I woke up one morning thinking
Of things I could do today
Of all the thing I'd do today
Of everything I had to do
Of all the things I had to do.
And so I slapped the snooze
And drifted off to sleep again.
Awoke again not that much later
Planning on taking a shower
Allocating the next few hours
Maybe I could get a little more
Maybe I could get a little more
Maybe I'd dream
Maybe I'd sleep
And so I slept
The light returned and with a start
I think I’ll save the world today
I think the world I’ll save today
Everyone needs healing
Everyone is stealing
I think I’ll make it whole again
I think I’ll make it work again
The way it was supposed to be
Wouldn’t that be nice
I woke again in not too long
My body urging to be gone
I was going to make a change today
I was going to make a change this day
I was going to save the world
I was going to spread the word
In just five minutes I'll get up
In just a little I'll be up
I think I’ll just relax
The world can wait
The evening fell in not to long
And naturally I rose quite strong
Rested do I feel I do
Rested and I slept for you
Changing things is tiring
Saving us is tiring
I think ill meditate before I leave
I think I'll concentrate before I leave
And formulate a plan
And dreaming it began
And not too long the sun did rise
And not too long the birds did rise
The birds will save the world today
The birds will rescue us this day
"I'll join them in a little while"
Said I sleeping with a smile.
Monday, January 31, 2005
Sunday, January 23, 2005
Wandering amidst the thick flaccid walls of adversity brings life into the glorious days of recollection. There is a place which one seeks to find so elusive, that one cannot but smile and delight at the complexity of it all. There is feeling in the emotions of reconnaissance. There is joy in the finding of one’s temporary self. There is thrill at the thought of perpetual evolution, which leads yet again into another complex gathering if thoughts and feelings which bring about the creation of Yourself. And yet this striving, this insatiable search for inner enlightenment, is in itself a journey towards what one desires to be made in the image of. It is a romantic journey, a fine scavenger hunt which we self inflict, to give meaning to our lives. And at the end of it all, who knows weather or not the cycles will cease, for it is not revealed to us what lies beyond that which we have been confined to. However confinement is improperly used for one has never yet tested the true limits of one’s own imagination. That is the beauty of human existence. Whatever we think of can happen if we truly strive for it, even in an imperfect sense. So let go, find freedom, live life, learn, discover, bask in the glory of our youth. Our’s is a generation which will last forever, a culture which will never change due to its very nature of constant re-adaptation. Each day we grow stronger, for it is inevitable. With all the screwed up things which are happening around us, I am honored, privileged, and relieved to be able to benefit from the opportunities which have been bestowed upon me. And now, with everything I have, I will love to the fullest, laugh as best I can, suffer as deeply is my soul, cry as though the rivers themselves were issued from them, and be content with the fact that nothing can hold me back.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
Tom Petty "Greatest Hits CD"
-So why did you date her?
-Because she put out.
As I fight off the remaining shreds of lethargy, the clock tells me that I have woken up entirely too early, and I still don't feel like doing all the things I should be doing today. Mustard is good. I like it more and more every day. I subscribed to the Montreal Gazette this morning just after waking up. I kept on forgetting. Tuna from a can tastes like ass without mayo. I am becoming more and more cynical. Last night I dreamed a conversation I'm going to have today. He told me the evening backfired because she couldn't lubricate. A friend of mine and his girlfriend are in trouble. I am sad for them. Today is econometrics. I hate econometrics. I should apply for my visa. I wonder if she came back today; I should call her friend. I don't know what to tell her though. Maybe I'll organize a poker night this evening. I want my play station back. I need to get more quests that are my level. My pager is ringing.
-So why did you date her?
-Because she put out.
As I fight off the remaining shreds of lethargy, the clock tells me that I have woken up entirely too early, and I still don't feel like doing all the things I should be doing today. Mustard is good. I like it more and more every day. I subscribed to the Montreal Gazette this morning just after waking up. I kept on forgetting. Tuna from a can tastes like ass without mayo. I am becoming more and more cynical. Last night I dreamed a conversation I'm going to have today. He told me the evening backfired because she couldn't lubricate. A friend of mine and his girlfriend are in trouble. I am sad for them. Today is econometrics. I hate econometrics. I should apply for my visa. I wonder if she came back today; I should call her friend. I don't know what to tell her though. Maybe I'll organize a poker night this evening. I want my play station back. I need to get more quests that are my level. My pager is ringing.
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
One of life’s most frustrating things is finding oneself in the confines of a closed space during an 8-hour period awaiting time to pass so that one can continue his bloody journey. Miami greets you. It is about 6 AM eastern standard time, 9 AM for me. I am running on few hours of sleep, and all in all I’m feeling just a tad bitchy about my 8 hour layover.
The past few weeks have been a frenzy of hardcore rest and relaxation in the most masochistic sense. I have discovered (technically) 3 new countries although I was passed out and hungover for one of them, and didn’t leave the airport for another. On the other hand, Uruguay is a brilliant undiscovered heaven, which I am certain will soon fall under the throes of rampant commercialism and tack. This being said, I had made up my mind to make the most of my holiday, in every possible sense.
My first days in Uruguay were spent in the capital city of Montevideo which, although very nice, didn’t have very much to offer in my opinion. My flight over was smooth except for a slight delay in Montreal which resulted in my spending 15 minutes in Miami rather and an hour and a half, before my connection. I suppose this extended layover kind of makes up for it, but as usual I digress.
I met a man named Diego on the way down who helped pass the hours as we discussed trivial matters. I did not click with this particular human, but it was better than doing nothing, and so I indulged in what conversation I could to help pass the hours. Upon my arrival I got his contact information, but never got around to calling him for reasons which will become clear later. After 2 days in Montevideo, having visited malls, small shops for tourists, and entirely too much cable TV, we made our way down to Punta Del Este.
Punta is a small holiday town which is active during 3 months of the year. Its entire economy relies heavily on tourism. It lies on a peninsula which juts out into the Atlantic Ocean, and the mouth of the Rio de la Plata, offering turbulent waves on the Atlantic side, and calm waters on the River side. Temperatures during the day got to about 30-35ish, down to about 20-25ish at night. People complained about the cold evenings. I did an awful lot of laughing.
One day after our arrival, my parents went to see an apartment, and my ever so resourceful and watchful mother came back with the gift of a telephone number, belonging to an attractive young female who I’ll call Bonnie, since I can’t come up with anything more Irish sounding, and the fact that she’s got a bit of the blood and an obsession with Celtic culture. She was in fact Uruguayan, and one of the only ones I met the entire time. Our first evening, she introduced me to a crowd of Brazilians who were all there for pretty much the same reasons I as. One mutual friend, desire to party etc… Bonnie knew the drill perfectly, confiding in me that herself and a few select others form groups like this routinely during the summer holidays (Uruguay is south of the Equator, below Argentina and Brazil). The first evening, I was taken from a quaint little bar called “Miro” (After the painter, who was actually from Mallorca, but I didn’t bother asking why they’d named the bar after him), to a disco called La Paya. La Playa was in fact on a beach, but with no access to it unfortunately. I christened the john’s and went looking for action which I never really found. I made a few attempts at conversation with the members of our group, but since someone decided that the best place to dance was right below the speaker, I didn’t get much in the way of quality conversation. I also attempted moving and speaking to a few strangers. One girl was quite rude to me, the others seemed uninterested. All in all it was a shitty night, the music sucked, I was tired and demoralized, but I had met people. I went to bed with a mad ringing in my ears at 6 AM which apparently was early, as I found out later.
The following days we spent time at the beach, went out dancing in a various places, some shopping. I got to know my new friends pretty well, but I only seemed to have bonded well with one Brazilian guy living in Miami. I had gotten along well with Bonnie, but she came down with a bit of a flu shortly after our meeting, and so I didn’t have enough time to work my magic. Nonetheless, I hardly every went to sleep before 7 AM, sober, from having sweated out all the alcohol dancing. I’d get up at about 2 PM, and spend some time acquiring darker pigments, nap, and dance the night away so to speak. Most of my days were spent with our very good friends, the Locatellis who had invited us there in the first place. These guys are awesome friends of the family, and it was great seeing them.
We spent Christmas among family, and friends. It was small, intimate, charming. I love Christmas.
At some point we decided to drive north to the border with Brazil to explore some old forts built by Spanish and Portuguese. I told the to my Brazilian buddy, and ride home for the evening, who promised me I’d be back in time to make my departure with my parents. I was dropped off at 8AM that morning, got 1 hour of sleep, and jumped into the car with the family. It was the most difficult day because of lack of sleep, hangover, heartburn, and dehydration. We crossed into Brazil for a few moments, but I was sleep. I woke up at the hotel that evening and slept again, my bowels punishing my for the previous evening’s antics.
The forts were really cool, and I wish I had been feeling better when we visited them the following day. However despite this, the most impressive thing I saw during that road trip was the small border town of Chuy (which I am probably spelling wrong). Chuy lies right on the Uruguay-Brazilian border. One side of the street is Uruguay, the lane on the other side is Brazilian. The Uruguayan side was cleaner. The entire town is contraband, as far as I can see it. Store upon store sell first world products, sunglasses, watches, alcohol, and no taxes. I am convinced that this wasn’t legal, but I didn’t hesitate to purchase a cheap pair of authentic Raybands, as I was lacking protective eyewear during the trip, to begin with. We spent several hours shopping in Chuy before returning home. I liked it. Of course, the moment I got back, I was out again.
The following days was more of the same, culminating in a massive party occurring at some guy’s house who was a friend of Brazilian guy’s sister, who I also became friends with. I haven’t given nicknames cause I can’t think of anything appropriate and I’m tired… I digress. The evening began among family and friends. The people I met were friendly and uplifting, the food excellent. When midnight came we were graced with a 360 degree fireworks show since everyone buys fireworks for new years, and the whole city took fire as people did their own stunning displays the likes of which would give any North American safety inspector a seizure. At 1 AM I left, and made my way to a younger crowd.
The party took place in the backyard of a large house, hosted by 8 people renting the place. They had poured about 3 grand in booze, plus what people brought, so you know we weren’t left thirsty. I think at least one thousand people showed. It was just massive. By then I had discovered that my tastes in music didn’t really coincide with the local populace all of whom were Brazilian, but at some point, they did hit up a medley of U2, The Clash, ACDC, etc… so I did get to be myself for a few moments. The following day I was told by one girl that I had a lovely voice, and she asked me if I sang professionally. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t joking, so I was flattered. I walked home at 7 AM, as the sun came up, and passed out. There was no ass slapping, no wrestling, although some people ended up on the pool. I realized as I went home that the people I was spending time with were very different from my usual kind of crowd, however they were fun and I had a good time.
My parents bought the apartment that Bonnie’s mother wanted to sell them. I will be coming back with people for sure next year. By the way who wants in?
The final days ended with me finally losing money at the casino, breaking a winning streak which was beginning to have me worried. Believe it or not but I’m quite pleased I lost (mind you I would have been happier had I won =P). The last day we had dinner in a small pubish restaurant where they played live music in Spanish some of which I even recognized. Bonnie went home early because of sickness, at both the music and her infirmity. We danced to the cheesy songs until 4 AM and went to a night club. I got home at 7 AM, said my good-byes, and slept.
I haven’t taken any pictures, but Brazilian guy was going to give me a CD. Unfortunately there was a miscommunication at the last moment, and I didn’t get it. It will take a few more days, but I am certain that I shall have stuff to put on the web site soon. I have been writing for the past hour, and must now reread a couple of times before publishing. It was loads of fun, but all in all I think my body needs a break, rather than my mind. I’m also craving a real beer which doesn’t exist in Uruguay, and a good game of D&D. I lived a trendy lifestyle the past few days. It’s time to crawl back into my little geekhole and start playing WOW again. Sunday I’m gaming. Tomorrow I have classes. It’s cold in Montreal, and I have a tan.
Brazilian dude’s sister nicknamed me El Kurdo, “The Kurd”, because of my facial hair. I rather like the nickname. I proudly add it to a long list of previous ones.
Uruguayan BBQ is among the best in the world. Simply awesome. Feel good! Get fat! Eat Meat! Vegetarians are evil! Yes you are and you’re proud of it!
And so, this is the Kurd, signing off, 7:06 AM. Miami.
The past few weeks have been a frenzy of hardcore rest and relaxation in the most masochistic sense. I have discovered (technically) 3 new countries although I was passed out and hungover for one of them, and didn’t leave the airport for another. On the other hand, Uruguay is a brilliant undiscovered heaven, which I am certain will soon fall under the throes of rampant commercialism and tack. This being said, I had made up my mind to make the most of my holiday, in every possible sense.
My first days in Uruguay were spent in the capital city of Montevideo which, although very nice, didn’t have very much to offer in my opinion. My flight over was smooth except for a slight delay in Montreal which resulted in my spending 15 minutes in Miami rather and an hour and a half, before my connection. I suppose this extended layover kind of makes up for it, but as usual I digress.
I met a man named Diego on the way down who helped pass the hours as we discussed trivial matters. I did not click with this particular human, but it was better than doing nothing, and so I indulged in what conversation I could to help pass the hours. Upon my arrival I got his contact information, but never got around to calling him for reasons which will become clear later. After 2 days in Montevideo, having visited malls, small shops for tourists, and entirely too much cable TV, we made our way down to Punta Del Este.
Punta is a small holiday town which is active during 3 months of the year. Its entire economy relies heavily on tourism. It lies on a peninsula which juts out into the Atlantic Ocean, and the mouth of the Rio de la Plata, offering turbulent waves on the Atlantic side, and calm waters on the River side. Temperatures during the day got to about 30-35ish, down to about 20-25ish at night. People complained about the cold evenings. I did an awful lot of laughing.
One day after our arrival, my parents went to see an apartment, and my ever so resourceful and watchful mother came back with the gift of a telephone number, belonging to an attractive young female who I’ll call Bonnie, since I can’t come up with anything more Irish sounding, and the fact that she’s got a bit of the blood and an obsession with Celtic culture. She was in fact Uruguayan, and one of the only ones I met the entire time. Our first evening, she introduced me to a crowd of Brazilians who were all there for pretty much the same reasons I as. One mutual friend, desire to party etc… Bonnie knew the drill perfectly, confiding in me that herself and a few select others form groups like this routinely during the summer holidays (Uruguay is south of the Equator, below Argentina and Brazil). The first evening, I was taken from a quaint little bar called “Miro” (After the painter, who was actually from Mallorca, but I didn’t bother asking why they’d named the bar after him), to a disco called La Paya. La Playa was in fact on a beach, but with no access to it unfortunately. I christened the john’s and went looking for action which I never really found. I made a few attempts at conversation with the members of our group, but since someone decided that the best place to dance was right below the speaker, I didn’t get much in the way of quality conversation. I also attempted moving and speaking to a few strangers. One girl was quite rude to me, the others seemed uninterested. All in all it was a shitty night, the music sucked, I was tired and demoralized, but I had met people. I went to bed with a mad ringing in my ears at 6 AM which apparently was early, as I found out later.
The following days we spent time at the beach, went out dancing in a various places, some shopping. I got to know my new friends pretty well, but I only seemed to have bonded well with one Brazilian guy living in Miami. I had gotten along well with Bonnie, but she came down with a bit of a flu shortly after our meeting, and so I didn’t have enough time to work my magic. Nonetheless, I hardly every went to sleep before 7 AM, sober, from having sweated out all the alcohol dancing. I’d get up at about 2 PM, and spend some time acquiring darker pigments, nap, and dance the night away so to speak. Most of my days were spent with our very good friends, the Locatellis who had invited us there in the first place. These guys are awesome friends of the family, and it was great seeing them.
We spent Christmas among family, and friends. It was small, intimate, charming. I love Christmas.
At some point we decided to drive north to the border with Brazil to explore some old forts built by Spanish and Portuguese. I told the to my Brazilian buddy, and ride home for the evening, who promised me I’d be back in time to make my departure with my parents. I was dropped off at 8AM that morning, got 1 hour of sleep, and jumped into the car with the family. It was the most difficult day because of lack of sleep, hangover, heartburn, and dehydration. We crossed into Brazil for a few moments, but I was sleep. I woke up at the hotel that evening and slept again, my bowels punishing my for the previous evening’s antics.
The forts were really cool, and I wish I had been feeling better when we visited them the following day. However despite this, the most impressive thing I saw during that road trip was the small border town of Chuy (which I am probably spelling wrong). Chuy lies right on the Uruguay-Brazilian border. One side of the street is Uruguay, the lane on the other side is Brazilian. The Uruguayan side was cleaner. The entire town is contraband, as far as I can see it. Store upon store sell first world products, sunglasses, watches, alcohol, and no taxes. I am convinced that this wasn’t legal, but I didn’t hesitate to purchase a cheap pair of authentic Raybands, as I was lacking protective eyewear during the trip, to begin with. We spent several hours shopping in Chuy before returning home. I liked it. Of course, the moment I got back, I was out again.
The following days was more of the same, culminating in a massive party occurring at some guy’s house who was a friend of Brazilian guy’s sister, who I also became friends with. I haven’t given nicknames cause I can’t think of anything appropriate and I’m tired… I digress. The evening began among family and friends. The people I met were friendly and uplifting, the food excellent. When midnight came we were graced with a 360 degree fireworks show since everyone buys fireworks for new years, and the whole city took fire as people did their own stunning displays the likes of which would give any North American safety inspector a seizure. At 1 AM I left, and made my way to a younger crowd.
The party took place in the backyard of a large house, hosted by 8 people renting the place. They had poured about 3 grand in booze, plus what people brought, so you know we weren’t left thirsty. I think at least one thousand people showed. It was just massive. By then I had discovered that my tastes in music didn’t really coincide with the local populace all of whom were Brazilian, but at some point, they did hit up a medley of U2, The Clash, ACDC, etc… so I did get to be myself for a few moments. The following day I was told by one girl that I had a lovely voice, and she asked me if I sang professionally. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t joking, so I was flattered. I walked home at 7 AM, as the sun came up, and passed out. There was no ass slapping, no wrestling, although some people ended up on the pool. I realized as I went home that the people I was spending time with were very different from my usual kind of crowd, however they were fun and I had a good time.
My parents bought the apartment that Bonnie’s mother wanted to sell them. I will be coming back with people for sure next year. By the way who wants in?
The final days ended with me finally losing money at the casino, breaking a winning streak which was beginning to have me worried. Believe it or not but I’m quite pleased I lost (mind you I would have been happier had I won =P). The last day we had dinner in a small pubish restaurant where they played live music in Spanish some of which I even recognized. Bonnie went home early because of sickness, at both the music and her infirmity. We danced to the cheesy songs until 4 AM and went to a night club. I got home at 7 AM, said my good-byes, and slept.
I haven’t taken any pictures, but Brazilian guy was going to give me a CD. Unfortunately there was a miscommunication at the last moment, and I didn’t get it. It will take a few more days, but I am certain that I shall have stuff to put on the web site soon. I have been writing for the past hour, and must now reread a couple of times before publishing. It was loads of fun, but all in all I think my body needs a break, rather than my mind. I’m also craving a real beer which doesn’t exist in Uruguay, and a good game of D&D. I lived a trendy lifestyle the past few days. It’s time to crawl back into my little geekhole and start playing WOW again. Sunday I’m gaming. Tomorrow I have classes. It’s cold in Montreal, and I have a tan.
Brazilian dude’s sister nicknamed me El Kurdo, “The Kurd”, because of my facial hair. I rather like the nickname. I proudly add it to a long list of previous ones.
Uruguayan BBQ is among the best in the world. Simply awesome. Feel good! Get fat! Eat Meat! Vegetarians are evil! Yes you are and you’re proud of it!
And so, this is the Kurd, signing off, 7:06 AM. Miami.
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