And miles to go before I sleep...
This week has truly been an exercise in sleep deprivation. Wednesday night: 2 hours of sleep. Thursday night: Out with Angela and her man, bed by 2. Friday night: Club. 2 hours o'slumber. Saturday night: spend night at Dad's. Basically just fall unconscious after dinner and sleep like a corpse. All I remember is laying down, and then dad starts making coffee because it's 10 am, and I haven't moved from the original position in which I hit the couch.
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I was thinking about Guantanamo Bay. When we started bombing Iraq, we saw it live on TV because there were American reporters in Baghdad streaming images back to us. All sorts of international reporters were there doing the same. Then I wondered, hypothetically, what if reporters from Iraq or Afghanistan were in a hotel in Washington DC when a wave of terrorist attacks broke out, and they were there filming it all and beaming the footage back to the mideast? They'd be arrested so fast it'd make your head spin, accused of collecting intelligence, labelled "enemy combatants", and whisked off to the dungeon in Cuba, effectively erased from existance never to be seen or heard from again.
Saddam Hussein is a ruthless tyrant. Why weren't the international reporters arrested in Baghdad? Why did Iraqi authorities allow them not only to remain, but also to broadcast back to the same countries bombing the fuck out of Baghdad?
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Cutest things at work on Saturday... there was this guy who looked somewhere in his 20's with a long mohawk. He was carrying around a little boy who looked just about before toddler-hood, and sported a matching mohawk. It was adorable! The guy was cooing and tickling his kid's nose, just with matching punk hairdos. Then, there were these two guys who were speaking a language that sounded kinda, but not quite, like Russian. In the bathroom, on the diaper changing table, one of the guys was speaking to the little kid in the language, and the kid was chattering back to him. It was so damned cute.
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I was thinking about Guantanamo Bay. When we started bombing Iraq, we saw it live on TV because there were American reporters in Baghdad streaming images back to us. All sorts of international reporters were there doing the same. Then I wondered, hypothetically, what if reporters from Iraq or Afghanistan were in a hotel in Washington DC when a wave of terrorist attacks broke out, and they were there filming it all and beaming the footage back to the mideast? They'd be arrested so fast it'd make your head spin, accused of collecting intelligence, labelled "enemy combatants", and whisked off to the dungeon in Cuba, effectively erased from existance never to be seen or heard from again.
Saddam Hussein is a ruthless tyrant. Why weren't the international reporters arrested in Baghdad? Why did Iraqi authorities allow them not only to remain, but also to broadcast back to the same countries bombing the fuck out of Baghdad?
---
Cutest things at work on Saturday... there was this guy who looked somewhere in his 20's with a long mohawk. He was carrying around a little boy who looked just about before toddler-hood, and sported a matching mohawk. It was adorable! The guy was cooing and tickling his kid's nose, just with matching punk hairdos. Then, there were these two guys who were speaking a language that sounded kinda, but not quite, like Russian. In the bathroom, on the diaper changing table, one of the guys was speaking to the little kid in the language, and the kid was chattering back to him. It was so damned cute.
posted by Grover at 6/27/2005 08:49:00 PM
2 Comments:
Reminds me of the song Mohawk Town, by The Vandals. :)
On Reiki: Chickpea's policy is theoretically sound, but the world comes in shades of grey, all the more so when there are two or more in the mix. Be sure to keep your eye on the ball, protect both of you from emotional harm. Out of interest, you're aware of Kinsey and his sexuality catergories (1 to 6) where would you put yourself lately?
On Iraq and TV: Because they were practically defenceless, only just had enough power to muster a hopeless resistance - no time for policing broadcasters as well. Always remember that the powers never take on anything with teeth - hence why nothing is ever done about Zimbabwe, Sudan, Rwanda, or for real trouble, North Korea...
As RATM say, "Know Your Enemy".
On Sleep:
"Sho heen sho lo, O lulla lo!
I've found my laughing babe a nest
On Slumber Tree.
I'll rock you there to rosy rest,
Asthore Machree!
Oh lulla lo, sing all the leaves
On Slumber Tree!
Till ev'rything that hurts or grieves
Afar must flee."
oi vey. it's rough balancing between a fuck buddy and a lover. but you shouldn't get so analytical about it so soon. just ride the wave and see where it goes.
don't overthink shit or you might just talk yourself out of a beneficial experience.
life's too fucking short to deprive yourself. see where it goes for a little bit, but make a point of casually reestablishing what you're seeking, and if you keep plans to the late hours of the evening, then you can avoid the social aspect a little and that keeps it a little more superficial.
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