Sunday, January 29, 2006

Model Aircraft
I spent a great day recently with a group of aero model enthusiasts. I'm not a hobbyist myself, but I can appreciate all the hard work and passion that goes into this kind of activity. All way to the flying area, the guys discussed the relative sticking powers and virtues of gum arabic, selotape an bits of chewed gum (emergency only). When we arrived at the flying area, the surrounding fields had been freshly spread with manure and half the flies of the Middle East were there greet us and to make fun of the clumsy fixed-wing model planes we'd brought along with their infuriating inborn ornithropter skills.
One guy brought along a classic, all balsa Spitfire with a noisy two stroke engine. He was dead nervous as he taxied it down the short concrete strip that served as runway, scared of some split second error or gust that might send it thwunking into the ground for weeks of weekend and late-night repairs. But the Spit took off and began to circle above us with something of the style and the evocative silhouetter of its famous namesake.

The Spitfire model was of the type that enthusiasts build to closely resemble real manned aircraft. Other RC models are designed purely as flyers, with no design compromises for looks. These aircraft frames are made of balsa and fiberglass with polythene stretched over them. The engines are often electric, which makes for beautifully silent flying but requires relatively heavy batteries. They flew like birds, soared, swooped and spiralled lazily in thermals. It was a wonder to watch. One even had a small video camera in the nose, and on playback, after landing u could see its view of me running away as it dived down on me! The only difference between men and boys is the price of their toys.
On the journey home, I asked the guys for their engineering advice as to how to get people to read this blog. They unaminously agreed that I should include key words like nipple tit fantasy wet fuck and easy foolproof diet to catch the Google searchers. So I have...

Friday, January 20, 2006

A great massage the other day. I asked him for a firm decisive touch and thats what i got. I felt him squeezing me it was as if he was defining my limits my real space. I go thru life in a drift thinking im some how out there, but the pressure from his hands shows me where I am in my slowly aging flabby body. Yes this is indeed where I am m, a saluatory reminder.
vita brevis, ars longis
The art of massage is to kneed and move the muscle mass, slowly in harmonic rythm, so that id doesnt turn into a rub. I prefer massage from a man. More forceful. And with a woman, well if shes the slightest bit attractive, then my mind wonders in that downward direction, rather than laying back and enjoying the massage. and if shes totally unattractive , then whats the point?
My wife is not any good at massaging me. Shes a a rubber not a kneeder.
The best massage I had was from a guy in Karlsbad. He manpulated me with consomate skill, poetry. I felt he was about to tear me apart like a spring chicken or maybe rape me, but I didnt care. In 25 minutes it was all over and I slid back into my skin.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

A police car swerved to a stop in front of the bus to Tel Aviv. I guess the driver had tipped them off. The came right on board and went straight for the guy in the seat in front of me. "Papers!" he snapped. The thought crossed my mind that we might be about to blow up, but the Palestinian was apparently used to the procedure and just gave the cop his green ID card. Mine is blue. He protested mildly that he hadn't done anything, but the cop just shouted : "Don't fuck with me! you know you aren't allowed to ride this bus!" He took him and two other Arabs off the bus. It was demeaning to watch. I felt like calling out to the cop: 'hey don't shout at him like that !' But I didn't say a word, nor did any other passenger. What good would it haave done? The cop was there to protect me, to try help stem the flow of Palestinians who enter Israel without permits. 99.9% are just traveling to work, but others come to steal cars or plant bombs. Fact of life. I see a cop treat people like shit but I dont do a thing. My childish instincts of fair play are constrained by bitter experience. Ordinary people, who fancy themselves as free agents are trapped in a historical and political paradigm. We go to work , run our lives like we were in late 20th Century Europe or US, we even watch old "Seinfeld" reruns. But this shit is going on all the time Two of the Palestinians were allowed back on the bus, the third was detained and would be sent back home to his village. Happens a thousand times a day.