Jingle Bulls...

Wow... Check this... Thick clouds and snow in the Grand Canyon... The world is crashing. Finally.

Double-Sided Stone

The idea that multiple sclerosis may be caused by some form of
infectious agent is supported by several interesting observations.
On the Faroe Islands prior to 1920, MS was essentially unknown.
Subsequent to the invasion of British troops, the incidence of MS
increased dramatically.

It occurs to you later that the moment of learning is inevitably transformative, intrinsically so, apart from all the other crap you learn later.

Anyway, the logical flaws in the composition of this article are interesting. Never mind the clear conclusion that the only MS was brought by the British. The critical premise regards the desire to be aware. Dismiss the popular urge to prevent, to avoid....Then why this neoPuritanism? Can we not embrace our life in safety and moderation? But I relinquish my stump. I question the fundamental utility of this research. (I am satisfied with my fatalism, though I understand the curiosity. But look! Ain't fuck-all to be done about what has happened to me, what I lost, what was taken. It fucked up a good thing, and I'm still a shade bitter. But things are not bad right now.) Consider these two relatively diametric positions.
This is the first I have heard of symptomatic relief.
Then there is the other one which regards a putative cause of the condition. My question is: what now? Just keep taking your meds and quit whining.

Interstitial Pudding

What stretches on with infinite patience, sprawling between moments, what attenuates to translucent obscurity, though you may try and try to engrave such grasping words, are they not but written in the clouds? What else can possibly sustain you? It is (hopefully) enough to strive for the most meager moment of emotional release, inasmuch as the starving man may be sustained by the thinnest of broth... In the desert the merest drop of water will be an opportunity for celebration, or at least the climate is fierce enough to demand your notice of this.

Now that I've signed over a chunk of my identity, or surely some subtly momentous change has come about...at any rate I feel a shade more peaceful than when I was working there.

I AM SO GLAD I WENT THERE FIRST!

Today has already been productive. All you ever need is one day.

I wonder who reads this... Probably no one.

Profound puzzlement

Of course I have an idea how to overcome this. But I am wasting time doing it regardless, because I am telling you about it now. Anyway...

Grinding Socialization

This is what you can expect from raising the name "living room" to its bracing reality. There are always people around, and one hopes to enjoy the company of as many of them as possible. Feeling well, just typically dizzy and a bit tired. Slept well last night: it's a comfy sofa. Hmm, they're booting me off again... This is no way to get the least shred of work done.

Chocobis?

Hmmm...

Only a Brief Time Ago

Sandy skin, auburn eyes downcast in sad resignation... Behija.

Nta douib, Moussa, and there's nothing can be done about it.

Ana douib? Kifash douib?

Fransawi réynard.

Alesh?

But no answer. My fate was already sealed by an untouchable gorgeous woman. Her friend with the giant dark eyes, wide and solemn, was Awadtef. Feelings, it meant. They were from Beni Mellal.

People Are Impossible

Or, why won't the pretty girl at the pizza place go out with me? Probably because she's intimidated by me, and also not actually interested in spending any more time in my company than is necessary. Bummer. Though I don't want to be reminded of this for the next eternity so, out of whimsical indignation, I will write this in ORANGE. Stay posted for further updates.

Alienation is a Friend of Mine

Not sure where to begin... The hackneyed starving artist quotation "A writer writes!" will do as well as anything. Before, I was broke in another country, but hopeful of a job starting at the end of Ramadan... But my shredded nerves had other plans. (Props to the Foreign Service, and all their bustlingly professional sorts in consulates around the world, specifically one Pamela Hack.) When I arrived in the consulate in Casablanca, I was either embarrassingly drunk or else in need of medical attention. But I don't drink. I was perilously dizzy, perpetually falling, and sometimes hitting the ground. My speech was affected, as one might find in a person recovering from a stroke, slurred and mumbled. Three of my five senses were disrupted. But my family (by which I mean my blood, no one else since I'm not yet married, I'm old-school like that) got the message quickly and helped me out. Surely it was a poorly planned trip, and surely the lack of necessary measures was informed by my urgently felt need to escape from where I'd been. Ironic, then, to end up where I began, but in worse circumstances! Often I have felt ignored, overlooked, neglected, swaddled in a silence ostensibly justified by placing me in a safe location. Safe enough, but psychically draining-- easily bored, the only real entertainment I found was in substances. Given their inherent evanescence, obviously a waste. Only what is created matters, and of that, only NOW.

Some Thoughts

Mediocrity. Paranoia. Blindness. Oppression. Identity and its emptiness. Boredom. Sterility. Analgesia. Slavery, but consentual. Anonymity; would you know the difference? It was an idea informed by the environment of its birth in the hospital, and colored by the relative weakness of culture. But I won't let it go, even if it alienates everyone around me. Like that has ever stopped me. But a quote comes to mind, from a woman who works for the Algerian consulate: Never say die. It took me a bit of time to figure it out, but eventually I did.

Back in the _____ Again

God, it was good to be there for a little while... It became quickly apparent that I had prepared poorly. Though it must be noted: if you are going to be broke in Morocco, Ramadan is a good time to do this. True, I have benefited by returning...in some ways. Ways more valuable to others than me, considering I would make the same choices again. I regret that I have chosen rather expensive hobbies, but mektoub as we say. Carry on, and come up with a more sustainable way to serve these ends.

As If Anyone Cares

Finally… a blank paper. I have a notebook, but this vexing condition makes it easier to write by typing. Naturally, my laptop is 1) in America and 2) rather broken… but I found a keyboard still. So what if it’s French ?

Got scrubbed last night. Lost about 10 lbs. of dead skin, felt great ! Man you guys are missing out.

Still a little flared up… I am still mad dizzy and my left side is somewhat numb. But it doesn’t keep from puffing, even during Ramadan.

New gig : Pigier. Seems alright, though Frenchy. Also salary is not fixed, but rather related to the number of students. Sure.

Next: to throw down on some film and put up some good pictures. Maybe.

FUCK ALGERIA!!!

Wow, those people are WAY too paranoid... I was judged as an unprofessional failure before I even left the airport on the basis of my inconvenient luggage and my lack of socks. (Thanks, dear friends.) Well, screw all that. I have arrived in a far more sane land: Morocco!

I will write here again in maybe a week or so when I have more cash. In the meantime, feel free to write me (though I expect you won't) or even call: +212 0.54.48.33.11. Talk soon.

A Glimpse of Daylight

Work papers are coming through. The place looks something like this. Stay tuned.

Someone Else's Idea

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Well alright then.

oh for heaven's sake

Out of sheer desperation, I accepted a job in Korea... but as we all know that is not really where I want to be. But I suck it up and get the gig. THEN I hear back from a school in Algeria. I follow up with them, and hope this doesn't take another 2 weeks. Apparently a visa to Algeria only requires $100, which is forthcoming from the brother. Aaarrrgh. So if I get the Algerian gig, I will cancel the Korean gig (sorry, folks) and fork over the cash. Alright. Let me make something happen somewhere interesting. Surely a North African gig will be more labor-intensive, and probably less lucrative, than a Korean gig, but......we are not really here for the $. I don't want another cruddy winter. So wheels are turning, more to come... Stay tuned.

The Worst Muslim on Earth

Just watched Le Grand Voyage with my roommate. I know I'm supposed to go on this trip, but I don't see how this would ever be possible: the expense alone is exorbitant. But it's important. Suffice to say that Islam makes a damn sight more sense to me than it used to. I (breathlessly) anticipate that I will be closer to my spot in the sun for Ramadan, which I find quite compelling.

I feel no compulsion to explain this to anyone; I believe God gets it (insha'llah) and the rest of you can get knotted.

The Path is still clear. Nothing can obscure it but for my own foolishness. Meanwhile, progress of the Plan continues slowly. We will see in a couple weeks. Health remains strong, hamd'ulillah.

I am amazed by the clarity of the Path and its revelation to me. I never thought anything like this would happen, but it has. So it has been decreed, so shall it remain. How comforting.