abused for thousands of years, but my nation has switched from being victims to being abusers.

"That's hard for me to acknowledge. The Jewish people are occupiers now, and we are racist."

The car arrives at a final checkpoint. We stand next to it, and Osama tells me why he has also given up on his own people.

"There were threats. People said if I brought my wife here we'd be in danger. Even my friends said that. They say I am a traitor."

"It makes me wonder whether I want to be a Palestinian any more. Some see me as some sort of Israeli envoy. It's a shit feeling."

Seeking safety

They turn and walk the short distance to the checkpoint that leads out of the West Bank and into Israel. They put down their bags, and hug one another. There's a short kiss. I ask Osama what he hopes for from his new life.

"I want to be able to walk in the street and not be stopped by the Israeli army or police. I want to feel safe. I have never felt that."

Jasmine smiles. "I just want to be a normal couple, with normal problems about rent, and money. I don't want to have these huge gigantic problems interfering in our marriage."

Even now though they are not quite free. Osama cannot go through the checkpoint with Jasmine. They don't know when he will be able to join her in Europe. They are still a couple caught in the middle of the Israeli Palestinian conflict.

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Dismal world.

You ask me to stop looking down, because when I look down I see cracks in the hardwood.

You ask me to look at towards the horizon, because things will look better. But when I look towards the horizon, the floor looks all the same.

Every square inch...a hundred blemishes. It ends nowhere. Dear god, extrapolate.

Why is the world so dismal?

300

300 kills people.

Zodiac

Ah, so many movies, little time. Well. In that case I'll stop posting about the movies themselves. Camille thought she wanted to see the 300, but we got to the theatre and it was (inevitably) sold out so we picked anything that might have been worth watching.

Zodiac. You know, the one that everyone hears about in movie theatre previews but no one actually knows or wants to watch. It's sort of just...there. Well yeah, I figure I understand why no one's all that interested in it; the fun is in the thinking about the film itself.

It's a long film so, don't worry. You'll have time for your little contemplative muses and theories. At one point, I am convinced that the cop's wife is the killer. For no apparent reason; such an idea just happens to strike me. Because it's so surreal. It's also based on a true story. Real life is surreal. But if you don't see it for the funny plot and mediocre cinematography, you must see it for the acting. There won't be a single character you can possibly hate.

Guess this means I'll have to watch 300 another time.

____________

Goddamn all these dinner parties my parents are throwing; I didn't even realize they had this many friends. I mean; my dad's antisocial as hell and my mom spends her time trying to bake a better Pain de Campagne. Where'd they get these guys anyway? Yeah. Ah, one last night, another one today. I need to get out of this house.

Oh, but I smell Thai food.

____________

Life tastes good.” —Coke

Or at least, it should. Antisociality for me has never quite come so often or without such reasoning.

My mother caught me sulking and she immediately launched into a 15 minute lecture about how she thinks that ACS is detrimental to my psychological health. She thinks that while the entire inclusion thing is great, you tend to rely on your friends too much. Well first of all, maybe that's what an ideal world should be more like, and second of all, fuck off and don't tell me how to live.

Please, dear god please don't tell me I'm emo. I heard a lot of that shit today (no names). No. I'm not fucking emo. I just happen to be a little antisocial right now.

Pan's Labrynth

Watched it last night with Camille and Yuval. Honestly, I don't have much to say about the movie. Surreal as it was, it was a movie you could generally understand just by watching closely and carefully. While complex and emotional, you didn't need to think, all you needed to do was feel. But I did wonder what I'd do if I was the girl. Or more importantly, what would my fantasy be?

That's all for now. I know I haven't posted in a while. And that's because my winter break was taken up by hanging out with friends, going to New York City with Sasha (and Yuval, who happened to be there; yes, I've been spending a lot of time with her recently), and trying to cram for a background paper on Israel that was due Wednesday.

Funny story though, on Wednesday, my 320GB external hard drive crashed...along with all my data, all my stories I've ever written, all the music I've ever listened to, all the photos I'd ever taken, all the schoolwork I'd ever done (including the essay), but most of all, the heart and soul of my inner existence. Needless to say, it's back up and running, and Satan has finally handed back my life from two days of unequivocal torture.

I shall end here, as I need to catch some sleep before school tomorrow. Viva la Revolucion!

Winter Break

If I go to New York with Sasha for the weekend, my week will be complete. Alas, I will not finish my Facing History paper I so desperately need to do. But there are other things in life than just school. Like black walnuts, for example. There are a lot of those lying around on the ground.

I need to play the drums. Really bad.

deathbygunshot

Thought it was time to upload some drawings I've done since my last drawing post on Picasa.

You cut-throat, you! ...You're lucky I don't stuff your beard down your gullet! ...But get out, viper! And take care that you don't cross my path again! Sheer off, filibuster! Outz of my sight, you gallows bird! Baboon! ...Carpet Seller! Paranoiac! Pockmark! Cannibal! Duck-billed platypus! Jellied eel! Bashi-bazouk! Anthropophagus! Ceropithecus! Psychopath!

- Captain Haddock, in the French comic Tintin: The Red Sea Sharks

?

I feel horrible. Like I just fucked something up really bad, but I'm not sure what.

I just lost five pages of work on my essay

licking your lips
taking in the momentary pain
as a helpful reminder that
you are still alive

biting your tongue
tasting your own blood to make sure that
it is really your own, because
you are still alive

gritting your teeth
resonating through your skeleton
ready to box with your machine
you are still alive

beating yourself
senseless on the keys on your board in
retaliation for its faults
however, it's quite obvious that

it was you who forgot to save your work

Cool cycling products

But at a mere 160 USD, these are probably more affordable:

Snow

Edit: A haiku in response to yesterday's poem:

don't mind happiness
today is a different kind
i'm so fucking bored


_______


Given that there's no school tomorrow, and that it's STILL snowing now, I need to think up something to do quick, so I don't end up rotting in front of my computer. I also just tried to tag this post with "snow" fourteen times, but Blogger refused to comply. I'm not sure as to why it would ever do such a thing.

Soul at the Hands of Confinement

Edit: We just dug the postman out of a thick snowbank. Makes me feel alive.

__________

look at yourself;
trapped with your coffee and your biscotti and
your chocolates
sitting by the fireplace you wish you had
look at yourself;
turning the cellophane on an architecture magazine
keys on a board
watching the outside turn from blue to gray to white
look at yourself;
wrapped up in a fleece blanket in
yesterday's old sweater
have you ever been happier being trapped?

__________

I believe I've just had my first sleepover in a long time yesterday. It wasn't going to be, but by midnight last night, the roads became unnavigable and my parents declared that they were staying home. So Yuval and I stayed up until 2AM until she fell asleep on the couch watching Marie Antoinette. At three she woke up and decided that the couch was probably not the best place to spend the night so we went upstairs and woke up at 7. Amounts to...4 hours of sleep?

Upon awakening, it's a white and blustery Valentines Day in Ithaca, New York. Temperature is 20 degrees Fahrenheit, accumulation is close to 24 inches, and the world as we know it has come to a standstill.

Even the television reflects the mood today; there's cooking show after knitting show after cooking show after woodworking show, after cooking show. That's the thing about blustery winter days. Everyone wants to cook. Including me. The heat of the oven, the radiance of the stove, the comfort of biting into fresh blueberry muffins...it's what we all desire. Succumb to your appetite and you will be rewarded. It's nothing but an extension of human survival.

And yes, it is indeed Valentines Day, but I can't help but muse on how many couples are really on their fur rugs under their crystal chandeliers by their fireplaces, getting it on, on a day like this. Call me a pessimist in a loveless world, but I'm pretty sure the number of those couples right now...is coherent.

I hope you all have a wonderful Valentines Day. ♥

Vogue

I have a secret pleasure. Vogue Magazine.

The full nature of this rather embarrassing pleasure presented itself last night when I was at Hollywood Video selling fruit with Sasha and Sarah. Bored and hungry, Sasha and I decided to go out to Wegmans, and grab dinner to bring back. Sarah requested a Vogue and a plastic fork.

About a quarter of an hour later, we returned with a turkey sandwich, a grapefruit, a cookie, a plastic fork, a Vogue, iced tea, and cold hands. Sarah, quite angry because we were gone for two minutes more than we said we would be, opened the Vogue and we read through. Sarah and I wrestled control for the magazine for over an hour afterwards, pausing only for fifteen minutes to simulate anal sex with Sour Patch Kids. It didn't go well for our customers.

Sarah: "Dammit, Mirko, give me the magazine!"

Mirko: "Stop it! I'm reading it!"

Sasha: "You're gay."

Sarah: "Why would you EVER want to read Vogue?!"

Mirko: "YOU'RE the one wearing a fleece sweater!"

And I shut up.

___________

Scientists to save 5,000-year-old embrace

VALDARO, Italy, Feb 12 (Reuters Life!) - Italy won't split up its Stone Age "lovers."

In a Valentine's Day gift to the country, scientists said they are determined to remove and preserve together the remains of a couple buried 5,000 to 6,000 years ago, their arms still wrapped around each other in an enduring embrace.

Instead of removing the bones one-by-one for reassembly later, archaeologists plan to scoop up the entire section of earth where the couple was buried, they told Reuters.

The plot will then be transported for study before being put on display in an Italian museum, thereby preserving the world's longest known hug for posterity.

"We want to keep can them just as they have been all this time -- together," archaeologist Elena Menotti, who announced the discovery a week ago, told Reuters.

Their removal will be a relief for archaeologists who had to hire extra security to guard the rural site outside the northern city of Mantova after the discovery made world headlines.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 Next >

© Reuters 2007. All rights reserved.

The Paris Metro

The love affair does not show itself above ground.

Above ground, life is normal. Above ground, the traffic will feed off its own cacophony, inherent in a giant—indeed global—anarchical system of automobiles and boulevards and traffic lights and horns and police cars. Above ground, the people will live. They will eat, sleep, fall in love, and indeed they will repeat the process until their death, which by that time, the death of one man will equal the birth of two. And above ground, there is sky, there are clouds, and there are stars that will one day exponentially expand humankind’s potential energy. Because above ground, life is normal.

The bells at Notre Dame had just begun their seven-o’clock cacophony when Isabelle’s feet skittered down the flight of stairs into the metro. A right turn into the metro system and Miss Chavanoz would not see sunlight again for half an hour.

As the walkways twisted through U-turn after U-turn, she and her hair were greeted by the cool, mechanical, and somewhat musty underground breeze that was an aspect of subway stations everywhere. They tasted differently everywhere, of course. Tokyo had wheat and no sugar. Madrid had vanilla, and lots of it. In New York, there was more vinegar, and much less salt, until you left Manhattan. In Barcelona, there was olive oil and no canola. Singapore however, was an odd, unexplainable void of sensory deprivation. Indeed, if aluminum and glass had a scent, then Singapore would have been overpowering, but alas, scent was absent in the MRT.

But here in Paris—oh yes, she would never forget the scent of Paris—there was a macabre dissonance to it. It never quite stayed the same for more than a few minutes, and if you wait, you can experience almost every scent known to mankind, from the gag-inducing squalor of the Rafflesia flower, to the comforting smell of old newspaper on a concrete bench, to the lulling and addictive Tuscan meadows captured in the perfume of the nearest bourgeoisie. If you had the misfortune of missing the subway train just as it was rolling out, you know about the full orchestra of odors that shall assault the passenger for a full three minutes—or one hundred and eighty seconds—before you are saved by the fast gust of wind that precedes the subway train and its open doors. Once inside the carriage, however, the odors are still present. If you know what you’re doing, you won’t have caught a train during rush hour, and the only scent you have to put up with is the urinal residue left over by the SDF who had found themselves locked up in the subway train all night with no way out. If you care enough about your nose, you can move away from these areas and often find your scentless refuge towards the middle of the carriage.

But some people, like Isabelle, have no choice but to travel at the heat of Parisian rush hour. In such a situation, the bodily odors inside the subway carriage will make you wish you were back out on the platform: it was as if you had just walked in on a grand orgy of nasal pollution, when suddenly the metal doors behind you cut you off from the rest of the world, and for the next one hundred and twenty seconds, you are drowning.

On her short trip between Cite and the Gare Montparnasse—a trip that shall cost you 1.40 euros—Isabelle’s subway neighbors would all be cubicle-weary warriors, regiment after regiment of black suits, white shirts and red ties. In every new city she visited, she waited for the moment they would simultaneously turn to her with their glowing red eyes, stick needles and tubes into her neck, and assimilate her.

But alas, little that occurred could match such an exciting idea. The cavern of black suits remained nothing but a cavern as solid as the rocks that comprised of it......

A gramme is...

It's February 5, 2007.

[22:10] EarnestWinkle: do the facing history?
[22:10] inqualcanto: yea....mostly
[22:15] EarnestWinkle: what was the turkey a metaphor for
[22:16] inqualcanto: hama
[22:21] EarnestWinkle: and whatd you say for why he used such extreme violence
[22:24] EarnestWinkle: jeez man
[22:24] EarnestWinkle: no need to write an essay here
[22:24] inqualcanto: hama = tribalism + authoritarianism
tribalism = showing off + "dog eat dog"
authoritarianism = overwhelming force
thus (showing off + dog eat dog)overwhelming force = extreme violence
thus hama = extreme violence
[22:26] EarnestWinkle: how much crack did you just smoke
[22:27] inqualcanto: just a few grammes
[22:27] inqualcanto: a gramme is better than a damn
[22:27] EarnestWinkle: touche

The Last King of Scotland

Charming. Magnetic. Murderous.

When you're fooled into sympathizing with the bad guy, you can't help but question yourself too. When that bad guy is Idi Amin, there's something wrong with you. Except that I think there are few people who wouldn't think, "Oh, wow, this guys actually kind of cool." Until you learn about the shit going on.

I gotta say the one thing I loved best was the way the movie ended with the Entebbe hijacking and the events that led up to Gallagher's escape from Uganda. Oh, and Forest Whitaker is amazing in this film, I should add.

________

On Friday, Sasha and I went down to Juna's to grab some coffee and talk like we normally do. That day, we were joined by Lukas who had just gotten out of an internship interview with the Ithaca Journal.

So we covered the basic subjects, and then Sasha had to leave, and Lukas and I went to get some pizza from Neds, when we learned that neither of us had the three dollars we owed Neds for the the pizza.

"I have a debit card," says Lukas.

"No swipe...no swipe thing. I don't have," the rather rude pizza man says.

With no money, and no pin number for the ATM, we don't have a choice. We start looking around for people who have money, yet no one will give us any. I grab my bag and search through the deepest crevasses for loose change. In the end, we come up with $2.50 cents, a full 50 cents short. Problem is, we already ordered.

"You owe me fifty cents, next time," he tells me.

Shit, I think, what is this guy trying to do, jack me out of money later? But what choice do we have? We just spent money we didn't have. So we accept and go eat pizza while laughing about it. In the back of my mind, I know that if I come to him on Monday, he's going to ask for a dollar or two. I'm cool with that, but I'm not cool with letting him play me like that.

But my mom comes in with fifty cents and thus we are rescued.

:-/

I don't like Facing History as much as I should.

Young age

Younger age can sometimes only be consoled by two things:

The knowledge that we will see the future.

And the knowledge that older counterparts are gonna die first.

Amelie

I should have watched this much earlier. I don't know why it took me so long before I'd come around and see this movie. You know, it's that procrastination thing. Everyone says you need to see it, you know it's going to be good, but that's where the problem lies. Oh, you'll say, I can watch it whenever I want. It's even on my mp3 player.


Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amelie Poulain could be my favorite movie ever. It's one of those movies that sort of shove a cute sense of happiness down your throat, and then make you chew. It's a little painful, a little cloying at first, but then you understand. You realize that oh, that's the way it should have been. Oh, so the cloying sweetness works. Oh, so that's why Audrey Tautou's the lead role.

Amelie, the character is just great, really. The first few minutes in, you automatically attach yourself to her persona. You'd want to meet her, even be the butt end of her ridiculous yet amusing schemes. Amelie understands our little insanities and appreciates us for them.

Speaking of which, Audrey Tautou has also probably become one of my favorite actresses, if not my favorite. Nelly was right, it should have happened earlier but the only movies I had seen with her were frankly, disappointing. (The Da Vinci Code, A Very Long Engagement.)

Amelie

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I just ruined the movie for you. :-)

So yeah, you could say I've had a good night. I'm dead tired from our jam today. It's been a while since we've had something that productive and that energy-draining. Tomorrow you can catch me before 11AM or after 4PM. I'm selling fruit at ACS and then going to the allergist again. :-(

Love,
- Mirko

French exchange?

This morning, I recieved a couple emails from various French exchange groups regarding language-intensive summer programs. I'm pretty interested by the whole idea, but I had sort of already made a previous commitment to the closer (and substantially cheaper) summer music program at Skidmore College in Saratoga Springs.

It brought up an interesting dilemma for me, namely, what was more important for me? Of course, music trumped most things on my list, and French...well, not really. But just being abroad and learning French in France might be a totally different experience. Besides, I can stand 3 hours a day in Therese's class, two and a half hours a day shouldn't be that hard.

In any case, I'm going to France in May with the French trip. And don't get me wrong, I love the French language. I just don't like my French teacher.

___________

Never give an iguana Viagra

Thu Jan 25, 2007 12:04pm ET

ANTWERP, Belgium (Reuters) - Mozart, an iguana with an erection that has lasted for over a week, will have his penis amputated in the next couple of days.

Veterinarians at Antwerp's Aquatopia had sought to treat the animal's problem, but decided removal was the only solution because of the risk of infection. The good news for Mozart and his mates is that male iguanas have two penises.

Mozart, sitting on the shoulders of his keeper as camera crews focused on his red, swollen erection, seemed unperturbed by the news.

"It doesn't bother him. He doesn't know what amputation means," said vet Luc Lambrecht, adding that Mozart's sexual activity should be undimmed by the operation.

© Reuters 2007. All Rights Reserved.

__________

In case the header didn't strike you, don't give an iguana Viagra. They like having two penises. Just a little warning for you, in case you guys were thinking about it.

A little funny, when you think about the magnitude of fetish porn on the internet. I can only imagine the amount pertaining to anthropomorphic iguanas non-consensually giving it to hapless young blonde women who just happen to have 34DD breasts and a big tattoo across their spine and just above their ass.

Porn is such cheap shit.

Curse of the Golden Flower/The pPhone

Wanna see a weird movie that makes you really want to be a flying ninja?

Okay, so the ending's a little disappointing, and the plot's just absurd, but I find it typical of Chinese movies. The difference here, is that the fighting scenes are far more natural than other mainstream Asian films, and the cinematography is really a brilliant use of CGI.

That's where the film's high points really are: imagery and symbolism. The golden flower, the chrysanthemum, plays a thousand different roles in the film as the symbol for rebellion, particularly the final showdown scenes where the golden army's blood is spilled over a fresh bed of the flowers.

Go watch it. Next movie on my list is The Last King of Scotland.

_______________

You know, speaking of form over function, Lukas, here's a little gadget that'll make you drool. Okay, so it's actually just a rebranded, souped up LG, but it's got the same features as Apple's new communication toy, it looks sexier than my bike, and it matches my favorite pants with the PRADA sign emblazoned underneath the camera.

And the beauty of it? It's less expensive than the nice pair of PRADA jeans and tight sweater I've been eyeing but will probably never attain. Form shouldn't exactly trump function, but never let school get in the way of your education.

Yeah, so um....fuck the iPhone?

_____________

I cannot stress the beauty of French electronica that's not in French. Though French electronica that's in French is just as good.

Gotan Project - Santa Maria (rUmPeLsTiLtSkIn)

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Lunatico

http://www.sophiakokosalaki.com/ - Sophia Kokosalaki, an emerging New York designer with inspiration from ancient Greek fashion sense. With the draping jackets, oversized jackets, and flamboyant colors, it's more pretty than hot, more cute than sleek, more coquette than sophisticated, but it's still fashion and it's still worth a look.

I realized that I've never taken enough time to thank my friends for providing over half the music in my music library, all of which I listen to. I don't know what I'd do without you guys; I'd probably still be listening to Matthew Shipp and William Parker over and over again.

Thanks to Kai for sharing the Gotan Project with me. This is quite honestly the third sexiest music I know, coming in just after Haddaway and Bjork. I'm joking of course. It actually pulls in at number one sexiest music, and Bjork comes in fourth.

This bears continuity to everything I was saying about French electronica...even though the lyrics in the majority of the songs are in Spanish. (The video below takes place in Buenos Aires.) There's still that little extra that the French do to their music that makes it so much better than say, Italian, Egyptian, or even British electronica.

As for Haddaway, um, don't ask...



Gotan Project - Diferente (Promo Video)

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____________

I'm a little intrigued by WordPress over Blogger. Blogspot could learn a thing or two from WordPress's design schemes and options. Moving over there could be an improvement, then again, it could also be a little messy given the integration my computer has with Google software.

I'm also a little intrigued by this whole concept of multiple authors on one blog. Within that scenario, posting would all show up on one page, but that would also eliminate the need for multiple users. But at the same time, it's nice retaining a little individuality, until I learn how to trick out Blogger to look like something I made.

A fleeting dash of ego

"Donc, mot...?"

Good evening, everyone.

Homework assigned to us for French V on Tuesday was a French analysis of Guilliame Apollinaire's Le Pont Mirabeau, a simply yet aesthetically beautiful poem about...well, that's up to interpretation. Doing poems is enjoyable, because not only do I love poems, but sometimes, it's a poem I know by heart, like this time. Thus, the work was relatively easy for me.

Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine
Et nos amours
Faut-il qu'il m'en souvienne
La joie venait toujours après la peine

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure

Les mains dans les mains restons face à face
Tandis que sous
Le pont de nos bras passe
Des éternels regards l'onde si lasse

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure

L'amour s'en va comme cette eau courante
L'amour s'en va
Comme la vie est lente
Et comme l'Espérance est violente

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure

Passent les jours et passent les semaines
Ni temps passait
Ni les amours reviennent
Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure

"Le Pont Mirabeau"
Apollinaire, Alcools (1912)

French poetry's not everyone's taste. It tries a little too hard to be profound sometimes, but I find that Apollinaire does a good job making sure that the interpretation works literally as well as symbolically.

For an English translation, see Sasha's page. I do believe, however, that poetry was not meant to be altered, changed, or translated in any shape or form. You want to read Mongolian poetry? Learn Mongolian. The concept of poetry was created not for just the meaning (which can also be undesirably altered during translation) but also the aesthetics of the words and phrases themselves.

If you want to hear the song, the one that's NOT by the Pogues, check out Sophie Auster. It's quirky, but it's definitely pretty.

_____________

"If my penis were as big as my ego, I'd be King Kong."

- Dylan JJ

Thanks for the insight, Dylan.

So the uh, Physics midterm started today. First problem and I already skipped over it. Over at Sasha's house I began to calculate my grade if I say...uh, well forgot about the rest of the problems. When you start counting your score before you even finish the test, you know you're going to fail. Fail hard, too.

It seems like such a simple algebra problem, too, that I'm actually beginning to doubt myself. I used to have a pretty big ego when it came to being logical, but I figured that I'm not all that. Besides, that ego was all formulated. It wasn't ever really there; it started to fool the teachers into thinking that I was actually working, but I guess I let the little lie grow a little uhm, big. I'm not actually a member of the smart people crew. Haha. Member. Get it? MEMBER. Tee hee.

Whatever. My ego could use a beating.

____________

It's always fun getting into philosophical debates over trivial matters. That's how I spent my afternoon though, debating over cappuccino and 5-layer chocolate things and sporadic internet at Juna's. Nothing too hardcore today, though, just the usual relative good and bad that makes our world worth living in, and that perhaps human intelligence will outlive its usefulness one day, where one day civilization will stagnate because we have nowhere to turn.

Sasha and I pretty much rock.

Untitled

I thought she was one of my best friends. I thought we knew each other.

But when she asked me, "How are you?" I began to question myself.

I thought for a moment, how was I? She asked me a second time and when I was ready to respond, I was scared. Not because of what she said, but because of what I said.

"I'm fine."

__________

Unappreciated art has the same effect on the artist as unrequited love on the lover. It eat, it destroys, and when there's nothing left to destroy, it moves on to the next victim like a parasite. You want to keep good art alive? Then don't make the distinction between good and bad.

Format/WII

One thing that irritates me more than people who format funny and PEOPLE WHO TYPE IN ALL CAPS because they think it's cool, is pplz typng reel badly bcuz tey r 2 skild.

__________

January 15, 2007 - Woman Killed In Wii-Related Competition

A twenty-eight year old Sacramento mother of three has died of water intoxication after taking part in a local radio competition to win a Wii console.

Jennifer Strange was found dead on Friday at her home after taking part in a contest named “Hold your wee for a Wii” at the studios of radio station KDND 107.9. The competition involved drinking large quantities of water, with the last person to go to the toilet winning a Wii console – currently out of stock in most of North America.

An Associated Press interview with another contestant, named James Ybarra, claimed that contestants were initially given eight ounce bottles of water to drink every fifteen minutes, with larger bottles being used once contestants began to drop out. According to Ybarra, “They told us if you don't feel like you can do this, don't put your health at risk." He described the victim as “a nice lady” and that “she was telling me about her family and her three kids and how she was doing it for her kids."

Water intoxication (also known as hyperhydration or water poisoning) is a potentially fatal disturbance in brain function that results when the normal balance of electrolytes in the body is upset by a rapid intake of water. It is unclear how serious a danger to the contestant’s health KDND knew the competition to be at the time.

John Geary, vice president and marketing manager for Entercom Sacramento, the station's owner, claimed that station personnel were “stunned” when they heard of Strange's death. "We are awaiting information that will help explain how this tragic event occurred," he said. The incident has already been widely reported by mass media outlets around the world.

POSTED: 03.33AM PST, 01/15/07 - David Jenkins - LINK

__________

The thing that went through my mind by the last sentence was that America ought to be embarrassed about themselves, embarrassed that this sort of thing happens at all, and for its own sake. That's right.

In Sudan we have people dying in the name of ethnic cleansing, in Somalia we've got people dying in the name of power, in Palestine we've got people dying in the name of God, and in Malawi we've got people dying in the name of survival. But eh. What do people in America die for?

That's right.

What makes it worse: this tragedy could have been averted if she had an extra 250$ to go out and buy it herself.

Calorie counting

[23:18] inqualcanto: people who ACTUALLY count their calories.
[23:18] inqualcanto: annoy me.
[23:18] yuvali611acs: I CANT EAT THAT
[23:18] yuvali611acs: yea
[23:18] yuvali611acs: i look
[23:18] yuvali611acs: and then im like
[23:18] yuvali611acs: i shouldnt eat that
[23:19] yuvali611acs: and then i do
[23:19] inqualcanto: i wanna just go like "yeah bitch you are fat." and make them cry.
[23:19] inqualcanto: but that'd be a horrible thing to do.

Went and saw Stomp the Yard, and I can offer you a few words of advice: DON'T see it. Spend your ten bucks on something more enjoyable, like oxycontin or ritalin. Or Robitussin shots. SOMETHING. Okay, it had its cool dance moves which sort of made me want to take Capoiera. But the actors were dancers, not actors. And the girl wasn't that gorgeous.

Odd thing happened today. Yuval and I got to the theatre at 7:05, thinking the movie started at 7:15. (Dyslexia? Joking.) Apparently it started at 7:50. A shame, though, since for half an hour, we thought we had the theatre to ourselves; that would have been a first. It would have been pretty awesome, but we learned later when Ryan walked in and was like, "wow guys, how long have you been here?"

Birthday

I cried for a while today. About what, I'll never know. It's becoming almost comical for me to cry, because it's such a basic instinct that I have to treat it like breathing.

_________

I shall wake up tomorrow morning being 15 years and one day old.

Mhm. Today was my birthday, though I largely forgot about it and tried to ignore it. For me, I'm still trying to understand the human desire to ark the passage of time, when in reality we like things the way they are. Perhaps it's just a human predisposition we've had since the beginning of time.

What's more, I languish when I hear the word time. It's just so irritating to listen to. Time-capsules, time-trials, time-zones, time-travelers, time-pieces. My guess is part of it is that time is also a man-made concept, just like racial differences, or morality. Humans thought up time because they needed a way to mark events in their lives. The "beginning of time" is really when Caveman A woke up and said to Caveman B, "Hey...it's not yesterday!"

Which brings me to the point of birthdays, which really make no sense to me. Scratching the surface, why are we celebrating the date of our birth and not the date of our conception...the real beginning of our existence? Second of all, why celebrate it? It's a date. On the Gregorian Calender.

But presents are always nice.

___________

Welcome to the blog-o-sphere, Lukas. Fuck Myspace.

Tuesday

Granted, it's not Tuesday, but I thought I'd write about what happened at lunch.

It's funny how I find so much to write about so little. So at lunch the French exchange group had a lunch meeting about personal accounting vs. group accounting. (Capitalism versus communism, basically.) And capitalism won by a landslide in just ten minutes after Sasha's concerns got widely ignored.

Then for the next forty minutes, Therese insisted on us continuing to argue the topic. So then a couple people (I won't name names, since arguing when there's nothing to argue about is a common symptom of pigheadedness) decided that we should continue to reiterate the same point (group accounts keep work from being fair!) a couple dozen times. Then someone would interject about a new idea, and Therese would immediately dismiss it on the grounds of "it's been decided!"

So what were we arguing? Someone please tell me.

Things got better around 3:00 when I went down and ran into Lukas and Maddy at Juna's. I couldn't stick around since I was meeting Simon for a snack. I allocated a vast majority of my day's money on Sammy's cheese pizzas and went home a couple pounds heavier.

Oh and other all that shit outside of school, my day was pretty much a wreck for reasons unknown. It still bothers me that I don't know what's bothering me so much. Hmm. If that sentence is any indication of what's wrong, then I don't know how I'm gonna get myself out of this self-perpetuating loophole of um, being bothered.

Um. Yeah.

And yes, I'm in the mood for something sunny.

Telepopmusik? Electronica's not the first thing you think of when you hear the word "sun," but it'll do.

Telepopmusik - Breathe

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Roman 300?

Ridiculously tiring day.

It's disheartening. Oh well. That's the way life works. And that's why I'm downtown trying to gulp down a 16 oz. Sumatra coffee as fast as possible.

Hey look, a half-finished crossword puzzle. I wonder why they stopped. Oh. What the fuck is a "Roman 300?"

Don't you hate it when the title of the post is half the length of the entire blog? Yeah, me too....

Perfume

Best movie I've seen in a long time. Why?

Because it's so new, so original, that I don't even care that it was a book long before it was a movie. I don't care that the portrayal of 18th century Paris is so grim and bitter, that the images were often too graphic for American media, and that Dustin Hoffman was a poor choice for an Italian master perfumer living in Paris. The idea is so fresh for cinema that it didn't matter.

Speaking for myself, I don't think it's that big an issue and that people need to face the fact that modesty is a man-made concept, but it's interesting that this got passed in the United States as an "R" rated film, given that some of the most intriguing shots include teenage nudity. With a rather sketchy premise, I might add.

One more thing I might add: It was a so difficult to distinguish the plum girl, Karoline Herfurth, from Laura, played by Rachel Hurd-Wood, that I actually didn't realize the difference after I got back home. No problem, though, their aesthetic similarity made the movie more powerful in this odd, unexplainable way.

Vicky's Birthday

Telepopmusik - Love Can Damage Your Health (Promo Video)

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That last video was Love Can Damage Your Health by Telepopmusik. It's not a spectacular plot or anything, and the premise of the scene is a little sketchy at the least, but the video itself is truly a work of art. Plus the music's kind of addicting, as is all good French electronica.

And this picture to the left is Barcelona. A juice bar on the street corner, which is a common sight in Spain, supposedly because of the ridiculously hot summers. It makes me really hate this gray, "lukewarm" Ithaca that we have to put up with these day. There's not even snow on the ground, and I was thinking of riding tomorrow with Sasha, but the temperature's dropping again.

________

You know...for someone who hasn't ice-skated in years, I was pretty proud of myself today. I used to figure skate quite a bit. I was pretty good, actually; I've always had good balance in the sports I did, and I caught on to things very quickly. It was disappointing to me to realize I didn't have the skill I used to have, but it didn't surprise me that I could stay up on the ice and only fall once at the beginning. It did surprise me, however, that I remembered how to move. I'm definitely nothing compared to Vicky when it comes to skating, of course. She's pretty damn good. But regardless, I was pretty proud. I think I should do that more often.

It felt a bit weird. Danny and Amir and I were the only guys wearing figure skates. I wonder where the "figure skates are gay" thing came from. My educated guess would be that it stems from the relationship between figure skating and dancing. Dancing can be a beautiful thing. Hey, if we've got the dignity to do it, it just means we're just very secure with our manhood, right?

And come to think about it, a lot of cool things in this world are pretty "gay." Like Myspace and scarves and cranberries in your sandwiches. Not so much the quiches.

Being on ice is an odd feeling. It's not quite the same as rollerblading on the street, yet it utilizes more or less the same motions. The primary difference here is really the sensation you get when you glide. On rollerblades, you get this rough, asphalt sensation that kind of rattles you up to your knees regardless of how much you might have paid for them. Whereas on ice, the feeling's very airy, very carefree, as if one stroke of your legs will take you for a kilometer, if you had the room. It's always colder in a rink too, and it shows. There's something enjoyable about being surrounded by white and bundled in a sweater.

So after the skating escapade, we chilled at Vicky's, which was fun. Dinner, chocolate-coconut cake, and a rather odd pirate movie all preceded the present-thing. And unfortunately, I didn't bring my camera into the rink, since I sort of forgot to take it out of my bag. (Additionally, it didn't have a battery anyway, so what good would it have been?) Speaking of which, I was without one today. I ordered mine online on Monday, so it didn't have time to ship. But I think she'll like it. She's needed it for a while now.

Rommia needs to shut up during movies. :-P So does Mikayla, but Rommia's much funner to pick on.

Happy Birthday, Vicky. <3

Early January

But this time it's not. I got the '07 thing down by 1st period. Today was considerably more enjoyable given the recent week-long break. And most of all...there is no snow.

I was planning on doing some riding today in this unseasonably balmy, 50 degree weather but I figured my time could be better spent on the Commons. I don't even know wwhy I'm down here; I was going to meet a friend but I figure he's not coming; it would've been rather inconvenient anyway, so I don't blame him.

It's all good. I like spending time down here whether I have a point or not. It's calming, it's interesting, and best of all, I never feel obligated to do my homework. Which, today, I have a considerable amount of. I'll do it down here anyway, since I'm *psh* uh, such a good student.

Spill/Simplicity?

as if i left my sanity at home
i part with Juna's door
one hand on the handle
one on my existence
i take five steps forward
aimless steps
worthless steps
five bricks forward
that do nothing
but to deprive
me
of life
as my life
my life
falls out of my
hand
falls out of my
and fills the cracks
in the street so i go back in
to grab another one for
one dollar and
twenty-five cents

_________

First day home?

Feels like shit. I can't function today. You know what it feels like?

Okay. So think of a great big can of Dr. Pepper, all shaken up and ready to blow. And think of, instead of opening the top, suddenly the can is turned inside out and the gas dissipates ingloriously.

Oh, and simplicity? Ah, yes, the ever-so-elusive New Years resolution that's put somewhere on your list, and forgotten just as you realize that you want to keep the byproducts of life. You want to stay an incorrigible pack rat, hold on to the trash that accumulates in your house, or your computer, or your mind. It won't go away, because in reality, you don't want it to.

But I do. I want it out. Last month I remember sitting here at Juna's cafe after school, telling myself that I was scared of change. I told myself that I'd never feel the same way, that there was no way I could revert to my stagnant self. But weeks, later, I'm thinking to myself, where's the change? What have I to be scared of? What's happened to me?

On the bright side, my dreams have disappeared altogether. Sleep is a void.

Vicious cycle? Maybe. But if it's not change, then what is it? Am I complaining too much?

Am I thinking too hard?

__________

Oh, theres a change. This is odd...there's a line at Ned's Pizzeria.

And after watching this video, you can't say you don't have any respect for JT.

Come on people.

__________

“i'm convinced you're sad”

an unexpected response?

not really; predisposition is not

a crime

is it?

Have a lovely New Year. ♥

[Am I the only one confused by the lack of snow?]

January 1, 2007. Two-thousand-seven. I'm not going to get used to this. Didn't it just seem like yesterday when it was the year 2000, and the world was preparing for Y2K to come along and eradicate all technology on the planet? But in fact, it was almost a decade ago when we filled up our bathtubs to supply and closed all the windows and doors and did everything we could to keep radioactive fallout from entering our Tokyo apartment.

Before I begin, I need to apologize in earnest for anything dumb I might have said here. I may have been a bit drunk writing this post. Champagne doesn't mix well with exercise.

And here you go. First post of 2007.

____________

This year, dinner at my place was quiet. But the conversation over dessert was not only animated, but rough. Here we have guitar players and here we have coffee-shop philosophers, and here we have calligraphy artists and potters, all doing their thing at the same time. I personally engaged myself with the philosophers, bringing up an age-old theory that the Greeks tackled and could never solve:

Everything we do is in our own selfish interest. Pure altruism is nonexistent.

I felt awkward talking philosophy with other people four times my age. I felt a little dwindled, even (dare I say) intimidated, but I realized I'm no different, I simply have less experience. So it came as an ego boost when the conversation turned into a debate. I noticed a large divide between mothers and fathers. Mothers believe in pure philanthropy, while fathers seem to agree with me.

I don't know how it got started, but it was an interesting subject we dwelled on for at least an hour. Don't ask.

____________

So after filling up on cappuccinos and coffee beans, Kai and I were out biking and we pulled into Sunset Park in time for the fireworks and the changing of the lights this year. We rolled in as we heard the voices cheering in the lights. We chilled with Shelby for a minute, and soon the park filed out and we were the last two sitting on the stone railing.

It was time for us really just to reflect on the year past. It's been a pretty rough 10th grade, I have to admit, but now that I look back on it and see how much good has come out of this school year, I think...maybe it's just relative. Maybe it's just because 9th grade was simply the best fucking year I've ever had and that every other year to follow will never be the same. But in any case, I can only hope that next year goes smoothly.

Resolutions? Oh, yes I didn't have any until I rolled out of the park. I resolved to continue the tradition of going out to Sunset Park next year to chill in the cold and welcome the lights. I resolved to keep complications out of my life; make it simpler. I resolved to stop caring so much about society and to live the way I want.

____________

Kai and I made our way up to Simon's house, where he was watching the Real World: Denver with Zach and trying to get wasted. I don't normally like beer, but I applaud his taste in a Greek brew whose name I can't pronounce.

When they came out to greet us, Zach got us all locked out of the house. He wasn't even drunk. By the time Simon and I worked out an arrangement about whose shoes to wear, he went to get the backup key, but couldn't find the door it would open. I felt a little bad for Zach, who was the target of every joke for the next hour, but at the same time...that was a pretty dumbass thing to be doing.

We entered his house and chilled for a bit. By that time, the focus of the joke had shifted over to Kai. Poor guy didn't know how to react, but he got through without breaking down, so I respect that.

Simon (half-drunk): "So...Kai...what's your resolution? How's [Sonia and Beal], eh? You still gonna tap that? Huh? Gonna get 'em wasted?"

Personally, I was horrified by the thought. But maybe everyone else wasn't. I had to save Kai by assuring Simon that Kai's through that phase. Later on, he revealed to me that he wasn't over it.

But I can't say I blame him for holding on to his uhm, "old flames." We all have friends who we, even when we claim that they're nothing but good friends, can't help but, euh, keep the door open for exploration. (I'll be blunt. Every teenager on the planet has close friends who they'd be willing to fuck in an instant.) I'd have to admit to one myself. Come on. We all do.

And whether we like it or not, it's not going to change anytime soon. As long as they're your friend, you're always going to have to hold on to your hormones.

____________

On our way out, we got stopped.

I didn't feel angry. I wasn't pissed off. No, I felt guilty. Guilty that I was having a nominally good day and frankly, he wasn't. I felt bad for the cops who had nothing better to do than stalk the streets of suburban Cayuga Heights looking for people to pull over and take blood alcohol tests or whine about being out so late. I felt bad for those who did nothing but ride around in their cop cars when New Years came around. Who did they toast to? Who did they celebrate with? Who were they gonna get wasted with?

So if you're having a shitty day, just think of those poor souls. They're probably having a blast...

So have a lovely New Year, everyone. ♥

- Mirko