I was riding home from bowling the other night, as usual my mind racing with all sorts of brilliant and unbrilliant thoughts. Over time, in Amsterdam, one develops this talent to just ride fast as hell, ignore red lights, and weave around traffic and kamikaze pedestrians. Sometimes a person or a car or some random thing catches your attention as you ride, and for those brief moments, you try to soak up the situation before you’ve ridden off.
On that night there were two dark skinned figures trying to cross in front of me. They hesitated, which told me they were from out of town. At that same moment, one of the men looked directly into my eyes. That happens sometimes,you’re riding and someone looks directly into your eyes for a split second. For me, it’s usually a beautiful girl riding in the opposite direction. But in this case the eyes staring at mine were those of a friend. They triggered a rush of mental images; memories. At first it was NYC 1999 and I had stayed late at the knitting factory, hanging in the green room discussing politics with the band. Then I was swept back to 2002, sitting in a tiny restaurant in Lisbon – “Agua do Bengo.”
The owner of this restaurant was the man behind those eyes, at least that’s what I felt in that eternal moment. I swore that I was seeing my friend Waldemar Bastos, beloved Angolan singer who had been exiled to Lisbon during the long civil war in his home country.
I kept riding, looking back the entire time. But I couldn’t see him anymore.. I stopped in hopes that he would be running in my direction, shouting my name. But no dice. I slowly rode in the direction of home, now completely buried in memories of our conversations, the nights where I’d come to the restaurant to help his wife serve dinner, and then after closing they’d cook a special meal for me while Waldemar pulled out the guitar and starting testing new songs on me. One night we sat there til the sun came up, singing together. He even handed me the guitar as said, “go ahead bm, I know you’re musician.” But I know better… I returned his custom acoustic right back to him with a smile.
Here’s where it gets better: This morning I went to do xmas shopping-browsing at a CD shop, and there in the featured artist section – Waldemar Bastos and his new release Renascence, on a DUTCH LABEL! He had told me last year, during our annual phonecall, that he had signed with a Dutch label. Shit with Warner Brothers and David Burn’s Luaka Bop project had gone bad, but now he was back…. in the NETHERLANDS! I just checked the show listings… tomorrow night at the Tropentheatre.. I’m going to see my friend. I sent him a text message with this story. I look forward to the euphoria when he sees me tomorrow, no one will understand the history behind the enormous hug we will share.
(….to be continued.. and in the meantime, go stare at the stars)
Today’s Sounds: Waldemar Bastos – Renascence
But let’s move on to chess. To be upfront about it, I’m a chess player, though a bit rusty. Shirtsleaves and I used to spend hours on weekends sitting in Lisbon parks and pubs with our chess board. Here in Amsterdam, I slow down on my bike whenever I pass the chesscaf?, just to take a long look at all the matches. So I appreciate those who love the game – including 
Through careful ethnographic research I gathered the following information about myself at birth:
It’s been 20 years. Dec. 2nd, 1984… they call it “the worst industrial accident in the world’s history.” I call it – a crime against humanity. And 20 years later, neither Union Carbide or its owner Dow Chemical, have stepped forward to take responsibility for the fact that 27 tons of some of the deadliest chemicals imaginable leaked out and poisoned 100,000 people. 3,000 died in one night. And the survivors not only had to bear the pain and trauma, they were also left with horrendous cancers and mutations that continue to 
Of course, the CEO and other officials of Union Carbide have been called to face charges of manslaughter, negligence, and you name it, in the highest Indian Court. But they refuse to come to court, or set foot in the country where their factory was the source of so much death. They have been declared fugitives by the Indian government, but the US State Department has refused to hand them over. 
Lately on the communiqu? I’ve been doings lots of sentimental goodbyes. Maybe because lots of things are changing during this moment in world history. Often times the changes I’m seeing, I can’t even tell if they’re good or bad.. but change is change right?
I used to think, 