Had I More Balls,

[Amman, 7/14/25]

I would have spent an entire day in Abdoun, in its most pretentious restaurants and cafes. Besides observing people with nice hair, perfect teeth and pricey threads, I could reflect on my own discomfort, and why I always gravitate towards much dumpier joints.

Let me illustrate. In 2008, I was hired to teach two courses at the University of Montana. Before being canceled, I taught across the USA, but only when invited. I never applied for jobs.

Arriving in Missoula, I noticed a huge grizzly bear standing inside his plexiglass enclosure, then a stuffed mountain lion pouncing on a Rocky Mountain goat. A student must have driven me into town. That evening, I found myself downing beers with four of them, but the bar was all wrong. It was too classy.

“Whose idea was this?” I asked them.

“Prageeta!” Sharma was the writing director. She has since moved on to Pomona College in Greater LA. No more endless snow in America’s Siberia.

Montanians drink way too much. Feeling boxed in like that dead grizzly, many of its youths join the army to get away. Years later, I would witness a shellshocked Sioux on his brief leave from Iraq. How many planes did this babyish boy with a thousand yard stare have to take to reach Wolf Point? Suddenly, getting shitfaced all the time didn’t seem so bad. Endless boredom beat seeing your buddy’s nuts or brain blown off. Naked burnt corpses are just nauseating. As everyone else beamed, he stared.

Though I had taught Prageeta’s husband at Bard College, we had never met. She meant well.