Velleity

Do so because it's my wish... not because it makes sense, right or is a vital necessity...

True story*

-Are you going to smoke again? - Jackie patted my breast pocket where I had just recklessly stuffed a pack of cigarettes right in front of her . She couldn't stand the smell of tobacco smoke, which forced me to completely abandon my bad habit at home.
-You know, just a few.
-And why can't you just stay home anyway? You could have stayed with me, we'd watch a movie. - For a while now, she tried to get me to watch some tear-jerker as I tried to avoid it by all means possible. - I told you, I have an important meeting.
I gave her a peck on a cheek, caught a reproachful gaze of her green eyes, suppressed that rousing from the depths of my soul feeling of self-contempt, and stepped outside the house. Today I decided to cheat on my wife. For the first time. I grew tired of the steady married life I led with a calm home girl who was difficult to convince to venture out to movies. My soul craved excitement, I wanted to get involved in some kind of adventure. Today, I had the chance. Not long ago, I met this pretty girl who loved trendy parties and night clubs and who didn't mind spending some quality time with me. Tonight.
Jo was standing on her porch, smoking. I paid the driver, got out of the cab, kissed her on the lips and lit up a cigarette to keep her company. I deeply inhaled the smell of freedom, looking at my adorable friend, anticipating almost heavenly pleasures. Here it is, happiness! Happiness was slightly tainted by the smell of alcohol on Jo's breath. Although today is Saturday. Evening. Why not?
-So first we're going to a club, then to my apartment, - she announced, exhaling puffs of grey smoke.
Truthfully speaking, I didn't mind shaking my bones up a bit. I can tell Jackie that the meeting ran late, she is so trusting she wouldn't suspect anything.
-Alright, club it is.
-Do you have anything? - Jo slyly screwed up her eyes.
-What are you talking about? - I had no idea what she was asking about.
-Eh, got it. I guess I am going to have to drink again.
She drank a lot, taking rare short breaks to smoke. I went to the dance floor twice, while she remained by the bar, as if stuck to it, getting more drunk by the second. The situation tensed me up, I got nervous and offered to take her home. She reluctantly agreed.
-You know what I want? - Jo asked me suddenly, when we were almost by the exit. I shook my head.
-I want to go to the catholic church with lots of rich folks and pick up some diplomat... And I want to go to the bathroom.
I had to let her go. I leaned against the wall and waited patiently. I was slightly disturbed by her non-adequate condition and in fifteen minutes I got worried. In another fifteen minutes I got worried even more and went looking for her.
As I reached the female restroom, I noticed a long line of girls that were dancing on the spot. For some reason I didn't think they were dancing to the sound of the music. I understood everything immediately. My girl is inside, unconscious. Ignoring the mutinous murmur coming from the row of provokingly dressed girls, I squeezed through them to the door of the bathroom, and pulled the doorknob. The door was locked. I heard a familiar voice coming from the inside. Alright, so she is inside and I will get her out now. I pulled the doorknob with all my might, the door flew open with the door post, leaving a part of the doorknob in my hands. Dumbfounded, enlarged to the size of a quarter eyes were staring at me from the room, and only girl's black hair and wide cheekbones gave away the fact that these eyes were supposed to be much narrower. This wasn't Jo... A moment later my head collided with her purse. "Chinese, from Hong Kong", I thought as a noticed a tiny red with a white flower pin attached to the purse. She would've hit me again, but some girl's arms grabbed me from behind and pulled me roughly back into the club. The bathroom crowd pushed me right to the bar stand, slapping my face and kicking me as I went. Imagine my surprise then, when I saw Jo standing on the same spot by the bar. She was smoking lazily and hugging some highly intoxicated man who looked foreign.
-So you managed to find a diplomat after all?
-Where have you been? I've been waiting - she told me fussily while pushing away her new guy. The guy wouldn't get off. With one lazy hand movement I sent him to the floor. Our reality has a bad influence on foreigners...
-Let's go - I barked.
-Hang on - she threw back her drink, got up and smacked on the floor, unable to keep her balance. As I watched her futile attempts to get up, I suddenly thought, "And why did I need all of this? I have such a wonderful wife". As I calmed down a bit, I picked her up and dragged her to the nearest exit. As I was walking out of the door, I ran into the girl I disturbed in the bathroom. She wasn't alone, but rather with a buffed guy who was holding her arm. I realized he was about to hit me as soon as I looked into his eyes. I mumbled something inarticulate and nodded in the direction of my drunk friend. He looked at my unconscious burden and had a change of heart. He then laughed softly, patting my shoulder... I respect Buddhists. Once we were on the sidewalk, Jo took a pose of a seasick crab. Having bent her head to the ground so that her long hair scattered all over the ground, she moved her hands and feet in an attempt to "walk". My attempts to get her in a vertical position met stubborn resistance and discontented grumbling. I guess she wasn't able to lift her head due to obvious reasons. I wrapped my right arm around her waist and set off towards the street, having to endure laughs and taunts of the passersby. I figured it would be nearly impossible to catch a cab in this condition - so I laid her on a grass nearby and went back to the side of the road to catch a cab. All the while I kept one eye on my beloved companion to make sure no one gets a bite of her. I caught a cab fairly quickly. However, as soon as I tried explaining to the driver it would me plus another lifeless body, that lifeless body stumbled to the car and exhaled a puff of smoke in the cab (and when did she manage to light up). She then fell on the backseat and announced that she would never, ever, ride in this disgusting car. The cab driver was very understanding, and having charged me a triple fare, agreed to drive us home. On our way there, I was scared that her stomach may decide to rid itself of excess alcohol, but, to my great satisfaction, it didn't happen. She slept all the way home. To my relief, the cab driver also helped me carry my lifeless companion to the doors on her apartment. I didn't have a choice but to give him a bigger tip. To my even greater relief, I easily found the house keys in her purse and opened the door. Having dragged my potential partner to the bed, I sat down on the sofa to catch a breath... Jo unexpectedly regained consciousness, sat up on her elbows and attempted to focus her glassy eyes on me. Once she succeeded, she smiled broadly, revealing two rows of large yellow teeth. She lifted her shaking hand, tucked the pillow corner in her cute little mouth and tried to light it up.
- Are you a man or where? I want you-u-u-u-u...
I took away her lighter, adjusted the pillow, turned her on her side and, having taken off her shoes, covered her with a blanket. She passed out again. My job here was done.
I stepped outside, I deeply inhaled the air filled with freedom, and had a fit of coughing.
-Oh no, - I thought as I crumpled the suddenly disgusting pack of cigarettes. - Enough!
My hand involuntarily reached for the cell phone.
-Hi, Jackie? Hey honey! Oh, I love you so much... Don't go to bed just yet, I'll be home in a few. We can watch a movie.
*slightly embellished for literary purposes

Sexy

"Belle" from Notre Dame de Paris musical.
Plus, the original French version...

Ugly.

Every inhabitant of the apartment complex where I lived knew how ugly Ugly was. Ugly was a freak of nature. A local cat. Ugly loved three things in this life: fights, consumption of garbage food and what one would perhaps call love. A mixture of these things plus a life without a roof above his head left indelible marks on Ugly's body. For starters, he had only one eye, and there was an empty socket in place of the other. He was missing an ear on the same side of his head and his left foot was broken a long time ago. It healed in such an incredible fashion that it always seemed like the cat was trying to turn the corner. His tail was long gone. What was left was a little stump that was constantly twitching... If it weren't for multiple sores and yellow scabs covering Ugly's head and shoulders, he could have been dark grey striped cat. Anyone who saw him at least once, had the same reaction: what an ugly cat. All kids were prohibited from touching him. Adults threw stones at him. They poured ice-cold water on him from the garden hose every time he tried to enter the lobby, or jammed his paw in the front door so that he couldn't exit the building. Ugly always had one and the same reaction. Whenever an ice-cold water was poured on him, he just stood there and got soaked, until his tormentors got bored with their amusements. Whenever things were thrown at him, he brushed against people's feet as if asking for forgiveness. Whenever he saw children, he ran towards them and rubbed his head against their hands and purred loudly, begging for kindness. Whenever someone actually took him in his hands, he immediately started nibbling at the corner of their shirt or whatever else he could reach.
One morning, Ugly tried to make friends with neighbor dogs. He was viciously bitten as a result of that. I heard him screaming downstairs and immediately ran for his rescue. By the time I finally reached him, Ugly was almost dead. He just laid there, curled up in a ball. His back, legs and the back of his body completely lost their original shape. His sad life was nearing its end. A tear mark crossed his forehead. He was wheezing and suffocating as I was carrying him home. I carried him home and most of all was afraid of hurting him even more. In the meantime, he attempted to nibble on my ear. I carefully pressed him against my chest. His head touched my hand, his golden eye turned in my direction and I heard him purr. Despite feeling an almost unbearable pain, the cat was asking for one thing - for a bit of affection. Perhaps, a bit of compassion. At that same moment I was thinking that I am dealing with the most loving creature out of anyone I ever met in my life. The most loving and the most beautiful. Never would he try to bite or scratch me, or even leave me. He was just staring at me, certain that I can relieve his pain...
Ugly died in my hands before I got home, and I sat there for a long time, holding him. Afterwards, I thought a lot about how one unfortunate cripple managed to change my notion of true purity of spirit, faithful and infinite love. But this was the case. Ugly taught me more about compassion than thousand books, seminars or conversations. And I am eternally grateful to him for that. He had a maimed body, and I had a traumatized soul. The time has come for me, too, to learn to love profoundly and unconditionally. To give it all you have.
Most people aim to be richer, more successful, more beautiful or more desired. And I will always strive for one thing - to become Ugly.

Tell The Truth.

Although I do think that some statements are a stretch, overall it's Mos Def fine.

Monologues About Forex.

Let's take a look at a potential billionaire with European roots, currently working as a humble IT tech. Let's say his name is John Smith. With every fibre of his existence, John feels that he is catastrophically underpaid. He lives in a one bedroom apartment, he eats $1 cheeseburgers from McDouble, and he dresses at Target, where you can buy a bag of clothes for $40. On top of all that, John's wife turns away from so-hardly-earned Toyota Corolla, and passionately whispers the name of some Lexus amid hot midnight kisses.
To add to the horror of his situation, John does not see any difference in the paycheck whether he worked eight hours a day, or eighteen. He always gets "Satisfactory" in his reviews and enviously looks at his teammates who write six lines of code a year (in Power Point, no less), and do nothing more than chat in the hallways, leaving ass imprints in the conference room chairs and receive excellent reviews, promotions and bonuses.
Here, John and the likes take two different approaches. Half of them discover a sacrament of, pardon my French, Ebay. They remain in such state for about two months, buying old toilets on yard sales and publicly promote them, "L@@K!!! MINT CONDITION, NO RESERVE!" After that, their ardor usually diminishes and toilets are being carried away to the dump under the veil of night. They pronounce Ebay a "lair of fraud, cheap Chinese junk, where people are getting swindled on shipping, and in general, their interface sucks". Then, John goes back to his computer, where he continues to write his usual two hundred and thirty six lines of code a week.
The second half discovers Forex. By the way, if you write word FOREX backwards, you will get "nonsense" in French. Get it? Nonsense. Hilarious! Nonsense. Funny... mmm. Sorry, I got distracted. Anyway... In his possession, John has seven thousand dollars of his credit line in FirstTech at 7% and four and a half grand in Chase Manhattan at 14%. Accordingly, John goes to the broker and learns that the cost of one lot on Forex is $1oo,000. After the initial shock, John is relieved to hear that everything will be alright. He, the broker, will give him, John, a margin of one to two hundred. Having invested his $11,500, John can open positions of up to $2.3 million dollars!!! And if his position goes up by a mere one percent, John will get his $11,500 back, plus another $23,000 in profits!!! (Additional terms and conditions apply, activation fees, registration fees, annual fees, convenience fees, and automatic deduction fees will be charged, must be 18 years or older,void in DC, AK, AL, CA and other 47 states and Canada and where prohibited by law). Thrilled John invests his $11,500 and opens a position. At that exact moment, he is slightly surprised that broker's microscopic commission, a so called "five points spread", of 0.05% is being calculated not from $11,500, but from $2.3 million dollars and makes up (holy shit!) $1,150. Next, something strange happens. Japanese Yen, despite all assumption, strengthens. Accordingly, position against Yen is not going up, but falls by 1%. It's all peachy though, and unlike a certain male pride, it will rise back up again. As long as John waits a bit. Plus, Reuters says that it's just someone in their Japanese central bank flushed some week-old Asahi in the electronic bidet, which damped their computers, all six thousand eight hundred and fifty two of them. As soon as they clean everything up, Yen will go down again. John pours himself some coffee from the drip machine and stares at the TV screen, waiting for Yen reputation to dry out and shine again. Instead, he receives a polite letter from his broker asking whether Mr. Smith wouldn't be willing to invest additional capital, whatever amount he can afford, since invested earlier $11,500 were requisitioned by the broker to cover up the rotten long position against Yen. Otherwise, the position will be closed immediately at a loss and all capital will be passed to the broker's ownership. John runs to the office and borrows $5,000 from James Williams, which he then invests in the account, waiting for Yen to come back up. Meanwhile, Reuters impassively announces that the water in the Japanese Central Bank dampened a digital lock as well, which short-circuited all their connections, and the systems cannot be opened and there's no way to fix them in the short term. 'Tis the end, as my grandmother says. The position drops by another percent, and John, with a typical browser crackle, is getting redirected to www.fool.com, where he is maliciously offered a free credit report. Completely destroyed, John walks out of his top-floor office and, with yearning in his eyes, promises himself that never, ever again, will he get engaged in currency machinations, not in yen, not in won, not in francs. At this precise moment, he recalls about the borrowed $5,000 and the maxed out credit cards. With the heart-rending scream, just like the best representatives of Wall Street, John steps out of the window into the abyss. But such an ill luck - the top floor turns out to be the second, and John, resembling a potato sack, topples down on the grass.
James stops respecting John and calls him dirty names. John's wife leaves him, and, what's most insulting, leaves him for Bob who all this time played sudoku on his Mercedes navigation system...
Strictly speaking, closed course, professional drivers. Don't try this at home. Instead, buckle up and obey all speed laws.
(c) 242

Take-Off.

I figured I'd start off with some of my favorite music. Regardless of the future content, nothing constitute a better beginning than some nice music, it is perhaps the only thing you can't go wrong with. After all, there are two things one yearns for the most in life - hot guys and nice music. Or is it nice guys and hot music? Hmm... surprisingly for me, it is still the former. I am assuming I'll start liking the latter once I finally grow up.