Politics with a genius

The communiqu? presents: a slightly edited version of an interview with my buddy JP who resides in Lisbon, Portugal, and can out curse a sailor when he wants to.

bicyclemark: Well… first off, welcome to the blog JP…

bicyclemark: So JP… do you recall around the time where you and I became pals… tell the tale for the audience at home….

J.P. : you were starting to work in that piece of shit school, it was around February 2002?

bicyclemark: True true.

J.P. : and, I don’t recall the exact circumstances

bicyclemark: Was it my keen vocabulary and style of clothes that led you to become my friend?

J.P. : that, and your politics, and your naivet?, and you having had dealings with the Cosa Nostra.

bicyclemark: I see. And you live in Lisbon.. a city that will forever own my heart… where people barely find the time, between eating, smoking and coffee, to go to work. Could you sum up, in four words… what its like living there?

J.P. : being buggered by apes covered in shit

bicyclemark: nice While we’re on shit covered apes… any words about the prime minister of portugal who just resigned?

J.P. : no words strong enough were invented for that piece of sewage in walking form

bicyclemark: I see… just one more in this subject area… any predictions for the future of portugal?

J.P. : when you flush the toilet you see and hear the future of Portugal.

bicyclemark: Excellent political analysis. Very late-modern.

bicyclemark: Moving on… I have a few Chinese readers.. and I recall your stories of when you traveled china…. when was that again? and why did you go?

J.P. : vacation, August 1996; Macao, Hong Kong, and Beijing

bicyclemark: I see, and there you traveled by train… what was it again? for how long? And what can you say about the experience?

J.P. : 3 days and nights from Beijing to Canton. It was a unique experience. I felt like a black person must feel in, say, Alentejo (who doesn’t know the language)

(editors note: Alentejo- vast rural area to the south of portugal. where portuguese hicks come from)

(J.P. : note again – many people of African descent travel through Alentejo, but mostly they speak Portuguese)

bicyclemark: I was expecting you to tell me to go to hell and defend your home territory.

J.P. : well, no – there are hicks in Alentejo, but most assfucking male-raping hillbillies that I know of live in Lisbon

bicyclemark: ouch. So back to politics, how bad did this last american election hit you?

J.P. : fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

bicyclemark: I see, so we could say.. not well.

bicyclemark: Hey before we go on… thanks for the Transmetropolitan graphic novels…very thoughtful of you on my bday

J.P. : Spider Jerusalem – a man with political ideas after my own heart

bicyclemark: I think he eats speed for breakfast and shoots people when it pleases him.

J.P. : and throws them turds and dog carcasses; his weapon of choice is lovely: the Bowel Disruptor

bicyclemark: sounds cruel.

bicyclemark: Well mr JP. Time to say thank you.. and well.. end this. Thanks for being on the show.

J.P. : I hope I was as helpful as you thought I might be

Today’s Sounds: Paul Simon – Graceland (now digging through landlord’s CD’s)

Workin Slob

Other bloggers, especially the experienced ones who, for example, appear on television on some show that will never air in Europa, say don’t blog about work. I’ve seen good people get shit from colleagues or even get the ax, because of their blog. But I’m the part-time king, and I heart everyone in my work-life, so I’ll na?vely ignore such good advice, as I always have.

Day 1 of bicyclemark’s academic writing workshop at the U of Amsterdam somehow went off without a hitch. I don’t really know where I could find a hitch in this day and age anyway, so it’s not that big of a surprise. But I did half expect the audience of serious PHD students to start throwing shit midway through the session. I mean, you’ve all seen the way I spell and use comas like they’re going out of style, wouldn’t you throw tomatoes or potatos? But somehow I held on, got lucky, and had a few laughs preaching to the good people about the inexplicable english language that will save them from eternal damnation.

Let me return to my original topic, working in OLD Europe. Assuming the IRS doesn’t know how to read blogs, I’ll tell you that since planting myself on this side of the pond, I have worked such jobs as: English Teacher, English to Portuguese instruction manual translator (what a disaster, I hope no one was hurt), Election Supervisor at a weed convention, Dog-in-heat walker, Academic publications editor, Dutch-english to real-English transcriber, and of course my present job: Fish Tank supervisor. Impressive CV eh? (I hear that booing and it hurts!)

I wanted to say, out of all the jobs I’ve ever worked, this university gig has, by far, the coolest employee field trips ever. You might remember when we visited a national park, or when we painted the town red. Well today, in celebration of everyone-about-to-skip-town december, they took us for high tea. Just around the block from where ladies stand for sale behind glass and under red lights, there we sat in the coolest bakery les Pays-Bas has ever known. Scones, tea, quiche, tea, jam, tea, carrot cake, tea, bon-bons, tea, fruit salad, tea.. man I’ve been peeing every 20 minutes ever since. And as a bonus, I get to hang with my work people, including the dean who always brings out-of-the ordinary conversation topics. Good stuff.

So what gets me is that I worked some gigs in the states, and I neither had this nor ever heard about it. Work events either didn’t exist or seemed totally fake. Hmm.. the only ones I can think of that might rock are those “company bbq’s” people used to talk about. Ooh.. and bowling teams, like Joe-Bob’s Plumbing vs. Guido’s Construction if that counts. I guess it depends, but still – I’ve heard first hand that the scandinavians do it even better. Take notes world; this is how you live!

Today’s Sounds: Mr. Airplane Man (still not sure I like it)

De-Liberations

December seems like a month where, besides celebrating a whole lot of birthdays, we also pause and remember some of the worst atrocities the earth has ever seen. I love using big phrases like that, cause then someone will think “you say tomato, I say tomato sauce,” and who am I to argue. Just a blogger folks. Just a blogger.

Back to the point, before I do the usual drifting like Tom and Huck, Dec. 11th 1994 was the anniversary I wanted to point out; Ten years to the date, when the rusty Russian war machine invaded the Chechenskaya Respublika. I’m not here to try and debate why they did it or who was wrong, for me there is no debate. The images and statistics that so much of the world have ignored: 50,000 killed in the first war alone, air strikes that bombed Grozny back into the stone age, the (now repeated in Iraq) acts of rounding up all the men older then 16 and imprisoning them. I’m sure it was worth it… this liberty and freedom from terrorism that Moscow promised. So much of the population had to be wiped out, so you had to do some torturing/raping, and then maybe you had to destroy everything in site… it’s all for a better future. Trust mother Russia, and her friends in Europe, US, and around the world, who – if they even noticed- spend those years doing business as usual.

I myself sat in the library of a tiny University in southern France when the second Chechen war broke out. I sat reading 4 newspapers per day, scribbling articles which I’d never have the nerve to send to a newspaper, other than my tiny column in my college newspaper in NJ, and then posting them on my geocities site, which later became this here blog. I guess I’m alot like certain governments and international organizations, I sat around talking a mighty talk and writing articles, and then at night I put it to the side and went to have another glass of wine at Les Deux Gar?ons. Which in retrospect may have not been a good place to meet women. (?)

I joke… cause well.. it’s part of dealing with all the bullshit. But still.. It’s a crazy anniversary… it was 1994, modern times. Now, with all the stupidity of the so-called war-on-terrorism, people who speak on behalf of Chechnya are suspect… dangerous. The government they elected , whoever still lives, is in exile in the US and UK. Hell, I’m sure Chechnyans themselves would tell me to shut up, cause they must be so tired of hearing about all these politicians with blood on their hands…just wanting to live a somewhat normal life. Whatever’s left of it.

So here’s to you Chechnya, in recognition of all the hell you’ve gone through (a reality I cannot even being to understand from my comfy seat)… the world governments may not a have a spine, but bloggers do, bicyclemark’s commmunique (and always has) recognizes the independent and sovereign Chechenskaya Respublika.. if there’s anything left to recognize.

Today’s Sounds: Curtis Mayfield – Best of

The Next Wave

Did I mention bicyclemark’s birthday is in fact a 3-day festivus for the restofus? It is. Day two.. well.. let us call it “evening two” was inspired by Swedish fellow birthday gal. At her party of Friday I noticed she was playing the Selecter. I love the Selector, though not as much as I love the Specials and the Beat. Who the hell are these bizarro groups you’re wondering? They are relics long forgotten from the 70’s Two-tone second wave of ska which took place in the UK, primarily. A time period I only wish I could have experienced first hand; I would’ve had my pork-pie hat and my rude boy suit. Well, I sort of wear that now anyway… but that part comes later.

I immediately turned to Swedish birthday gal all excited and asked who the ska fan was? Like she had just set foot on the moon, she reported that it was her. We went on to listen as tunes like Too Much Pressure and Three Minute Hero. BAM – I was in a timewarp. Remembering my high school and college days where this shit was my lifeblood. And it didn’t stop there…

“Let me show you something” she said after a few drinks, already latched onto my arm dragging me apparently to her room. Many thoughts flashed through my head at one time… mostly… “Is this how Swedish Girls Work? They just drag you into their rooms when it suits them. -Exciting.” She pointed to the corner of her room where a tiny tshirt was plastered to the wall. It looked recently worn, and right in the middle, in illegible black marker was the name of the Selecter drummer, which looked vaguely familiar. As I inspected the evidence, she told me to brace myself for the next artifact, which was in fact, her two-tone inspired checkered thong. That’s what I call a rudegirl.

So naturally she invited me to join her and some friends to see none other than Dr. Ring Ding and the Rotterdam Ska-Jazz Foundation at Melkweg last night. With all the ska names suddenly coming back to me, I instantly said yes. Dr. Ring Ding, who my buddy Styles and I used to listen to all the time in our college days… cruisin North Jersey with the top-down in freezing temperatures singing “pick-it-up pick-it-up rudeboy!” and so on. Turns out the good doctor is German, got a new band, and is making a comeback. He joins the Selecter, Special’s frontmen Neville Staple and Roddy Radiation, who are all staging comeback tours. Brain of J tells me lots of the east and west coast US ska artists are touring again as well. All this tells me the 4th wave of ska could be laying its foundation.

The show was fantastic. In my pseudo rude-boy suit I joined the packed crowd and did the drunken man skank that would make Prince Buster himself, the godfather of ska, proud. I learned that Germans and Swedes know their ska, and oddly enough – young Dutch fans mix ska with drugs. The whole time I kept thinking, could this be the next wave? Will it be based in northern Europe? Maybe the underlying theme would be an anti-war and tolerance message? And more than that, maybe I should come out of retirement and put together an international Amsterdam based Ska-jazz ensemble?! (how bout the name “The Dam Allstars”)

Today’s Sounds: Rotterdam Ska-Jazz Foundation

Recovery Through Highlights

Whoa Whoa… those are some bright lights. I know you wanna know how it all went down. You want to hear how the birthday debauchery unfolded. And I’ll tell you… but considering today is the “day-after,” no sudden movements, bright lights, or loud sounds please. Thanks — The management.

My birthday evening was both a pleasure and a blast. Even if those two things are kind of the same. A blend of good company, old friends and complete strangers-turned-friends over a glass of wine. Dining on the End of the World is always a pleasure, especially when it’s MY night. At one point, Ms_Think and I were waiting to pay Frank Zappa (the brotha in charge of food). He was doodling numbers on a tiny scrap of paper. In front of him, just next to the list of how many people are eating what, were two giant tobacco pouches. One was filled with tobacco, the other was filled with a different plant. Just as I was noticing this, he looks at us in defeat and says in Dutch: “Umm… maybe you could take a look at this and tell me if its right, because I’m in no condition to be handling numbers.” In that same transaction, moustache man starts hammering on the cash register, “Umm if you don’t mind, I can’t give you any change because I can’t get the machine opened.” We told him that was fine… and stoned Frank Zappa went over to try and help pry it open (unsuccessfully).

It was then time to head over to the Dec. 10th birthday party. Hosted by a lovely Swedish gal who was born on the same day around the same time in the same year as me. And so we co-celebrated, along with my favorite Bavarienne, another Dec. 10th person. Later some British guy named Guy walked in and turns out, it was his birfday too. Madness ensued.

While me and NoCommunicado spoke about how digital photos have reduced the value of a photograph. Just behind us, a wild German gal simulated sex on the dance floor with a gay Israeli. Huddled in another corner, Bearded G and other members of the bearded man club (im a member but I was busy) passed around the wacky tabacci and talked about nothing. As the night went on I kept falling in love with Swedish girls, reminding me of Jamie’s post about the girl on the subway.

There was a moment where I felt like I was in a teen-movie when some random student, staring into space, suddenly announced “OH yeeaaaa… it’s so simple. It’s so simple I should’ve known.” Wanting to see how far I could take this, I asked him what was so simple. He looked at me like I was invading his mental space, saying “Oh its just a mathematical proof that I just figured out.”

– I started looking around for cameras, to see if I wasn’t on the set of Revenge of the Nerds 2000. Any second the Alpha Beta’s would come and trash our party. I didn’t find cameras, but I did find THE TORONTONIENNE!

All in all, it was a successful Amsterdam birthday evening. The third I have celebrated in this town. Each one of them unique and memorable for their blend of kindness, madness, and style baby… style.

Photo’s of dinner and the party are both here and here.

PS- I had the bicyclemark team of lawyers work out the trademark disputes, and there are now new items in the souvenir shop.

Today’s Sounds: The Roots – Tipping Point (bday gift!)