Between the now successful move to a new host, busy days at the fishtank complete with overtime (easy thing for the part time king), and the arrival of my love – my powerbook g4, I haven’t been blogging properly. Take one of these and call me in the mornin, I should be telling you. I’ll get to the thank you’s and the Powerbook Porno shots tomorrow, today I wanted to tell you bout how my present and my past are linked.
One of the French fishes at the tank decided for all my hard work and all the bla bla bla I have to endure from international students, I deserved to have dinner cooked for me. And she decided she’d do the cooking, and baking I might add! And so I made the trek to that suburb that -I vow- I will never live in. because it’s just NOT Amsterdam when its that far away, and sat down to a meal full of reminiscing.
This because she’s from Marseille, and I studied just outside that city, in Aix-en-Provence, Southern France. But that was a whole 5 years ago, back when every weekend you’d find BM in a different country and I was heartbroken about some feminina back in Jersey. Aix was a ritzy city with cushy programs for foreigners like myself. School shacked me up with a lovely yet quirky madame, probably because we were both veggies or because I myself am quirky.But I digress, this is about my meal and the conversations about Marseille. We talked and talked. I still remember the street names and the different neighborhoods, 5 years and I still know what goes on all around the Vieux Port. She spoke of the towns we used to invade for the day; St. Tropez, Cassis, and even the poshy-posh Cannes. Some of my memories of those places have spilled over into each other. St. Paul de Vence tastes alot like Grasse. Antibes smells like St. Tropez. Sloppy memory, making a mess.
She had even cooked a few familiar dishes, a very provincial salad, a gateaux, and that cheesebread that I forget the name of. For shame, I’m forgetting names. But one thing for sure, I’m not forgetting that dark city. The mountains of Couscous, the fleet of ships, the Gateway where France meets the wondrous realms of North Africa and the Middle East. Snobs in Aix used to say “Marseille, ce n’est pas la France.” Ah non? I used to respond, well that not-France city over there, overflowing with culture and history, I absolutely love it!
I also met the Mindcaster today. More proof that if you get along online, you’ll have just as many laughs and things to talk about in real life. More on those great conversations in the next podcast.
Today’s Sounds: If I lean in close, I still cant hear I peep from the New Powerbook
It makes my heart skip a beat to see photos of him. I’m not making this up. I get hyper. It could be 3AM and I could be dead tired, but getting new photos of my nephew gives me a jolt of happiness that is like nothing else. I’m across the ocean, but I’m right there with him, y’know? And when I see those new and bright white teeth, and him standing up and almost walking, I feel just as excited as almost a year ago when he was born.
And you know I have this vision that when he’s old enough to read, he’ll be right here on uncle BM’s blog laughing and making fun of the sappy way his uncle used to talk about him. (laugh it up kid, you know you love when your crazy uncle from Europa comes to visit)
Don’t get scared, it’s not far off at all. Matter of fact, it’s already here. You know blogs (I hope), cause you’re reading one. And while the world may still send mixed signals in public, you also know about podcasting; sort of an audioblogging. So vbloging is the next step of course. In the natural progression, dating back to the typewriter, radio and television. People will (and are) record snippets of their daily lives, or a personal message, and publish it to their blog-style site. Direct, personal- media.
Nevermind that, this is actually going to be a serious post goddamit. So sit up in that chair, cause this is big stuff.
Recently alot of international students have been coming up to me at the fishtank to say 
Maybe you didn’t know. Maybe you don’t tend to worry about these things. Or perhaps you’ve come to expect this type of stupidity from this government, and well, let’s face it — a world that is full of political stupidity. But me, not only did I get concerned since the WB provides important fundage which hopefully helps developing countries get on their feet, but I also thought about my dear Blueberry Girl, who would find herself working under that war-criminal. *shutters* But hey, no surprise to see my dear friend and her co-workers getting together and giving a