Suukee was eleven years old, the daughter of a Lebanese fisherman. She wore black linen pants, a beige linen shirt and leather sandals and had a black scarf wrapped around her long black hair. Suukee’s linen came from flax grown in northern Spain, fabricated in Ireland, and exported to Beirut where it was sewn into garments. The leather in Suukee’s sandals came from a steer born in Texas, whose hide was cut and exported to Bucherest, Romania where it was fashioned into sandals, which were then exported to Beirut. Suukee held a blue Sharpie nontoxic permanent felt tip marker in her right hand. The Sharpie marker was made by the Sanford Corporation of Bellwood, Illinois. The blue ink in the marker was manufactured in Brazil where it was trucked to Caracas and soaked with the felt-tips of the pens, packed and inserted into plastic blanks, packaged and loaded on a container ship where it was shipped to Southampton, England where it was exported to Beirut. (more…)
Wi-fi, wi-max, bluetooth, cell transmissions, satellite transmissions, ham radio packets, sonar, radar, cosmic rays, gamma rays and of course brainwaves all converged in one brief moment, intersecting with a few seconds of brilliant energy on the computer server that hosts the perezhilton.com website. And for that brief moment, the mind auras of Suri Cruise and Shiloh Jolie-Pitt drifted through each other like two passing clouds. The moment, that precious ephemeral moment that characterizes lovers glancing at each other from two passing trains going in opposite directions, two lovers that never meet but know that they, if circumstance permitted, would be lovers - that moment, that brief moment occurred oddly in the microprocessers of the Dell server that hosts perezhilton.com. (more…)
Johnny Depp sat on a cheap black metal folding chair in his forty foot by nine foot trailer that had been hauled to the southern tip of Grand Bahama Island for the shooting of a scene for Pirates of the Caribbean – Dead Man’s Chest. Depp was in costume, his long hair strands tied with beads. The trailer’s air conditioning unit sat on top, and was humming with a grind and a rattle, working hard to beat the near hundred degree heat on the expansive white sandy beach outside. (more…)
Mariane Pearl sat in the back of the candle-lit restaurant in West Los Angeles. She had walked in and was immediately ushered to a hidden table for six around a tiled partition, clearly set up for private meals and meetings. She though was sitting at the table for fifteen minutes, all alone, sipping a green tea and wondering if this was going to be one of those typical Hollywood meetings where the movie stars are late and everyone waits, sitting on their hands, having small talk simply to fill the dead space until the stars arrive. Mariane, though, had no one to try out small talk with. Alone, is what she was, very much alone since her husband, Daniel Pearl, was brutally kidnapped and murdered in Pakistan. She had written her book, A Mighty Heart: The Brave Life and Death of My Husband Danny Pearl to keep herself busy, to diminish the feeling of loneliness, an attempt to bring back Danny if just in her mind as she reconstructed her husband’s life. (more…)
« newer posts /
previous posts »
|
|
|
Stumble it!![[del.icio.us]](http://images.del.icio.us/static/img/delicious.small.gif){kind=small}