Archive for August, 2009

But fasting isn’t really about fasting!

Yes, indeed. Ramadan isn’t about just not eating. Well, it is, and also not drinking, and having sex, and fun, and a social life, and cloverleaf interchanges.

But it’s not only because God is a sadist, no. She’s not sadistic at all, it’s more about learning to control your natural urges and innate instincts, in case you ever end up stranded in the desert with no one there to give you water or food. Of course, that just can’t happen in real life. This country is very densely populated – by exageratedly hospitable people, so even though you end up being in Médéa because the latest Tassili Airlines (yeah, right) flight crashed, you’ll find an old sherpherdess more than ready to offer you Kaltes Klares Wasser and to kill he favorite ewe’s newborn, just because she’s awesome like that.

Now, one could claim that it is so very artificial to control their natural urges, for they are, erm, urges, and there for a reason. However, it’s so very cool to say that you can go without food for extended periods of times, it helps during these shitty weekends where absolutely no bus will come pick you up from the suburbs, or to have an excuse to be anorexic or masochistic outside of the bedroom. You could be – for whatever reason – the master of your own body and resist the closeted hedonist in you, and, it’s pretty cool, no?

Of course Ramadan doesn’t really count if you’re the kind of person who just sleeps all day long and stays awake all night and who stops physical activities and travels and all that jazz, because looking for loopholes doesn’t really make you strong. On the other side, fasting doesn’t make you strong, either, you’ll end up all skinny like Buddha.

Hmm… I wonder why he’s always portrayed as a fat man in gold, then.

Abolished.

275px-Lilith_(John_Collier_painting)Yesterday, while in the bus returning from the bus station, there was no place to sit. Even after crossing the Faubourg de la Gare, and some old man went out, I still had no place to sit, but I made myself a place to sit. There was this woman with her daughter, and I sat next to them. I never really knew three people could fit in that northwesternmost seat, but well, it’s the case. She (the woman) wasn’t clearly distinguishable behind her gliterry headscarf and the many layers of make-up, but I could see an expression of shock in her face. Now, it’s not a too common sight here for members of different sexes to sit next to eachother in public transport vehicles, except if you’re a prole, or in the crowdedness of suburban Algiers. But I am repeating myself. She was even more shocked after the bus merrily passed three quarters of perfectly-paved driveway on Main St., and then took a sharp right turn at Les HLMs.

Even though she obviously had an accent that is from the valley, she shouted questioning the bus cashier why the bus didn’t stop on Main St. in shock, to which he responded that Main St. had been abolished. Of course it has been, but he makes it sound so spooky, like a dystopian vision of a free-market capitalism run amok with a supermall down the river drowning all money from the inner-city shops and murdering the middle class. But it’s not. It’s getting decentralized, and well, I prefer buying my jeans from my borough than ten times more expensive in Main St. just for the rent. I explained to her that the Province decided to move the Main St. bus top two streets south of Main St., to ease congestion. That’s a good one. Shouldn’t there be bus lanes instead of bus-free boulevards for the comfort of the customer? Apparently not. She then came out, with the kilograms of paint on her face, and the glitter on her headscarf, and the headscarf on her glitter.

And then I thought: has beauty been abolished too? Did women lose the self-confidence in the Goddess in them, and decide it to be necessary to play Picasso with their own pores, and then also hide their hair because it is so horrible and unfixable its perception by the outside world has to be prevented so that major catastrophes do not occur? What the fuck is wrong with you, world? First, we bastardize the Black is Beautiful movement and want to become Fair & Lovely. So not very handsome. Then, we forgot how beautiful nature is and want to become superficial ghosts that can only appeal to people with a Transcendentalist fetish.

But after a while, I stopped thinking, for I’ve been thinking and thinking, and there’s been nothing I’ve thunk, and then I noticed that the bus missed my stop, and then, an intersection later, the cashier checked if anyone was to be expulsed here, and I yeaed, to which he yelled “Champ de Manouevres – Est”. Phew, I had fears my neighborhood has been “abolished“ too!

Top ten potential birthday or Christmas presents – for everyone!

I never really understood why a family composed of an atheist with Muslim parents even celebrates Christmas… But well, we do, kinda, so Christmas should indeed have its place in the title of this blog entry.

10-Something comestible: everyone likes food. Really everyone. You might’ve forgotten to bring your friend an actual present, but if you pick up some chop suey, add tacos, and fine chocolate. They can’t possibly be pissed at you!

9-A stripper: nothing you can say about the très Hollywoodesque stripper-jumping-out-of-the-b’day cake moment. It is a crucial in the development of young lady and gentleman. Not-so-socially liberal folks might not necessarily find this too rad, though.

8-Shopping coupons: let’s be honest: it’s not only the thought that matters. It only does when your loved ones are on the verge of dying, not when you are during a gift-e-ory phase. But then, just giving money is the other extreme: you wouldn’t really know that “friend” of yours if you’d simply give them money. However, when you give them a shopping coupon at a place that sells stuff related to their hobby (i.e. a swimming retailer, an obscure electroclash online shop, a Germanophone bookshop), then it’d be very thoughtful as you know that person very good if you knew exactly what to give them. A tip: Amazon Wishlists, you

7-Hispanophones: it’s always useful to have one of these by your side, especially in Hispanophone countries like the US or France. They’re like chapstick or cell phones. You never know when you need them!

6-Slaves: slaves can be used for a variety of purposes: to do your homework, cook, clean the dishes and house and clothes; while those of the gender the gift-receiver is attracted to can serve as sexual slaves. But for those that aren’t too much into psychological games, a visit to the local whorehouse might do it too. Hence, #6 very obviously intersects with #8 and 9#.

5-A visit to the local shrink: everyone can use a shrink. A visit to the shrink will make your friend not only less annoying, but it’ll be benefitful to everyone else that will interact with them later in life, and to the friend in question too as they’ll be less often burned at the stake rejected, and Karma will give it back to you, or something.

4-A secret: everyone has a secret that even their very best friends don’t know. If you tell your friend one of your very deepest secreets, they’ll be rejoice-y. It doesn’t have to be truth, just seemingly true – and it shouldn’t involve a third party (it’s not like anyone votes for these, anyway) or be the secret of someone else. Abuse of trust is so 1984.

3-Wanderlustzufriedenstellung: a German word meaning “satisfication of wanderlust” (you don’t need that translated too, now do you?) – as in a gifting them a trip abroad (for Christmas), or having the birthday party per se abroad (obviously for birthdays). However, you’ll probably need to be economically well-endowned to get all of your friends to that place too. Or just spread lies so that they all leave your friend and only you and them’ll go – or simply murder the others if you’re both poor and socially-leotarded. That’d be evil, though.

2-A random book: infallibe. Even if your friend is illiterate.

1-Something you made yourself: it doesn’t necessarily have to be, it just should look as if it is something handmade, with  love put into its making, and as if it needed a lengthy amount of time and a lot of effort to make it.


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