Adonis Diaries

Archive for February 13th, 2009

San Francisco

 

The trip to San Fran lasted almost 3 days and I spent my money on junk food. This is a period I’m still not ready to face much less to write about. Suffice to admit that I roomed with my adviser in the hotel and that he woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me that my snoring was loud.

After the convention was over, I was on the verge of joining the file of the homeless. I stayed at a referral that I got in Norman for one night in Ashbury Heights. The next morning I was feeling sick because of too much nervous tension. I called Nassif in Vancouver and all I got was a reprimand “Adonis, you are always in trouble”. I called Ali who was working in Canada but he had no referrals for me to stay over. I used an old number of Ali’s in Houston and it seems that this number connect him everywhere he relocates.  I know that I slept one night at an Algerian student who was the manager of the restaurant “Marrakech” that served Moroccan dishes; it was one of the longest night and most nerve wracking wait for this Algerian student; it was a cold night and I waited for over three hours sitting on my suitcase wondering if he is ever going to show up. I had nowhere to go and no money whatsoever.  I slept at a hostel for foreign student visitors for two nights around Downtown San Francisco. The Algerian student referred me to two Spanish students living a foggy neighborhood; the fog enveloped this quarter 20 hours a day. I had shelter for a week at the foreign students from Spain and they were very nice.

I managed to be hired in a full-service retirement hotel, for room and board in exchange of 4 hours work a day. The Spanish students could not believe that I landed a job that quickly. I accepted all the overtime I could get in all the departments, until I was offered the job of assistant to the manager three weeks later.  I was fooled by the offer of $1,200 a month which turned out to be less than $900 after all kinds of deductions but I fulfilled my “word” to stay a whole year in that position. My cousin Patrick visited me once when he was attending a conference in San Francisco for the anesthesiologists.

I enjoyed my stay in this lovely city of San Francisco and visited frequently all its parks and waterfronts and beaches, carrying a book with me.  I had also located a nearby covered swimming pool that I patronized three times a week.  I had the opportunity to tour the neighboring towns around San Francisco with co-workers and a French older woman called Michelle that I helped secure a part-time position at the Hotel.  The red headed Michelle carried all her belonging in the trunk of her small beat up car and she invited me on her many excursions out of town.  I saw every famous location because I was responsible for arranging tours to the elder residents and I was to be part of the trip for supervision purposes; the City offered a van with a driver and we toured San Francisco once a week.  I was also responsible for the monthly brochure designed to promote the business and I published photos of the trip and wrote about the monthly events in the Hotel. I think that I read most of the famous authors who lived in and around San Francisco. I had a Mexican girlfriend. (I wrote about my stay in San Francisco in “Chica Lupita”)

I have toured Marin County, the forest of the highest Red trees, ventured to Monterrey, Big Sur, Little Sur, Carmel, and all the environs.  I recall that I had an interview for a job in statistical analysis and had to board several ferries to reach destination; luckily, I didn’t get the job but it was a good exposure for various transport facilities. All in all, my stay in San Francisco was the loveliest and most enriching experience in the US.

Nashville

 

I learned that a young couple of my acquaintances were leaving to Kentucky and would drive through Tennessee.  I had an open invitation from my ex-girlfriend in Nashville.  I asked the couple to give me ride in their tiny VW Beatle; they dropped me in Nashville where a girl friend of mine lived. (I wrote about this trip in “An inch taller than her country women”).  I guess that I spent about three weeks in Nashville but I never had the opportunity to tour “Graceland” even though Shanon, the daughter of Rose, worked there for pocket money. I guess that I could not afford the $40 entrance fees.  I once got a traffic ticket for over speeding in Rose’s new Nissan car; it is impossible to know whether you are speeding in these smooth driving cars.  I never paid the traffic tickets.  There is not much to see in Nashville and I was not in the touring mood since Rose was working hard to make ends meet and I was feverishly applying for jobs. I described in details the door-to door book selling experience in the mentioned piece “An inch taller…”

 

The woman graduate student, Sara, picked me up on her way back to Oklahoma in her tiny beige VW.  I don’t recall that I spoke a word on that return trip. Sara reluctantly let me sleep overnight.  Two days later, Fakhry (a close Lebanese friend whose parents worked in Africa and was married to an American) lent me $100 for the Greyhound bus fare to San Francisco; I was to attend the American Human Factors annual convention; it was an excuse to let go of Norman and start afresh.

Sex is Stupid: Ask Viagra (February 11, 2009)

 

            Do you know that the sex medicine molecule for impotence, named VIAGRA, happened to be an acronym for its discoverer Ronald Virag in 1980?  Doctor Virag tested a procedure of micro-injections of papaverine in the cavernous body of the penis.  A few years later, prostaglandin (secreted by the two glands seminal vesicles) had proven to have fewer side effects. 

 

With Viagra, the supposedly impotent old fart of a penis was shocked to be standing still “saluting the Chief”, for hours.  Could you imagine a situation more ridiculous than an elder man carrying a stupid face for an incongruous condition?  Many had to be admitted to hospitals for painful relief procedures, admittedly less painful than the erect position case.

 

Do you know that over 40% of men in the developed countries become impotent by the age of 40?  Male menopause or middle age difficulties are setting in early on, and psychologists are making fortunes with the high turnover rate of impotant male. To increase their hourly rate, psychologist bring up the Death symbolism.

 

For example, psychologists ask their hapless clients “Do you have the feeling that the world is crumbling underneath your feet?”  Guess what, the client invariably and candidly answers “That is exactly my feeling! I kind of have the impression that I have been dispossessed”

 

Naturally, the impotent male feels dispossessed of a woman to love or a 14-years old pretty boy… This is the time when a male obsessively observes himself and starts to have presentiment of his own mortality, an unimaginable occurrence as long as his prick reassured him of its vivacity. 

 Now the impotent is ready to bow his head for “le coup de grace”.  Most probably, the new impotent failed to observe the reactions of his mate for so long, a mate “who was content for once in a while, a night every month…” because she was tiring quickly of physical exercises.    

It is time for introspection.  It is time to ask fundamental questions “What is love”, “What happened to my youth?”, “Where did I go wrong?”, and “How could I have managed my health better?”

 

There is this deep misconception that the act of sex is a re-establishment of power or a confirmation of power.  Reality is proving that sex is actually the signing of the political agreement after negotiating a balance on the terms of liberty, choices, and responsibilities.  Holding sex is an act of power to express outrageous disagreement of the relationship, a sort of revolt.  Thus, when it is time to sign the truce, then Viagra is appropriate, occasionally.

 

Sex is stupid; that is why youth is exciting and attractive. As we rot with age, we long for our stupid youth.  Usually, those who rot fast and suddenly, are those who denigrated the pleasures of reading, writing, and reflecting in their healthier period.  As impotence sets in, they have got nothing to revert to or compensate for, but their stupid esthetic recollections of failed prowess and inconsistent masks, which never fooled any one.

If sex is conveyed as a stupid act, which any mindless individual can perform, and if youth are instructed that intercourse requires high emotional and cognitive capabilities, then probably the age of impotence would recede into a very old age. Thus, feeling cool about intercourse and investing more time on knowing the partner would achieve better performance for all concerned parties. 

Maybe then sexual intercourses would be more pleasurable and meaningful and would offer most of the answers for later years existentialist questions.

Digitizing Human Memory: any Problems? (February 11, 2009)  

Do you know that a foundation in California called “Repository for Germinal Choice” had already generated over 200 babies by artificial insemination of “exceptional parents” in sciences, sports, and successful private entrepreneurial? 

The mother recipient has to undergo test of intelligence and score high IQ.  The billionaire Robert Graham had this lube of storing sperms of Nobel Laureates  in order “to improve human intelligence by eugenics selection“.

The Nobel Laureates declined the temptation and the foundation went after second choices for successful and smart people in all fields.

Daniel Plotz published in 2005 “The Genius Factory: Unraveling the Mystery of the Nobel Prize Sperm Bank“.  Plotz managed to locate 15 out of the 200 “super intelligent” kids, but so far only one family agreed to come out publicly. 

One of the new breed is Doron Blake with an IQ of 180 and born in 1982.  This adolescent stated in a TV interview:

Having a high IQ does not make me a good or a happy person. Being intelligent is not enough to define an individual. What kids need is not to be pressured by over motivated parents for solely education purposes.  What I appreciate most in me is my capacity for loving others; I don’t think it is feasible to select genetically good and loving individual; nurturing is the key factor here.

On another front, it seems that researchers in cognition are attempting to transfer electrical impulses from human memory into digital signals

This phase of the endeavor might be possible with the nanotechnology where microscopic elements are infused in the blood reaching specific sections of the brain. 

The first problem would be what hard or soft storage technology would be appropriate to transfer that much information and at what speed.  

The second difficulty is the hardest:  Given that the headaches in the first stage are ironed out then how to interpret the stored data?

I have taken many courses in human memory and what I recall is that it is not reliable

The critical problem would be the interpretation of the data. 

I am inclined to believe that most of the research would not be geared to emulating human intelligence or its problem solving capability or how man transfer its information to the “dust bin” and then how he recovers the needed information to survive and go on living. 

What the zealot researchers don’t know is how the data would “benefit” other objectives.

The providers of funds and decision makers surely have different agendas that researchers are not supposed to know at this stage. 

One agenda is probably to transfer the memory of one person to another person or to a robot and test and evaluate and eliminate and improve and then scrap projects after sinking in billions of scarce resources.

“The man with the long curly hair”: Fragments of Abu NuwassPoems (February 12, 2009)

Note:  I am attempting to convey the style and position of the great Arab poet Abu Nawass.  The translation is not literal and I am selecting fragments in specific genres.

Ascetics  (Abu Nawass is witnessing his physical disintegration after his 50)

It is true O God: Great is my villainy.  Your clemency, I know, is infinite.

If the virtuous only dares keep hope.  Then, who the sinner is to appeal to?

Whom the sinner is to believe in?

In humility I implore you my Lord.  Don’t reject me! Only you can have pity.

You are the clement and forgiving.  Finally and besides, I am a Moslem.

My God, you have always been good to me.  My gratitude is little adequate. 

Do I have to present my flat excuses?  My excuse is that I have none.

Nullity crawls in me; my members are dying one at a time. Every moment takes its share.

My youth has fled and didn’t deign to listen.  What have I done with my tender youth?

My youth was dedicated to pleasure, every day and every night.

All possible mischief I have committed.  Forgive me God; I hear you and I tremble.

The full moon is just a dim glow compared to your majestic Face.

I carry on my front the indelible mark of prostrations that might pass me a devout.

Oh, how many noble figures are entombed and as many refined beauties.

How many brave are buried and as many great minds.

Let a rational man interrogate Earth. 

We have taken all Earth’s alleys, highways, and passes. 

Earth is our enemy disguised as friend.

Satires

(The Caliph Al Amine is pederast and wanted to honor Abu Nawass’s young son Mussa.  The satirized personalities were the poet’s benefactors and he joined their merriments)

The Caliph is losing his way.  It is the Caliph fault.

His ignorant vizier Fadl and his naïve counselor Bakr are to be blamed.

The Caliph Al Amine is a pederast.  He loves young eunuchs.

The Caliph is the active actor: How wonderful!

His vizier is the passive one.

The compromises of these two are splattering all the neighborhood.

Like a pissing camel.


adonis49

adonis49

adonis49

February 2009
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