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Photograph: Home Violet Ray Machine
Sep. 15th, 2008 10:30 pm
Deathmall Redux.
Mar. 19th, 2006 03:02 pmBack in my college days, or as some might call them, "the salad days of youth," I liked to go to the Mall of America, affectionately referred to as the Deathmall, and just...amble around. (I had also not yet perfected my abuse of the comma, but that's another story) This was also a time when, thanks to abundant student aid and a student job, I had a little of what is known as disposable income.
You may never be able to go back, but you can damn well visit.
In the name of buying a fancy 'frock' for the party, as ordered by the Muse, I went. (I did find a gorgeous floor-length burnt-orange dress that makes me look both classy and devastatingly sexy--I hope. Also, it is shiny. And strapless, which is a new and scary thing for me.)
I meandered. I swung by the cheese shop and had all the free samples twice. I watched the living mannequins in the store windows and wondered how they decided who got the chair. I had a Cinnabun. I bought something sparkly. I browsed through the bookstores. I played with toys that glowed and whirred. I used my last quarter to get a piece of grape bubblegum from the candy machine kiosk. I ate in the foodcourt while I watched people playing in the amusement park below me. And then I saw a movie--V for Vendetta.
Good times.
You may never be able to go back, but you can damn well visit.
In the name of buying a fancy 'frock' for the party, as ordered by the Muse, I went. (I did find a gorgeous floor-length burnt-orange dress that makes me look both classy and devastatingly sexy--I hope. Also, it is shiny. And strapless, which is a new and scary thing for me.)
I meandered. I swung by the cheese shop and had all the free samples twice. I watched the living mannequins in the store windows and wondered how they decided who got the chair. I had a Cinnabun. I bought something sparkly. I browsed through the bookstores. I played with toys that glowed and whirred. I used my last quarter to get a piece of grape bubblegum from the candy machine kiosk. I ate in the foodcourt while I watched people playing in the amusement park below me. And then I saw a movie--V for Vendetta.
Good times.
Idris Deby
Dec. 13th, 2005 06:14 pmFrom a NYT article about a World Bank oil proposal:
Chad, one of Africa's poorest countries, has a long history of instability and bloodshed. A vast, arid land about three times the size of California, it is home to 10 million people.
A majority of its citizens rely on subsistence agriculture and animal herding. It ranks 167 of 177 nations on the United Nations Development Index. Transparency International's 2005 survey of corruption around the world gave it the worst score, an ignominy it shares with Bangladesh.
Since gaining independence from France in 1960, it has been tormented by civil wars fueled by ethnic and religious tensions. Like Sudan, its restive neighbor to the east, its northern population is largely Muslim and has dominated the country's politics, while its southern half is largely Christian and animist.
Mr. Déby's rule has been a relatively stable period in the country's history, but the troubles in the Darfur region of Sudan, which borders eastern Chad, have spilled over into Chad along with 300,000 refugees. Internal divisions, along with reports of Mr. Déby's failing health, have led to much speculation that the government is on shaky ground.
I lived there for three years. It's where I went through adolescence, had my first crush, and started my menses. It's where I lived through three coup d'etats (the first two were unsuccessful; the last one was by Mr. Deby), saw my first machine gun, and saw the dead lying in the streets. It's where my mother almost died from tropical diseases. It's where I ran with a pack of half-feral dogs and swam in a crocodile-infested river. It's where one of my best friends was married to a man older than my grandfather, who beat her. It's where I saw a man die slowly, by inches, in the back seat of our truck, because the roads were too bad to get him to the hospital in the capital city quickly enough.
Idris Deby has done very good things in Chad, beginning when he opened the secret prisons and let the disappeared go home again. I'll pray for his health, and hope that Allah will welcome him with wide-open arms to Paradise.
Chad, one of Africa's poorest countries, has a long history of instability and bloodshed. A vast, arid land about three times the size of California, it is home to 10 million people.
A majority of its citizens rely on subsistence agriculture and animal herding. It ranks 167 of 177 nations on the United Nations Development Index. Transparency International's 2005 survey of corruption around the world gave it the worst score, an ignominy it shares with Bangladesh.
Since gaining independence from France in 1960, it has been tormented by civil wars fueled by ethnic and religious tensions. Like Sudan, its restive neighbor to the east, its northern population is largely Muslim and has dominated the country's politics, while its southern half is largely Christian and animist.
Mr. Déby's rule has been a relatively stable period in the country's history, but the troubles in the Darfur region of Sudan, which borders eastern Chad, have spilled over into Chad along with 300,000 refugees. Internal divisions, along with reports of Mr. Déby's failing health, have led to much speculation that the government is on shaky ground.
I lived there for three years. It's where I went through adolescence, had my first crush, and started my menses. It's where I lived through three coup d'etats (the first two were unsuccessful; the last one was by Mr. Deby), saw my first machine gun, and saw the dead lying in the streets. It's where my mother almost died from tropical diseases. It's where I ran with a pack of half-feral dogs and swam in a crocodile-infested river. It's where one of my best friends was married to a man older than my grandfather, who beat her. It's where I saw a man die slowly, by inches, in the back seat of our truck, because the roads were too bad to get him to the hospital in the capital city quickly enough.
Idris Deby has done very good things in Chad, beginning when he opened the secret prisons and let the disappeared go home again. I'll pray for his health, and hope that Allah will welcome him with wide-open arms to Paradise.
(no subject)
Oct. 10th, 2005 04:35 pmMy skin smells of sandalwood, but my wrists are bare of bangles, and when I look out the window, I do not see the Himalayan mountains.
Taste Trigger
Jul. 2nd, 2005 12:05 pmI haven't had Rice Krispies for breakfast in a really long time. Because we had guests, I picked up some extra cereal the other day. This morning, it took only one spoonful of milk-sodden, crackling rice krispies to send me back down memory lane. To me, Rice Krispies is a camp breakfast. It's never something that we had at home. The only cereals allowed at home were Grape Nuts and plain Cheerios (and only wusses added sugar to their cereal).
The taste of Rice Krispies sends me back to summer camp, when I would get the biggest bowl I could of them and eat them at the heavy plank benches and tables of Camp Mennoskah. I remember camp songs and itchy mosquito bites, Egyptian rat-killer and Capture the Flag.
I remember the taste of fresh grape juice and how it felt to step outside and see mountains.
The taste of Rice Krispies sends me back to summer camp, when I would get the biggest bowl I could of them and eat them at the heavy plank benches and tables of Camp Mennoskah. I remember camp songs and itchy mosquito bites, Egyptian rat-killer and Capture the Flag.
I remember the taste of fresh grape juice and how it felt to step outside and see mountains.
