Friday, June 18, 2010
Untouched News
This strikes me as a little strange... West Virginia notwithstanding, but no mention of this one..?
Thursday, June 17, 2010
More Reflection
The Project has been hitherto accomplished with remarkable alacrity, considering the potential pitfalls.. It has been an object lesson in immigration law, a suitably anonymous introduction to various functions of governance, and a sort of pithy lecture on the vagaries of public finance. Lord knows I did not leave for Morocco 5 years ago in search of my wife! I was looking for an escape from heartless New York, for something that suited me better, and I found it! Within a few weeks of my arrival in Meknes, I could read the writing on the wall. More comfortable in a very foreign country than I'd ever been in my own (or any other, for that matter), the question was open: what would ever take me back to the US? I came up with only two answers, either I come down with some weird disease or someone dies. Thank God, no one died.
The idea of applying for a fiancee visa was given to me by my friend, Luke Johnson. Eventually, SSI came through, and I had sufficient funding to work the levers of power. Lila's visa application was completed in December, and a red, white, and blue sticker was put in her green passport in May. She has been legal to enter the United States since then, and we expect her arrival next month.
My family (my mother and stepfather) have been crucially helpful during this time. I write this on her laptop, seated in the kitchen of the house he renovated. My gimlet attitude towards Danny's bourgeois predominance notwithstanding, this would have been far more difficult (if not impossible) without their assistance. As I've noted several times before, the dominant social institution in the US is the State, whereas this position in Morocco is held by the Family.
Being American, nothing withholds me from reaping benefit of both, each strong in their own domain. The US pays me every month, no matter what I spend it on, and I enjoy the unique American privilege of extending my own benefits to another (one) as I see fit. To put this another way: was there ever as well prepared an immigrant as Mlle. Jalila Benlali? Guaranteed income and subsidized rent: no Moroccan has had it so good. Me neither!
The idea of applying for a fiancee visa was given to me by my friend, Luke Johnson. Eventually, SSI came through, and I had sufficient funding to work the levers of power. Lila's visa application was completed in December, and a red, white, and blue sticker was put in her green passport in May. She has been legal to enter the United States since then, and we expect her arrival next month.
My family (my mother and stepfather) have been crucially helpful during this time. I write this on her laptop, seated in the kitchen of the house he renovated. My gimlet attitude towards Danny's bourgeois predominance notwithstanding, this would have been far more difficult (if not impossible) without their assistance. As I've noted several times before, the dominant social institution in the US is the State, whereas this position in Morocco is held by the Family.
Being American, nothing withholds me from reaping benefit of both, each strong in their own domain. The US pays me every month, no matter what I spend it on, and I enjoy the unique American privilege of extending my own benefits to another (one) as I see fit. To put this another way: was there ever as well prepared an immigrant as Mlle. Jalila Benlali? Guaranteed income and subsidized rent: no Moroccan has had it so good. Me neither!
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
At this point, the psychological stress of the Project has become reached a sort of crescendo. In noh theater, one understands the intensity of emotion, choking these players beyond their elocution... We are ALMOST there. I plan to see her next month, here in distant Ithaca. Stay tuned; marriage follows.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Betrothed
When I was a kid, learning French, I found the word fiancee expressed the past tense; as in "fianceed".. So then what did it mean to BE a fiance? (I resent the difficulty of including the proper accent notations, aigu and grave.. But it's OK.) The approximate equal would be betrothed: There does exist one for whom I have expressed devotion, one to whom I will always be true! Hence be-truthed. But that is just between her and me. We established this a few years ago in Meknes. Now for everyone else...
I feel the natural state of a fiance (me) is in tension, like an unrequited letter.. Now that the visa petition has been sent off, the bureaucratic wheels are in motion! I have chased my pathetic bank balance into a corner, whimpering, to get things this far, and there's MORE... But as with any honest fiancee, a tension is held tight within me, nervous and excited, one I don't care to resolve at the moment. I am becoming a connoisseur of tension: I know the permanent resolution I desire!
She may be seen here, in August 2007.
I feel the natural state of a fiance (me) is in tension, like an unrequited letter.. Now that the visa petition has been sent off, the bureaucratic wheels are in motion! I have chased my pathetic bank balance into a corner, whimpering, to get things this far, and there's MORE... But as with any honest fiancee, a tension is held tight within me, nervous and excited, one I don't care to resolve at the moment. I am becoming a connoisseur of tension: I know the permanent resolution I desire!
She may be seen here, in August 2007.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
anyone want a trilingual teacher??
http://www.seriousteachers.com/TEFL/TeflSchool.asp?idteflschool=10027124
I wonder if this works....
I wonder if this works....
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
And Yet It Keeps Moving
Gazing pensively out the window, a sun-dappled morning in the spring, shadows of new leaves spread generously… Krusty has a Deep Thought.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever hit anybody—“
I stare at him incredulously. His shoulders are three times the width of mine.
“Twice.”
“Oh.”
Falstaff, strongly reminiscent, a big character, roaring with passion and life-be-damned enthusiasm for any number of colorful chemicals, a man pigmented by the hues of his fierce appetite for such things.
-- So what, are you packing that thing?
-- I found something.
-- What’s the story with the heat in this house? It’s roasting in my room.
-- We made some nachos. Knock yourself out.
What did the magic number mean, we only smoked twice a day, if we were awake in the middle of the night? No, there was a different stripe of ideology to resist. You never wanted to hear about a crystal again as long as you lived. Remembering the Drainbow.
-- It’s about the comfortability.
I remembered in time not to cover myself. I had no need of self-protection, any thought of vulnerability was an illusion. I am not a hijabia. So, I understood, you stand where you know you are right, and you don’t give an inch. However, Real Life may not call for such a combative outlook at every moment, and this may alienate fragile people. Besides, when you do give your inch and feel bad about it, you must have some capacity for self-apology or some such. Because, yes, you will sustain through this moment, and you should have enough room for yourself the next day. Embarrassing as it is to express. But I will be back on that couch at some point. Lord, you can see that it’s true…
I am so tired.
Why do you say you left your heart there?
Truth seemed to be clearer there. It was closer to the Source.
What do you mean by that?
It seemed that there was less fragmentation between the Source from which all things originate and their eventual destination in the sand. The things which were good were extraordinarily so, the tastes, aromas, appearances of the place would sear themselves on your experience. The honey was of some transcendent substance, a smear of simple magic collected safely in a small glass jar, provided in accommodation with cakes for breakfast.
…
The word of the evening will be reification. By this the process of distinction is highlighted; the transiently, vague border separating the belief from the superstition is made distinct. So we abandon our comfortable wishes, we cease our stubborn disregard of what is plainly incontrovertible, and we gather familiar stones and make a fire pit.
Repetition of closely held values is typical; in case there was any doubt. It’s all about the comfortability.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever hit anybody—“
I stare at him incredulously. His shoulders are three times the width of mine.
“Twice.”
“Oh.”
Falstaff, strongly reminiscent, a big character, roaring with passion and life-be-damned enthusiasm for any number of colorful chemicals, a man pigmented by the hues of his fierce appetite for such things.
-- So what, are you packing that thing?
-- I found something.
-- What’s the story with the heat in this house? It’s roasting in my room.
-- We made some nachos. Knock yourself out.
What did the magic number mean, we only smoked twice a day, if we were awake in the middle of the night? No, there was a different stripe of ideology to resist. You never wanted to hear about a crystal again as long as you lived. Remembering the Drainbow.
-- It’s about the comfortability.
I remembered in time not to cover myself. I had no need of self-protection, any thought of vulnerability was an illusion. I am not a hijabia. So, I understood, you stand where you know you are right, and you don’t give an inch. However, Real Life may not call for such a combative outlook at every moment, and this may alienate fragile people. Besides, when you do give your inch and feel bad about it, you must have some capacity for self-apology or some such. Because, yes, you will sustain through this moment, and you should have enough room for yourself the next day. Embarrassing as it is to express. But I will be back on that couch at some point. Lord, you can see that it’s true…
I am so tired.
Why do you say you left your heart there?
Truth seemed to be clearer there. It was closer to the Source.
What do you mean by that?
It seemed that there was less fragmentation between the Source from which all things originate and their eventual destination in the sand. The things which were good were extraordinarily so, the tastes, aromas, appearances of the place would sear themselves on your experience. The honey was of some transcendent substance, a smear of simple magic collected safely in a small glass jar, provided in accommodation with cakes for breakfast.
…
The word of the evening will be reification. By this the process of distinction is highlighted; the transiently, vague border separating the belief from the superstition is made distinct. So we abandon our comfortable wishes, we cease our stubborn disregard of what is plainly incontrovertible, and we gather familiar stones and make a fire pit.
Repetition of closely held values is typical; in case there was any doubt. It’s all about the comfortability.
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