So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
Ethnicity. that of my father and his father before him
Location Altadena, CA
» More info.
The Link To Zanzibar's Past
This is my page in the beloved art community that my sister got me into:
Extra points for people who know what Samarinda is.
The Phases of the Moon Module
The Tree and the Telephone Pole
I Do Not Know Their Names
Today I am Young
A Night Poem
Siren of the Sea
If I Were a Dragon
To the Dreamers Leave the Sky
The Honor of the Oyster
Return From San Diego
A Late Summer's Night
Of Dragons and Men
The Edge of the World
The Snake's Terror
Metaphysics and the Middaymoon
Of Adventures in Foreign Lands
The Rogue Wave: The Unedited Version
Adventures in the PRC
Voyage of Discovery
Drinking the Blood of Goats
Ticket for a Phantom Bus
Os peixes nadam o mar
Three Villages Far Away
The River Weser
Children I Should Have Kidnapped, Part I
Let's Get You Out of Those Clothes
If Underwear Could Speak
Croc Hunter/Combat Wombat
Only My Favorite Baseball Player EVER
Aw, Larry Walker, how I loved thee.
M: Science and Exploration
T: Cook a nice dinner
Th: Parties, movies, dinners
F: Picnics, the Louvre
S: Read books, go for walks, PARKOUR
Su: Philosophy, Religion
The Reading List
This list starts Summer 2006
A Crocodile on the Sandbank
Tales of the Alhambra (in progress)
Dark Lord of Derkholm
Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?
The Lost Years of Merlin
Harry Potter a l'ecole des sorciers (in progress)
Atlas Shrugged (in progress)
A Long Way Gone (story of a boy soldier in Sierra Leone- met the author! w00t!)
The Eye of the World: Book One of the Wheel of Time
From Magma to Tephra (in progress)
Lady Chatterley's Lover
Harry Potter 7
The No. 1 Lady's Detective Agency
Introduction to Planetary Volcanism
A Child Called "It"
Is Multi-Culturalism Bad for Women?
Americans in Southeast Asia: Roots of Commitment (in progress)
What's So Great About Christianity?
Aeolian Dust and Dust Deposits
The City of Ember
The People of Sparks
When I was in Cuba, I was a German Shepard
The Golden Compass
Clan of the Cave Bear
The 9/11 Commission Report (2nd time through, graphic novel format this time, ip)
The Incredible Shrinking Man
The Elves of Cintra
The Gypsy Morph
Animorphs #23: The Pretender
Animorphs #25: The Extreme
Animorphs #26: The Attack
A Journey to the Center of the Earth
A Great and Terrible Beauty
The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian
To Sir, With Love
Alice in Wonderland
Through the Looking Glass
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea
The Hunger Games
Shadows and Strongholds
The Jungle Book
Beatrice and Virgil
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks
No One Ever Told Us We Were Defeated
The Name of the Wind
Tao Te Ching
What Paul Meant
Lao Tzu and Taoism
Sand and Sandstones
Lost Christianites: The Battles for Scripture and the Faiths We Never Knew
The Science of God
Great Contemporaries, by Winston Churchill
City of Bones
Around the World in 80 Days, by Jules Verne
Stranger in a Strange Land
The Old Man and the Sea
Flowers for Algernon
Au Bonheur des Ogres
The Road to Serfdom
De La Terre à la Lune (ip)
In the Light of What We Know
Devil in the White City
The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August
How to Be a Good Wife
A Mote in God's Eye
want to read: Last Hunger Games Book, Honeybee Democracy, The Bell Jar
Jorge and the Annoyance of Australians
Tuesday. 9.27.11 8:52 am
The room is full of Brazilians. The whole city is full of Brazilians, my new Brazilian friend Julianna would say. But right now I live in a 10 person room in a party hostel near the Canal de Saint-Martin and the presence of the Brazilians tends to dominate the room. To be sure, there are two Australians, but when it comes to having a party, Australians are just paler Brazilians who can't dance. My Australian friend told me that the proper term for a group of Australians is "an annoyance", as in "an annoyance of Australians". I don't know the appropriate term for a group of Brazilians.
The best Brazilian is a girl, young and beautiful with a big camera. She reminds me of my friend Srog the Dane. We'll call her Maria.
The worst Brazilian is Jorge, who is very drunk.
Jorge is drunk because three men attacked him and stole 1000 euros and all of his papers. Jorge is drunk because he wants to go home but he doesn't really have a home to go to. Jorge is drunk because even if he did have a home, he doesn't have the paperwork he needs to get there. Jorge is drunk because if it had been two guys instead of three, you'd better believe he would have fought them off.
Jorge likes to take pictures, explains Maria. Maria explains most of what Jorge says because through the alcohol everything comes out as a vaguely portuguese slur of words incomprehensible to the Australians. The preceding paragraph of information about Jorge, explained by Jorge himself, was reduced to "I am a man of the world. The world is my country."
Jorge doesn't like to take, how do you say, paysages?
Landscapes, I supply.
Landscapes. Jorge likes to take the pictures of the people.
Portraits, I supply.
Jorge calls me AMERICAN GIRL.
He doesn't call me for any reason, though. He just shouts, "AMERICAN GIRL!" until I look at him, and then he is so drunk that he doesn't know what to say.
"AMERICAN GIRL. I take your photograph," Jorge finally says.
"No, thank-you" I say, by now curled up with my book in my pajamas, trying to ignore the cacophany of the room. I am exhausted, I am no fun, I have a job in the city. I am content to listen to the Brazilians and Australians bond over the fact that their capital cities were invented by politicians.
"AMERICAN GIRL, pretty girl, I take your photograph." He takes a photograph of my hand, which I have stretched out to prevent his photograph. Maria thinks that it looks very artistic.
Jorge presents me with two options: "Either I take a photograph now, or while you are sleeping," he says. He reminds me that when I am sleeping I will be naked. He also reminds me that when I am sleeping I cannot stop him from taking the photograph.
I pretend to consider these two options for a moment.
"I decide.... no and... no."
He persists. Maria comes to my aide. "You don't understand Jorge, she is an American, that means you have to respect her."
My curiosity is piqued.
"I mean to say, that when a North American say 'no', she actually mean 'no', and you have to give respect to that. He is from South America, and in South America when you say 'no' all of the men think that it really mean 'yes'."
I agree that I am certainly not in agreement with the South Americans on this point. I underline the sentiment by shutting the curtain that encloses my bed. A shy Brazilian is already trying to sleep in a bed across the room. After an hour or so the annoyance of Australians gets the idea and proposes to move the party downstairs. They drag Jorge out of the room.
Very late in the night I hear a voice at the edge of my bed.
"I can see you," the voice says.
I am facing the wall. I pretend that I am asleep.
Later still: some rustling. A flash. I can't be sure it wasn't a dream.
Goddamnmotherfucking Jorge, I'm from NORTH AMERICA.
I must say that I laughed out loud at the last line of your blog-- but I am very glad that you don't have to live in a hostel much longer. What a creeper!
» Rachel (126.96.36.199) on 2011-09-28 09:16:28
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