Kronicles of Kurdistan #8 "The Great Tumble"

It snowed today in Duhok off and on in between bursts of sunlight. It was cold as fuck the whole time, though.

I taught two classes, then asked my friend, Z, to meet for drinks at Rojava Bar, in the Geshtiar District. We rolled in and ordered two Efes and I got a little bottle of Absolut.

He likes the Arab-Type chicks. I’m not so hot on ’em, and I just turned 60 anyway, so it was kind of like watching myself 30 years ago in New York, or wherever I was at that time.

Anyway…after a couple more beers and 10 cigarettes, he left and I stayed to try to work a little on some obscure short stories I’ve been plodding over for 6 months, in an effort to force the inspiration, so to speak. I wrote for about 1/2 hour.

Afterward, I watched “The Great Tumble” unfold. The “waitresses” all had gorgeous faces which went down to sadly flattened asses. Great tits - great faces - and disappointing derriers. For a man of my tastes, the experience was like falling into a sexual tumbler.

And the music that was being hammered out by a too-loud live 3 piece outfit mirrored the sentiments. The vocal melodies (all in Kurdi) seemed to strive toward great heights, yet inevitably fell down in one false cadence after another to a disappointing “flatness” of expression.

Mind you - I didn’t really mind, and I don’t now - as I write this - because after two years in Iraq, I’ve come to appreciate the Post-ISIS ethos that still pervades the whole region and its people. Our waitress was an over-exotic looking Muslima!

It is all a sort of great tumbling down of emotion, economy and sexual suggestion that is all so terribly and beautifully sad.

The bill came to 41 thousand dinar. I tipped the waitress 10 thousand, and left.

I wonder if it will snow tonight again.