Shoor in the City

I have about 15 minutes and 30 seconds on this computer… nowhere near enough time to express my feelings about New Orleans and what’s happened the past week.  But I’m gonna try.  So if you guys will allow me, I’m going to be serious for a minute.

Watching a city as vibrant as New Orleans get almost completely wiped out, and then descend into a post-apocalyptic nightmare is completely unnerving.  Those of you who know me well know that I spent the best vacation of my life in New Orleans, with the wifey and some close friends.  It was a weekend of great food, great sightseeing, and great bonding, and I will never forget it.  I can only hope that when the city is rebuilt it will be as great a place as it was back then.

The government’s reaction has been pitiful, and the stories I’ve seen on the news about death, illness, looting, rape, and gunplay make me sick to my stomach.  In the span of a few hours, a 21st-century city became a third world city.  A note to all of you philosophy and psychology majors… you want to know what it takes before mankind loses his sense of civilization and descends into animal-like behavior?  Try starvation, thirst, heat, and a constant threat of violence and disease.  Just take a look at the news.

As I watch the convoys of National Guard roll into New Orleans, I can only hope that it isn’t too late to get these people the help they need and to start rebuilding one of this planet’s greatest towns.  Here’s to the Big Easy.  We’re all praying for you.

Lately I’ve been finding myself getting irritated with things.  Mind you, not the things everyone else gets annoyed with, like bills, traffic, pop-up ads or Ryan Seacrest.  No, I’ve decided that the list of things I’m annoyed with actually merits its own blog post.  So here we go:

• I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.  The San Antonio Spurs, and especially Manu Ginobili.  Ugh.
• Staying in the sports vein for a second, I’m also annoyed with fabricated sports controversies.  People in the sports media need to realize that the average sports fan really doesn’t care.  So what if Kenny Rogers shoved a cameraman?  If he helps his team into the playoffs, I guarantee you people will forget about that.  So what if Barry Bonds took steroids?  As soon as he comes back and chases the career home run record, people will forget about that too.  Just look at Jason Giambi.  As recently as May he was getting booed on a daily basis.  A few timely hits later, he’s getting standing ovations at Yankee Stadium.  Sports fans have notoriously short memories, and I’m sick of sportswriters stirring up controversy just to sell a few more newspapers.  Or maybe I’m just tired of baseball and can’t wait for football to start.
• To all women with tattoos on the middle of their chest: it’s cool that you decided to get body art and all, but either wear something that shows the entire tattoo, or just cover it up all together.  If you wear something that only shows fraction of the tattoo, you look like you’ve got chest hair.  Believe me, that’s not attractive at all.
• Everyone that rides the subway in the summertime should be issued a stick of deodorant with their Metrocard.  The stench emanating from some of these people is noisome enough to make me want to pass out.
• To all guys that use library computers to look at porn: come on dudes, that’s just classless.  Besides, what are you planning on doing once your half hour time limit is up?

That’s all I can think of for now.  I’m sure I’ll be using this forum to vent about other things later, but until then… Kalam out.  (Man, did I feel dirty typing that–I need to take a shower)

First of all, big up to all the (3) readers of this blog.  Actually, the lack of interest spawned by my writing, coupled with a hectic visit from my in-laws, and trying and failing to write some meaningful posts have all contributed to my reticence as of late.  That and studying my ass off for the GRE.  But fear not, faithful readers.  I am alive and kicking, and you can expect much more from me in the near future.  Until then, however, in the immortal words of Biff Tannen, I’ll make like a tree and get out of here.

Prior to this past weekend, I’d only had three major experiences with the city of Boston: reading Bill Simmons (ESPN’s The Sports Guy), rooting against the New England Patriots, and watching Cheers and Good Will Hunting.  So it goes without saying that spending this past long weekend up in old Beantown was an enlightening experience.  We went up to visit family, but I wound up falling in love with the city.  So, doing this third grade style, here’s what I learned on my vacation:

• Back in the 18^th century, molasses from the Caribbean colonies would make its way up to Boston to be used in the production of rum.  Any excess molasses (and apparently there were copious amounts) was used to make baked beans.  This is where the nickname “Beantown” is derived.  I swear I’m not making this up.

• Boston sports fans are ridiculously territorial.  The weather was nice on Saturday, so we took a day trip up to Cape Cod.  I was wearing my Brooklyn Dodgers baseball cap, and some guy actually says to me “Brooklyn Dodgers?  Isn’t it a little too far up north for you to be wearing that?”  Okay, this is just plain stupid on a multitude of levels.  First of all, it’s not like I was wearing a Yankees cap, in which case I could understand the enmity from any and all Red Sox fans.  Second, the Dodgers moved to Los Angeles in the 1960’s, so the hostility this guy was bearing was towards the hat of a nonexistent team.  Third, being in the National League, the Dodgers rarely ever play the Red Sox, so there’s no traditional rivalry.  So I don’t know what this guy’s deal was.  Instead of provoking me, his stupidity actually succeeded only in confusing me.

• Provincetown, on Cape Cod, has to be the homosexual capital of the Northeast United States.  I’ve never seen so many same-sex couples in the same place in my life, and I saw almost as many drag queens as I saw in New Orleans.  And say what you want about gay people, they definitely know how to party.  On our way out of town, I glanced into a few of the nightclubs and saw the dance floors were packed… and the sun hadn’t even gone down yet.  So cheers to Provincetown… you go girls.

• The sense of history in Boston is remarkable.  A lot of the colonial-era architecture has been preserved, and Bostonians take a lot of pride in their hometown being the city of Paul Revere and Samuel Adams, as well as more recently, the Kennedys and John Kerry.  But along with that sense of history is a really young, hip vibe from all the college campuses in the area.  The fusion of the two is something I hadn’t felt since my days in Philadelphia, and is something I really enjoy.  Being with family, however, the one thing we didn’t really get to experience was the nightlife in Boston.  I guess that’s just something we’ll have to leave for our next visit.

All in all, it was a great trip.  I learned and experienced quite a bit, ate some great seafood, and spent some quality time with the wifey and her uncle, aunt, and their baby.  Now the challenge is to return to the quotidian banalities of daily life.  Until next time, folks, remember to keep your chowdah wahm and your cah pahked in Hahvard Yahd.

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On a completely different note, much thanks to my brother Sheelpi for linking his blog to mine.  Too bad Friendster player hates and doesn’t let you post any links outside the Friendster universe on the margins here. But I’m sure I’ll be linking to his site many times in future posts.

• Looks like the guys in control of the weather finally decided to give us a break up here in the Northeast.  The last two weeks were almost enough to make this Texas boy want to cry.  Sheelpi, Tui, I really envy you guys out in San Diego.  Bring on the summer!

• Russ turned me on to this great website: www.howstuffworks.com.  Ever wonder how a digital camera works?  They’ve got it.  Want specs on the Mustang GT500 Shelby?  Got that too.  Want to know how lightning works?  You better believe they got that.  Spontaneous human combustion?  I swear to you, I’m not making this up… this website enumerates different historical cases and explains the scientific theories behind how a person can just unexpectedly burst into flames.  They even explicate the story behind Sith Lords and the Dark Side of the Force.  And you guys thought I had too much time on my hands.

• Speaking of the Dark Side, the missus and I saw the final Star Wars movie last week. Expect a full review soon.  I’m sure there have been and will be many film doctoral dissertations written on the Star Wars series, so what I’ll have to say probably won’t be anything groundbreaking, but I’ll do my best to add a little to the discussion.

• I’m working through my second Salman Rushdie novel in as many weeks, with another one on deck.  The man’s mastery of the English language is amazing, and the intelligence level at which he writes is unparalleled.  I’ve always loved to read, but no one has actually made me want to become a writer as much as Rushdie.

• Damn the San Antonio Spurs.  Damn them straight to hell.  Doesn’t Manu Ginobili sound like some sort of bacterial parasite you get from eating uncooked seafood?  Am I alone on this?  Yea ok, probably…

Okay, so this is my second attempt at trying to keep a blog.  Hopefully this will turn out better than my Xanga disaster…

Anyway, I’ve got a new game I play on the subway to keep myself entertained.  I was inspired by a book I read called Wonder Boys by Michael Chabon.  I think it was made into a movie a while ago, but I’m not entirely sure.  So anyway, in the book, the main character and his buddy are drinking at a bar, and they look at this guy.  They give the guy a name and just start making up stuff about his life, how he’s an ex-jockey, and how his brother is out to kill him… something like that.

So what I do now, is look at someone riding on the train with me, and I make up a name and a little story to go along with them.  A little exercise for my underused imagination.  For example, today on the N train, Maria Isabella Sanchez was sitting across from me.  She was a part-time student and waited tables at night at a local diner.  At Canal Street, Haifa Stern entered the train.  Her dad was a jewelry store owner and her mom was a doctor.  Yes, this is what happens when your wife takes your iPod and you neglect to bring something to read on the train.  I tried it walking down the street, but it’s a lot harder because the people move so damn fast.  You barely have time to assign them a name before they’re blowing by you. 

Makes me wonder, though, what kinds of stories people are assigning to me?  Could it be anything stranger than the real thing?  Hmm….