car·pet·bag·ger : Pronunciation: -"ba-g&r . Function: noun. Etymology: from their carrying all their belongings in carpetbags - car·pet·bag·gery

: OUTSIDER; especially : a nonresident or new resident who meddles in politics (merriam webster online)

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Smile

You know those people who just talk way too much? Every time they open their mouths they go into such extraordinary detail, explaining everything so excessively that they never shut up. I can think of one, who by the time she finally stops talking I have gotten so sick of listening, reassuring I'm listening, and expressing the fact that I do indeed understand what she is saying to me, that I'm sure she can see the look of disdain on my face. I don't hate her though, she is extremely kind, so I try my hardest to be polite and patient and hide my sneer. Those who know me will know that I am not especially good at keeping what I think to myself, sure I may not say anything, but other people can feel my ire, see my aversion to them. I just want to scream at her, "Yes, I fucking understand you!" and no, "I don't care about every single inane detail of your daily affairs," "I am not stupid and I don't want you to explain to me how to do really obvious things like operate a refrigerator!!" Instead, the higher minded, new me says nothing and tries really hard to smile.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

That sinkining feeling

You want to trust someone, you try to trust that person, you let yourself believe their obvious embellishments but in the end it becomes impossible and you must admit-they're a liar and you've been taken for a ride, but you buck up, dust off, fix your hair and you calmly explain to the liar that he has messed with the wrong bird.

I am not that easy to break.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Something can be learned from "Sex in the City"

Yes there are not many valuable lessons to be weaned from this television show but there is one that comes to my mind today...

That of the GayStraight man. This is a Straight man who intentionally or otherwise carries himself off as a Gay man in order to win over the trust of women, based on his nonpredatorial association. Then once he has won over this trust-he flips the switch and that 'friendlymassagetorelieveyourperiodpain' quickly turns into a seduction manuever. Now I have seen this tactic played out many times before, and though the cast of SC depicts your succesful business man type in the GayStraight man role this move is even more cringe-causing when it is played by your bohemianactivistcolledgestudent type. You want to trust that this man is your friend and sometimes you can-except for those bad apples...

I recently witnessed one of these stray-feed me-dogs, seducing a woman with the signature massage trick and I really could not contain my ire. I had no choice but to wake the unknowing lady from her 'relaxation'stupor and tell her what was what, before those hands strayed any further.

Gentlemen, if your going to try to seduce us at least come out and admit it!

Monday, October 8, 2007

Aren't the mountains beautiful?

A steep hike up reveals a wonderful valley capable of being understood. It needs not seek guidance , plead for patience, or win one over as a friend. It exists in total completion.

Thursday, October 4, 2007

"Thoreau tells us he is fully capable of living a more than pre-detemined life.

This is my argument again and once more but some people don't seem to get it. Well let us learn something from the author of that famous essay "Civil disobedience" that inspired Gandhi and MLK and anarcho kids in NYC to this day.

I find myself reading On the Road again, this is the third time and I almost never read books more than once. But I have to, it doesn't matter that I know the story, its in the telling. Its all in the telling and Thoreau (yes I'm reading two books at once now that I have more time) tells us that by imagining the course, describing it vividly, we achieve much more than that nagging destination which we are always expected to arrive at-to become-the owner of some tittle or object, not much has changed since the days of the old English Monarchy has it?

I'm rambling- what I meant to say is I love reading about the mad journey and resting temporarily from mine. I have in tow the excited traveler and the quiet recluse-both writers looking to discover something.

I eat gnocchi my favorite and I scavenge vegetables when that market is over-still fresh, I exchange glances with modern gypsies and old Italians, we collect the waste. I watch Preminger movies in black and white at the cinema next door every night. I drink tea with lemon and honey and ginger and study maps.

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

I don't think we're in Kansas anymore toto

I walk down the wide avenue gazing this way and that and I notice a large crowd approaching me is it a popular protest, Saturday afternoon the perfect opportunity to reclaim the streets? No, its end of summer sales, 50% off, and the crowds are flocking, the line to the fitting rooms at HM stretches out the door, where am I?I turn to my imaginary toto and remark,
"I don't' think we're in Kansas anymore" toto says nothing. He won't dignify my comment with an answer, because of course we're not.

We are in Nice, France. I have just finished cycling for Darfur and slowly the world of mornings lit by golden light and beaches and new faces and bakery sandwiches for lunch starts to fade out and garish shoppers, fashionable, noses stuck up in the air begin to fade in to my consciousness. Sometimes my focus is so singular that I cease to see the commuters shrouded in designer fear.