tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63034100858242424682012-02-16T01:17:19.173-08:00On the eve of a year of intense international study, travel, and discovery, I am starting this blog to chronicle the menagerie of experience. I will be studying in Switzerland, France and Senegal. And, who knows where I will be traveling. Look forward to reading observations, reflections, and anything else that comes out of tapping fingers. Also, check here for my photography. Thanks to my parents, the Andrew Young Center at Morehouse, and everyone else for making this happen.W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.comBlogger1261100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-14613449718977869922009-02-22T09:14:00.000-08:002009-02-22T09:17:46.775-08:00

voila a little production i recently made. it won best use of a cell phone

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-24855643963962161692009-01-29T22:27:00.000-08:002009-01-29T22:30:09.657-08:00

Forget the New Deal, we need The New Hustle!This is a video that I dd for Tiger Tv while in DC for the inaugration.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-58116463988829211702009-01-07T22:40:00.000-08:002009-01-07T22:44:43.158-08:00

Micheal Eric Dyson at MorehouseI shuffled in the cold over bricks arranged to evoke Morehouse College’s emblem, a sun peeking through clouds. My mind preoccupied itself by contemplating my academic performance, potential future employment, and the other means that my college education was going to insure my entrée into the middle class. A dark, hooded figure entered the corner of my periphery. “

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-46896974003231873942009-01-06T13:37:00.000-08:002009-01-06T13:39:33.815-08:00

Another video I did for Creative Loafing.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-48301396862110868212008-12-11T10:38:00.000-08:002008-12-11T10:40:26.244-08:00

This video is the second project that I produced during my internship at Creative Loafing. A bit old.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-43691731325289904732008-12-10T09:02:00.000-08:002008-12-11T10:49:59.575-08:00

The qoute reads (roughly): "I have always been proud of being mixed" Miss France wants to advertise French diversityBy RACHID AOULI – 2 days agoPARIS (AP) — The new Miss France, born to an African-American mother and white French father, said Sunday she wants to advertise her country's diversity on the world stage.Chloe Mortaud is not the first nonwhite winner of the beauty pageant, but she is

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-72079211725255031732008-12-08T12:16:00.000-08:002008-12-08T12:20:43.298-08:00

All too often, art is seen to be above the people, inaccessible to most. The art industry, with its stiff museums and pretentious galleries, maintains a distance between what makes us human (art) and us (humans). However, the work of Purvis Young shatters the paradox. He is what Antonio Gramsci would probably call an organic artist. He has no interest in preserving institutions because he has

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-12996899027694493372008-11-20T15:08:00.000-08:002008-11-20T15:17:02.493-08:00

Alright man,I'm getting back to it. I will start with a back log of stuff i've done in the interim.Here is the first.I took this photo election night. Frank Bryant is crying. I published it in Creative LoafingI also wrote a blog entry for the website. It got a lot of response.It was hard to breathe last Tuesday night on the campus of Morehouse College. The election season often felt like someone

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-63868727478236341412008-09-26T06:07:00.000-07:002008-09-26T06:09:04.043-07:00

My second video for creative loafing.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-20883870213446389582008-09-22T22:24:00.001-07:002008-09-22T22:26:41.658-07:00

First video done completely tout seul.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-25095091026622051862008-08-06T17:14:00.000-07:002008-08-12T10:54:31.187-07:00

i got to git more of my work on this blog.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-52895897970300784422008-08-05T16:19:00.001-07:002008-08-05T18:21:04.640-07:00

"Dekk naa ci Dakar pendant 6 mois," I said to Ahmed, a tall lanky Senegalese man dressed in a bold orange boubou. The dark figure had floated across the the street in the amber light, forcing me to slam my brakes shortly after passing him. For the past six months, while I was in Senegal I would not have thought twice about the scene. But now, I was just off of Campbelton Rd. in the heart of an "

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-75862939965030393012008-07-23T14:10:00.000-07:002008-07-23T14:20:19.170-07:00

I'ts been a tumultuous two weeks (no escape from dakar, malaria, vestibular disturbances). But, after it's all said and done, I'm sitting in a café in Evanston, just outside of Chicago. I am here for Unity, a joint conference of the NABJ, AAJA, NAJA, NAHJ, any other arrangement of letters that you can think of that indicate a professional journalist association. I left Senegal early to be here.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-21734704567777197012008-06-30T04:47:00.000-07:002008-06-30T04:52:27.639-07:00

I recently published this on Allafrica.com. It is perhaps becoming my most widely read piece of writing. The interview with Mbembe was one of the best I've done in my last few years in journalism. Let me know what you think!Does this week's intervention by U.S. presidential candidate Barack Obama in the debate over Zimbabwe's election signal that Africa will play a more central role in the

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-45015072650364621622008-06-09T02:08:00.000-07:002008-06-09T02:40:06.033-07:00

A while back, friend and cultural critic Anthony Harris briefly mused on the Bishop Desmond Tutu’s philosophical definition for the concept of Ubuntu. His post and the resulting comment present quite the fruitful opportunity to explore ideas of hybridity and the informationalization of society. Besides from further establishing techies as one-minded dogmatist, it shows what eventually happens

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-68790753419364873772008-06-07T01:08:00.000-07:002008-06-07T07:42:45.450-07:00

I saw her from the corner of my eye at first. Then, I started to direct my eyes toward her more often than not. Or, maybe, she was pulling my eyes in her direction. I don’t remember a mutual glance but I recall communication. The eclectic music rang out boisterously through Geneva on that summer night. Inebriated internationals slithered through the narrow streets of the centuries-old old town

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-49691127098645968292008-06-06T06:10:00.000-07:002008-06-06T06:19:19.148-07:00

Wow. this one little action shows so much and great discourse. From Ta-neishi CoatesAnyway, that fist-bump, that moment between those two--alone--tops all the speeches I saw last night. I think it says so much. Tell me if I'm out of line here, but there was something organically feminist about that gesture. The confidence of it reminded me so much of the sort of certainty I see in so many women

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-29824829958051917932008-06-06T05:36:00.000-07:002008-06-06T05:53:58.594-07:00

The football match turned out great. It was my first sports event and I didnt do a bad job (if im allowed to say so myself) considering the quipment i had to work with. Below I've included some of my favorite photos. Click here to see the entire photo essay with french captions and here to see it with english.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-19611983033535665122008-06-06T05:32:00.000-07:002008-06-06T05:35:05.927-07:00

I published this on theroot.com.June 5, 2008--Joshua Packwood's march across the stage as Morehouse College's first white valedictorian left a trail of fiery online commentary from African Americans, filled with consternation, anger and fear. For some, white participation and success in the black world means the failure and even end of blackness. For me, Packwood's successes are but a part of a

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-58814251185084350362008-05-31T04:39:00.000-07:002008-05-31T05:14:37.425-07:00

The Lions of Senegal will take on the Algerian Fennecs (Desert Foxes) in one of the first qualifying football matches running up to the 2010 World Cup. The two teams are young and have had a recently rocky history in international competition. Both teams performed poorly in the 200 African Cup of Nations. Nonetheless, Diomansy Kamara, the Senegalese striker who plays for Fulham of the Premier

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-53868316389595825312008-05-24T06:23:00.000-07:002008-05-24T07:22:03.220-07:00

On my recent voyage to reset the visa clock, I came to appreciate the simple things that call up the tastes, sights, sounds, feels, and smells of home. The coupling of home and abroad. I’ve been in Morocco this past week, mostly in a little seaside town called Essouira. Some liken it to morocco’s Florida, save the pesky recounts (after all, this is a dictatorial monarchy, no need to justify the

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-75075828892773629612008-05-17T13:09:00.000-07:002008-05-17T13:42:07.702-07:00

I recently wrote this in response to a bloggerwho decided it was appropiate to "call me out" on a recent comment I made in a story from the Associated Press on first white only valedictorian.I am quite pleased that my perspective on racial difference and the traditionally black institution has generated such debate. However, I do not think that your interpretation does what I was saying justice.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-50407803503738392782008-05-16T03:20:00.000-07:002008-05-16T11:08:56.575-07:00

The room expressed a similar phrase, setting a familiar scene. I had been there over a year ago on my first trip to Senegal. However, thankfully, the room was not nearly as crowded. If it had, the Senegal River would have undoubtedly run down my back and its tributaries meander through the crowns and creases of my forehead. For the heat would not have been my only problem. I'd been in Senegal for

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-44803844019030632562008-05-13T10:57:00.000-07:002008-05-13T11:19:37.771-07:00

That's a title of a recent post on another white website pandering their hate. They are not all that different from what you would find on more "mainstream sites." They just don't use the code. I really can't even comment on it. It speaks for itself. Yet, people still talking about postracial this and that. Errin Haines, the reported who worked on the story contacted me and I shared all that I

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-33641039388342283272008-05-11T11:29:00.000-07:002008-05-11T11:35:37.004-07:00

hmmm the things you find when you put your name(and all its variations) into google. Sept Américains posent leurs valises - Saint-BrieucThat's where it all started three and half years ago.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-85796188221892683232008-05-07T08:39:00.000-07:002008-05-07T08:52:45.888-07:00

To try to make up for what was probably the worst birthday of my life, I generated a list of 21 of the coolest things that I've done in my 21st year on earth. With this in mind, the birthday isn't as important.Here's the list (in no particular order):1. 1. Live in 4 different countries2. Work as a professional photographer3. Almost run out of room in my passport4. Fall in lust5. Do research in

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-62962373862520123772008-05-07T08:27:00.000-07:002008-05-07T09:36:52.735-07:00

I have one year to learn Arabic. Let the games begin.حسى

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-55561283316649720422008-04-18T11:47:00.000-07:002008-05-07T08:39:40.390-07:00

On this blog, I do not habitually write obituaries, but for Aimé Cesaire, a masterful writer and a triumphant defender of the dignity of all black people in the Diaspora, it is obligatory.For many, Cesaire’s death is only the passing of an old man of letters, a French one at that. I imagine many black people have never even heard of his name. But for me, his death marks a somber time of

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-91200459953456770592008-04-13T11:40:00.000-07:002008-04-13T12:02:33.589-07:00

Somewhere between the crow of roosters, the snorts of donkeys, and the empty dry heat of the Sahel that covered me like a blanket in the black of night, I realized that I was in Kaolack, the crossroads of Senegal in the heart and heat of the country of Teranga. This was my second night of my third visit. I have sent a number of nights under a mosquito net on this bed. This trip ported the title

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-31068546010007473302008-04-06T07:46:00.000-07:002008-04-13T12:08:42.988-07:00

I found this on a photo a day, a great website/community for visual storytellers. I learned about this website when a photog friend of mine, Jason Fritz, got published on the site.Really powerful clip. Awesome storytelling. Poignant commentary. I identify.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-16678940056339588252008-04-05T06:50:00.000-07:002008-04-05T07:17:12.961-07:00

I have this problem. It’s about leaving things alone, moving on to something else. In this very blog I have called it a separation anxiety. But I’m no clinician. When things come to an end, I don’t know how to finish it. It my be fear of the unknown. But I thrive on discovering what I don’t know. It could be fear of a way things were before I started the situation that I am in before the

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-71867950686047069272008-04-04T12:06:00.000-07:002008-04-04T12:19:31.749-07:00

I, an American, sitting in my office in Senegal, working for a website that covers news for the entire African continent edited an article translated in French for a Tunisian Newspaper written by the Atlanta Journal-Constitution's Cynthia Tucker (my home time paper) on not cheapening the legacy of Martin Luther King (the world leader and an alumnus of my school).The absolute convergence of the

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-25594611215568707042008-04-04T09:27:00.000-07:002008-04-04T09:51:34.899-07:00

Forty years ago, during the month of March, a congressional commission entitled "THE NATIONAL ADVISORY COMMISSION ON CIVIL DISORDERS"pupblihed its report that outlined the causes of urban unrest that broke out all across the country in the late sixties. That is to say the famous race riots during those long hot summers. "What white Americans have never fully understood but what the negro can

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-74889417709148504782008-04-04T09:11:00.000-07:002008-04-04T09:12:22.876-07:00

This week's theme: Words from Yiddish. meshuga or meshugga (muh-SHOOG-uh) adjective Crazy; stupid. [From Yiddish meshuge, from Hebrew meshugga.]

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-51503487834284431282008-04-04T09:06:00.000-07:002008-04-04T09:10:16.244-07:00

I'm feeling real official these days. I got my first check the other day and the keys to the office. It's the little things.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-47385130083410504712008-04-04T08:44:00.000-07:002008-04-04T09:04:38.982-07:00

My naked feet fell to the floor to touch the sticky cool floor. My head hovered bent knees in a dry room while streams of light peaked through the wooden shutters. It was late in the morning. Sounds from the small box in the living room blared through the walls. The television was tuned to RTS, the official state station, which showed the parade for Senegalese independence day. Forty-eight years

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-34131506419282913672008-03-29T04:07:00.001-07:002008-03-29T04:23:14.481-07:00

Just in case you've been thinking that I haven't been doing any thing...President Abdoulaye Wade of Senegal exits the Meridan Hotel after the closing of the 11th Summit of the Organization of Islamic Conference that took place March 18-14. (W. Hassan Marsh)

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-32141843386028381652008-03-17T04:06:00.000-07:002008-03-17T04:32:56.966-07:00

This is the text from a napkin note that I wrote this morning. The text appears as it does on the napkin.I don't sit by myself enough to have a notebook of napkin notes. So much for the loner who hates to be alone. I guess I write notes in my head about who I'm siting with or with whom I am sitting. The fact is that I'm always wrestling with words, laboring over language. It's been more

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-65532849224060048232008-03-13T01:30:00.000-07:002008-03-13T01:53:30.787-07:00

I think what we are experiencing is what Bush would call a surge. There is a lot going on for me right now. Two weeks ago I went on a journey to find the Ghanian author Ayi Kwei Armah. The trip was a rather spontaneous one. Wednesday afternoon, I was talking to Serigne Ndieye, the academic director for my program here, about some issues in African arts and letters. Ndieye threw out Armah's name

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-33633817611587453202008-02-09T14:29:00.000-08:002008-02-10T08:24:20.695-08:00

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”“I don’t have anything to say.”“That’s not true, people don’t speak when they are deep in thought.”I shifted the rice from the cebu jen from one side to the other, letting the juice trickle down to the bottom of the bowl. “It’s not that. I’ve always had problems in speaking with people. So, sometimes, I stay quiet.”I threw a reluctant glance at the perfectly black

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-52597842495582525302008-02-02T15:18:00.000-08:002008-02-02T15:21:00.435-08:00

The sun rose on my back this morning, as my skin glistened from the slight sweat of the twilight jog. I strained my eyes to see beyond seeing, to see beyond the immense Atlantic that rolled out from under me. Two blues faded into each other. Restraining my attempt of transcendence, the waves crashed upon the shore, heaving up volcanic-like rock and particles of dead things from millenia , also

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-57238579912339493232008-01-09T13:56:00.001-08:002008-01-09T13:58:24.929-08:00

I took this a few hours ago.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-4514381219854913702008-01-09T13:46:00.000-08:002008-01-09T13:51:23.709-08:00

Tommorow is the Muslim new year, muharran. I came on Christmas day and i leave on a new year's.Also,I think i just figured out how o cut onions without crying.Fast.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-45581591366109715032008-01-09T11:19:00.001-08:002008-01-09T11:19:39.217-08:00

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-1001620309585393702008-01-08T13:36:00.000-08:002008-01-08T13:50:03.874-08:00

I'm surrounded by a lot fresh creative endeavor. In particular with the blog sphere. The Global South is a forum that Chantal, the writer who I stayed with in Morocco started to discuss and redfine the way you talk about the "developing world."Asad Haider, a brillant guy that I studied and hung out with in Paris started mugwump jissom, an experientment in literature. His first entry is

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-59746215533850767782008-01-07T02:59:00.000-08:002008-01-07T03:03:00.211-08:00

I just defacated the first truly solid matter in about two weeks. It was small, but what a relief. Axhumdillah.The digestive transition is, i think, the best barometer of physical, mental and spiritual transition to a place.I have finally left Europe and the West behind.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-28395332848654692008-01-06T16:50:00.000-08:002008-01-07T15:12:13.308-08:00

Death.You feel its presence much more here in "The Global South." Or, if not death, your vulnerability. Its like the world's margins tilter on the knife's edge of violence.Driving across town always proves to ba a drama. Walking requires dodging speeding cars with little respect for western convention. Walking down any typical street reveals the meat rack of the neighborhood butcher. Full bodies

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-62616577427384318652008-01-05T07:23:00.000-08:002008-01-05T07:48:06.284-08:00

The Moroccan couch sagged stubbornly under my and Xavier's weight. The two 20- year old students a world apart but a world together sat evenly distanced as we watched Hostel 2. On the screen, White men with too much money danced gleefully on others's lives, playing with life like it was sport. At one moment when the two well groomed business men sat in the back seat of a chauffeured luxury

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-27608956891241478212008-01-05T07:13:00.000-08:002008-01-05T07:19:07.053-08:00

Look,My experience is like {---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------Zaff------------------------------------ ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------}.But I can only write [Shuya].So,can I communicate my expereince to you? Can I communicate at all?If

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-57501966469818656372007-12-28T02:06:00.000-08:002007-12-28T02:10:11.518-08:00

A lazy sun hung low as I stepped onto the tarmac at the Fez Airport. Calm is the best way to describe the scene. No other airplane was in sight. Palm trees swayed without conviction in the Mediterranean wind. I knew almost instantly that I was at peace. I knew that was no longer in the West, even though it had been an under three-hour flight.After making my way through customs and retrieving my

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-78483466139396634202007-12-28T02:02:00.000-08:002007-12-28T02:06:04.383-08:00

Time sliped down the hole like sliding sand in an hourglass but it coundent find a place to rest. Instead ti floated in a void. Or at least, that is how my last days in Paris felt. I was a wreck, torn in more ways than any person should over the passage of time and change. In my last month or so in France, I realized that I did not love the city. A large part of this revelation had to do with

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-3121031590395671962007-12-24T04:40:00.000-08:002007-12-24T04:42:20.259-08:00

I met a black guy who was a bit of an anomaly. We’ll call him Scotty P. One day in the metro, during the epic strike, after being accosted by some subway rats, I had settled in to an uneasy discomfort while waiting the 20 minutes for the next train. What I was thinking about before I was distracted by the loud music escaping the earphones of a large black man escapes me. At first, I thought

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-6535101782298995662007-12-24T04:39:00.000-08:002007-12-24T04:40:19.940-08:00

After talking to a few of my contacts and exploring some ideas, I have decided to engage in another documentary project. This project will essentially be my experience in Senegal. In broader terms, it will be an analysis or observation of the parallel and perpendicular lines of experience for black American students and Senegalese students. The endeavor will be made within current media trends.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-32506265947798972712007-12-22T08:25:00.000-08:002007-12-22T08:26:58.244-08:00

Christina came to visit me a few weeks ago. She came from London where she’s studying. It was good to see someone that I have known a number of years. Being an expatriate can be pretty isolating.The whole weekend I found myself laughing at her cross-cultural miscues. She was amazed at things that I have really taken for granted. We also had some interesting conversations about her international

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-46992864057925932732007-12-13T02:31:00.000-08:002007-12-13T03:21:21.033-08:00

Postpartum ImpressionBy PAMELA DRUCKERMANPublished: December 13, 2007I HAD a chance to think about the American health-care debate recently, while I was undergoing a procedure that’s mostly paid for by the French state: re-education.This has nothing to do with adult learning, or with those work camps organized by the Khmer Rouge. It’s a girl thing. After a woman has a baby, perineal re-education

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-13697935684123119462007-12-13T01:58:00.000-08:002007-12-13T01:59:48.151-08:00

Congeneric = related, as in cousins

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-49955185198091106632007-12-10T02:40:00.000-08:002007-12-10T03:01:07.796-08:00

I had a dream last night/ this moring. I did not want it to end. I was playing football, at lakewood. The crowds were full and band was pumping out music. The cheerleaders were doing there stunts. We were winning and I was dominating. Caldwell was still my coach. Avery was giving me directions. Brandon was playing right next to me. I realized that I loved what I was doing. Nothing like those

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-35642415950814408542007-12-06T03:26:00.000-08:002007-12-06T03:28:34.597-08:00

I was a little bit down because of all these papers and the lack of time and many obligations I have. But I just got paid for the first time! Cant be sad now. But it is sad how much money can affect our emotions.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-61144450812022869092007-12-06T02:50:00.000-08:002007-12-06T02:52:36.113-08:00

I gave this presentation back near the beginning of the semester. Don't worry. My French is much better now, I hope!

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-88328920172734291622007-12-05T09:16:00.000-08:002007-12-05T09:24:13.268-08:00

So I got another job. I'm doing club photography still. You can see some of the work at Club Collective. It's a bit different from what I was doing in Atlanta. And getting paid significatly less.Oh well! Here's to experience.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-61312198338951349282007-12-04T03:52:00.000-08:002007-12-04T04:01:04.839-08:00

A friend of mine and my successor as Manging Editor of The Maroon Tiger, Travers Johnson, is in Senegal right now with the NABJ. It is an extordinary experience not even so much because of he is there in the country but that he was chosen as a journalist and not as a student. He has all expenses paid and even met Abdoulaye Wade, Senegal's President. I just wanted to give him him all due respects.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-82734509698411665412007-12-04T03:51:00.000-08:002007-12-04T03:52:50.817-08:00

This is not Africa! I left the office around the same time as Abdel, a guy from Chad with whom I work. The night was cold and the two diasporic men could not stop shivering. 15 minutes of walking postponed our descent into the disgusting warmth of the metro. During that time, we had got to know each other’s story in a way we could not have during office hours. Abdel was only a high-school

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-34218839921662133162007-12-03T04:40:00.000-08:002007-12-03T04:43:45.091-08:00

I really don’t want to say this. But, I might as well as put it out there now. I started smoking cigarettes. One of the stupidest things I’ve ever done. I don’t even know how it started. All I know is that after months at bars and clubs or simple evening with friends, I started sucking the cancer sticks. One step closer to being one of my greatest fears. It happened a while back, the moment I

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-48048821531908755582007-11-26T08:46:00.000-08:002007-11-26T09:04:34.835-08:00

A couple of weeks ago, I spent the evening with a group of English students (English as in from England, of course). We went to hear a line-up of Indy bands at La Fleche d’Or, one of the hottest club’s in Paris according to clubcollective.com. I just went because it was free (which might be why they are one of the best) and because Jack Fortune, a singer-songwriter type (check his myspace, album

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-88666283192594050362007-11-22T04:31:00.000-08:002007-11-22T04:32:18.382-08:00

-From visual thesaurusApocope. Listen to the pronunciation, say it ten times really fast, and you'll probably end up doing it: that is, create a shortened version of a word by chopping off the end. It's the method by which many words enter languages, especially informal ones like delish, indie, and natch -- which you can say are apocopated.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-25864475742998318952007-11-21T07:47:00.000-08:002007-11-21T07:49:54.135-08:00

So if you a nerd like me you might like this blog. It's what chaucer would write if he could have one. HAVE FUNTH!http://houseoffame.blogspot.com/

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-74097234699415561902007-11-13T05:35:00.000-08:002007-11-13T05:38:01.456-08:00

Some might think it odd that I would say this, especially with my eagerness to be in other places. But, the fact of the matter is you really don’t have to leave Atlanta. Sure, we could easily give accounts of the young Parisian sporting an “a” hat or describe their eagerness when you say that your from Atlanta. “oh, A-T-L! that’s crunk.” Is it really it is. But, it doesn’t do the sentiment

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-88102754859772495822007-11-13T05:30:00.000-08:002007-11-13T05:35:11.500-08:00

Believe it or not fellows, outside of your bubble the name Morehouse doesn’t mean that much. Sure, for those who know, they know. But for the most part. “oh, Morehouse. Where’s that again?” Well, for the first time, I got the response that we love so dear.During our one week vacation for All Saint’s day last week, while everyone in my program was off to everywhere from Morocco to Amsterdam to

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-56877990578707277742007-11-11T04:40:00.000-08:002007-11-11T04:43:56.455-08:00

I should have put this up a long time ago. but hey, you know about the whole...atemporality of blog platform.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-38423678851967709322007-11-11T04:01:00.000-08:002007-11-11T04:08:48.171-08:00

I ate a chicken and wanted to throw upAfter a few days of eating just boiled potatoes, I ran out the office when I found out that moms dropped a bill in my bank, a buck in the commisary. I was on a mission. I was going to eat a hot, varied meal. I darted into the first restaurant that would take my card but was still cheap. Asian, it was. I frantically ;peeked at the counter to look at the veggie

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-37788202625601464102007-11-11T03:57:00.000-08:002007-11-11T04:00:53.033-08:00

WARNING: I have not had a chance to edit yet.You’re always looking for that moment: the moment when you realize that no matter the difficulty, no matter all the reasons that you shouldn’t, that you love *****. But if your not careful, you’ll probably miss the moment, as it is buried among the debris of banality. I had one of those moments last night. I had left the office with a sack full of

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-13580258620330539852007-11-07T05:22:00.000-08:002007-11-07T05:50:34.559-08:00

La vie est un eternel compromis. -Marima Bâ, Une si longue lettre

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-88225936065469749602007-11-06T04:37:00.000-08:002007-11-06T04:39:24.409-08:00

The very time I thought I was lostMy dungeon shook, and my chains fell off! -quoted by James Baldwin in The Fire Next Time

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-89229977800198178662007-11-06T02:43:00.000-08:002007-11-11T04:23:51.740-08:00

Several months ago, while was in Switzerland, I went to talk over my research with my advisor. If you have read my blog for a while, you might remember him as Goran Jovanovic. The guy really impressed me. Interactions with him made me really feel like I was flirting with the lfe that I want to live. Afterall, his office was one floor under the office of the Switz intelligence service and was a

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-64977642454151832192007-11-05T04:23:00.000-08:002007-11-05T04:26:04.426-08:00

Here is an essay that i recetly wrote for an internship app. Though at the time my French was still wanting, I decided to take a detour from my normal path from the lycée. It was only my second week in St. Brieuc, France, and my familiarity with the small city was more than inadequate. However, my temporary deficiencies were no match for my sense of adventure and insatiable

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-50854808302567375932007-11-05T02:49:00.000-08:002007-11-05T02:51:12.321-08:00

Poetry is news that stays news. -Ezra Pound

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-58526897853022950592007-11-03T10:21:00.000-07:002007-11-03T10:39:33.713-07:00

Yep. I got a job. I needed it too. It's at a small publishing house that produces films in addition to their books. That's all what I'm about. The position has me caste into two roles: Salesman and Editor. On the one hand I have to work with bookstores to sell out titles. On the other hand I'm working on the production of the next volume of the company's main product, Van Gogh's Ear Series. This

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-17612005640721917092007-10-11T06:24:00.000-07:002007-10-11T06:27:38.791-07:00

My program of study here in France often compels me to think about some rather theoretical ideas. After all, this is Critical studies and we read all of the great mind-blowers of 20th century France. So it should not be a great surprise that I have conceptualized the idea of a “sexual grammar” as a result of a classroom encounter.In my Francophone literature class the other day, my professor

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-28527914107340288542007-10-11T06:01:00.000-07:002007-10-11T06:04:05.312-07:00

Asad had a visitor the past couple of days. Another student from Cornell. She is studying architecture in Rome. Her name is Alexandra. Her presence alone des not warrant presence in the blog, but she gave me some thing. I can only hope I did the same. She carried around a little notebook. It was more like a few pages stapled together and covered by a clear plastic sheet. Own our war to the bar

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-57885738399346185962007-10-08T06:34:00.000-07:002007-10-08T07:07:50.528-07:00

I saw just saw oliver. If you recall, he is the guy that I couchsurfed with in Lugano, Switzerland. It was brief but good to see him none the less. I got up early to meet him at Gare de Lyon to have breakfast before he head headed back to Switzerland. This was the same train station that I rode into last July when I arrived from Geneva. After a thirty minute metro ride, I went into the main

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-72348815920298426552007-09-20T06:16:00.000-07:002007-09-20T07:32:44.601-07:00

Cont. from belowThe conversation went on to present all of us with a unique experience of cross-cultural miscommunication. As more of the Middle Americans got into the conversation, Yassin and Maoud began to voice their denunciations of the United States. At first, I felt indifferent. Then I wanted to tell them that in fact I sympathized with them, that many in the U.S. do not support much of

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-37921202072008955272007-09-20T06:08:00.001-07:002007-09-21T07:04:03.339-07:00

Before I was completely installed in my appartment, I found a japenese backpacker needing a place to crash.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-46817928171330731652007-09-20T06:03:00.000-07:002007-09-20T07:06:14.934-07:00

Yeah, it's been a while. Loosing Joonkindt was especially hard on me. I spent my last few hours that fateful Saturday morning grappling with the fickle and then fading signal of a neighbor's wireless signal. Joonkindt maintained a mythic quality among us staying at the Peirres et Vacances hotel for those three long weeks. Dmos was one of the first to catch the signal. Soon, me and Barnaby soon

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-66043062915724536902007-09-05T10:53:00.000-07:002007-09-05T10:57:48.815-07:00

So, I'm going a lil' off topic. But, the situation calls for it. Kayne's new ablum seems like it will definitly be pushing the envelope. I mean, Daft Punk? The video is really innovative and makes me all warm inside. I like the futurism and the japanese elements awesome. We go back to the OutKast quote: "You say Hip-Hop is dead? Then exhume the body if you ain't scared!"

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-60629782285841163982007-09-04T07:29:00.000-07:002007-09-04T07:32:16.936-07:00

Check it out:A Legacy Hidden in Plain SightIraqis of African Descent Are a Largely Overlooked Link to SlaveryBy Theola LabbiWashington Post Staff WriterSunday, January 11, 2004; Page A01BASRA, IraqThe word was whispered and hurled at Thawra Youssef in school when she was 5 years old. Even back then, she sensed it was an insult.Abd. Slave. Click here for the rest

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-17447884137214365082007-09-03T02:54:00.000-07:002007-09-04T12:35:53.181-07:00

We chased the green fairy last night only to find a textbook example of the American encountering Muslims in Europe. It read like the student guides perfectly, except that my experience differed in that it was tinted with the black experience. After stumbling out of the bar that was publicized on the travel show, we found ourselves on a street corner in the 11th arrondissement trying to decide

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-86573961716336441232007-09-03T02:53:00.000-07:002007-09-03T05:01:37.282-07:00

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-73534580847749958902007-08-31T14:04:00.000-07:002007-08-31T14:17:23.472-07:00

4 hours a day. 4 days this week. That was a lot of french class. I guess that is why they call it they Intensive language program. I'm grinding it out though, learn what I can. I still feel kind of transeient though. We are still in the hotel. I'm only here for the free food. otherwise, I would go a head and steak my claim. I checked my bank account yesterday. And, it hit me: I got to find some

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-8549379930177255812007-08-27T04:00:00.000-07:002007-08-27T04:21:37.574-07:00

I just finished taking our pretest for the intensive language program that we take before classes start. Let me state here and now unequivocally that I suck. I've known it for a while. But now I have no doubt. I will be put in the lowest group. That wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the tendency of the lowest group to be the least serious.But I guess it is time for me to go back to basics and

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-8927351369590086912007-08-26T09:08:00.000-07:002007-08-26T09:39:50.105-07:00

Nigger. Don Imus. Rap.I looked up and scanned the room from left to right. By the time that I came back around to my self all the humor in the room dissipated and I realized that I was officially the spokesman for the entire black race. The person who posed the question was Greek, an outsider to American culture and so asked the question I'm sure white Americans think about.What do you think

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-29118304415086130692007-08-24T00:49:00.000-07:002007-08-24T01:16:21.294-07:00

After finding refuge from the bottomless bucket that is the parisian sky, I sought relief on my apartment's toilet. I descended into a state of peaceful solitude that help shed away the frenzied transatlantic voyage. Just as I was at the point of fufilling my bodily duties, I heard a rapping at the door. I wished that it would just go away at first. Then, it continued. I, undetermined to finish

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-51322703753382679202007-08-24T00:38:00.000-07:002007-08-27T04:32:01.578-07:00

Indifference and a shit load of ran was ha only thing that met me in Paris. I got of the plane, wnet to pick up my luggage, and lingered longer than needed to try and come up the most beautiful Saudi women I have seen in my life. After resigning myself from that opportunity (she was family-laden), I set off to the metro with luggage in tow, paid my 8 euros, and took the long quiet ride into the

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-19790178581037894992007-08-23T02:48:00.000-07:002007-08-23T03:09:38.547-07:00

I just spent about three hours sitting on a bench adjacent to another guy. He looked to e in his mid thirties, mustached but shaven, he sported traveler’s cargo khakis a blue polyester polo a camera bag, briefcase and a tennis racket in a turquoise cover.He had sat in place since I arrived around 8:00am. He read through three newspapers while I took intermittent naps and read through French

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-23445371455131216962007-08-23T02:31:00.000-07:002007-08-23T04:46:00.816-07:00

By all accounts, I should not have walked aawy with my visa yesterday, but, alhamdoullah, I got it. Check back later for details.....

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-91228571262038205152007-08-13T16:14:00.000-07:002007-08-23T02:48:04.497-07:00

I just thought that I'd let it be known....Las Vegas sucks. It is completely artificial and undeniably overpriced. I kept repeating the following line throughout the week. "The plasticity is killing me." Nothing about that city was natural. I found a blog that accurately describes the city in its headline, Real stories from the most unreal place on earth." I wish I could find the link for you,

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-77104127365076184962007-08-13T15:52:00.000-07:002007-08-13T15:53:24.007-07:00

people never cease to amaze me.I love life.

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-50708406232105753372007-08-12T08:18:00.000-07:002007-08-13T15:50:14.480-07:00

I sit slouched in a tight patent-leather airport sit. The scene is nearly the same and the the them has no variation. A slight dfference is that Im sitting with people I know; two women journalist. And even that is a recent change. Most of the morning I was sitting alone, but not lonely, reflecting on the event of the past week.I really appreciate the experience. It was one of those things where

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-72543014584268912102007-08-12T08:16:00.000-07:002007-08-12T08:18:23.700-07:00

When taking on a significant endeavor, you typically want to get a good start. Take all necessary precautions, prepare for the unexpected and start it all with a good night sleep and a square meal. Well, so much for that. I decided to work Saturday night, knowing that I wouldn’t finish until most likely 3:30 2:30 at the earliest. To make it worse, I had a 6:14 am flight. And considering the need

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-66462267777914459122007-08-02T09:48:00.000-07:002007-08-02T10:25:20.722-07:00

Since I found myself without what I consider adequate computer and internet access while I was in Geneva, I look foward to the ability to get home at le Cinq, and settle down to endless days of content production for my blog. I had planned to go back in time and recall thoughts that I had during my wanderings and present them here. It would have slightly detracted from the real-time, chrnological

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6303410085824242468.post-39462377183400079512007-08-01T13:44:00.000-07:002007-08-01T13:45:01.295-07:00

W. Hassan Marshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04410160797064883314noreply@blogger.com0