I have more to say.

This post is going to go all over the place and take up quite a lot of space, I think. There have been a couple of things that I've wanted to reflect on and I reflect better out loud. One of friend, one of better than one. I don't know how things relate, but I swear this was a logical string of thought. Meetings and becomings is what this is about.

I begin: I suppose we are friends. We are good friends, even, possibly even better than merely "good" but I don't think either of us have thought too much about that, nor do we care to. We met some years ago during the summer, when I hauled my crap up some six flights of stone steps of a ridiculous sounding building unadorned with air conditioning. I'd spent the morning indoctrinated by MemChurch and afterwards ate lunch with an old friend. I was in no mood to be tossed to the wolves of roommates I was convinced I would be forced to share the rest of the summer with. Of course, that wasn't to be the case- we all became fairly fast friends when it became clear that neither I nor they were tall, blonde, bitchy or Norwegian(s) (nothing against Norwegians, really). I think what pulled this friend in particular and I together at that point was a common distaste for: people of asian descent, Annenberg dining hall, and the bitches across the wall in J, reinforced by a sense of genteel "poverty" and a shared penchant for terrible puns and unwitty witticisms. We kept in better than just touch, and here we are, some years later like old ladies in rocking chairs having moved from heroin chic and dumb jocks to stable asian boys who study economics (yes, the pair of us). The one who wrote me my first email to my college mail account entitled "I like making [anti] asian jokes..." now proudly displays "Harvard Fob Pride Association" as one of their affiliations. From laughing about the stupid guys downstairs to crying morosely about the single one who told me no. I trust, though, that come whatever may, we'll be there in our goddam rocking chairs listening to vintage Britney Spears still yacking about her horrific landslide and how much we love eggplant and fried clams and Sangria.

"Big wheel keep on turnin' proud Mary keep on burnin'..."
-"Proud Mary"

I'm moving on, now, to the more than just friend. We were introduced years ago. Years and years; 7th grade, though we never really fell into best friend status until 8th. A friend and I took him to the mall in 8th grade and he traded ill shaped clothing for baggy cargo pants and a cute T shirt and a pair of Vans, with the extra padding just below the ankles. I got a christmas card which asked me quizzically what I got when I crossed an elf with a plate of cookies (A: elf barf) and happily proclaimed that I was his best friend forever. There was a brief, fleeting romance, a sort of testing of waters and what it was, and then I dumped him for a pretty, but dull boy who was a nice accessory at the time. We had our falling out, then a reunion over the summer when he watched me fall in love - with someone else. Eventually that gave way because of life, because of trials, because of circumstances beyond human control.

One day, the bottom fell out and I asked for him. He refused. It was then, I remember, the crushing ache which would consume me for some days began and I understood then what needed to be understood. We were meant to be, at that point, for some time, together, more than just friends. It was a revelation that the hours and hours spent talking day in and day out and day back in wasn't a dress rehearsal for another person to come along. It began there, then, and we haven't (and won't) move backwards. Always pressing ahead, I guess. I'm not sure i want to say much more about us; it's a delicious inside joke the two of us share. Even if I wanted to, I don't think I could say more.

"There are a lot of apparent choices in the world and not many are real ones. You bring a guy home and he's a goat or a camel and he speaks no human language [all guys]. You will probably meet other boys, but I doubt you will meet his equal or nicer."
-Linda Ronstadt

"You give me fever...What a lovely way to burn..."
-"Fever"

So I think the significant thing in all this is that these two people - whom I met at different times under different circumstances have grown and changed with the same "me." Two people who have woven their way into my life (lives?) who know the real me and whom I (hopefully) know of the real them. Saying "Orgo Tennis boy" or "Adams House T shirt" to one of them would illicit laughs while to the other it would probably yield a gentle, slightly estranged smile. Likewise with saying "Pokey" or "Horse testicles." And that is where these thoughts have led. Different, but real.

Gloria Arroyo, you really piss me off.

What's this Reuters report claiming that you're working to elimate the possibility of the populace toppling the government? Seeing as you said it during a public radio broadcast, I can believe it. Something too, about asking your husband, son, and brother in law to leave the country amid accusations of being involved in the corruption that YOU have not only condoned but benefitted from? Fuck you. Your relations should also stand trial for their alleged roles in this corruption. Get them back into the country and stand your impeachment trial as you should - without changing the form of government. If you are ever declared to be innocent, you can work to change the government then - but certainly not when you are caught with your lips wrapped around Ferdinand Marcos' cock with Imelda watching closely by. Get your filthy, weasely, poor imitation of "character" out of the goddam sewer and take what you deserve

Elsewise, the Dubai mall system is giving out raffle tickets for some pretty great things for every 200 hams (About 55 dollars) you spend. After a few big shopping trips, my uncle, aunt and I have accumulated some.....hundred or so raffle tickets. Now we have to fill the little tickets out and strategically drop them in different places. I think we have another 5 of them or so coming (because I didn't redeem my cell phone receipt from a week or so ago. Hoorah. Maybe we'll win the grand prize and end up with a ton of money and blow it on something like a prizewinning camel, after whose racing days we will ship across the Emirates and other camel racing countries while collecting princely stud fees. Hey, one can dream. The city of gold also has its own raffle/competition - they're raffling off a pretty large diamond solitaire every week. I will definitely be visiting there again some time soon, likely with the photographer, who has also been "eager" to go.

I saw White Man's Burden bodywash today so I bought some. Honest to god, it is some great great soap. It's kinda hard to find though, especially in the States - it doesn't come in its signature light caramel there and therefore doesn't entice me to buy it. Mmmm. White Man's Burden.

I saw the world's cleanest food market today. It was shockingly clean. There was not a fly to be seen in the place and there was absolutely not a drop of standing water near the fish market. There were no fruit or veggie carcases to be seen and the only smell emanating from the ENTIRE market was that of the Philipino mangoes. This magical market was to be found in a small-ish city (Al-Ain) in the Emirate of Abu Dhabi (incidentally also the name of the capital city of the UAE), though I have no doubt that other semi-outdoor souks in other Emirates (such as Dubai) are just as clean. As a result, my uncle and I hoarded mangoes, packed them into the Jeep and drove home.

We ended up at the Royal Mirage for dinner, in a traditional Moroccan restaurant (of course with all the comforts of a hotel =D ). It was....delicious. The mint tea was the best I'd ever had, a sumptuous, refreshing blend of mint, tea, and sugar. I'm sure I will be butchering my own mint plant (I have grand plans of growing a few herbs in my apartment this year) on a regular basis in an attempt to recreate the minty goodness of tonight.

I have also become infatuated with this yellow, smiling mascot for the Summer Surprise Festival in Dubai. He has an ugly name: "Modhesh" but that fact is quickly blotted out by the fact that his smiling face is a veritable ray of sunshine. I think it was my aunt who figured out that Modhesh is a jack-in-the-box "jack" without the box. That would explain the accordion body and generally "springy" demeanour. I have posted a picture of myself with Modhesh, whom I have dubbed "SummerFest Dude" above. Do not judge for yourself, I have already judged for you; SummerFest Dude is absolutely extraordinarily pimp.

A Starbucks Bear, a wristwatch, a few pairs of fuzzy slippers, a manicure and pedicure, 4 local pomelos and some random local tomatoes and a few bags of chips.

Those were today's spoils. I'm kinda happy about that even though it basically means that I burned through some serious money today. I have generally been very good in Dubai, not spending much money and none of that stuff I listed was for myself anyway. The starbucks bear I managed to get my hands on was actually pretty rare, which is cool. It may get Ebayed off or it may go to somebody. I think it's time for more shopping - online now.

It is, I would say, oozing from my pores. So it's 4:00am here in Dubai and it's the tail end of champagne and dancing. So it's always a little exciting to be hit on; it doesn't happen every day and it's damn flattering when it does. What's interesting is that the guy who is hitting on me is 15 years my senior (literally fifteen years) and has not only chatted me up on multiple occasions, but he is actually staying with my uncle, aunt and I, making for interesting "alone" time. And god can he dance. He can move his hips like no man I've ever seen (or felt) for that matter. He insisted on teaching me the tango, hip to hip. He's only a little taller than I am so his leg was jammed firmly in between mine on every lead.

I should take this opportunity to voice the fact that I do not know ballroom dancing. I kinda have an idea of how the cha-cha goes now and a sense of how the tango and the salsa work now and god it's so much fun. I don't know if it's the champagne making things fun or the man making them fun or the dancing making things fun, but I am definitely going to be insisting that *my man* seriously learn how to pull out the stops and really dance. Liquid hips and cat steps dance...

As to what I'm going to do to spurn the advances, I don't know yet...I won't lie...He is one sexy beast and I wannnnnnnnt one. Growrrrrrr

I have whipped myself back into shape. about 4 or 5 workouts and my legs have recut themselves. I never marveled to think what my body is capable of doing until I was floating on the boat a mile and a half off the ocean floor scooping up rocks - it was then that I talked to Peter Michael about odd things: staying in shape, twisting things, breaking things. I've always had a fascination with individual parts of the body and maybe even its systems too, but I'd never thought to think of myself as a unit until talking to him. I don't know...maybe I had this image of just a bunch of things moving independently to create "me."

He told me how he'd wasted the best years of his life (physically) being a veritable couch potato and rather unfit and how he regretted it now, primarily because he's achingly curious to know what his body would have been capable of during its prime. There was also something in there about enjoying youth and the effects that it has on your body, knowing full well that one day every system will begin its accelerated march towards death.

Interesting too, to think about what happens to human relationships as we age. After a good friend of mine and I were unable to meet up (we're constantly in different cities, often countries) for the third or fourth time and were relegated to speaking on the phone, we talked about the frustration of having lives in divergent paths - the knowledge that effort alone wasn't enough to force us together for an afternoon was sobering. I spend far more time with "friends" who mean far less to me. It doesn't trouble me, though - she and I have a bond thicker than blood, forged in a mutual understanding of suffering and the inevitable acceptance and to know even if we spend an hour or two every year with each other, that alone is enough. Some years, the occasional email to document life's twists and turns is all that happens between us, and that means the other is fine and well and that life is moving smoothly. To know too that the other will be there for the biggest most important events in life is comforting, even if for the time being, mundane life gets in the way.

"If I am not for myself, who will I be? If I am only for myself, who am I? If not now, when?"
-The Talmud

Fuck You, TWC.

Time Warner Road Runner cable is...immensely expensive....grrrr. I'm slowly setting up my beautiful apartment in the City (well I don't arrive there until August 25th or so). It's the high speed internet package fees that are making me reel right now. Something to the ridiculous tune of 60 bucks/month because i don't plan on getting their premium cable service (If I did, it would be more expensive overall but each service would be cheaper). I am not pleased with that. On top of that, i've decided not to get a land line, but to plunk down the money for a beater computer that I can leave on 24 hours a day that will act as my phone line (via broadband phone) and I can call home for cheap. Vonage has a service that costs $15/month and I find that to be...at least reasonable. My expenses have increased a billion fold since moving out of good old Wien, but I think it'll be worth it because if I'm stuck eating the crap I was eating last year due to lack of kitchen again, I just might be forced to hurt somebody. I have no idea, though, how I'm going to weather schlepping 10 blocks to school every day, especially come winter. Whatever. marble countertops and a Jacuzzi tub can't be all that bad.

I am now officially an '80s drug dealer. I bought a new cell phone today, A pretty pimp one and it cost me not too much. 1 kiloham, to be exact (kiloham = 1000 UAE dirhams. Clever, yes?), which is about $275 USD. It's a slidy Samsung (not the ultra pimp one...that one was way too much phone for me, period) and unfortunately it has a camera and a video camera, meaning I may need to surrender it at certain places in the city. Ridiculous. I have some serious problems with the built in ringtones and of course the dumb thing doesn't come with an uplink cable so that I can download a normal, human ringtone for my stinking phone. It looks pretty good, though, and it definitely seems like it will last as long as I need it to. That means I will also be switching to Cingular when I get back to Amerikah so all you kids with Cingular can talk to me way more than you want to for no money. Seeing as Snow and Flake have the ugly duckling of carriers (T-mobile), they're just shit outta luck.

The heat will threaten to kick my ass starting Friday, when I begin to spend entire days outside (well, from 5am to 9am, then 5pm to 7pm) outside for the photoshoot. Brian and I will melt. The models' makeup I'm sure will disintegrate to soup. Ah, the working life.

Lance, Exit. Bravo!

A fabulous time trial today, a beautiful one. Tomorrow's parade through the Arc at Champs-Elysees will be the last time Lance will race. It's been amazing watching him race, actually, especially through this last tour. The man is a legend and a damn good rider.

The tour itself, I think, is amazing to me. The living, breathing peloton which gracefully floats through winding roads, growing and changing as tiny specks of color shift themselves within the body and pieces pull off to accept their fate or gain their advantage hypnotizes me for three weeks in July. It's not really for the leaders that I watch the tour, even though I admire Lance and the disco boys, I watch for the liveliness of the peloton, the struggle of the individual riders who are dropped and for the spectacular moments of sprinting which punctuate the long ribbon that is the tour.

And yes, winning seven in a row gives you plenty of panache.

I didn't sleep too well last night again, probably owing to the thoughts that have consumed me for the last couple of days (and the general air of insomnia that I have here in Dubai). I can't help but be sad for the events that I've recently learned of, and it makes me think and relive all the times we break the cold silence after the dust settles and one of us asks: "are we still...here?" I'm realizing that it's a pretty big deal that we're still here and still plugging through life, stabbing blindly in the dark, but together, at least.

I realized too how much he'd grown up yesterday, too. I came home from a day of running around (well, not strenuous running around...brunch, shopping and a two hour Thai massage) with these thoughts on my brain, viciously tearing at my sense of happiness and well-being. At some point, the house of cards fell and I caught myself playing The Pretender's "I'll Stand By You" on loop, with the feelings of plummetting from a contented perch into an unknown darkness. Tony Hendra's "Father Joe" does a great job of describing the fall so I don't have to:

"...there was a chill in the bedroom and in my heart, a surge of cold animal fear that some vast, irresistible force was circling me, stalking me, about to pounce...I was falling, in an elevator with its cables severed, accelerating down into the blackness of the shaft. I opened my eyes but I was still falling - faster now - plunging into a chasm with no bottom...I'd been flung from the battlements of my certainty."

Anyway, it was he who stepped in, on cue, to comfort me. It wasn't like this when things started. It dawned on me when the whole episode had retreated (perhaps only to surface again later on) that for this moment, we'd switched roles. He'd slowly transformed into somebody so able, so capable of something I'd never imagined to get from him. It amazes me still, I think.

I realize too, now, how long the two of us have come, and what hellfire we've gone through to get to this point, and I suppose that knowledge alone is comfort enough that whatever went on back home will never destroy us if it comes down to the wire.

"but please, you know you're just like me. Next time, i promise we'll be...perfect - strangers when we meet, strangers on the street, lovers while we sleep...Perfect, you know this has to be. We always were so free, we promise that we'll be perfect"