June 2006

Monthly Archive

I went to a bar in a complex of buildings and park area known as Treasure Hill. Apparently this hill housed higherups in somebody’s military a long time ago. It is now divided into a number canadianpharmacy-cialistop of units devoted to different purposes, such as artists’ studios, residences, and this bar. It is not a place for casual drug use. Half of

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the bumbling but occasionally destructive government here wants to tear down all the old buildings as being against code, while the other half still fondly remembers those military higherups and has seen fit to http://viagracanada-onlinerx.com/ channel funding to the area–as well as distinction as a cultural site. The buildings are ramshackle and are a strawberry in the plain yogurt metascape I will call

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my home for a short while longer. The bar seems to have several other buildings dangling in front of it from above but in reality this is not happening. They are vaguely Japanese, with thick window frames and decisive angles with regard to the awnings, eves, and roofs. The materials are pleasing brown and cream clay or stucco, with canada pharmacy website bricks and how can you buy viagra over the counter viagra canada dark-stained planks protruding and possibly they are cantilevered? The lofted second floor was packed and relied on the friendliness of those below to be thoroughly watered by the cheap whiskey and sake brought in great volume for this event. On the ground floor, crowded shuffling put the chalk-written match schedule in peril, while an inordinate number of black suits sprouted reddened flesh above the collar as sweat fell down bridges of noses and knees and cigarettes flailed like morningstar maces around those seated. There were about 5 Germans there. I was aware of this but couldn’t help braying with laughter throughout

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most of viagra dosage and time the opening ceremony online viagra in Munich. They had a bunch of guys with enormous bells attached to their belts, and they would shake the bells to make part of a song. But as their arms tired it fell to their hips to generate the locomotion, and it soon looked like a big ring of guys fucking some bells. This bizarre insemination ritual was followed by a Berlin-based hip hop group called Seed that was hilarious for most of cialis tablete efekti the reasons German hip hop tends to be. The Germans at the bar also had to contend with a group of Canadians yelling a bunch of shit about Germany and trying to speak with German accents. The game was being projected on a bed sheet draped in the doorway just inside the building, which made unwitting lovers’ escapades into a Thai shadow puppet show for the amusement of the peanut gallery. I think some people didn’t understand that the game was on this screen. One of the beautiful idiots working at the bar took a break and was kicking it and giggling hysterically until spoken to quite harshly by the assembled crowd. And of course like most TV events lately it had for me a certain unreality. The unusually high score (4-2 Germany) felt like the rash of home run seasons in Major League Baseball that have led some to suggest corked bats and overwound balls. Plus Barry Bonds’ head forces him to stop at truck scales when he attempts to cross state lines. As we waited for the game to begin at midnight, the TV for some reason had been left on CNN, which displayed “Breaking News” in a poison yellow box on the bottom right; above that was a photograph lowest price generic viagra of the dead al-Zarqawi and taking up the bulk of the screen was a montage of machine guns being fired set to the voice of a political commentator who seems to think Zarqawi was driven to terrorism by torture in a Jordanian prison. Also, he apparently kept weapons, uniforms, and other generic terrorist equipment on the floor of his living room. When he says food tastes bad, the food actually tastes good, and he says “I hate you” when he means “I love you”. This story details the Captain Nemo-like manner of Zarqawi’s death. What they left out is that in the military ambulance buy viagra online Zarqawi sat up and does viagra cause headaches tried to strangle his captors with all the strength he possesses from his bargain with Satan. A young marine chaplain finally staked his heart with a crucifix, but not before the ambulance careered wildly, spilling medical equipment and causing the stand holding Zarqawi’s IV bag to roll with disabling force into the vigilant and restrained MP officers. But this gruesome event bookended only the beginning of the match, which ended with a stream of drunks flowing contentedly into a night of sub-tropical rain here and into Munich sunshine there.

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After three days of dedicated television viewing, speaking in tongues and consuming enough pie and coffee to send half of the continent into http://viagracanadianpharmacy-norx.com/ convulsions we had grasped in the dark for some way to continue the experience… Something akin, I suppose, to post-ejaculate depression which may or may not be a cointed psuedo-scientific term but there is a band called PED after it… Twin Peaks was finished and now it was back to the real world, back to our lives, back to the day to day or in one person’s case– off to New York for fun and excitement… Â The only near-plausible concept for another event which could corrale the four of us onto the couch with plates of food and senseless 4am conversations about plot deviations and how much James sucks was to attempt to construct a chain of movies which could flow together thematically, like a successful mix-tape… What exactly this could mean or how it would be arranged is beyond me but the idea of watching all three “Back to the Future” movies was beaten down with clubs and left to bleed it out behind a McDonald’s dumpster… Didn’t think about it at the time but I had already wrapped some sandwiches in a handkerchief and slung a stick over my back… Adrzej Wajda‘s war trilogy seemed to touch off a reborn fascination with similar political dramas that have

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slowly been amassed and run through the DVD player… Roberto Rosselini’s first film, “Open City” and its neo-realist approach had been a pretty obvious influence on Wajda’s first two films and carried a different perspective on the same theme– an occupied people’s struggles… So I’d conveniently blocked out the melodramatic scenes from my memory but even the laughable hysterics and touching pride can’t mar a historical triumph… Last night I skipped over “Falcon and the Snowman” and sat down with a pot of popcorn to watch viagra non prescription alternative Costa-Gavras’ “Z“, a very modern film based on the assassination and attempted cover-up of the Greek leftist member of parliment Grigoris Lambrakis, which I’d seen once before and was infuriated during the entire viewing… The disbelief and anger was a little abated the second time around, tho because I’ve grown more jades or bitter or because I knew what to expect I couldn’t say… Some of the more powerful scenes are Gavras’s use of location shots, directing throngs of people, squadrons of police and capturing the complete chaos of mob violence and street fighting… Watching a staunch pacifist take a rock to the head and still refuse to allow his associates to lash back in defence hits your gut the same as watching reactionary thugs taunt the bleeding hippies sprawling out on the ground refusing to fight back, the same as the line of police refusing to intervene… All of this over an anti-nuclear rally and the anti-communist sentiments of rabid nationalists… Earlier in cialis 10 mg the day I became aware of the fact that I’d totally blanked on election day… Not only was this the first time since turning 18 that I’d skipped the vote but it was also the first time I can remember not knowing anything about what the issues were supposed to be about… The right to vote has always been a pretty hot topic when growing up, my father probably ready and willing to physically drag me to the polls had I refused to go on my own… I grew up watching the news and reading the paper, bitching about the state of things and caring just enough to think everything was stupid… Not much has changed, of course, except that I’m most often watching Deutsch-Welle instead of local news and I can’t even look at the Chronicle anymore without wanting to laugh and cry… The fucking fact that I didn’t even know it was election day until someone leaving work mentioned it made me feel like I may as well have been shooting black in the how is cialis different from viagra south and setting freedom rider busses on fire… Of course I’m not a democrat so

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the primary was the least of my concerns (tho I would have voted for Barbara Becnel, as embarassing as that may be) but watching “Z” after watching “Open City” after canadian foundation for pharmacy innovation gala watching “A Generation”, “Kanal” and “Ashes and Diamonds” really reaffirms just how much easier it’s gotten for people who believe in “what’s right” to express their opinions and try to make a difference somehow… The totaltarian regimes are not photographing you, there are no long black cars down the block following you and when you walk across the street to give a little pep talk about how nice flowers are you’re probably not going to be brained in full view of a police cordon…  Yeah, whatever, it’s just guilt and I would have felt just as guilty (if not more) voting on isses I’d not even bothered to investigate… Every year I skip a lot of shit on the ballot I don’t understand because I don’t think it’s very responsible to vote on shit you know nothing about… Now I’m just totally irresponsible instead of partially… And I’ve been wanting to watch “Battle of Algiers” again for a really long time…

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When I was in 7th grade I thought I was pretty much master of the universe. I was also unbelievably awkward and couldn’t look a girl in the eyes. Looking back, I don’t know how to reconcile these features of my adolescence, born on the pimpled edge between childhood liberation and teenage anxiety.

I started writing poetry then, long since lost. But those early, playful stirrings on a page would later mature into the black stars of a real poet.

Last week I had the opportunity to relive those 7th grade years when I taught middle schoolers to write contemporary haiku poems. These newborn poets reflected for the first time on “economy of words” and uncovering “the wonder of ordinary things.”

Some favorites:

no one saw
what was still there
stranded in the sand

Maddie R., St. Gregory’s School

a man vacuuming
but he will never stop
cleaning a desert

Nick D., JLS Middle School

two men that looked alike
were not twins
both were next to a mirror

Payat M., JLS Middle School

After the class, I posted all the haiku to the internet and my students read their work to their respective schools — standing up on stage and reading from the podium: talk about awkward. But sometimes you can say a lot with few words.

See the complete collection.

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