mr. zilla goes to town

Thursday, August 05, 2004

ups and downs

uppers:

Good news from Iraq! They've dug up a dead president offed in 1963 by the Baathists; are planning to have a census; can now watch US-funded TV network Al-hurra (when there is electricity, of course); and now that Uday Hussein is no longer coaching the team and beating the soles of their feet when they lose, winning the occasional soccer game against the national team belonging to another psychotic stalinist dictator. It's all just going so swell!

downers:

The bad news too, that you just don't find unless you look over here. You know, like about 700 violent deaths per month being counted by the city morgue in Baghdad at the moment, up from 400 a year ago. And reading quotes by senior Al Qaeda figure Ayman al-Zawahiri rejoicing in the continued presence of the US in Iraq and Afghanistan, further broadening the radicalization of the Islamic world these nutters long hoped for:"...if they withdraw they will lose everything and if they stay, they will continue to bleed to death."

ugh. gotta find some... uppers:

Visits from friends from home, expected and unexpected, outrageous mirth at a baseball game quite impossible to translate to nonetheless amused bystanders bar one, who was eventually escorted from Camden Yards by Baltimore's Finest in a manner more befitting Bay 13 at the G; disconapping on a hillside in the wilds of Maryland with a few thousand people shakin their booty all around; and later showing said familiar foreign friends the drinkable ales about town.

downers:

My $300 bike, like an iron steed upon the underground railroad of yore in these parts, breaking free from its street kerb shakle of slavery and escaping off upon its own adventures into the wilds of America. At least, the thief having left me with just a bent kryptolock as a parting memento, I like to think of it that way.

but finally, up and up:

Squeezing four score and seventeen party people (and a larger number of jellyshots) ino your fine apartment, filling and emptying a bathtub of bottled beer, throwing down tracks to make the odd chin stroker stroke, others to make the girlies groove and wave their hands in the air, still making it out to the clubs for an hour before close, and somehow waking up with more alcohol in the house than when you started.

And last night, DJing for a band rehearsal, dropping assorted bhangra, hip hop and house loops for an ensemble of latinjazz/classical guitar, flute, didgeridoo, and tight percussion. Fully sick, are the only words to describe it. Wow.

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