I was 10 years old when I watched people being burned alive in Black July. I saw houses burned, cars burned, people burned. Tends to leave a mark.

I love Colombo. I love the nightlife. I love the daylife. I love the food, the beaches, the expensive places, and the dive-ass bars. I love it all, and I love showing it off to my friends. Let's go!

Everyone agrees, gaming on Linux isn't easy. You are basically trying to use a translator to play something that hasn't been written for Linux, and hoping it all works perfectly. Not always an easy task. And here we go again.

Sit down, you little buggers, and I will tell you a story . A story that needs to be told, and remembered.

For a long time I have been trying to type in Sinhala. On Windows 95 I used the transliterated typing system crated by Chrismal Panditharatne, and when I moved to Linux, I had to find a new system. Mainly because I was not used to touch-typing, I was also not used to typing on the Wijesekara Keyboard Layout. So, with all of that, I had to find another way.

A few days ago a Facebook friend shared a post by a gun-rights page about why gun owners are not coming to save the protesters in Portland and other places being targeted by the police and federal agencies. Namely, because the gun-owners have been insulted by the political left as racist, bigoted, misogynist, and many other things.

No one in the USA seems to have heard of Asterix: The Secret of the Magic Potion, but out here in Asia-land, where we grew up on the tales of Asterix, Obelix, and the rest of the mad, mad inhabitants of that little Gaulish village that withstood the might of Caesar and all his legions, the movie was greeted with loud cheers.

I will not punch you in the face for being a Nazi. Though I find Nazism abhorrent, it's your right to believe in it. I will not punch you in the face for being a racist. Again, you have the absolute, inalienable right to that stupid, outdated, abhorrent belief. Being stupid is not a crime, although there are many days I wish it were. I will not punch you in the face for hanging out with your Nazi, racist, supremacist friends in your little fortresses of hate and stupidity.

So the pros are out. Running their cons. And we're supposed to choose which one to bend over and spread our cheeks for.  

OK, so it's not just predictions. It's my thoughts on this entire jing-bang fiasco grim fandango Vicious Cabaret. I don't wan't Mahinda to win The Beast has had a long run. He has had it for long enough. He has had it for too long. The corruption, the hatred, the bullshit has gone on for far too long. I like some of the things he has done, but I don't like, neither do I agree with the way he has done so many of those things.

It all started with Trevor and Tekla Fernando. People who listened to the English Service of the Sri Lanka Broadcasting Corporation in the 80s and early 90s may remember them. In an era where getting a request in on the radio meant writing a real, actual, snail mail letter, Trevor and Tekla (who many may remember because of the alliteration in their names) managed to get a request in - an their names read on - every single request show on the SLBC English service. Every. Single. Day.

Yes, Sri Lanka's Minister of Child Development and Womens' Affairs is a man. Yes, he's said that he's qualified to be the Minister because he has six sisters, a wife, and two daughters. Yeah, he's a bit of an idiot.

No, not "nigger". I hate "the n-word". I also hate "the f-word", "the c-word", "the j-word" and every f-wording some-letter-in-the-f-wording-alphabet-word out there. The thing is ... I have no problem with the word "nigger." Or dick, or fuck, or cunt, or any other word.

My friend Damith came down to dotelkay from dotus a few weeks ago, and just before he left we engaged in our time homoured tradition of sitting up on the roof and talking until the wee hours of the morning. There is usually alcohol involved, but this time his father had hidden the key to the liquor cupboard, damn the luck. And as it is with such conversations, the topics were wide and varied, and one of them was the social significance of vampires, zombies, and werewolves. So hear me out. There may be a test later.

Well what a fine that week that was. Three funerals in one week. Parents of people I care about. You realise that you have gone to too many funerals when the guys at the crematorium ask you "weren't you here last week?" But some of the things that happened in the past week got me thinking. A friend of mine was given a 3% chance that his mother would live if they did neuro-surgery on her. Not a 3% chance she would be back to normal, but a 3% chance that she would fall into the category that we call "not dead." So he agreed. And got a bill for LKR1.2 million.

It's 5am. I am in Dambulla with Navin, and it looks like we are about to get beaten up. It's my fault of course. It always is. A bunch of robe-monkeys supported by about 2000 idiotic cunts of misery decide that it would be a wonderful thing to attack an Islamic Mosque during prayers. If you gave two tugs of a dead dog's cock about what is happening in Sri Lanka, you would know about this. And with the accuracy of all the news we get, Navin and I decide that it was time for a road trip.

Sometimes, you can't argue with racism. All you can do is laugh at it. There is a post going around facebook that the Sinhala race is dying, because its birthrate is substantially less than that of the Muslims and Tamils. The numbers are wrong. The facts are wrong. It is just a piece of sensationalist lies that certain groups want to accept. There is no arguing with it. Just laughing at it. Hence...  

"This was a great idea you had, Such." "I had? I thought you had it!" When Navn Weeraratne and I had this conversation, we knew we were on to something good. Something big. Something so awesome and geeky and awesomely geeky it could only be called "The Great Geek Retreat". Of course it came out of a drunken conversation - as such things so often do - but it is shaping up to be something special.

Prabhakaran, they say, was captured in Mullaitivu during the last days of the war along with his family, tortured, and killed. Of course, there is no proof about this. Any evidence is circumstantial. What proof exists - if it exists - is probably locked away in some vault.

I always wanted to be a writer. Not just a writer, but a Writer. A Chronicler of my Age. I read the greats. Hemingway. Thoreau. Kerouac. Runyon. And I dreamed of joining those hallowed ranks. Me and Jon Patterson. We were inseparable those days. And his dream was just like mine.

I was there watching the election when Sarath Fonseka ran for president and lost. And then the Army surrounded the Galadari Hotel where he was waiting.

A long time ago my FEW called me a robot. She said that I had no emotions. That I didn't feel. I, of course, took that as a compliment. I have always valued rationality over emotions. Mr. Spock was my hero. Even to this day I would rather solve problems through rational discourse rather than screaming and shouting. But that doesn't seem to work too well with women. Women want me to make an emotional commitment to them. And I find this is something I just cannot do.

The hot news is that the LKGOV is compensating people for engine damages caused by the substandard petrol that was imported by the Ceypetco. Now at face value this sounds like an excellent idea. After all, it is only fair that the people who fucked up your car engine pay for the damage they caused.

Or is it vice-versa? I forget. So Sri Lankan - and perhaps the world - has its first Mayor Monk. Not only did he run for power, but when he was elected he held a temper tantrum fast because The Beast said he couldn't be mayor because he was - you know - a monk. One of those people who have stepped away from lay life for a life of seeking enlightenment.

Going through my hard drive, I found this article I wrote back in 2006, before I even thought of writing a blog. Here it is for your delectation. My father was a civil engineer in Nigeria. When the coup d'etat happened in 1983 his employer made him an offer – stay on with the company, and he'd get citizenship in any country he wanted. He chose to come to Sri Lanka and work here. For almost 23 years after his arrival he never worked in the engineering field.

So The Beast walks into Parliament and announces that he is repealing the Emergency Law. Well, not so much "repealing" as much as "not renewing it." But anyway.. YAY! Loud Cheers!! And the clinking of glasses. But it was all oddly subdued. Very oddly. Because - just like everything else this government has done - it was just an eyewash.

Everyone's talking about the new hotness. Google+ walked in the door, threw its hat in the ring, and proceeded to do to Facebook - the reigning champion - what FB did to the previous champions MySpace and Hi5. All of a sudden the game changed. Everyone is raving about G+, and everyone wants in on the ground floor.

A long, very long, time ago we moved into The Linux Center. And now the time has come for us to move out. This could be the end of TLC as we planned it, and as we know it. Originally we planned this house as a location where the Linux geeks of Sri Lanka could learn, meet, and pretty much have a place to call a geekbase. That didn't quite work out the way we planned. But it was a good run nonetheless. I guess it is time for me to move on.

It is now over a month since the 18th Amendment was passed. And I can finally get my head around writing about it without simply saying FUCK a lot. Isn't that nice?

Recently I had a talk with a friend of mine. Not just a talk. A Talk. Note the capitals.

FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCKi! FUCK Ranil for being a pansy-assed motherfucker who couldn't create a real and viable opposition! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!

A friend of mine nearly fell for a scam a few days ago. It was a quite well done scam, and would have passed through too, if it wasn't for the fact that the young lady was quite vigilant.

My parents were in conversation with a Buddhist priest who is in the middle of a Human Rights case with the Police over a raid on the temple he is head honcho of. You may know (of) him, but I am not mentioning any names.

Now there's a shocker. Here I am, calling Mahinda Rajapaksa The Beast, attacking him and criticising him at every step, and all of a sudden I do a complete Heel Face Turn?? What the fuck is up with that? Why, oh why would I want him to win? The answer is simple. Revenge.

Usually it is when people die, or move on, or do something significant that you talk about their legacy. But The Beast is no ordinary man. He has forever changed the face of Sri Lankan politics. He has made more changes to Sri Lanka's political structure and political system than anyone ever has. Too bad for us those changes are for the worse.

Before you ask, I am still spoiling my vote. But there is something that needs to be said. Something worth thinking about. There is lots of talk about the Army not voting for SF. There is talk that the people in the forces have become disillusioned with him. This may or may not be true. But if the Army wants to maintain its status - and let's face it, who doesn't - they should vote for SF.

Poeple ask me how I'm going to vote. With the election fever in full effect, that is the biggest question on people's minds. Who we vote for is what is going to set the course of this country for the next 6 years. And people are looking for reasons to vote for either of the two evils. Obviously this doesn't include the hardcore supporters. All candidates and parties will have people who will vote for them no matter what they do. Those guys are unchangeable. But there is - especially so this time - a large group of people who have no idea who to vote for.

Election days are here again, and the skeletons are coming dancing out of the closet. In case you missed the news, Sarath Fonseka (aka the racist) is now running for presidency as part of the UNP. And im proper Sri Lankan mud-slinging style, he decided to drop a bombshell on the people. Evidently he thought it would bring the people to his side.

The power went out last night. You may have heard about it. You may have even experienced it. I did. I stayed awake until 0730 sweating and swatting at the mozzies. Damned mozzies. I barely got any sleep. Of course, my first reaction was "somebody must pay."

Yes, I know. I haven't posted lately. A lot of half-written articles are in my blog cache, but none are ready for being seen. So here I go. Yesterday - in the process of getting ready for a long-weekend trip to Batticaloa and Pasikuddah - I went shpoping. Bought many things. Food, and eats a few meds and lions and tigers and bears. Oh my! I also picked up a few cans of Booster Blitz.

Here I am, faithful reader. Still writing, still trying to figure out this strange-ass world of ours. Here I am, at 0700h (7a.m. to you clueless plebes) with a large glass of vodka/sprite (raspberry vodka if you must know) bubbling away in my gut, tapping away at the laptop, on a balcony looking over the beach. There is something .. extremely nice about all this. The Hikka Beach Fest is happening well to the North of me, I am down in Mirissa enjoying secluded beaches, crashing waves, vodka, and some rather nifty herb. Life, is good.

The things that worry me about the war, and the eventual end, started back in New Year's day (April 14th in Sri Lanka). That was the day they showed the celebrations in Kilinochchi. The leader of the forces there was symbolically invited into the city by an Arachchi wearing what seemed to be an extremely Sinhalese costume, talking classically "old village" Sinhala.

It's Monday. It's Morning. It's Monday Morning Quarterback time. The news is all over that the LTTE has been defeated. Prabhakaran is probably dead. (Though the LKGOV's statements are best taken with a grain or ten of salt - remember the 60,000 civillians who suddenlt became 200,000?) But the LTTE are pretty much done. It was almost funny to see them make a statement that We have decided to silence our guns. Almost. Now I guess its time to look back and see where the went wrong. After all, hindsight is 20/20.

Isn't it fucking fun? The LKGOV wants us to report all foreigners who are criticising the LKGOV and the Glorious Forces (sounds like a band from the 70s). The Ministry of Immigration & Emmigration even has a phone number for people to use as a hotline. And the media (radio stations especially) are shouting it out at the top of their lungs.

The time is 0645. I just spent the last ten hours with some friends of mine who had flown down from the US. First we went to Cheers for alcohol, and then we spent a large amount of time looking for a place to drink, because Cheers closes down at 0200. We ended up in a hook joint. Want something more specific? It was a whorehouse. A place of ladies of negotiable virtue. It was also a club, with a large dancefloor and techno music. But primarily it was a hook joint. You'd go there for a drink and a dance and a bed in the back. That's where we were.

My life seems full of sagas. No, not the Norse kind. Not like Gilgamesh. Or Odysseus. In fact not like anyone cool at all. It's just things that happen. And happen. And happen. And then end up becoming this weird uber-crazy insane thing that kind of snowballs into the stuff of legend. Or possibly cautionary tale.

Do you remember a certain chap called Solomon West Ridgeway Dias Bandaranaike? Nice old fella, so intent on servicing, I'm sorry I mean serving his country that he converted to Buddhism so he could win votes. He then broke away from the UNP and went on to become Prime Minister with his newly formed Sri Lanka Freedom Party. Oh, and before I forget, he did it on the platform of the Sinhala Only in 24 Hours promise. A minor thing of course, but worth mentioning I think.

I went looking for a corpse today. My friend Daniel had not been seen in two weeks, and we were all starting to be a bit worried about the guy. After all, the fucker drives around in a little 49cc mosquito bike. So when the Emmster called a search for him because we hadn't seen the fucker in close onto 2 weeks, and his facebook account didn't show any activity, we started worrying about where he was. This morning, Emmster and Razzle asked if I could come to the Colombo General hospital to see if he was there, how could I refuse?

I'm sure all of you have heard of twitter. If not, I guess Wikipedia will tell you more. Basically, for those of you who don't want to follow the links, it is a way of sending a status message to people who are following you. Remember status messages? They started off on Instant Messaging clients, and worked their way out from there.

I've been going for a yoga/acting/lifestyle class for the last few days. It's organised by Abhina Academy. It's the same crew I used to go for yoga with, and I do enjoy hanging with them. I'll write more about it soon, this was just my third day, and I want to write about something else. I want to write about Free Hugs. Well, kind of.

And the net is filled with a million voices - ok a thousand.. maybe a hundred.. two? - voices asking what the fuck is a winkle? For those of you who don't live in Sri Lanka, and or never had a bike, and or never got their bike fixed, a winkle is a bicycle repair place. Usually they are small places, run by an oldish guy and a young apprentice (if any)

Once upon a time, a long time ago, in December 2005, when dinosaurs ruled the Earth, Yours Truly got his first laptop. An IBM ThinkPad R51e. She was a beauty and it was love. She went with me to Singapore. I achieved nerdvana under a tree with her on my lap.

I was out with the parental units the other day. There's a new Italian restaurant in town, and the food is good. So I decided to take them out. On the way we got stopped at the Wellawatte checkpoint. Since I was the one not driving, I gave my driver's licence. Yes, my driver's licence. It is what I show at checkpoints. Of course the copette who was there - rather cute too I might add - asked me for my ID. I said ,That is a valid ID.

You've all heard the triple standard. I am one thing.. You are a slightly less acceptable way of looking at the same thing.. He is acting in a way that is completely unacceptable. We are all doing the same thing. Want an illustration? Here's one. I have reconsidered my options. You have changed your mind. He has gone back on his word. We can get sexual too. I am experimentative. You are kinky. He's a fucking pervert.

Yes, you heard me right. ABBA. Goes. Metal. What. The. Figgedy. Fuck!!! I grew up to ABBA. I'm sure a lot of you guys did too. And no matter what you listen to, whether you love them or hate them, you've probably heard them.

Something very interesting happened to me. I was told by a friend of mine that she doesn't consider me a real Sri Lankan. What do I say to that? I have been called that, and many other things before. Including the famous kalu sudda or dark white man or, for any of you who understand American cultural references, an Oreo. Like the cookie/biscuit I am supposedly black on the outside and white on the inside. Yes, it's an insult. Yes I have been called that many times in my life. Even by people who I thought loved me. Actually that time hurt.

This blog is called Rants, Raves, and Miscellaneous Musings. I've been ranting for a while (though not often enough) and I have been miscellaneously musing. But I find that I have not been raving. Or in short I haven't been handing out kudos. Maybe its because there are so few kudos to hand out. And no you stupid freak, I do not mean the bar/pub/babejoint in Colombo.

Do not attempt to adjust the picture. We are controlling the transmission. If we wish to make it louder, we will bring up the volume. If we wish to make it softer, we will tune it to a whisper. We will control the horizontal. We will control the vertical. We can roll the image; make it flutter. We can change the focus to a soft blur or sharpen it to crystal clarity. For the next hour, sit quietly and we will control all that you see and hear. We repeat: there is nothing wrong with your television set. You are about to participate in a great adventure.

Or maybe it's cooler to say Ave bossa nova. Similis bossa seneca. Still don't get it? How about Hail to the new boss! Same as the old boss.

The gunpowder treason and plot / I see no reason / the gunpowder treason / should ever be forgot It's the first verse of a traditional poem sung in the UK on Guy Fawkes Night - A celebration held on the 5th of November to commemmorate the failure of the Gunpowder Plot of 1605 to kill kill King James I and destroy the House of Lords.

The day before yesterday (the 28th of October) the LTTE carried out one of their (in)famous air raids. Starting from somewhere in the uncleared area they flew their little two-seater Zlin Z-143 light aircraft and dropped bombs on Mannar - and, according to the LKGOV, Colombo. The attack in Mannar was at the Thalladi base, which injured a soldier. The attack on Colombo damaged a fan at the Kelani-tissa thermal power station.

Greed, they say, is good. And what a greedy bunch of get-rich-quick schemers we have in dotelkay. Sakvithi made off with (supposedly) five billion rupees, Seagull Software (remember them) made off with about the same, GoldQuest (ah GoldQuest) made off with a lot more. Even if you don't believe the number, after all, this is dotelkay, where exaggeration is an art form, a hell of a lot of money was scammed by them. But they're not the greedy bastards are they?

A bomb went off today at Pettah. According to the news reports, it was near the railway station. But something about this doesn't ring true to me. I was in the Nugegoda bomb in November 2007. The Center, where I live and work, was less than 50 meters away. On that day, 16 people died. and over twenty were injured. Today, the reports say that 43 were injured, But none were killed, and there were no serious injuries. This begs the question. How did a bomb injure that many and not kill or seriously wound anyone?

I wrote the article The spies among us inspired by something that happened to me. One of the guys here had parked his car on the kerb and one of the stoolpigeons had called the cops about it. The cops came and talked to me and things went downhill from there. The stoolpigeon came out and started watching my house, trying to get the number. Since I find that suspicious, I took out the camera and took photos of him.

Yes, this is real. No, I'm not being paranoid. But first, a story.

It's now a month since I got hit. The physical scars are disappearing. The scabs are falling off. My knees are still painful. and my left one is still impossible to bend or straighten fully. My shoulders are a nit of a mess. My right one cannot be straightened and I can't seem to lift anything heavy with either of them. My right being the worst side. My mental and psychological issues are more worrying. Especially since they don't seem to be getting better. But I gotta write.

In the few weeks that I have been incapacitated, there have been many things that have happened in the country. If I was a superstitious man, I would say that my accident was a symbol and symptom of the unlucky period Sri Lanka has entered into. Our eroding rights, burgeoning government usurpation of powers that were not given to it. Basically, the Sri Lankan populace getting fucked.

Or as the original goes - Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? The cops demand ID wherever we go. So does the army. I can't walk in the street in Colombo without getting copped and checked. Now the TRC wants us to carry ID that can then be inspected by the cops to make sure our cellphones are ours. All in the name of security.

If you are tired of reading how my life is and the problems and issues I'm facing, stop now. Go watch Playboy or something. It has been almost a month since the accident, and it has been eventful. I've been CAT scanned, x-rayed, and blood tested. All of which showed no physical problems. In fact, as my doctor said, I've got bad news. You've had an accident and a knock on the head. But it still hasn't cured your madness. Everyone wants to be a comedian.

I'm back, and I am ranting. I may not be as good as I used to be, but, by Eris, I am pissed off. I spent five days teaching teachers at Hali-Ela. It wasn't easy, but there is a part of me that insists I do such things. I have to test myself and push myself. Otherwise, I may as well just lie in bed all the time, and that is as interesting as watching the paint dry.

This system is turning from a blog to a LiveJournal, and for that I apologise. To be honest I am trying to keep track of what is happening to me, in the best and only way that I can. There are others, but this at least gives me feedback. And feedback, I need. Is it just me, or is my writing style improving? I can't tell at the moment. I think it is, but I am too subjective a person to tell. I ask because this, my writing and communicating style, is my biggest judge of my ability to communicate.

I'm not even sure what it is I am looking for. But I think I know what it isn't. Or at least, I tell my self I do. Which is as good isn't it? My typing is slow these days. Since I got in the accident, my head hasn't been the same.

No! I'm not Not even close to it. A big Thank you to all my friends who got me to hospital. Their fast action was appreciated. On the other hand I would like to tell people a small message - DO NOT GO TO KALUBOWILA!!!! Yes they've had multiple bomb casualties there. Yes, they've experienced a lot. But none of that seems to have helped them any. When I went, they were as lethargic as before. The transferred me from the accident ward to war (I think) 29 where they put me to sleep on a chair, because there were no beds left.

Yeah. I did. Really Last Saaturday, La, Chabdrika and I watched Prince Caspian, and then went off to MC to watch The Incredible Hulk. Maybe I shouldn't have had multiple beers on an empty stomach, but I felt sober enough. The next thing I remember was waking up in Kalubowila hospital with my body in bandages. That was Saturday afternoon, when I'd got hit on my way to one of the fish joints beside Savoy theater for dinner.

I've known her for years. I can still remember the dress she wore when we first met. I remember the where, the when, the why, the how. I remember how she looked, how she moved, and how my heart felt like it had been kicked in the balls. It was love at first sight, both for me and for her. We held each other close, we pushed each other away. It was a roller coaster of fear, and excitement, and joy, and gut-wrenching stomach-churning anxiety. What it was, was fucking awesome.

So here I am in Ampara, teaching Linux to some more of the Sri Lankan teachers. Eris help them all. Kunchana came down for Bud's wedding, and then went back to Ampara with me and the Mad Monk.

No, really. There is. Let me tell you a story. I was going down to .. somewhere, I can't remember where, when we all stopped at the Ambepussa Rest House. I'm sure you know the one. It's the Rest House. At Ambepussa. On the way to Kandy, Kurunegala, Anuradhapura, and many other such Places of Interest.

Many, many years ago there was a country. That country was not more, or less, peaceful than any other country like it. It had its good days, and bad. The rain came, the sun shone.

When you're an independent observer like me, you get told things. Things that upset people. Things that they can't tell anyone else. It does people good to know that someone else knows of their problems, and maybe will help do something about it. I wish I could. I so wish I could. When I was out on my teach the teachers project, I heard something very disturbing. Not exactly surprising, knowing the governments we've had, but disturbing nonetheless. Our teachers aren't getting paid!

Look around you. Everyone today claims to subscribe to some form of political/social idea. Sometimes they can be defined by what they subscribe to. At other times by what they don't subscribe to. Don't understand what I mean? Let me explain.