15 January 2011 Jasmine Revolution

While I was working on the Tunisia article I had a bit of a rough time communicating with blogger Leena Ben Mhenni; her Facebook account was hacked and my messages kept bouncing back from her email address and eventually I conducted the interview over the phone. Meanwhile the world watched with bated breath as the former dupes rose up in wrath and made fools of the school bullies. Ya basta.

And now the head bully has fled the country like a skittish colt with a firecracker tied to his tail. The world is waiting to see if the dupes will now become bullies themselves.

Dr. Sparkles sent me a pin that says, “Practice Suspicious Behavior.” Think

I’ll wear it on my ruffled polka dot apron.

Jazzman Jack has been tidying things up  in the Stardust department. Looks yummy, Jack! That’s yours truly on the vocal samples.

Just watched 100% Arabica, which I thought was pretty cool, kind of like a blacksploitation flick but about ghettoized Arabs in France. Great music, and of course it was great to see Cheb Khaled and Cheb Mami in lead roles.

Winter’s Bone just reminded me of how purely and truly Appalachian my home town in southwestern Nova Scotia really is. The log cabin and porch, the cluttered yards, the junked cars, the weathered wrecks of houses, the bluegrass, the chillingly evil people living with people so kind they deserved sainthood . . . Every shot looked like it came from my own memory bank and it got more uncanny when Ree appeared with a horse named Ginger, the name of a horse I had when I was young.

Speaking of horses, this week in Cruiscin Lan Sugarbuns and Candibelle argue the ethics of a local farmer importing an Arabian mare for breeding purposes when so many local mares are out of work.

For much of my life I’ve been sick with the sickness of my society. I’ve been depressed with the depression of my era. To know the hell visited on the subconscious of my generation, to see the full ugliness from which we distract ourselves, I only need revisit my depression, my nightmares, my death wish, my depravity.

It’s all so simple, really. He gives. We choose to accept or refuse. Sometimes we accept but not completely. Sometimes we refuse but leave the door ajar.

You see? Already I’m making it complicated.

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