Ramadanoblog, D+1
As many of you know, yesterday marked the start of the Holy month of Ramadan, when Muslims honor Allah by not eating and also by getting very, very irritable. As an American agnostic living in an Islamic country, I’ve decided to try partaking of the fast myself. Maybe it will help foster cross-cultural awareness and understanding. Also, I could probably stand to lose a few pounds around the whole stomach region. Win win! So, this is the inaugural post of my new feature: Ramadanoblog!
During Ramadan, Muslims are forbidden to eat, drink, or smoke during the hours between sunup and sunset. From what I can tell, most Moroccans don’t eat a lot during the day anyway, but they sure as Hell smoke and drink tea all the time. So sometimes Ramadan isn’t pretty: have you ever seen a committed smoker jonesing for a cigarette but unable to have one? Well, if you haven’t, just keep watching this blog.
Now, a little confession: I’m not keeping strict Ramadan hours. Specifically, I’m not getting up before fuckin’ dawn for Mohammad, Jesus, the Buddha, L Ron Hubbard, or anyone else (except the US Army, hooah). So, here’s my Tom Wilson specific rule: the fast begins after I wake up in the morning (usually 0715), smoke a cigarette, and have a glass of water. Maybe I’ll eat some Wheaties or something too, if I’m really hungry. After that, no food or drink until sundown.
So what’s the point of Ramadanoblog? I guess to chronicle the effects of no food, no water, and no nicotine on a perpetually hungry and thirsty half-a-pack-a-day smoker. In the interest of science, of course. I’d like to put myself in the same place as the Moroccans around me and see if I can see things a little from their point of view. Any significant conclusions – and many insignificant ones – will be detailed here.
Incidentally, I was a little sick yesterday so today is my first true day of fasting. I've got about one and a half more hours left! My initial conclusion: man, Ramadan blows the big one. Good God am I hungry and nicotine-deprived. At this rate, I'll be surprised if I make it through D+5 without cracking.

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Update: I did quasi-Ramadan for about two weeks and then quit. It wasn't any fun. In a perfect world, I'd have blogged about what it was like. But in a perfect world, I'd also be married to Nicole Kidman.
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