كاين زوين 

I want this tattoo, but I don't know where yet.  It's an inside joke from Morocco.  It is pronounced 'kayn zween' and means 'there is beauty,' but there are not always words in the Moroccan Arabic dialect for everything, so often one must figure out how to properly translate certain words and phrases. One time, long ago in Sidi Ifni, Carlos and Thomas and I were pondering the best way to translate the Beatles song, 'Let it Be' and it seemed that when we would ask our tutor/native speakers how to say various words/phrases that were positive, the word 'zween' would be used.  Zween can mean so many things!  Therefore, kayn zween is probably the best translation of 'Let it Be.'  Not really, but it was funny at the time, and it actually became a rather prominent phrase throughout my time in Morocco.  People adopted it that we knew, and Carter mentioned a few times that he even got some of his friends down in Agdz saying it.  

I got pretty into making this saying happen in Morocco.  I even argued some of my language tutors into admitting that it actually could be used correctly, not as 'let it be' though, but that it could be correct to say 'there is beauty.'  I also successfully convinced my Berber language group to sing a version of 'Let it Be' translated into Tashlheet which is called 'Agit a tg' which is more a translation of kayn zween than the actual 'Let it Be.'  Does this all not make much sense?  I didn't think so.  I'm bad at storytelling, I know, and my stories aren't really stories at all, I think.  I just got excited when I found out that my blogging platform could write out kayn zween in script for me without copy and paste.

It's funny that I've noticed myself talking and writing about Morocco more now that I've been gone for some time.  I hardly mentioned it at all while living there.  It's all finally digesting, I suppose.


Oh my gosh, I have finally resized and "developed" the thousands of photos that I took while living abroad.  That took way too long.  I love camera raw, but it sure is time consuming.  


Watched Bond the other night and duh, Choupette = Blofeld's cat.  

Trifecta Sunday!

Putting apartment search on hold.  Curses unto that.  I just want a place that is not falling apart, has enough space for my sewing and painting, and will allow me to have a puppy.  This is difficult in Boston, it seems.  I am reminded of Ann Arbor.  Too many dirty college kids who don't mind living in squalor.  Grow up, fools.

But it is Trifecta Sunday!


Jacques-Andre Boiffard, The Big Toe, 1929

Jacques-Andre Boiffard, Les Mouches, 1929

Jacques-André Boiffard, Untitled, 1930

Just cause it's 70 and sunny doesn't automatically mean that I want to be outside.

People always assuming.
In a bad mood because I did not beat Matt in the finals.

Still killed them all in the roto standings.  

Still in a bad mood.


Coltrane and Monk, Carnegie Hall, 1957

The Haçienda interior, 1982

National Geographic, 1960.

Hiatus was too long.  Speaking of the work hiatus, what was the movie where someone used the line, "I feel like Oprah on hiatus."?  Cause that's when I learned the meaning of that word, I remember.  I remember asking my mom what that meant.  I just cannot remember the movie.  There's always google.

Oh god.  It was the Caspar movie.  Ew.  Well, I was young, so there's an excuse.  Still thought that movie was stupid back then cause they tried to make it seem that Caspar was really a dreamy little blonde boy.  Dreamy he was NOT!  I did not understand why that Devon Sawa kid was all over Teen Beat and those other poster magazines.  I thought he was ugly and had an even uglier haircut.  I thought Jeff Goldblum was the hot shit (why else would I pay to see Independence Day in the theater 6 times?), and that teen girls had bad taste in men.  I must admit that it annoys me that Mr. G has sort of become a sex symbol ironically on the internet while he rocked my world as early as 1996.  


Not on internet hiatus anymore.  But really.  I know I've mentioned it a few times, saying that I hadn't been interneting all that much since returning to America, and I haven't. But then emails and messages start to pile up which makes them become really scary.  You know what I mean.  I'm going to respond to emails within a week from now on.  Because they aren't really scary.  People are not as scary as I like to think.  Stupid...yuh, but not scary.


I am trying out this new thing though, where I get less scared of people.  I'm not about to become Kramer and be all laid back, brutally honest, and not shy at all, but I'mma try not to sit and overanalyze future interactions with strangers for hours prior to those interactions.  Anxiety is starting to get old, and I've been able to somewhat conquer and control other stinky stupid issues in my life, so I think this one can be handled as well.  Maybe?  Yuh?  

Again, this post has gone in so many directions.  Why did I start talking about anxiety and people being scary?  Oh, right, emails and internet.  This is going no where.  



I did not stop blogging.  I just haven't been on my computer a whole lot.  SO MUCH TRASH TO DO!  


Fantasy playoffs two years in a row.  Championship here I come.


oh ma god cadbury eggs


Things I've learned while searching for Boston apartments on Craigslist...people like living in ugly clutter. Also hire a realtor. 


No, really!  PEOPLE IN AMERICA STOP TALKING SO MUCH ABOUT YOUR STUPID CRAZY FOOD RESTRICTIONS!  I don't want to be that person, someone who comes back from living abroad being all, "oh America be different like this blah blah blah," but FREAKING GD this is ridiculous how differently Americans freak out about what they can and cannot eat, various diet trends, etc.  I never once saw anything paleo/whole30/bullshit-related while living overseas.  Occasionally I'd read references to these things on the internet, but never ever never never witnessed such dietary crap while in Morocco/Europe/Asia. Just live, you dummies.  Your privileged neurosis about diet are really getting on my nerves and making me regret coming back!

Just stop.

No, really.  I'm going to start being vocal about how stupid you all are to your stupid faces if it continues, and then I'm sure I'll come across as a little snot.


Don't listen to what Allmusic says (Wah wahhh it's so short, wahhhhh! Does anyone actually consult them?), Don Cherry's Live in Ankara is the hot shit.