So many people don’t get it that a woman can fall in love, marry and somewhere get lost. Maybe its wrong to want more in a realationship. I honestly don’t know. I try to remember when I last felt really loved and secure in my marriage. To me, Marriage should be you are partners. You are working together for things, you don’t try to put down or crush spirits. I am trying to imagine what I wish marriage was like. Maybe once you have been married, you can’t think straight anymore on that? When I got married I just wanted to be with him. He worked hard, he was gone alot, when he came back I followed him around. I didn’t have a life. Now, 17 years later, I am thinking should I stay or should I go? There has been a lot of things happen. I know so many people stay in a marriage even if there is anger, hatred, fighting or ignoring feelings, disrespect.Some people leave a marriage for less reasons they wake up one morning and they just don’t give a rats ass anymore. They just figure “I’m outta here.” They don’t stay to have babies or stay hoping that a miracle will occur and they will magically fall in love again. I start to wonder what is love? Can you ever trust love again? I don’t know. I Don’t know what to say. I know a lot about different cultures. I know many women stay in marriages because they have to. I know here in America we feel somewhat more enthusiastic to go out and end a marriage because we know we will not be as chastisized as our sisters from different cultures. I feel her pain. I can imagine being a woman unhappy, a woman who isn’t kissed when she was hoping for a kiss. A woman who the man walks in the room and the husband doesn’t smile anymore. I don’t like it. So many people don’t get what its like to really dig down in your soul and wish and hope for an answer. I am searching ……

I have put some videos up on youtube I love to act….

Constatine refused to be called Connie. She didn’t mind the name Ceecee because her friend in first grade, Annie couldn’t say Constatine properly. So, do her friends she didn’t mind Ceecee. Ceecee like Rhett Sumers. She wanted to be his Scarlett but he seemed to act as if she was the most boring choice for that character. ” I don’t like my name.” He would often say.So many people thought it was cool his name was Rhett because if anyone knew anything about Rhett Butler from Gone with the wind, stubborn, dashing …well why wouldn’t anyone want to be named Rhett. She sat next to him at the bar drinking a diet coke while he daydreamed over his whiskey and coke. She watched him. He had long manly fingers and he would glance at her out of the corner of her eye.”What?” He would ask in a low voice. “Nothing.” She would say and turn her head back towards the many bottles behind the bar.”Tell me Rhett what you like in life?” She asked him suddenly. They had met through a friend months ago and had hung out a few times. Tell me I wanna know what makes you tick.”WHat makes me tick?” He laughed. ” Are you some kind of detective or something? I am not so interesting believe me.” She looked at him again, he had soft brown hair, green eyes and movie star cheek bones. “Why aren’t you a model or an actor?” She mused aloud. He shook his head.” Because I needed a real job.” He was somewhat taken with the talkative brunette with the southern accent. Many people were pulled to CeeCee and her warmth and good spirit.He tried not to get drawn into anything with her more than hanging out.She was a terrible romantic and wanted the white horse, the angst the drama.He had thought about taking her to bed just to shut her up but he knew if he did that then she would get attached to him and get hurt.” I wanna go home Rhett.” She stood up suddenly and he lay down the money for thier drinks. “Why? Whats wrong?” Ceecee was bored with Rhett.She had hung out with him many times and he was never going to treat her like a woman of interest. On their way home in the cab CeeCee stared out at the small ohio town. She hated it here. He was sitting there. Just sitting no brain activity, no lust for her, no lust for life. Oh she had had it with him. “Alrighty.” She said as she handed the taxi driver the fee. “I will walk home.” He said when they had made it to her small town house. TBC

Kelsie met Kahn when she was on the internet one snowy Feb morning bored and lonely. She was going through the search engine or whatever you call it and saw a cute guy in a leather jacket. He simply took her breath away. They “became” something, she would flirt, he would send her song lyric links, deep songs, longing, sulking songs…She took in each line to be for her. She dreamt of falling in love with him, of him making love to her and that he would whisper passionate words in Turkish. They broke up the first time because she was online and cried to him that she had made love with her husband (Yes, kelsie was married). He became outraged, even though he knew she was married, he said “I can not imagine another man touching you, I can’t do this.” He signed out and she cried and cried, he came back a month later and they spent another two months, fantasizing sending music video links to one another talking about making love in New York City. He would leave her again, over more petty reasons. She tried not to care because if she cared it would hurt the first time she was madly in love with him. She dreamt of going to Turkey and having a picnic of kissing his lips and having her hand on his knee and he would smile at his blue eyed American girl. IT was all crap.Now 7 months he had made her dance naked on the webcam and dumped her before she could pull her jeans back on red faced, she sat at the computer. He was no where around. There was only a screen saver of a collie dog staring at her.They had met back up on facebook, she had written him saying she was getting mail about people making comments on his photo and that ” We aren’t friends so why am I getting this mail?” He wrote back that he was “Sorry and I’ll try to fix this problem how are you can we talk on yahoo….” They spent four hours talking him asking to see her face, then of course go topless. So many people can’t understand this kind of computer skinny dipping. BUT it can be exciting to turn a man on thousands of miles away and Kelsie Knew other people who had done that. She felt somewhat excited and ashamed, but mostly she felt angry because he had to have the package deal, not just the nice conversation after ignoring one another for 7 months.She was worried that he was gone and this time without even as much as his usual insult that it was her fault they couldn’t be the “perfect cyber couple.” Kelsie paced the floor back and forth feeling trapped bu her small apartment and highly pissed off that she had spent the last few days fantasizing about her Turkish delight again. He wasn’t going to sign on was he ? WHY? Why couldn’t he just like her and keep liking her ? She watched the songs on youtube he had dedicated to her again the longing, the wanting, yet was he over in Turkey switching off his phone like he had months ago when they had busted up when he saw the New York area code ? What was in his mind? What made him come and go in her life like small storms full of wind and fury. It was 2 pm usually he would sign on around this time. She was numb now, yesterday there was nothing. Maybe 3 days ago was the last time she had heard ftrom him. But he could go months without  hearing from him so maybe he hadn’t dumped her. This was foolish. Kahn turned her on with his bad boy ways, his love of music his voice. She wanted to know what he was like in real life if she could tame him and make him “Nice.” he was The GUY, that she couldn’t have no matter how many times she turned on the computer and all she wanted to do was turn him on…he was THE GUY.

Come on, are you there ? Is anyone out there, If you are I would welcome your words margo

I often think of Kentucky, where I was born and raised the first 21 years of my life, now I realize I have been so detached from “her”. I go back home and I just feel lost like the person you bring to a party who doesn’t know anyone, but is there. I hear “My accent” on people’s lips. They come to me and say “ah did you, ah do you? Ah can ya?” I stand there feeling out of body. I want to scream “I am yours Kentucky.” But nothing comes out. I look at the pine trees that grew on the mountian across from my granny’s house and I think how when I was a child I pretended there was another world behind those trees. That a handsome prince lived behind those huge pines and that he would come and get me the next time I cried, or the next time granny made those chicken and dumplings that I refused to eat because I “Knew that chicken.” I walk around the chicken coups that belong to my brother. I hate the smell of the chicken poop but he doesn’t care as he feeds, waters them. They crow at me and fuss when I walk by are they calling me “Stranger.” I look at them.. “I like chicken sandwiches.” I tell them. I look at mom’s small house that used to be a trailer. It needs repaired so bad. I feel so lost. It is much the way I feel in New York and in India. I always feel I don’t belong and I don’t know why this is. Inside granny’s house there are pitcures of us as kids in frames and painting of jesus and angel figurines. She sits in her old recliner doing search a word puzzles when I try to tell her I am thinking about dating she puts down her book and takes a deep breath. She starts looking at me with my eyes, she has powdered blue eyes that have faded but so intelligent. “Little girl, you don’t need a divorce.” I try to tell her that I got married young, that I didn’t know what I wanted. She gives me the speech how even though my late grandpa was a womanizer she stayed with him cause she promised God she would.I argue that I saw them that they weren’t happy and shouldn’t I try to be happy. “Girl you got to make yourself happy.” She says leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes. She is upset with me. I get up and go sit in the car with the New York plates. I cry because I want to go home, though this was my home and I don’t know where I belong. Its a cloudy overcast, warm november day and I watch my brother who is mentally more like 9 feed his chickens for a minute I wish I am him because he feels good right where he is feeding those darn chickens who peck at the mud as he throws them their feed. m

Arianna Blue watched as the only man she had ever truly loved was being dragged into the back of a wagon. She screamed loudly as the two hoodlums who worked for the Sheriff laughed at her..”Nice little lady you would do good on a soft bed…” One whispered. She bit down on his hand. “She’s a fiesty one Clem.” Said the fat one with the scar on the side of his face. “Jett, Jett!!” But it was too late they had taken him away and she stood there as the dust of the wagon clouded around her. The two thugs left her standing there laughing at her as if she was a crying toddler. Her mind was racing. Jett had not killed anyone. The fact that the sheriff was dead was not good, the fact Jett had had a gun was not good. But he had not touched anyone to cause harm. She had no where to go but to the jail. That would be where they would have Jett. There would be the usual nonsense asking a huge sum of money for bail, possible blackmail would do. She had her ways she would think of something. It took her thirty minutes to walk to the small Jail that she had passed many times in her life in that small town of waking Creek. She burst through the door like an outlaw herself. “Where is he !” She demanded. Deputy Blaine walked to the door, “Welcome, honey.Your man’s not available.” He said with a smile on his face. Out of all the bad guys in this town, this one was one of the most handsome and mean. He was ruthless and it was in the back of her mind that he probably put someone up to having the Sherrif meet an untimely death. He was tall with dark hair and green eyes like a cat. He was almost as handsome as Jett, but no one could win her heart like Jett…He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “You need to get out of here little lady. He isn’t going anywhere tonight.” She backed against the desk. She was wearing jeans and a man’s baggy cotton plaid blue shirt. Her eyes were blue and her skin was albastar she had cut her hair short like a boy with spikey parts here and there. “You are something Miss.” He said .”Everyone in town always wonders about you, you are wild like the wind, you don’t give a damn. Ladies either look up to you or or scared Shitless. There was admiration in his voice. “Don’t worry about me, I just want to see Jett. He didn’t do anything to be in here and you know it. I have had enough of the constant aggravation. You people always come after him when he is innocent.”He ain’t ever innocent. You just think he is.” She went over to him and glared into his eyes. TBC

Old Moss Cabbage Rose
R. centifolia var. muscosa

PICTURE SOURCE Les Roses, Volume I (1817)
ORIGINAL BOTANICAL NAME Rosa muscosa multiplex
ORIGINAL FRENCH NAME Rosier mousseux á fleurs doubles
CURRENT BOTANTICAL NAME R. centifolia var. muscosa
COMMON NAME Old Moss Cabbage Rose
CLASS Centifolia
ORIGIN Sport from R. Centifolia, pre 1700
FLOWERING Once-flowering; summer
SCENT Strong, sweet fragrance
GROWTH Medium-tall shrub; 4-6 feet (1.2-1.8 metres)
AVAILABILITY Still in cultivation

At left; picture of the Moss Rose, R. centifolia var. muscosa, painted by Pierre-Joseph Redouté, portrait 010 out of 170, Volume I of Les Roses.

Music of Algeria
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Idir
Algerian music is virtually synonymous with raï among foreigners; the musical genre has achieved great popularity in France, Spain and other parts of Europe. For several centuries, Algerian music was dominated by styles inherited from Al-Andalus, eventually forming a unique North African twist on these poetic forms. Algerian music came to include suites called nuubaat (singular nuuba). Lately derivatives include rabaab and hawzii.
Music in Algeria in general offers a rich diversity of gender, popular music (Shaabi), Arabo-Andalusian music (Malouf San’aa, Gharnati, etc. ..) music classical Arabic, Bedouin, Berber music (Kabyle, Shawi, Tuareg , Etc. ..), Rai …
Sha-bii is, in North African countries, folk music; in Algeria, however, it refers to a style of recent urban popular music, of which the best known performer was El Hajj Muhammad El Anka considered like the Grand Master of Andalusian classical music. True styles of folk music include hofii, a form of female vocal music, and zindalii, from Constantine.
Biyouna is an Algerian singer who in his music is a mixture of pop, rock, raï, jazz and other types of music. Her last record Blonde dans la Casbah has been a great success.

Rai is a creative outlet to express political discontent,this music is a mix between Western music and Bedouin music. “Rai became an important means of cultural expression for a minority struggling to carve out an ethnic identity and a space for itself in an inhospitable, racist environment” [1] Rai is more than simply cultural expression, it morphed into a unique blend of popular “rebel” music. “What makes raï so rebel, so politically charged, is the fact that it goes against the hard-line conservative government, a religiously fundamentalist establishment. Unlike traditional music, with its subtlety, flowery language, and innocuous subject matters, raï is notable for its blunt imagery and willingness to tackle subjects such as sex, booze, lust, and drink – all of which the deeply religious establishment frowns upon.”
The Malouf is the Arab-Andalusian music of Constantine and is also well known in Tunisia and Libya, it is a very large number of diversified musical repertoire of Algeria. Nevertheless, malouf can not compete commercially with popular music, much of it Egyptian, and it has only survived because of the efforts of the Tunisian government and a number of private individuals. Malouf is still performed in public, especially at weddings and circumcision ceremonies, though recordings are relatively rare.
Contents [hide]
1 Kabylia
2 Sahraoui
3 Jazz
4 Important musicians
5 References
[edit]Kabylia

Main article: Music of Kabylia
Kabylia is a region east of the capital Algiers, inhabited mostly by speakers of Kabyle, one of the indigenous languages of North Africa. Kabylian folk music has achieved some mainstream success outside of its homeland, both in the rest of Algeria and abroad.
In the 1930s, Kabylians moved in large numbers to Paris, where they established cafes where musicians like Cheikh Nourredine added modern, Western instruments like the banjo, guitar and violin to Kabylian folk melodies. Slimane Azem was a Kabylian immigrant who was inspired by Nourredine and 19th century poet Si Mohand Ou Mohand to address homesickness, poverty and passion in his songs, and he soon (like many Kabylian musicians) became associated with the Algerian independence movement.
By the 1950s, Arab classical music, especially Egyptian superstars like Umm Kulthum, had become popular and left a lasting influence on Kabylian music, specifically in lush orchestration. Cherif Kheddam soon arose with the advent of a Kabylian branch of Radio Algiers after independence in 1962. Female singers also became popular during this period, especially Cherifa, Djamilla and Hanifa.
Algerian independence did not lead to increased freedom for Kabylian musicians, and these Berbers soon included often covert lyrics criticizing the Ben Bella government. Many of these musicians were inspired by other singer-songwriters, including Joan Baez and Bob Dylan, Víctor Jara and Silvio Rodriguez. Idir, a Kabylian geology student, sang Kabylia’s first major hit, which sold an unprecedented amount in Algeria and abroad, “A Vava Inouva” (1973). Ferhat, known for his politically uncompromising lyrics, and Aït Menguellet, known for his poetic and inspired lyrics, also became popular during the 1970s.
During the 1980s, Kabylian music evolved into sentimental, pop-ballads performed by groups like Takfarinas. Some of the inspiration for this evolution was the popularity of pop-rai internationally.
Modern singers include Djur Djura and Houri Aichi.
[edit]Sahraoui

[edit]Jazz

Composers : Aminoss, Sinouj, Azedine Tebibel.
[edit]Important musicians

Biyouna his music is a mixture of pop, rock, raï, jazz and other types of music.
Cheikh Larbi Ben Sari, composer and musician from the Tlemcen school of Andalusian music
Abdelkrim Dali, Master of Hawzi classical music
El Hadj Mohamed El Anka, Master of Chaabi classical music
Cheikh Mohamed El Ghafour, musician from the Tlemcen school of Hawzi music
Mohamed Tahar Fergani, musician and master of the Malouf classical style
El Hachemi Guerouabi, musician and reformer of the Chaabi classical style
Fadela Dziria, singer of Hawzi classical style music
Kamel Messaoudi, singer of Chaabi music
Warda El Djazaria, singer of classical Arab oriental music
Dahmane El Harrachi, a singer composer and songwriter of Chaabi music
Zaho, an Algerian R&B singer based in Canada.
Souad Massi singer, songwriter and guitarist now living in France
[edit]

Five Songs For Kentucky
Posted Sat Jul 12, 2008 6:05pm PDT by Rob O’Connor in List Of The Day
Kentucky knew how to sell itself. Unlike many nearby states that have a miserable collection of songs written about it, Kentucky inspires! How or why is beyond my ability to ascertain. Maybe they offered subsidies to anyone who would write them a song? Maybe their chamber of commerce took a pro-active stance? Maybe because they have the Kentucky Derby and everyone loves horses, don’t they?

“My Old Kentucky Home”–Randy Newman: OK, so some punk named Stephen Foster wrote a tune first that ended up in The American Primer and The American Songbook along with a bunch of other Americana junk they forced you to learn when you got your first chord organ or flute phone. But then Randy, a man who appears in the blog so often he should pay to be here, rewrote the tune to suit his own needs. Which is exactly what every political operative the world over does. Is this man running for office? Am I now in trouble with Y! Music for exceeding the limit for Randy Newman references?

“Kentucky”–Louvin Brothers: These two liked to sing about their nearby geography because they also sang a tune about Alabama. “Kentucky” is just as good and like most old country songs, sounds pretty much like all the others, which like the blues is a good thing if you like that kind of thing.

“Kentucky Woman”–Neil Diamond: Ah, Neil has a new album with Rick Rubin. But no matter how good, it could never touch the greatness of his prime era, because that’s why they consider it a prime era. You are in the zone, young master. No matter how crappy your efforts, the magic of the era will whisk you away and make you far greater than you ever deserve to be. I’m still waiting to hit my prime. It may not happen. I will weep.

“Kentucky Rain”–Elvis Presley: Before there was an Axl Rose, there was Elvis Presley. You know, the guy on the postage stamp. Aside from appearing in 237 unwatchable movies, he also made something like 546 nearly listenable albums, after recording some of the most important music of the past century. By the time of “Kentucky Rain,” it really depended on the individual track. And how well El could overcome whatever schlocky arrangement they might try to stiff him with. The man could’ve used some assertive training. But what the hell, he was the King anyhow.

“Blue Moon Of Kentucky”–Bill Monroe: Now, see, Elvis recorded my favorite version of this. It was the B-side to his first single. So he was a hot one at the onset. Bill Monroe, however, deserves credit as being the Father of Bluegrass (I guess he copyrights the color dye Blue #4) and the man who then allowed Elvis, Boxcar Willie and Patsy Cline among the many to take this song and make him a lot of money. Well, provided he kept the publishing.