text:
Jared Daniel Washines
SEATTLE – Jared Daniel Washines, born November 24, 1974 at Ellensburg, WA, passed April 15, 2007 at the age of 32.
Education: Toppenish High School (1992), Transferred from Yakima Valley Community College to University of Washington (Seattle) where he earned a Bachelor's Degree in Comparative History of Ideas (1998).
Employment: University of Washington Center on Human Development and Disability; Amazon.com Fraud Investigator; currently employed in food service opening restaurants and marketing specialty gourmet food on-line.
Affiliation: Yakama Nation/Skokomish/Cree, Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (member).
Direct Descendent of Chiefs: Meninock, Moses, Seattle (Sealth).
Grief is our greatest teacher. It opens up our heart, so that we dip into pockets of emotions and understanding that our fears and busy lives normally keep hidden.
Jared Washines went with the creator on a rainy Sunday morning. For those of us that knew Jared as a grandson, son, brother, uncle, cousin, nephew, or friend, we knew that Jared loved to walk in the rain. It is why he chose to live and work in Seattle, and we are comforted by the thought that it was a perfect day for him to begin this journey.
We acknowledge and accept that there is no tomorrow that will bring him back into our homes or our lives, but his teachings remain very much alive in the part of our hearts that jumped whenever he was near. His nieces and nephews expressed it best; when they saw him, they would shout, "Uncle Diddle is here!" and they would jump on him or try to catch him with the flat side of a toy sword. It is not an understatement to say that babies and young people were drawn to him, and his joy made him a source of light in many lives. However, the full power of Jared's spirit generosity, and gentleness was felt by those that needed it most. While he was studying in Seattle, he worked with children with autism disorders at a special education school based on the University of Washington and at camps during the summer. His love of life was the undeniable force that helped him reach these children.
The day before he passed, he went for a run and afterward, his roommate heard him say, "Life is good. Life is good." In later years, Jared was extremely dedicated to being the mirror that reflected life's beauty and goodness. He had always been a talented musician. He could hear a song or piece and then play it on the piano. He often played in Seattle public venues and for family and friends and was developing his talent as a composer. Jared was also an avid and talented writer. He shared stories with family and friends, and before his passing, he had been writing his first novel. His family hopes to organize and complete his novel for publication, so that Jared's passion for life can continue to live on in his works.
Our grief has opened us up, and we ask ourselves why he is gone. Maybe the answer comes from a reflection of how his life began. As an infant he faced a life-threatening illness. He was completely in God's hands. His survival was a blessing, and his mother Stella knew that he had lived for a reason and cherished his life as a gift. Jared was fun, gentle, and loving. He touched the hearts of many people and taught us how to enjoy life, so that now we realize everyday of his 32 years was a blessing to us all.
He is survived by parents Archie and Stella Washines of Toppenish; brother Brandon (Amy) Washines of West Valley; sisters Tawaia (Louis) Alvarado of Fairchild Airforce Base, Emily Washines (Jon) of Ellensburg, and Elese Washines of Toppenish; his beloved nieces Alexa, Brittany, Carmen Jae, Isabella, and Quinn; his nephew Elijah Washines; girlfriend Eunice Chung of Bellvue; Uncles Clifford, Anthony, Ronn, Davis, and Arlen Washines, Nick Paul, and Tom Mosqueda; Aunts Harriet (Leon) Strom, Angie Phillips, Shirley Pinkham, Norma Jack, Deona Levno; paternal grandmother Hazel Watlamett; his extended family with many special cousins, and all his diverse friends in this country, Italy, France, and Germany. He has two namesakes Carmen Jae Alvarado (parents: Tawaia and Sgt. Louis Alvarado) and Sapahtma Jared Blackeagle (parents: Josiah and D'Lisa Pinkham).
He is preceded by grandparents Edward Washines, Lena M. Phillips, Bertha and Nick Mosqueda; uncle Jasper Washines; cousins Thomas Mosqueda Jr. and Ella Washines; great-grandmothers Stella Cree Wynaco and Elsie Cree Pinkham, Maggie Syyou (& her sons Joe Meninick, Leonard Tomaskin, Raymond Watlamett).
Arrangements are being made through Colonial Funeral Home of Toppenish, WA.
Dressing services will be held at Colonial Funeral Home on Tuesday April 17, 2007 at 2:00 PM. Overnight services will be held Tuesday and Wednesday evenings at the Toppenish Longhouse. A funeral procession will leave the Toppenish Longhouse at 7:00 AM on Thursday April 19, 2007 for interment at Satus Point Cemetery. Colonial Funeral Home is in charge of arrangements.
** I have collected as many of his writings as I could find and have archived them below, unedited.**
starter white girl
those were my first words to her.
but it wasn't mozart; it was j.s. bach.
months later, after my stocks had doubled, i took her to berlin in the hot summer months that were nearly as merciless as the cold winter, east German months. we rented a Mercedes E Class and drove 130 mph to j.s. bach's final resting place in Leipzig via the autobahn.
after we broke up, i went to berlin to consolidate my fears and griefs in the shadow of the gedachtniskirch.
"this is mozart", i said to her.
"nah, this isn't mozart", she said. "it's bach. his 3rd concerto"
"it sounds like mozarts requiem", i said.
"that's because mozart ripped his requiem from bach. he ripped everything. just like picasso", she said.
i was in love.
she wasn't beauty
or Pretty
or Laughter
or Hope
but she was this strange entity called, 'infatuation'. a phenomenal woman that grips us in the solace of our embrace with something else. usually it's another woman. for me it was booze.
from the Southern most coast of England. a coast that had enough endurance to fear both Hitler and the Romans, she came to me. with her posh accent and her ideas of a garden.
The English love their gardens. she came from a posh family that left nothing alone while i, in my own right, came from a people that left too much alone:
our dogs ran rampant, neither fed nor castrated–may the strongest breed and feed
our lawns were left unkept while hers were immaculately conceived as if christ himself were to embody the flora in her backyard
our cars were left to die on their deathbeds in our front yards, an act mimicked by front yards in reservations the world over. "what were you thinking, little car?"
she came to me in the first months of my success.
but that was okay because she was my first white girl. my starter white girl. from which all other campaigns would errupt.
nurture Nature
the setting:
sitting in an Online Cafe. the peripheral chatter of another customer on her cell and an old man surfing gay porn mix with a crooning Patsy Cline to form the ambience. our Hero is RUSHED and his stomach complains loudly as he consumes his third (native) Americano…
for my fourth birthday, ma took me to "The Fog"/"The Fury" double feature. there's a scene in The Fury where a carnival ride unhinges, sending a bunch of riders flying to their death. aftewards, she took me to the county fair where we rode the exact same ride in the movie, much to my dismay.
for my fourteenth birthday, my friends took me out to the railroad tracks where the six of us shared a 40 of Olde E and looked at dirty mags.
later that night, smelling the beer on my breath, ma threatened to enroll me in AA.
when i protested, she said i was "in denial"—proof positive that i was a raging alcoholic. i spent the next year going to once-a-month meetings with those same friends' parents.
another Americano. the barista has a tattoo on her arm: "FREE". as we return, the old man's gay porn has gotten more graphic. a black cock thrusts in and out of hairy man-ass as we take another caffeine shot. the old man alternates between the porn and his Yahoo! account where he's composing an email to his granddaughter
a battle of prerequisites
i'd seen enough of it to know it was true. scratch. i'd seen enough of it to know how to articulate it was true. but i couldn't share it with any of the women folk. it was one of those things that a lot women will never understand or accept. like the idea that a "platonic" male friend who always asks her to dinner and offers 4am rides to the airport might harbor any secret desires.
"he's like a brother" she would say.
"..who wouldn't mind playing doctor behind uncle jimmy's barn", i would add.
but when you bring it up to the dudes, they'd say, 'yeah right–muthafucka's playin the friend-card. takes balls and patience to play that card because it could be years before you land that fish."
and that's what dating is.
landing a big fish.
or at least one that'll flop around in your bed for a night or two.
for a woman, i imagine it thus:
if they figure they got a minow on their hands. someone they just wanna land because he's the lesser of two evils (the other evil being, "solitude"), they'll yank that fishing pole and bring that minow up to the shore and have their way with him while he's lying there gasping for air in the shallows of her affection. and when she's done, she'll toss him back into the dating pool for being too small.
if they figure they got a big one hooked, they'll give him line.
a lot of line.
as much as he needs just so long as he keeps the hook in his mouth.
can't be doing the same trick as with the minow. no way. yank that rod and the line'll snap and the big fish will swim lazily downstream for the next angler.
and how does one determine the size of a fish?
easy: prerequisites
a battle of prerequisites.
it's like a game of battleship as they sit there on that first date:
man: "..then i took a month off to visit of my grandparents' vineyards in Provence.."
woman: [hit!]
man: "..but i figure, 'what's the big deal? it's just housework.'"
man: "..and so after my years as a pastry chef, i decided to become a brain surgeon and that's where i am today."
woman: [you sunk my battleship!]
but it can go the other way too:
man: "..but i decided that if i really wanted to contribute to the Bush campaign, i should move in with my parents so i could syphon all my available funds to His success."
woman: [splash!]
and for our part. we play along with the game as often as we can because we realize that, without meeting these prerequisites, all hope is lost for us. it's really at least 50 percent of the reason most men do what they do today. who the hell wants to sacrifice their soul in front of a computer monitor at a job they're only marginally interested in if there's no sugar at the end of the rainbow?
but, in the dating world, most women don't realize that once men have these prerequisites, these genuine prerequisites, they've got a killer on their hands. for one's pastry chef/brain surgeon skills can't be wasted on just one conquest. not if the man's young enough and hasn't yet reached that musical-chairs time in his life when any seat will do once the music stops.
if he's got the goods and hasn't reached 'that' time in his life, the game changes and it's the man's turn to have the prerequisites:
does she have shelf-life or is she a perishable? (bonus points if the man is open to asians. deduct points if he's into beer drinking employees of Krispy Kreme)
*also taken into account (as every man does) is the woman's mother–and perhaps unfairly so. but by god there was not a surprised man on the planet when we got a good look at angelina jolie's mom (r.i.p.).
*p.s.s. there are exceptions to this rule such as the offspring of demi moore/bruce willis' failed marriage who, unluckily enough, seem to have gotten an unfair portion of their DNA from the groom
does she have maternal instincts?
*on the surface this would seem to be forethought towards starting a family when in fact it's not. not at first anyway. every man needs to be taken care of in some capacity because, in essence, we can't take care of ourselves. not the way we'd like to. show me a straight man that can take care of himself and i'll show you a man whose standards of living are way too low. dudes are pack animals. most of us congregate with the other Lost Boys until we land in the ultimate pact called, "marriage". kinda like that scene in 'Bambi' when, one by one, they all fell in love. all that beer drinkin and back slappin is only precursor to a time when we'll start thumping our little, furry bunny feet for some cute thing who fills out her Juicy jeans perfectly.
is she smart?
*i love me a smart woman because intelligence is requirement for wit. but this one can go both ways for some men are turned off by female intelligence. however, i offer this: they're all smart. at least in an intuitive sort of way.
-as Gene Hackman put it in, Crimson Tide: "I love high school girls. They're very intuitive, just like horses–dumb as fenceposts but they know all the boys wanna ride 'em."
this intuition plays a huge part in female competition as well (see, "landing a big fish" above). even the most aloof one will take note of our previous relationships with Rain Man like precision.
man: "we're supposed to meet them tonight for cocktails after dinner. where do you want to eat?"
woman: "i don't care. something good. money is no option."
man: "you mean, 'no object'."
woman: "what?"
man: "you mean, 'money is no object'."
woman: "yeah, sure."
man: "how about _____?"
woman: "didn't you take an ex there?"
man: "um, yeah….for our senior prom."
Phenomenal Indin
Pretty Indins wonder where my secret lies
I'm not astute or built to suit a fashion model's eyes
But when I start to tell them
They think I'm telling lies.
It's in the reach of my arms
The warm, strong embrace
The stride of my steps
The drunk, faulted Grace.
I'm an Indin
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please
And understand
The women stand or
Fall down to their knees
Then they swarm around me
A hive of honey bees.
It's the fire in my eyes
The slight, crooked teeth
The conquered and wise
and soft Underneath.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud
When you see me fancy dancing
It ought to make you proud.
It's the click of my heels
the strong, stoic glare
the Grand Entry virtues
and sweet Last Call errors
'Cause I'm an Indin
"how i made my millions"
i blew my last remaining dollars on a Vegas stripper named, "Destiny". it was the perfect end to a perfectly disgusting weekend.
i got nothing against titty bars but there's something obtusely offensive about paying someone to almost fuck you in a state with legalized prostitution.
earlier at the roulette table, i'd placed what was left of my personal wealth on "red" and lost repeatedly. 8 thousand dollars and 7 gin 'n tonics later, i sat, dejected and depressed with 60 bucks left to my name.
at the age of twenty-nine, i'd gone from dirt poor reservation housing to dirt poor student housing to a dot com bubble and back again.
if the bubble hadn't burst, i would've went on that trajectory forever. there are functional drunks with hardy livers, trustworthy hearts, and benign demons. i am not one of them.
something about allowing your vices to slowly erode your spirit just completely disways me from becoming one of those people that hang out every night at happy hour and then go home around midnight to sleep it off before work the next morning. my favorite bit was to arrive sometime after midnight and speed drink until the Calvary of Last Call saved us all from ourselves.
after i found out about my heart, i stopped drinking cold turkey. i felt bamboozled that i'd never get to try things like viagra and 'E'. and just like those old gangster movies where the death of a prominent mob boss creates a vaccuum of power, i was left with idle hands.
the devil hit me hard and with little warning. i'd gone to a casino on a fluke and ended up winning a couple thousand dollars. the first one's always free.
thankfully, the altricial nature of wisdom allows only retrospective lessons. mama warned me about my addictive nature in the early days. i figured she just wanted me to stop playing Nintendo all night long so she and papa could make love upstairs without anyone hearing.
like many parents, they began calling each other "mom" and "dad", even when speaking directly to each other. i thought then, as i do now, that there's something vastly disturbing about playing 'just the tip' with someone you call, "mom". apparently it didn't bother my parents.
i was broke and drunk and sitting at a roulette table in vegas. the plane ticket said, "7am", so i could sleep off the rest of my drunk in the terminal and allow the flight announcement to play the role of alarm clock.
but i couldn't go back to the airport. there were slot machines in the terminal and coming home with nothing was a hell of a lot more appealing to my vice than playing it "safe" with my remaining sixty bucks–an ironic rationale for an unemployed guy who just blew his rent money.
but i needed sleep. and something about sitting in the airport playing nickel slots with the blue hairs at 4am, while waiting for the Deliverance of poverty and flight, didn't flatter me.
that's where Destiny came in.
"though He slay me
yet will I trust in Him."
being rational being (part I)
It started the night before, as all great things do. Cold and bleery, we walked through the post-thanksgiving day throngs which, ironically, are only unmanageable if you live on the lesser populated Eastside. He..d just gotten off of work and I..d just gotten out of my third interview of the week (my own Casey-at-Bat routine).
He asked me, non-chalantly, what I'd eaten for thanksgiving and I responded, non-chalantly, "same thing we eat every year: pilgrims."
We celebrated our meeting and subsequent departure with a few beers. Not being the social type a simple, ..see you later.., generally meant anywhere from a few months to a few years. Social erosion had long since rid me of the runts of the litter and the only ones I was left with were the few, the proud, the ones willing to deal with my lengthy periods of congenial indifference broken, intermittantly, by peaks of boozing and rowdiness.
But it was more sedate this time. Partly because my errant anti-social behaviour was beginning wear thin on him but mostly because I had court at 9am on the Eastside (aka ..Mordor..) the next morning. That a large cloud of cold, winter badness had formed in the skies of that far-off-land-just-acrosss-the-bridge was only fitting.
As it was, we parted ways early.
So early, in fact, that the liquor stores were still open. It was blazing cold and the only remedy, in my mind, was a shot of Whiskey to heat my vulnerable innards. I..ve long lived with the fact that humans are not Rational Beings so much as we..re Rationalizing Beings. This is never so true as when one is half shot. I purchased a bottle of Jack Daniels with a pretty brown bag for the ride home.
On nights like these, I..ve always been a fan of the Last Supper ideal. Anytime one is headed for the gallows, they should seek the best possible meal befitting the occasion. In my case, this meant a whole Alaskan King Crab.
The bus ride home was not easy. I reeked of booze and the seafood in my lap must not have given off the best smell. Luckily for me, this is not a cardinal sin on any public transit system in the country and I went relatively unnoticed..especially after a poo-smelling vagrant boarded the bus. He sat (luckily) a few rows in front of me and created such a stink that another vagrant, equipped with plastic Safeway grocery bag over his head, confronted him outright.
..What..s that smell?..
..And when aforementioned poo-offender didn..t respond.
..I said, what..s that smell?! It smells like a goddamn barn in here and I know it didn..t smell like that when I got on!.. He adjusted his plastic headpiece for emphasis.
I relaxed and enjoyed the ride.
A King Crab is an odd choice for a last meal. Especially for a man who never cooks meat. But, in the grocery store, I rationalized the choice; I had a stove and opposable thumbs so, how hard could it be?
But the sons of bitches are hard. Not hard to cook, mind you. They usually come pre-cooked. But really hard to eat. Especially after you..ve downed half a bottle of Jack. The spiny, long legs serve their revenge on unsuspecting revelers of their flesh. The post-mortem revenge was somewhat romantic and I couldn..t help but toast the bastard as I consumed him, tearing my hands apart in the process. Opposable thumbs, it would seem, are not compensation enough for a lack of shell or nut crackers.
In as much as I was unable to consume the entire crab, I passed out cuddling the whiskey remedy ensconsed tightly in my grip. Not the best bouteille (pronounced, "boo'tay") to pass out with but it would do in a fix. I came to some six hours later, ready to battle the legal system with a furious indigenous indignation.
A veteran of the legal system, my Indian timing took over where my cowed sense of irreverance had left off and I walked into the courtroom a full hour after the session had started
A fat man in a suit was arguing, fairly incompetently, a marijuana case for a complacent defendant who didn..t have the respect to dress up beyond wearing his best down jacket and baggy Dickies. The implications were obvious and if I were the judge, god forbid, I would..ve thrown the defendant's ass in the slammer for intent to sale. But, as it was, the charges were only for possession and the dope dealer..s lawyer was trying to rationalize both his client..s way out as well as his own outrageous fees that had, undoubtedly, been paid in cash.
I searched the courtroom for my public defender but he was nowhere to be seen. Probably in one of the special lawyer-client rooms talking another down-and-outer into pleading guilty so he didn't have waste time on the case any more.
It was just as well; courtrooms make for amazing entertainment and one can..t help but be enthralled with the proceedings of all the cases before you. That and I was still hammered. There..s something vastly appealing about showing up to court still drunk from the night before..
When the Angel of Death
comes down after you
can you smile and say
that you have been true?
Hank Sr., "Angel of Death"
still in hand
Given the deprecatory nature of our relationship, I wasn't surprised to be taking the trip to Liguria alone. It was meant to be a cooling relaxation, a reprieve from the drinking and partying. I'd been in Paris almost three weeks without having seen anything other than the moon and Picasso Museum. I'd gone for the food and stayed for the booze.
It was six or seven in the evening and I struggled to right myself over the cobbled streets like a bike with a bad wheel. Earlier, I'd sat in the waters off the beach at Monterosso and sipped at a bottle of barolo half-submerged in the sea against the rocks. Nude grannies and residual Americans sunbathed in the October sun without their tops on.
I sat with my back to the rocks as the waves pushed against me. My back pounded against the rocks in salty corporal mortification.
I clutched at the rock on which I was perched so as not to get pulled out. Equally, I clutched the bottle and struggled to keep my thumb over the opening so as to limit the contamination the sea water would bring. I took another drink. It was terrible and salty. Like cooking wine, I thought.
Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I recounted the tale of how cooking wine came about. Chefs had regular wine but kept drinking it before they could use it in their dishes and so the only wine allowed in the kitchens were wines that were heavily salted so as to hinder direct consumption.
In tangential evolution, my thoughts wandered to the story of some Cheyenne Indians on a distant reservation who made, what they referred to as, ..Cheyenne Champagne… They took a can of hairspray, pierced it, and mixed it with a gallon of water for consumption. The alcohol content alone was enough to get the five of them drunk. Drunks will do anything to get their fix and I decided, as I sat there in the sea against the rocks with the bottle, that the story of the cooking wine must be bullshit.
My thoughts towards V had held themselves in check to a surprising degree until I reach the city of Genoa.
Against my better judgement, I'd had another gin 'n tonic on the train. The rocking made it impossible to hold myself and I thanked the gods, allah, and santa claus when we pulled to a stop.
It was too late for the aquarium and for this, I was genuinely disappointed. The Genoans have the second largest aquarium in the world and, given my failed marine biology background, I would've loved to wander through that attraction and take in the sites. As it was, my dip in the Mediterranean at Monterosso had cost me the pleasure.
I wandered down the via Sottoripa and came upon a small but busy restaurant. In the window, a large swordfish hung surrounded by a sea of prawns and shellfish under a sign that read, "Da Vittorio". Looks almost like an aquarium, I thought as I stepped inside.
It was hot, much too stuffy but I was hungry and tired and needed to rest myself. I hadn't yet secured a train ticket back or a place to stay but had the devil-be-damned attitude that can arise from too much drink. I greeted the host in Spanish in case there were any Americans around.
The booze churned once more in my stomach and I asked for the bathroom in Italian.
"Sinistra", he replied as he set the menu down on the table.
."Merci", I responded.
It occurred to me, as I pushed the door open carelessly, that I'd not eaten since the previous day. The door swung violently and almost knocked over a small boy who was walking towards the sink.
"Scuza", I said.
"Bitte", he responded. He was small and blond, maybe four years old.
A window was open and the cool air from the sea blew in and hit my nostrils, making me nauseous. Outside, I could see the top of a flagpole with two flags on it. I wrinkled my brow and noticed the standard Italian flag but, also, there was a flag that looked exactly like the English flag. Years later, I would find that England, and the city of London in particular, had adopted the flag of Genoa in 1190 to benefit from the protection of the powerful Genoese fleet in the Mediterranean. But as it was, I felt cheated and taunted by the past.
"What happened there?" V asked. We lay, prostrate, on the sheets that smelled too much of us as the busy streets of the Quartier Latin came to life in the night beyond the window. I looked toward the balcony. Every apartment in the Latin Quarter seemed to have a wrought iron balcony.
"What happened here?" she repeated. She traced the scar on my abdomen, just under my right ribcage with her finger.
The incision had been made in my third week of life. As I struggled free from the womb, I began my acsetic ways early, repenting and fasting for sins I'd yet to commit. I couldn't take any food. Given the quality of the doctors at the free clinics on the reservations in my early days, it wasn't surprising that it took them almost three days to accurately diagnose my condition. By that time, I was three days without food which, I hear, is not good for a newborn.
"Knife fight", I responded.
I lay there on the bed with my mother weeping over me and barely enough strength to move or cry. By that time, what should've been a routine operation, became a massive concern for the attending surgeon and nurses. Given the delay at proper diagnosis, I was too weak for surgery.
"Really?" she asked in an unbelieving tone. The proper, British, accent that had, at first tortured me into infatuation, went unnoticed.
The anesthesiologist walked down the hall in her frumpy white shoes towards the room with the weeping Indian woman and her newborn son. She walked in and spoke a few words with my mother and then approached my crib which was really a plastic bin like the kind they put newborns in.
"How are you doing tonight?" she asked me.
I cooed with my remaining strength. My mother wiped her eyes and chuckled lightly. She hasn't worried about me since.
"Oh I think he'll be okay", the anesthesiologist said.
"No, what really happened?" V asked. She removed her naked leg from atop my thigh and was resting on her elbow above me now.
"Pyloromyotomy", I responded.
"Pyloromyotomy", I repeated aloud as I finished at the urinal. I flushed with my elbow and turned away from the window with the flag of Italy and Genoa.
As I walked to the sink, the little German was still there. He was hanging over the counter and his legs swung freely below him. He was trying to reach the faucet to turn it off and was having a devil of a time trying to accomplish the task. I reached over and turned it off for him. At which point, he jumped down from the counter and faced up to me, squarely.
"Grazie", he said.
"Bitte", I responded.
He smiled and became a kid again. He turned briefly to the towel dispenser, which was also out of reach. He sighed in frustration as he wiped his hands on his pants and hastily pulled the door open.
"What's a Pyloro..", she paused.
"Pyloromytomy", I said.
"When I was little, I had a problem with my stomach. It tightened up and wouldn't let anything pass. The mortality rate of a pyloric stenosis is generally around a fraction of a fraction of a percent. But I almost died."
"Are the doctors that dodgy on the Reservation?"
"They were then at least. I think they're better now. Do we have any more wine?"
The waiter approached with the bottle of wine and promptly opened it. I had a moment of lapse and my facade of sobriety left; I rudely gestured him to pour the entire glass.
With the drink, I became lost. My thoughts jumped from V to the aquarium to my aching back with no anchor to hold me steady. The young boy waved in my direction and yelled.
"Ciao!" he yelled for a second time, pausing as if to emphasize that he wasn't leaving without a response. His mother leaned down and pulled gently at his coat but he refused to budge.
I lifted my glass and responded, "Tschuess!"
He smiled and turned on a pivot with the efficiency of a military officer. The mother smiled briefly at me before following her min-general out the door.
As I left the restaurant, the door closed swifty behind and the lights in the window were dimmed. The swordfish was gone as were the prawns and the lobsters and the shell fish. The aquarium was apparently closed.
I walked down the street towards the flagpole I'd viewed from the bathroom window. A couple walked past me and I screamed at them, "Happy Cristoforo Colombo Day!"
I'm the reason people hate Americans.
The flagpole stood in defiance of my past with the flags themselves waving bravely high above me. The wind had increased coming inward from the sea and swirled around the piazza so that it flanked me and coerced me toward the pole. I walked to the flag and pushed it as if I were Ira Hayes at Iwo Jima..attemting to raze the flag.
An old man shuffled past me and stared without fear.
"Che ora e?" I asked.
Fuck, I missed that last train. My things were still in a small room in Vernazza that smelled of sand and damp wood.
I picked myslef up from the stones and wandered down to the beach. I needed to find a secluded place to sleep in the birthplace of the man who discovered the land of my ancestors.
dep're'ca'to'ry.. [dep-ri-kuh-tawr-ee, -tohr-ee]
1. of the nature of or expressing disapproval, protest, or depreciation.
2. apologetic; making apology.
in my fifth year i sat on the small table in the living room that doubled as the kids' table at thanksgiving and watched my dad watch the seahawks. the pooh-bear costume was hot but i refused to take it off. my silent protest. my civil disobedience that went as unnoticed as the yearly jack-o'-lanterns.
we bought them a day or two before halloween, carved them, and let them sit through the winter. when the snow finally thawed, there were traces of them in ambiguously colored markings on the porch.
this was the year after my dad put up the christmas lights. i know the exact year because there was only one. unsuspecting visitors would comment on our initiative until they realized that the early November christmas lights were the same ones from the year previous.
when the time came to plug them in, they lit up like the missing teeth of our neighbor. each year, more and more were missing until my baby sister asked how santa would find us. i explained succinctly that santa didn't use lights. he looked, first, for the dreams of small children that floated above houses like bonfires.
i found our neighbor that same winter. he'd passed out in his car which was parked, inexplicably, on our front lawn. he stared, lifelessly, at me through the front window. his teeth were all but gone and he had a frozen smile like a jack 'o lantern. twisted and dissolved and ambiguously colored. we removed the lights that same year.
i sat on the small table in the living room that doubled as the kids table at thanksgiving and watched my dad watch the seahawks. during commercials, i non-chalantly shook my trick-or-treat bag in protest. my dad shifted in his lazy-boy. his feet were crossed and his chin rest on his hand, fingers splayed angrily across his cheek.
the seahawks beat the broncos on a blocked field goal and my dad rolled around the floor like a puppy, pausing to stare at the replay on all fours. the unexpected break in stoicism relieved me of my indignation. we strolled out of the house together. hand in hand past the jack o' lanterns and christmas lights to the windy, Fall night filled with candy..
no, no, no
"no way, man. not in a million years. not to diss on you of course"
what are you talkin about?–i asked.
"bitch is fuckin psycho", he said. he took a drag to exclamate his point.
you say that like it's a bad thing–i responded
"what? that shit doesn't bother you? don't tell me it doesn't bother you. fuck that"
the psycho ones are better in the sack. and they're funner–i said.
i shifted slightly. the wrought iron chair made waffles in my ass and, if i'm gonna have welts on my rear, i want some hot women in black leather standing behind me.
he chuckled and shook his head, "what do you do when they start freakin out–getting all jealous-stalker and shit?"
you get a new one–i said. the sun turned and was behind a cloud. it was cold again. a murder of crows sat in a leafless tree near the cafe.
"you get a new one", he parrotted.
yeah–i responded. i've always been a fan of re'psycho'ing.
he chuckled lightly and took another sip of his coffee which was spiked heavily with booze.
"you're fuckin wrong, man."
we sat for a bit longer. a large truck passed and the exhaust filled my nostrils with the smell of the city. the murder crows fled and we finished our drinks before continuing our separate days.
in my last words
to my last lover
before i prowled the streets
and found another…
-fuckerpants
situated in a valley in the shadow of a mountain my ancestors used as a calendar
in the mid sports dusk, with a dirty white shirt and a basketball too large under my arms, i swatted at a mosquito and watched my older cousin, Lee, play with black cat fireworks on the 3rd of July.
Lee was always careless and prone to throwing lit roman candles at his friends who carried blankets of black cats like pancho villa. wrong ethnicity i would've told them if i were old enough to know what 'ethnicity' or 'pancho villa' was.
as it was, i stood and watched Lee move around with the confidence of a sixteen year old non-virgin. he was an alpha-male who always surrounded himself with the shy kids. maybe that's why i was allowed to tag along.
in our tribe, it's rude to say the name of the deceased and so i've capitalized his name here.
a busty 15 yr. old, sera, quickly threw her black cats to the ground as Lee shot a roman candle at her. sera was one of Lee's best friends and i knew they didn't kiss even though i was only seven. even at that age, it would've been strange to see sera with a boy romantically. sera taught me how to throw a football and shoot a basketball. one summer, i caught sera in the backseat of a car looking at her dad's playboys. this was where i learned the word, 'vagina'.
they stood out on the lawn of my parent's place for hours and, when it was time for Lee to go, it was time for the entire group to disband. pack animals are nothing without their leader. Lee's mom, my auntie, came out and gave me a big hug and i could smell the cig smoke in her bossoms. she had that scratchy voice that would've been sexy a decade earlier.
"Lee!", she yelled.
Lee climbed into the passenger side of the large trail wagon. a pow-wow van, we called it. the type of vehicle that had been to montana six or seven times and arizona at least once. the van with the sliding door that broke his thumb one night when were all going to see star wars for the umpteenth time–it was *the* rez babysitter in the late seventies. every kid remembers seeing it twice in a row while their parents went off to who knows where.
we had to bypass star wars that night for the emergency room. i don't know who was more saddened by this, Lee or his mom.
after Lee dropped out, i seldom saw him 'cept for the occasional pre-christmas gathering when he dressed up like santa clause and came down to the local church to pass out presents to the kids who wouldn't get anything the following morning. everybody sat on his lap and smelled the booze on his breath and didn't mind or seem to mind except for me. i was too old for santa clause.
the summer before my senior year in high school, i saw Lee for the last time. he was sitting with friends in front of the local 7-11–the watering hole where predator and prey, alike congregated. he looked smaller and wasn't so intimidating anymore. fortunately, none of his friends had grown in stature or intellect, so the pack remained the same.
'whaddup, j?' he asked.
'whaddup, lee? whaddup, marcus? floyd?'
'juss hangin out cuz. tryin to get some money or a ride home. still staying out in the fuckin sticks near brownstown.'
'out near all them taverns?' i asked.
'yeah, cuz. the same.'
'lee, that place is fuckin broke. only hicks and wetbacks out there, man. whatchu doin out there?' i could talk like this now because i was bigger and stronger and i wasn't a drunk.
sensing his alpha male'ness shrinking, he suddenly became cowed and shrugged it off, 'your auntie kicked me out'.
and that's how he put it. not 'mom'. not 'sheila'. but 'your auntie'. and that's when i knew he was done.
'a'ight then, lee, take it easy', i said with a hug. 'marcus. floyd.'
and i turned to walk away towards the park with the basketball under my arm. i was normally horrified to get the dirty ball anywhere near my white T but i didn't mind this time.
'hey cuz', lee asked.
i turned.
'got any change on you, bro?'
'spent it all on the big gulp, cuz', i responded.
'that's alright, j. tell your mom i said "hi"'.
he sat there on the park bench near his friends in the hot sun on the quiet rez with only the sound of the occasional low rider and its bass as soundtrack.
i gave him the head nod. the universal one that means both hello and goodbye.
"the sirens are snaking
their way up the hill.
it's last call somewhere in the world."
never me
i'm drinking bud light of all fuckin things
it's gotten posh too posh and i'm Hobbes sittin in the lap of Suzy askin "what?" as the Calvins of the world rant and yell, "what the hell are you doing?"
don't worry, i won't be long, i reply.
don't worry, i won't belong.
i'd never considered Hendrix a great singer until i heard the demo he did in his living room of "angel". props, brotha. all the props in the world. the 27 club is an honour bestowed on few but i'm not in the least bit sad that i'm four years past the criteria. there's still christ. and after that john lennon. and after that still, gandhi.
i sit here consuming bud light and some korean treat i don't know the name of. i'm looking for stories:
there's the story of cheelee. in alaska. who killed a kid in shop class with a hammer and then went downhill from there. last i heard, he mailed a bomb made in jail to one of the witnesses.
there's the story of V whom i waited for at the Gare du Nord. we lived (briefly) in the Quartier Latin and she was the only woman i cheated on relentlessly. she was coming with a friend. a male friend. and my demons were coming home to roost as i projected my own infidelities onto her. i was young and in a rage and left for Charles de Gaulle before they arrived. it was, and is, the biggest regret of my life.
or there's the happy one. in paris. bruno, whom i'd gotten to know only peripherally at a local watering hole. by chance, i was invited to his house for dinner. from the get go, i could tell who wore the pants in that family of two. his wife constantly nagged him and he, eroded after years of abuse, caved every time. we ate and were happy viscerally until the match. his team, "Lyons", was paired up against a powerhouse in the Champions League. his team won and he was so overjoyed that he began rolling around on the floor like a dog. when his wife admonished him, he jumped up and gave her a big kiss on the mouth. she was stunned. i left before everything returned to normal. i wanted to keep Bruno just like that. a winner, unbeaten by life or wife.
st. g3ronimo
feb. 2nd, 1989 journal entry, 4th period english "today is the feast of st. blaze. i think catholics are the biggest wannabe indins because they have more feasts than the yakamas. st. blaze died hundreds of years ago because he was a bishop in a church that the romans didn't like. they took his skin off and then his head followed. i looked him up in the library and didn't even eat lunch today which was okay because i got to talk to ms. D who is my French teacher. i gave her a card which, secretly, was supposed to be like a valentine's day card but i disguised it by saying, "happy st. blaze day". she was touched. her class is the only one i do homework for. we looked up st. blaze together. if she was my age and if i had a license i would've asked her out. her perfume killed me. we found the book about st. blaze on the top shelf and i let her get it. i feel like a pervert for looking. here it is, she said. not st. blaze but "st. blaisse". an armenian bishop who was filletted and beheaded. what did he do, i asked. apparently he saved a kid from choking, she replied. and? and nothing. it doesn't say anything else, she said. that's it? he saved a kid from choking and died a horrible death and they give him a fuckin holiday? i thought. oh, i answered. he's the patron saint of throats, she said. thanks for the card by the way. she made a crucifix sign on my throat and then walked away smiling. i've been on a cloud all day."
the gift horse
how long did it last? not long i think. we both knew it was coming. like a train wreck or gravity. falling at -9.8 meters per second towards one another until fate or worldly friction caused us to reach terminal velocity. at which point i would break away. i always break away. i may be a faller but i always die alone. like a cat or sylvia plath. put a skydiving target on the earth and i'll land in an uninhabited swamp three miles away when my chute doesn't open. the next weekend we sat like an old married couple on the couch and watched in silence as 60 Minutes showed images of cars crashing into each other at the bottom of an icy hill in a far-away town. later, the local news showed images of seattleites pull to the side of a flat, barren, highway after an inch of snow fell but didn't stick. we chuckled and shared the last stick of double-mint gum. she tore it in half and placed the larger piece on my tongue with her thumb. how long was the courtship? not long I think. we were at once a unified continent and pangea floating away from itself. given our differing schedules, the courtship was perfumed in absence. it was difficult to resist or even slow down. How long would it last? It was the furthest thing from our minds that night. It was the furthest thing from my mind. her leg fell against me as we sat on Iago. the piano bench. my piano bench. i was trying to show her how to play a few notes from the moonlight sonata which was really just an excuse to sit close enough to feel her heat against mine. i felt the weight of her leg. from the single touch of an unearned lover, one can extrapolate a whole series of physical experiences. i could feel the weight of her head against my arm as we awoke, slightly hungover on a rainy sunday morning. i could feel the length of her body against mine as we spooned on the couch. and i could feel the indifferent familiarity after months or weeks of fucking when we'd shower or hold hands in an elevator without so much as a twinge of excitement. but as it was, we hadn't even kissed. the heat of her leg was maddening and lay heavier against my own, inviting my Trojan Horse inside her city walls. the door closed. she grabbed my hand and pulled me closer to her. pulled me inside her. this communion. I let weeks pass before I unleashed my army into the peaceful, sleeping hours of our romance and razed her happy world to the ground.
Cassasseca
the tyranny of the moment was not the prosecutor with her fuck-me pumps and incredibly low-cut blouse. nor was it the judge in black who sat appropriately above the courtroom and cracked jokes nonchalantly while laying down life-altering sentences. the tyranny of the moment was not the eery S&M vibe or the crackdealers sitting in the pew behind me talking legalize better than their own lawyer because they'd been through the system so many times. what i noticed most was the street musician whose turn it was to get flagellated by the system. she sat, slouched and indifferent, as two lawyers politely argued the merits of her future. it was like being young again and getting whipped. you watch your brother and sister go before you and learn, at the tender age of five, that the anticipation is always worse than the pain itself. always better to go first. always better to never see it coming. but then, that would've taken away from my masochistic experience of helplessness. the next time i go in, i'm gonna wear black leather panties just to conform. this street musician. that street musician. i met her on a tuesday at the backdoor ultra lounge. ironic name given most of the clientele that night were gay and bi women pumpin to the beats of mc queen lucky. those were the days. we spoke in spanish i saw her years later, playing in the street. it was fucking beautiful. i bought two of her cd's wrapped in brown paper bags with hand-written titles in crayon and magic marker. they still have a frequent rotation on my iTunes. she sat, anonymous. one of a many who would be processed by the assembly line of justice that day. i wonder if she knew she had a fan. an admirer. someone who was touched by her work. she bled her heart through her music and i found the hemorraging to be deliciously intoxicating. she was a veteran of the system. she walked out before her public defender even had a chance to wrap things up. she grabbed her girlfriend and walked out maybe it was better that way. and that's what i hope. to do my thing and have one anonymous fan who never claps at the end of my encore but cuddles up next to the fruits of my ambitions and downfalls in the sleeping hours of the night reserved for lovers and the dying. "city of seattle versus jared washines" they mispronounced my last name again. ironic given that it was assigned by The Man in 1855 after our tribe signed the treaty. i guess "Cassasseca" was not christian enough. my eventual children will carry that name. me too i think. we'll change it in vegas together, her and i. as we struggle to hold the pen straight from all the booze and pills. the judge asked me if it was pronounced correctly and i nodded, knowing it didn't matter in the least. "christ, you know it ain't easy. you know how hard it can be. the way things are going, they're gonna crucify me." -john lennon
snitches get stitches
the kids strolled in pensive and slow under a banner that read "Griffindor", i struggled to remember the name of the song that was playing faintly in the background. it was Nina Simone. hardly birthday music for an eight year old girl but the festivities had just begun and the guests had barely started filing in. the tip of one's tongue. that's the worst place and the best place for a song. like the edge of one's heart is both the worst and the best place for a lover. it was a harry potter themed party. quite elaborate really. i give props to the parents who did it all on their own. there was potter trivia and little plastic brooms with potter's three previous releases projecting on two stripped walls. what was i doing there again? i'd only read the first potter on a train in europe because i just couldn't be bothered with the amazing Swiss countryside. i never forgave potter for that (my) oversight. for the main event, they began hoisting up what appeared to be an effigy of a yellow humpty-dumpty with a pair wings at it's side. "okay everyone, now we're going to play Whack the Snitch!" yelled the host. "…start the line over here and then go around.." wait. what? whack the snitch? if i'd had more harry potter knowledge, it wouldn't have been nearly as disturbing as it was. what made it even worse was the blatant amount of enthusiasm in the kids' faces as they jockeyed for position in line to break open the pinata ratfink. it's times like these that i look for my winner. my horse. vegas had 3 to 1 odds on the fat kid in the corner with too much gel in his hair. put a gold necklace on him and he could've played a young Tony Soprano. but i picked the third girl in line. she had that know-it all look. like the kind of kid that's not used to being wrong. the kind that's not used to losing. it was neither. the second kid broke the pinata open and it hemorraged candy even before my horse had a chance to run. in my head i imagined the call from my bookie. "pay up or i start with the thumbs" "..and then we'll string you up for the kids!"
in that almost day before that almost night, Ma crept away and i almost died. the doctor said i wouldna be right. he said i'd be sick and dim as the night in that almost day before that almost night, Ma went to the clinic to do almost right. in the waiting room waiting for dr. doom to do what was needed and do it real soon. but then, with a skip, and a hop, and a bounce, she did what Heart said but couldn't pronounce. she took up her baby still deep in her womb and rushed out the hospital and left that damn room. so here is fp so almost and done so almost accomplished and almost someone.
Well-equipped and forlorn I, not always torn, begat surrogate expedition. Well, I'll tell you now I'll make it somehow. I'll tear at it with repetitiion. But tattered and born of Immaculate whore were ideas we already knew. But still and yet wondered when David he pondered the face of the dragon He slew. Here comes the cavalry. Here comes our Calvary.
with absence of trust my love for you grows. i am the emperor and you're my new clothes~
in that obtuse pergatory between the time i graduated from high school and the time i left college, i dated audrey cleoparty with a belligerant indifference. she was a girl chosen, not because she had any outstanding qualities, but because she didn't seem to mind that i was leaving. it wasn't until later that i realized she was hoping to change my mind before the leaves turned grey and dark and the cold, harsh, depressing reservation winters accosted the small town of middlesborough. those winters were so harsh that livestock were lost. indians, too, were lost. people to passed out in cars after partying too late into those early hours that are reserved mainly for lovers and the dying and party's at Popcorn's house out in the sticks. the elderly were also driven off the road like bison by the fog that fell like a smallpox-infected blanket over the icey, unkept roads. one year, a tribal policeman succumbed to this opression. but now, it was summer. the snows had not yet cemented the town and everyone was out and about. you could always find a basketball game at the park and you could always find an audrey on the benches outside the convenience store on a lazy afternoon when nobody noticed the failing light of the afternoon sun as it made brilliant spectacles of blue and pink hues in the sky over the nearby mountain range. sucking down a 64 oz. soda and eating a hot dog, audrey's attrocious habits would one day catch up with her as the Rez did to everybody eventually. but, for now, she was little and cute and seventeen years old and her habits had added the pounds in all the right places—a condition my brothers at the basketball court referred to as "ripe fruit". like all fruit, it eventually spoiled on the vine and that's when you picked it and had four or five kids and six or seven dogs and lived in a depressed Project Housing Development, which is an oxymoron i, to this day, can't get over. if one was lucky enough, the spoiled fruit eventually turned into wine and that's when it became a Grandma–the most feared and matriarchal of the reservation hierarchy. everyone had a Mom's-mom but not every Mom's-mom was a grandma. And so it was in that summer shortly before my nineteenth birthday that i began seeing audrey cleoparty whom, it was rumored, was the cousin of my second aunt's niece. i've come to realize that this is taboo in normal society but on the reservation, where eveyone is related, it's great news because it means you're not first or even second cousins. everyone has horror stories about a friend of their classmate's who met at pow-wow only to find themselves attending the same grandma's funeral. audrey was only seventeen and entering her senior year at Chief Joseph which was great for two reasons. it meant that she couldn't entertain any ideas of escaping the reservation with me and it also meant that she got into the movies for two dollars cheaper than i did. and so, it became my number one date choice–but only for a matinee. i don't feel terribly good about the damaging effect of my leachery and it's a memory i don't often repeat in my mind but one that often invades, amended ever so quietly, to the joyful memories of rolling around on her aunt's couch and skinny dipping in the icey waters of nearby Chumatch'it Creek. my favourite routine was to walk up to a theater ticket booth and proclaim, "one child, one adult", while gently nibbling audrey's ear. the fact that she had no hips and was all of 4'11" lent itself to the image of pedophile treating his latest victim to a matinee.
love is a solstice. at once the longest and shortest day of our greatest hopes and fears.
the unfortunate part
at thirty, and dirty, i lay there all flirty and said she had beautiful eyes. she wanted my body i wanted her soul "that's a fair swap" i told her real cold. i understand, and it gets really old, but how does one wipe this shit from their soul?
the typical way
i remember the day i took her away and used other men's words to woo her i did this because i was playing a part and none of my own charms could move her it was a sad little play but i'm happy to say i disguised my vacuous heart she believes what i say then is surprised by the day when she finds that we're so far apart
…so sittin there, this guy. this guy comes up and sits next to me and starts yappin immediately. about war. about women (big difference between those two, right?) about everything. and he doesn't shut up. and i'm half-shot already. i'm thinkin i might have to open a can of whoop-ass pretty soon. but this guy is crazy old. maybe 65 and he looks like hell. "i've killed people, you know", he says real serious like. "women. children. and even some viet-cong." i take another drink. "so don't you look at me like i'm goin to be intimidated." i take another drink and keep lookin forward. if he touches me—-hell, if he even squares up to me i know i'm goin to knock his old ass out. he senses this and continues on about women and war. i tune it out like background, refrigerator noise and he keeps rambling. we keep up this shaky truce for another half hour or so. i decide to mix it up a bit so i buy him a drink. something hard and strong. anybody who's taken a kid's life deserves a drink. deserves more self-destruction. and then i get him another. after about the third one he shuts up. he just stares forward–like he's lookin into the future. or the past. about a thousand and three miles into the distance. "so how old're you?", i ask trying to sound sober. "48". i put down my drink and look into bar-mirror at old man winter sitting next to me. that's when i realize he's spent every day/night from 1973 until now, in a bar. sitting here talkin to blokes like me. wasting his life. that's why he's been going on like he has been. because he's been doing that same monologue for the past thirty years. but not this time. this time he's drunk thanks in no small part to moi. i stand up. ready to leave. seeing your future is a pretty sobering thing. "i ain't gonna look like hell when i'm 48", i think to myself. somebody's playing 'sympathy for the devil' for the umpteenth time tonight on the jukebox ("…please allow meeee to introduce mysellllf.."). "three things", he says still lookin forward. "only three things i've ever regretted in my life". i take another drink. not because i want to take another drink but because i want him to know that he's got an audience if he wants to elaborate. "my wife. my daughter. and that kid", he purses his lips and forces another drink of the hard stuff down his throat. perhaps to coax out more words. this man, this man sittin here next to me was hard as nails when he walked in. but now. now he was real again. perhaps that's why he drank. so he could be real again. i don't ask about "that kid" any further. don't ask him to elaborate. in his head, i can see that he's already elaborating to himself. that he's already re-living it in his mind. in his hell. i put a hand on his shoulder and walk out—leaving him there. sitting on that bar stool next to his demons. having a drink. ("…have some sypathyyyy and some taaaste…") it's cold outside. and wet. not like real cities with real rain. but like seattle. with a constant drizzle like some ancient water torture. fuck.
winner: best excerpt 1996
ladies and gentlemen, this is the former winner of "best excerpt 1996". it's from a relatively obscure zimbabwean writer named, Charles (Dambudzo) Marechera and comes from his book, "House of Hunger". Marechera died from AIDS and, while he had plenty of opportunity to have mucho bucks in the bank, passed away homeless and without a penny to his name. for him there was only only writing. soooooooo, without further ado: "I found a seed, a little seed. The smallest in the world. And its name was Hate. I buried it deep in my heart and watered it with tears."
death is a woman in january, a providence of a lesser god. immured by fucking complacency sitting around a crowded campfire (or life) and warming yourself while the other side of you is as cold as a funeral.
cortez comes to the new world and his men immediately start givin him shit: "too many indians!" "too much jungle!" "no cities of gold." "no God here." "heathens!" —let's go back to Spain. cortez hears this but is hearing none of this. "fuck 'em-we ain't goin anywhere—take what we we need and burn those fuckin ships." the ships go ablaze and the men have nowhere to go. no return. no spain. no god. just like GG said, "drink, fight, and fuck". they didn't have much booze but they definitely fucked and fought. took 'em all over and made a place for themselves in history. brought religion and disease to the new world on the back of a god of war. it all applies still. that cortez–he and GG both. geniuses those ones. burn your ships. burn 'em all.
Pingback: Jared Washines – Style Icon – waldina


text:
Turkiye's President Erdogan approves Shusha Declaration
President of the Republic of Turkiye Recep Tayyip Erdogan has approved the Shusha Declaration, News. (...)
Azerbaijan adds 6,603 new COVID-19 cases
Azerbaijan has detected 6,603 new COVID-19 cases, the Operational Headquarters under Azerbaijani Cab (...)
Azerbaijani taekwondo fighters to take part in Turkish Open 2022 G2
Azerbaijani taekwondo fighters will contest medals at the Turkish Open 2022 G2 to be held in Antalya (...)
Azerbaijani, Pakistani customs authorities discuss bilateral cooperation
Chairman of Azerbaijan`s State Customs Committee Safar Mehdiyev has met with Head of Pakistan Custom (...)
President Aliyev: Azerbaijan has very strong technical capacity and human resources
"The "Gobu" Energy Junction is one of the largest energy facilities built in Azerb (...)
Turkiye 'neutralizes' 29 YPG/PKK terrorists in northern Syria
Turkiye "neutralized" 29 YPG/PKK terrorists in northern Syria, the National Defense Mini (...)
Azerbaijani Foreign Ministry holds board meeting
A board meeting of the Azerbaijani Foreign Ministry has been held, the ministry told News.Az.The mee (...)
Tax reforms have an invaluable role in ensuring Azerbaijan's economic growth, minister says
Tax reforms have an invaluable role in ensuring the economic growth of Azerbaijan, the country's (...)
Azerbaijani MoD dismisses false Armenian media reports
The information about the shooting at a house in the territory of Azerbaijan, where Russian peacekee (...)
Azerbaijan proposes to provide some benefits to war veterans in labour field
The new draft amendments to the Labour Code of the Republic of Azerbaijan provide for several benefi (...)
Rapid development of Azerbaijan-Iran relations is satisfying – President Aliyev
The rapid development of bilateral relations between Baku and Tehran is satisfying, Azerbaijani Pres (...)
Azerbaijan: Regular Baku-Shusha bus routes to be operated daily during Novruz holiday
Large-scale work is underway to restore the territories of the Republic of Azerbaijan liberated from (...)
Azerbaijan's defense minister visits military units in liberated Lachin (VIDEO)
Thanks to the attention and care of Azerbaijani President, Supreme Commander-in-Chief of the Armed F (...)
Baku says Yerevan is trying to distort agreements on UNESCO missions
Armenia's Foreign Ministry is trying to distort the agreements reached on the visits of UNESCO (...)
Azerbaijan Airlines implementing air navigation equipment in Zangilan Airport
Another successful stage has been achieved in the implementation of the project on rehabilitation of (...)
Armenian troops again fire at Azerbaijani army positions in Kalbajar direction
On February 11, from 08:50 to 09:00, the Armenian armed forces units from the positions in the Yukha (...)
Zangazur corridor will play a role in energy exports – Azerbaijani president
The Zangazur corridor will also play a role in energy exports, Azerbaijan's President Ilham Al (...)
Russia's daily COVID-19 case tally tops 200,000 for first time
Russia's daily COVID-19 cases exceeded 200,000 for the first time since the pandemic began as th (...)
Some eight people killed, 20 injured during blast near mosque in Afghanistan — agency
At least eight people have been killed and 20 others have been injured in a blast in front of a mosq (...)

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


The universities of Oxford and Cambridge and Imperial College London achieved the highest scores of all higher education institutions in the continent, based on the data and methodology used to compile the Times Higher Education World University Rankings 2015-2016.
The rest of the top five is filled by Switzerland's ETH Zurich – Swiss Federal Institute of Technology Zurich and the UK's University College London (UCL).
Institutions were measured on their teaching environment, research environment, citations (research influence), industry income and international outlook.
Germany is the second most-represented nation in the list of the top universities in Europe, with 36 institutions, almost a third of which (11) are in the top 50. The top university in Germany is LMU Munich in 10th place.
While Italy boasts 19 universities, its top-ranked institution – Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa – only just makes the top 50.
Elsewhere in Europe, Scandinavian countries perform well, with Sweden and Finland punching above their weight relative to their population size with 11 and six institutions respectively. Sweden's top university – Karolinska Institute – is in ninth place while Finland's University of Helsinki makes the top 30 (joint 28).
Other strong performers relative to population size include Denmark (six universities – led by the University of Copenhagen at 33rd), the Republic of Ireland (six – led by Trinity College Dublin at 78th) and Switzerland (nine).
The east and south of Europe however generally score poorly in the ranking. Russia underperforms in the table, with just five institutions in the top 200 and one in the top 100 (Lomonosov Moscow State University at 79th) making it the lowest-ranked country relative to its population and GDP, although it ranks highly relative to its GDP per capita. Meanwhile Spain has only five universities, topped by Autonomous University of Barcelona at 70th, and is the second-lowest country when ranked in relation to its GDP.


So, is it a good bet to try out the Bet DSI Sportsbook? Well, the first thing you will notice when you land on the home page of Bet DSI is the varied menu options that are open to you. There is the sportsbook of course, but you will also find e-sports, a casino, and a racebook to explore. That means you may not need to go elsewhere, no matter what kind of bet you have in mind.
Casinos regularly provide a welcome bonus for their players to enjoy, so why should it be any different for players looking to join a sportsbook? That's the case in the Bet DSI Sportsbook, where you can look forward to a 100% welcome offer. This is split into two segments. You will get a 50% sports bonus worth up to $500, and another 50% bonus in the casino, also worth up to $500.
With cashback on every bet you make, regardless of the result, and bonus cash for every deposit after that first one, there are plenty of good reasons to make Bet DSI your preferred sportsbook.
Some sportsbooks seem to go out of their way to look complex. This can be off-putting if you're unused to them. That's not the case if you check out the Bet DSI Sportsbook though. You will see the sports odds listed on the left side of the site, so you can easily access your favorite sport there. You'll also see other events, politics odds, and even Supreme Court odds, so if you fancy taking a chance on something unusual while you're waiting for your next game to begin, you can do it here!
The layout of the events, players, teams, and odds is very easy on the eye. It's easy to understand, too. You will also see a 'bet now' button next to each event, so you only need to click on that to make your wager.
If this is the first time you've visited a sportsbook, be sure to check out the FAQ. This is at the bottom of the page, and it contains info on betting rules and other elements of using the site too. It's a great way to learn more about the Bet DSI Sportsbook.


text:
Egypt: Elections: few incidents, many women at polling stations | Asia News
Egypt: Elections: few incidents, many…
In Cairo, Alexandria and other governorates 9 the second day of voting for the lower house of parliament opens. Yesterday the turnout at the polls was higher than expected with queues several hundreds of meters long, especially in the most popular districts of the city. In Alexandria in many seats more women voted than men, according to some a sign of the desire for participation in the construction of the new Egypt.
Despite the peaceful environment, sources tell AsiaNews of arguments and attempts to influence the vote by the Muslim Brotherhood. Most incidents occurred in women's polling stations, where women dressed in the nijab invited others to vote for the Islamist formation. In Cairo's most populated areas members of radical Muslim parties distributed packages with sugar, salt, oil, engraved with the program and the candidate to vote to people in line. This had already occurred during the referendum on the March 19 constitution.
The first election results predict a voctory for the Muslim Brotherhood, with 35% of the votes. However AsiaNews sources underscore the growth of the democratic movement born with the Jasmine revolution that could raise more than 20% of the vote. This would give rise to a strong opposition, which could counteract the growing power of Islamist formations.
Fr. Greich Rafiq, spokesman for the Egyptian Catholic Church says that "for now you can only make assessments on hypothetical future winners. This is the first election and just about 17 million Egyptians out of a total of 52 million eligible voters, who will vote on December 14 and January 3. "
Meanwhile, the demonstrations continue in Tahrir Square against the elections, the Supreme Council of the military accused of trying to influence the vote and the new government of former regime member Kamal al-Ganzouri, is considered by many as a puppet in the hands of the military. According to the young people the elections are a tactic to appease the spirits, to make people believe that the country is quiet under the protective wing of the army and especially to take advantage of ignorance of the complicated voting system. "
Full Article: EGYPT Elections: few incidents, many women at polling stations – Asia News.
Category: EgyptBy admin December 3, 2011
Tags: AVC AdvantageMuslim Brotherhoodtahrir square
PreviousPrevious post:Saint Lucia: Labour Party regains power | Trinidad Express NewspaperNextNext post:Egypt: Election turnout 62 percent, protesters honour dead | Reuters
Egypt: Referendum on Extending Sissi's Rule Riddled with Irregularities | VoA News
Egypt: Egypt accelerates efforts to extend el-Sissi's rule | Associated Press
Egypt: Egyptians split as lawmakers pave way for Sisi to be 'president for life' | Al-Monitor
Egypt: Election produces surprise runner-up: Invalid votes | Associated Press
Egypt: Sisi poised to declare landslide victory in Egypt election | The Guardian
Egypt: With Trump's Help, Egypt Holds a Farcical Election | The New Yorker


text:
Commonwealth legal financial assistance
Legal assistance services
Reducing the complexity of legislation
Commonwealth Redress Scheme for survivors of institutional childhood sexual abuse
Legislation Act 2003
2021-22 Review of the Legislation Act 2003
Regulatory powers
Background to the Regulatory Powers Act
2021 Amendments to the Regulatory Powers Act
Triggering the standard provisions of the Regulatory Powers Act
Monitoring and Investigation powers
Administrative Review Council – Publications
Dispute management in Australian Government agencies
Civil Dispute Resolution Act 2011
Justice Policy Partnership
Court appointments
Structural reform of the federal courts
COVID-19 and bushfire legal assistance funding
Afghanistan Inquiry Legal Assistance Scheme
Payment of costs certificates
Overseas child abduction
Disbursement support scheme
Commonwealth public interest and test cases
Scheme for overseas criminal matters involving the death penalty
Special circumstances scheme
Native title respondent funding scheme
Native Title Officer Funding Scheme
Australian Security Intelligence Organisation scheme
Legal assistance for people engaging with the Royal Commission into Violence, Abuse, Neglect and Exploitation of People with Disability
Legal assistance for people engaging with the Royal Commission into Defence and Veteran Suicide
Legal assistance for people engaging with the Royal Commission into the Robodebt Scheme
Community Legal Services Program
National legal assistance data
National Legal Assistance Partnership 2020-25
National Self-Representation Service
National Strategic Framework for Legal Assistance
Specialist domestic violence assistance
National Indigenous Law Awards
Key changes in the Native Title Act
Native Title Anthropologist Grants Program
Native title claims and negotiations
Future acts regime
Public housing reports
Legal Services Directions and guidance notes
Purchasing legal services
Engagement of Counsel
Connecting government lawyers
Before you complete a statutory declaration
How to complete a statutory declaration
Who can witness your statutory declaration
Download a Commonwealth statutory declaration form
Download a Commonwealth statutory declaration for electronic execution form
The Attorney-General's Department administers a range of non-statutory and statutory legal financial assistance schemes. Each scheme has a different purpose, but all schemes are generally targeted towards helping people who could not otherwise afford to pay for their legal costs.
Depending on the scheme, funding can be provided for legal representation costs and disbursements (disbursements are costs other than the fees paid to be represented by a solicitor or a barrister). Some schemes are limited to disbursements only.
What assistance is available?
Payment of cost certificates
The department administers the payment of costs certificates issued by federal courts. To apply for reimbursement under a costs certificate visit the Payment of costs certificates page.
Legal financial assistance schemes
The department provides legal financial assistance under non-statutory and statutory schemes.
Non-statutory schemes
Commonwealth public interest and test cases scheme
Overseas child abduction scheme
Scheme for overseas criminal matters involving the death penalty (formerly the serious overseas criminal matters scheme)
Statutory schemes
Native title officer scheme
The department also provides legal financial assistance under the following statutory schemes. Information on how to apply is at the bottom of this page.
Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Heritage Protection Act 1984, section 30:
The Attorney-General may help a person who is:
seeking a declaration under the Act
likely to be adversely affected by a declaration under the Act
being charged with an offence under the Act.
Aboriginal Land Rights (Northern Territory) Act 1976, sections 54C and 74A
The Attorney-General may help a person appearing before a commission on behalf of Indigenous Australians to claim traditional lands or adjoining waters in the Northern Territory.
Administrative Appeals Tribunal Act 1975, section 30A:
The Attorney-General may reimburse a party in proceedings where the Attorney-General intervenes in the review of a decision by the Tribunal.
Administrative Appeals Tribunal Act 1975, section 69:
The Attorney-General may help a party for the review of a decision before the Tribunal, or to appeal a decision by the Tribunal.
Legal financial assistance information sheet
Australian Crime Commission Act 2002, section 27:
The Attorney-General may help a person summoned to give evidence before the Australian Crime Commission. The Attorney-General may also help a person challenging a decision made under this Act before the Federal Court or Federal Circuit Court.
Australian Human Rights Commission Act 1986, section 46PU:
The Attorney-General may help a person commencing proceedings for unlawful discrimination in the Federal Court or Federal Circuit Court.
Competition and Consumer Act 2010, section 170:
The Attorney-General may help people involved in proceedings before the Federal Court, the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission or the Australian Competition Tribunal under certain parts of the Act.
Defence Force Discipline Appeals Regulations 2016, regulation 9:
The Attorney-General may help people appearing before the Defence Force Discipline Appeals Tribunal if the tribunal orders that legal assistance be granted.
Fair Work (Registered Organisations) Act 2009, sections 324(1) and 326(1), (4) and (5):
The Attorney-General may help parties (other than organisations or branches of organisations) to proceedings before the Federal Court relating to registered organisations.
Freedom of Information Act 1982, section 66:
The Attorney-General may reimburse a person where:
they successfully appeal a decision made under this Act before the Administrative Appeals Tribunal
the Tribunal makes a recommendation for their costs to be paid by the Commonwealth.
Judiciary Act 1903, section 69(3):
The Attorney-General may help defendants in trials of federal indictable offences if a Justice in Chambers or a Supreme Court Judge certifies that counsel be appointed.
Judiciary Act 1903, section 78B(4):
The Attorney-General may reimburse parties for additional costs caused by an adjournment of proceedings to allow for notice of a constitutional matter to be given to the Commonwealth or State Attorney-General.
Jurisdiction of Courts (Cross-vesting) Act 1987, subsection 6(7):
The Attorney-General may reimburse parties for additional costs caused by an adjournment of proceedings in a Supreme Court to allow for notice of a special federal matter to be given to the Commonwealth or State Attorney-General.
Law Enforcement Integrity Commissioner Act 2006, section 103:
The Attorney-General may help a person summoned to attend a hearing before the Integrity Commissioner. The Attorney-General may also help people being represented by a lawyer at a hearing with the consent of the Integrity Commissioner.
The Attorney-General may assist persons to challenge a decision made under this Act before the Federal Court or the Federal Circuit Court.
Privacy Act 1988, section 63:
The Attorney-General may help:
a respondent, who is not an agency or the principal of an agency, in privacy matters where a tax file number complaint is dismissed
a party to a proceeding for the enforcement of a determination of the Privacy Commissioner before the Federal Court or Federal Circuit Court.
Proceeds of Crime Act 1987, section 102:
The Attorney-General may help people affected by proceedings seeking forfeiture orders or restraining orders against the property of a person convicted of, or charged with, a federal indictable offence.
This scheme only applies to matters arising before the commencement of the Proceeds of Crime Act 2002 on 1 January 2003.
War Crimes Act 1945, section 19:
The Attorney-General may help people charged with war crimes committed in Europe during World War II who are being brought to trial in criminal courts in Australia.
The Attorney-General's Department will not generally grant funding:
to people who can meet their legal costs without incurring serious financial difficulty
for costs incurred before an application is made, unless the scheme allows for reimbursement.
Download the following application form and email a completed copy to finass@ag.gov.au with the required attachments:
Application form for Legal Financial Assistance
If you are applying under a non-statutory scheme, you also need to complete a Nationally Coordinated Criminal History Check Form.
Please submit the Nationally Coordinated Criminal History Check Form directly to the department along with your completed application. Do not submit the form to any other organisation, as the department will submit it on your behalf as part of the assessment of your application.
If you cannot send your application by email, contact Legal Financial Assistance Casework.
Assessment timeframes
Complete applications will be assessed within 28 days. Incomplete applications will not be assessed. You will be notified if your application is incomplete.
Seeking a review of a decision
If you disagree with a decision (or any part of it), you may request a review in writing.
If a review is sought, the whole application will be considered by a decision maker of the department who did not make the original decision. The written request must explain why you believe that the decision was wrong and must be received by the department within 28 days of the date of the letter.
More information on how to seek a review, including the Review Request Form is available to download below:
Request for review – Frequently Asked Questions and Review Request Form
Commonwealth Guidelines for Legal Financial Assistance
The Commonwealth Guidelines for Legal Financial Assistance are available to download below:
Commonwealth Guidelines for Legal Financial Assistance 2012
The department treats all applications for legal financial assistance as confidential, as explained in the following privacy collection notice (Australian Privacy Principle 5):
Your privacy when applying for legal financial assistance
Information for lawyers – invoices
If assistance is granted for legal representation, the department is to be invoiced directly, by email to finass@ag.gov.au.
Complete invoices will be paid in approximately 28 days. Incomplete invoices will be returned without being assessed.
More information is available in the department's cost assessment policy:
Commonwealth Legal Financial Assistance—Assessment of Costs
Outside Australia: +61 2 6141 4770
finass@ag.gov.au


text:
China sentences Tibet's monk to 5 years for inciting to split country
Dharamshala: - Chinese authorities have sentenced a senior Tibetan monk from Labrang Monastery to five years imprisonment on charges of "inciting activities to split the nation."
"Jigme Guri (also known as Jigme Gyatso) a senior monk at Labrang monastery in Amdo (Ch: Gansu Province) who was arrested four times for his resistance against the repressive policies of the Chinese government, has been sentenced to five years imprisonment by a Chinese court in Gansu Province," Ven Golog Jigme, who has been named an "Information Hero" by Reporters Without Borders, told the Tibet Post International on Monday.
"People talked a lot about him and his condition when I was in Tibet. But a Chinese court in Lánzhu city of Gansu Province announced on 5 September that it had sentenced the Tibetan scholar to 5 years in prison on charges of "inciting activities to split the nation," he added.
'Chinese authorities kept him in an unknown jail for years and his health condition is reportedly serious. Unfortunately, after a lot of effort, the present location and condition of the Tibetan monk is still unknown,' the sources said.
Jigme Guri was arrested by Chinese officials in Tsoe city, Gansu province on 20 August 2011. This was the fourth time he had been seized and detained, the first being in 2006 after traveling to India for Kalachakra initiations given by His Holiness the Dalai Lama.
The second arrest was made on 3 September 2008. After spending almost two months in hiding, on 4 November 2008 a huge number of Chinese police in several military trucks arrested him from a Tibetan home. However, he was released on 3 May 2009.
In his video statement Jigme Guri bravely gave details about the extreme torture and mistreatment he experienced during his first detention as well as his views on China's devastating policies in Tibet and a possible resolution.
Jigme Guri came into prominence and was hailed a hero by the Tibetans all over the world. The 22-minute video testimony about the situation inside Tibet was widely circulated over social media networks.
"Tibetan people are undergoing all kinds of suffering. For me personally, I am a Buddhist monk at Labrang monastery. I was one of those arrested this year. I said this to the face of my captors: if you kill me, then that will be the end of it. But if I am able to go outside and get the opportunity, I will talk about the torture I went through; I will tell the people of the world as a truthful witness, about the sufferings undergone by friends and report these to the media," he said on the video.
Since 2011 there has been no news about his whereabouts and the reason for his arrest is not known. The UN's Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) in Geneva has also been alerted about Jigme's arbitrary detention and disappearance.
Jigme, a 48 year old monk was born into a farmers family in Lhutang Village, Juicha Township, Sangchu County County, Kanlho of Amdho Province, north-eastern Tibet. He was a former head of the Labrang Monastery's vocational training centre and also worked as a Vice-Chairman of the Democratic Management Committee of the monastery.


When I first started writing New York Skies in 2013, I made a point of attending a number of UFO conferences for research purposes. At that time, notable speakers and seasoned UFO aficionados told me that roughly one-third of Americans thought that UFOs existed. National Geographic's 2012 polling data supports the deduction that one-third of American adults think UFOs are very real.
The other notion was that there were huge numbers of UFO sightings, but only 1 in 10 persons actually reported them. I accepted both those notions because I had nothing else to go on.
The 1-in-10 model was based on the fact that numerous national UFO speakers would ask their audiences to raise their hands if they had seen a UFO. The majority of the audience raised their hands. Then the speaker would ask how many actually reported the sighting. Most of those hands went down and then someone counted the number of hands still up. The general result was about 10 percent of the audience indicated that they had reported their UFO sighting.
Several years later, when my co-author and I were compiling the data for the UFO Sightings Desk Reference, I began to have my doubts about the 1-in-10 model. My first thought was that these UFO speakers were usually addressing an audience at a UFO conference; in my thinking, that's preaching to the choir and leads to a biased sample.
So I decided to explore the numbers in several ways. The following hypothesis uses average numbers. Census tells us that the U.S. population is about 325 million. Strip away children and we have about 245 million adults, who are the ones most likely to report something.
For the past 10 years, from 2008 through 2017, the combined NUFORC and MUFON sighting data yielded an average of 10,840 reported sightings per year. If we divide 245,000,000 by 10,840 we get 22,601 — or 1 in 22,601 persons in the adult U.S. population reported a UFO sighting. That number still nagged at me as not being accurate, either. Perhaps we must take into account only that portion of the population who say they experienced a UFO sighting.
A 2017 Fox Pictures poll indicated that 16.74 percent of Americans say they've had a UFO sighting. Of course we have no time frame. For the sake of our discussion, let's assume all their sightings were in the past 10 years. So 245,000,000 adults times .1674 equals 41,013,000; in essence, 41 million persons say they had a UFO sighting. So if we divide 41,013,000 people by 10,840 in average UFO sightings; we get 3,783. This suggests that 1 in 3,783 — or roughly 1 in 4,000 — persons actually reports what they see, on average.
Obviously, for this model I've made certain reasonable assumptions. I could way off or be dead on; but given the known data. I think that ¼,000 is much more realistic than 1 in 10 as is preached in UFO conference circles. Our national speakers need to stop using such a simplistic model to explain such a complex question as observed sightings vs. reported sightings.
The truth is, until some national polling service asks the right polling questions referencing UFO sightings within a specific time frame we really won't know. Remember: Just because we want a statistic doesn't mean that it exists. Data must be gathered and analysis must be made.
Perhaps after disclosure, maybe the Census department will make an effort to more accurately measure the UFO issue within the American population.


text:
Q: Access: automatically enter date in one field when another field updates I have a field with different status options which is being updated regularly by many people. I want the field next to it show the date when the last change has been done to the status field.
I am fairly new to access, so I'm not sure if this is a very basic thing that I'm missing.
thanks

A: Create a BeforeChange Data Macro. You can use the old table to see the previous value of your Status field and Status to see the current. If they are different then that field has changed and you can change your date modified

You can either make that yourself or try to copy and paste the XML into the MacroEditor.
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-16" standalone="no"?>
<DataMacros xmlns="http://schemas.microsoft.com/office/accessservices/2009/11/application">
    <DataMacro Event="BeforeChange">
        <Statements>
            <ConditionalBlock>
                <If>
                    <Condition>[Old].[Status]<>[Status]</Condition>
                    <Statements>
                        <Action Name="SetField">
                            <Argument Name="Field">DateStatusModified</Argument>
                            <Argument Name="Value">Now()</Argument>
                        </Action>
                    </Statements>
                </If>
            </ConditionalBlock>
        </Statements>
    </DataMacro>
</DataMacros>

The advantage to this method is that it will execute this logic if someone makes the change directly in the table, or another form, or another program.

A: Rather basic. :) You need an AfterUpdate event procedure:
Private Sub StatusField_AfterUpdate()
    ' Set your date field to the current date. Use "= Now" to include time information.
    Me!DateLog = Date
End Sub

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


text:
Biografia
L'unico dato biografico verificabile che conosca su di lui è la registrazione, nel 1546, di un pagamento di 72 ducati come "portatore di libri" alla cappella del duca di Calabria, Fernando d'Aragona.  Il suo stipendio era la metà di quello del maestro di cappella Juan de Cepa.

I manoscritti M1166-M1967 della Biblioteca de Catalunya comprendono sia opere di Càrceres che di Cepa. Ad esempio, la villancico Soleta y verge, è un adattamento da una canzone profana tratta dal Cancionero de Uppsala realizzata in una versione a tre voci da Càrceres e in una variazione di questa a cinque voci con ritornello di Cepa.

Opere

Opere sacre
 Missa de desponsatione beatae Mariae
 Elegit sibi Dominus
 Vias tuas, Domine
 Lamentation Lamech - O vos omnes

Opere profane
 Al jorn del judici
 Soleta yo so / Soleta y verge
 Falalalanlera
 Toca Juan tu rabelejo
 Remedio del primer padre
 Nunca tal cosa se vio
 ensalada: La trulla ("Hubbub")

Registrazioni
 Bartomeu Càrceres - Villancicos & Ensaladas. Jordi Savall
 Bartomeu Càrceres - Ensaladas. Capella de Ministrers, 2011

Note

Collegamenti esterni

Compositori spagnoli del XVI secolo

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


This is an exclusive business profile of Vasudeva Vilasam Ayurveda Pharmacy located in , Thiruvananthapuram. From this Page, you can directly contact Vasudeva Vilasam Ayurveda Pharmacy from the enquiry form provided on the right. On the left you can get the Verified Mobile Number of Vasudeva Vilasam Ayurveda Pharmacy – feel free to call us to know more about our products & services. We will soon update our Catalog which you can download to get latest information about all our products & services and latest deals & offers by Vasudeva Vilasam Ayurveda Pharmacy. Do check out our Job Openings section to know about all the vacancies in Vasudeva Vilasam Ayurveda Pharmacy. You can also check out our Photo Gallery section to see latest photos of Vasudeva Vilasam Ayurveda Pharmacy. Before leaving, do not forget to give us your review and rating if you have been a customer of Vasudeva Vilasam Ayurveda Pharmacy in the past.
Do you want to receive special deals and offers from Vasudeva Vilasam Ayurveda Pharmacy?
Daily Download limit reached! Do you want to alert Vasudeva Vilasam Ayurveda Pharmacy to receive Catalogue?


text:
Mazda's doing ok - even if Ford isn't!
Thread: Mazda's doing ok - even if Ford isn't!
Coming off a year in which its sales grew more than 10 percent, Mazda North American Operations (MNAO) today reported its best January since 1994 with sales of 21,212 vehicles for January 2008, accounting for a 10.2 percent increase versus last year.
MAZDA6 celebrated its best-ever January with sales of 6,333 units, up 27.0 percent over last year. Not to be outdone, the MAZDA5 multi-activity vehicle, which has been freshened for 2008 and only on the market for a short time, also celebrated its best-ever January with sales of 1,699 units, accounting for a 28.4 percent increase.
Mazda CX-9, which was recently named North American Truck of the Year, reported sales of 1,850 units while its sibling, CX-7, recorded 2,555 units sold. January sales were led in volume by MAZDA3, which reported sales of 6,579 units.
?After closing 2007 as the fastest-growing major car company in the U.S., we kicked off 2008 signaling our intention for another strong year,? said Jim O?Sullivan, president and CEO, MNAO.
Rounding out North America, Mazda Canada, Inc. (MCI) and Mazda Motor de Mexico (MMdM) also began the New Year on the right track as both reported an increase in sales. In fact, MCI celebrated its best-ever January with sales of 4,732 vehicles, accounting for a 6.0 percent increase. MMdM reported an increase of 68.0 percent with 1,850 vehicles sold. Puerto Rico sales declined 14.9 percent with 361 units sold.
Headquartered in Irvine, Calif., Mazda North American Operations oversees the sales, marketing, parts and customer service support of Mazda vehicles in the United States, Canada, Mexico and Puerto Rico through nearly 900 dealers. Operations in Canada are managed by Mazda Canada, Inc., located in Ontario; in Mexico by Mazda Motor de Mexico in Mexico City; and in Puerto Rico by Mazda de Puerto Rico in San Juan.
Quick Navigation Automotive News Top
Ford and Mazda parting ways... kinda sorta
ALL-NEW MAZDA ATENZA AND MAZDA TAIKI DEBUT AT THE 40TH TOKYO MOTOR SHOW
Ford may be hurting - but Mazda's doing gangbusters!


Struggling with how to add code to the WordPress header or footer? Many tools and tracking scripts require you to add code snippets to your WordPress site's header or footer. But, by default, WordPress doesn't make it very accessible to edit those files. In this entry, we'll show you how to add code to the WordPress header or footer both by using a WordPress plugin or manually adding the code to your functions.php file. For most users, the plugin method is the recommended method. But intermediate-advanced WordPress users may prefer using the manual code method, instead.
The plugin makes it easy to only add code snippets to the header or footer of your homepage, which can be helpful for some uses.
While there are several plugins that offer this functionality, we recommend the Head, Footer and Post Injections plugin from Stefano Lissa because it gives you more control than many of the alternatives. It currently has over 100,000 active installs with a 5 out of 5-star rating.
Every page – adds the code snippet to the header of every single page on your site. This is what you'll want to use most of the time.
Only home page – only adds the code snippet to the header of your homepage.
Desktop – despite the name, this adds code to the footer of both the desktop and mobile version of your site unless you specifically check the box for Mobile.
Mobile – when checked, this lets you add a different code snippet to the mobile version of your site.
If needed, you can add multiple code snippets to each box.
Another neat thing about this plugin is that, if you're using Google AMP for WordPress, the plugin lets you specifically add code snippets to the header and footer of the Google AMP versions of your pages (as long as you're using the official AMP plugin from Automattic).
If you are simply needing to add different PHP functions on a site-wide basis, we also recommend checking out the free Code Snippets plugin. It removes the need to add custom snippets to your theme's functions.php file. It currently has over 50,000 active installs with a 5 out of 5-star rating.
If you're not familiar with the basics of PHP, we recommend you stick with the plugin method above. The manual method might be overly complicated for you.
In this section, you'll learn how to manually add code snippets to your theme's header and footer via its functions.php file.
If you want to proceed with this method over the plugin in the previous section, it's essential that you use a WordPress child theme to make your edits. If you don't use a child theme, any code that you add to your header or footer will get overwritten if you update your WordPress theme.
Many developers provide a child theme. But if your developer doesn't, here's a guide on how to create a WordPress child theme. Once you have your child theme ready to go, you can proceed with the following steps to add code to your theme's header or footer.
While you can add code snippets directly to your header.php and footer.php files, a better way is to use your functions.php file and the appropriate WordPress hook. This lets you keep all your snippets in one place and avoid modifying core theme files.
To get you started, we'll give you a rough framework to add code to both your header and footer.
Make sure to save your changes and you're done!
If you want more control over where your header or footer code snippets show up, you can use if statements to only add the code to specific pages on your WordPress site.
Make sure to replace the example number – 73790 – with the actual ID of the post or page you want to add the code snippets to.
That wraps up our guide on how to add code to the header or footer of your WordPress site. If the manual code examples are confusing, we recommend that you use the plugin method. It's much more beginner-friendly and, most of the time, gives you just as much functionality.