ALAS, AN INTERESTING SUBJECT!

Imagine you just built yourself a million dollar house in the US. You have some land, a nice view of the rolling foothills, and there happens to be a vacant lot across the street. A month or so after moving in a Native American decides to take up residency in the vacant lot, sets up his teepee, brings an assortment of farm animals, and then knocks on your door and asks to borrow some power to run his TV. Hard to imagine? Of course. We fucked the native inhabitants of our country. But here in Jordan, the Bedouin do whatever they please, and yes, set up camp wherever they please, like across the street from my friends' lavish home. They are above the law. So I walked about 100 yards from my friends game room and asked if it was ok to take their pictures, got the nod of approval, and took my first interesting photos here in Jordan.

I learned later that some of the Bedouin in Jordan are involved in a bizarre sex trade. Women from other countries come here and pay big money for the opportunity to sleep with one of these constant roamers. I believe the saying is, "once you've had Bedouin, you never go back". I tried to confirm this information online, but couldn't find anything on the subject. So, seizing on the opportunity, I've decided to become a Bedouin pimp. If you have any desire to sleep with a Bedouin in Jordan, please click here. 

DOES THIS HAPPEN IN NORTH KOREA TOO?

Anyone who has traveled the world knows that no matter where you go on this planet, inevitably all the billboards and advertisements will feature white Americans. Here in Jordan it's no different. That got me thinking about countries like Somalia and North Korea. I think it's fair to say without being stereotypical that these particular countries do not like Americans. Perhaps in those countries their billboards actually feature local models? A young strapping Somali wearing a shiny new Rolex, or a hot North Korean clad only in black lace panties. If it wasn't a hazard to my health I'd travel to these places to find answers, as I'm sure my many loyal blog followers want to know. 

The bottom photo has nothing to do with my heading. It is just a view from the roof of Kulacom, Amman's best wi-max provider, despite the fact that their marketing department has chosen to use the phrase "super-size" in their package options. Even McDonalds has moved away from that one. Why not call it the "2M on crack" package. That's original and euphonious.  

MY FRIEND BRYCE

My friend Bryce is the most generous person I know. He also hates to be photographed or to have his generosity noted, so I hope he misses this entry. I snuck outside to take this photo while he was smoking, which is a perfect example of his generous spirit. Since I arrived in Jordan a few days ago, Bryce has taken to smoking outside, as he knows I hate the smell of smoke. I told him, "Bryce, it's your apartment, do whatever the fuck you want." But he goes outside in the 90 degree heat to smoke. A little irony here is that I'm an ex-smoker who got Bryce smoking in the first place back in college. The world could use a few more people like my friend Bryce.    

MY FIRST WALK WITH A CAMERA

Well, these aren't much, but they are my first shots here in the Middle East. The fact is I'm living in West Amman. This is where the haves live, totaling about 7% of the population. The other 93% are the ones I need to be out meeting and photographing, like the roughly one million Palestinian and Iraqi refugees living in squalor just outside the city. But just because you're in the Jordanian elite doesn't mean you can't have random horses hanging out in a vacant lot across from your million dollar home. On my walk today I passed a Safeway, a Porsche dealer, and a Lamborghini dealer. American consumerism is alive and well here, at least for 7% of the population. One thing that would make a tree-hugging Portlander cringe is the amount of trash everywhere and that recycling is unheard of (I threw away 2 Coke cans today alone). Another foriegn concept is the idea that smoking is bad for you. After coming home from the bar last night, where I was literally the only non-smoker, my metal watch even reeked of smoke. After I showered, the Q-tip I used smelled like smoke. An ex-smokers nightmare. Another thing to adjust to from Portland, arguably the beer capital of the USA, most bars here serve only one beer: Amstel.  

A ROOM FIT FOR AN UNEMPLOYED MAN

This is my new room. It could really be anywhere.  My friend Bryce's apartment has every modern convenience; washing machine, air conditioning, flat screen TV, wireless internet, doorman, etc. The only thing that makes this room unique is that it is in Amman, Jordan. So far I've done nothing but drink and sleep. First night here, coming straight from the airport after about 24 hours or so of traveling, I walked right into the launch party of my college roommates company, Kulacom. I got drunk and watched Laser Man, having one of those moments that have become rather common in my life where I surreally reflect, "where the fuck am I?" I remind myself that I am on the rooftop of Kulacom in Jordan, surrounded by Koreans who helped build Kulacoms wi-max network, listening to my college roommate welcome everyone as the CEO of this company, and then watching a man manipulate lasers with his hands. It seems I took the blue pill some time ago and still haven't discovered just how far the rabbit hole goes. Now I'm off to buy a bath towel, as showering with Bryce's washcloth gets tedious. 

THE MEASURE OF A MAN: 10 feet x 7.5 feet

I infamously told my mom after reading Walden in college that when I got older and had a home, I would own no more than one pot, one spoon, one plate, etc.  Well, that was 15 years ago. I now have a box full of pots and spoons. I have many things, but less than most people I suppose. I ironically own two different copies of Walden. My whole life, materially speaking, fits rather loosely in a 10 foot by 7.5 foot storage unit. When I stare at it I think, "this is what I have to show for 15 years of waking up 5 days a week and working at jobs that for the most part I didn't like". Boxes. Bins. An office chair. Of course, I also have my experiences and my memories, which I'm told occupy a measly 7 percent of my brain. Between the metaphysical and the physical, I still have lots of room for more stuff. Room, but no desire. It feels quite liberating to fit everything attached to me into a small room and a misshaped head. And as far as the metaphysical, I think Kurt Vonnegut said it best: "I'm very tired of thinking. It doesn't seem to help very much. The human brain is too high-powered to have many practical uses in this particular universe. I'd like to live with the alligators, think like an alligator." Perhaps what I need to do is clean out my emotional warehouse and put the items up on Ebay. What is the going rate for discontentment? I'm starting it at $.99 with no reserve!