Today at work, my co-worker said that we should come up with a new way of saying "Think Globally, Act Locally" to reflect the invigorated mission of our organization. Without even giving it a second thought, I replied "Think a lot. Don't act at all."
Guess you'd have to know this place to laugh. We had a good long, sad chuckle.
Jan 31, 2005
Catchy tag line for work..
SMS.ac Part II... and tech era plagues
So I've now complained to the California State Department of Consumer Affairs about SMS.ac. They have sent out emails to my contacts 4 times. I'm getting more and more irate.
But there is a plus side to this. As a result of this slimy program sending out emails indiscriminately to all the folks in my address book, there are people with whom I've not been in contact for many moons who are coming out of the woodwork to email and touch base. I've been in touch with 3 former interns in the last week, partially because they received something from me through SMS.ac and wanted to check-in to make sure all was legit. So in some odd way, SMS.ac is inadvertently bringing me closer to some people. It's also giving me the chance to remind folks that I have this little blog by pointing them to the short piece that I wrote about SMS.ac.
Not that I'm all supportive and lovey dovey about them now - but still, it's an interesting sidebar to one of the unique dilemmas that plague us and take up our spare time in the hyper-information age in which we live.
---
Another such dilemma that plagues us in this age, and seems to be plaguing me a lot more than others is the occasional wipe out of all my bookmarks that I have patiently gathered, organized, and arranged just so, only to have to do it all over again when some unknown alignment of stars or keystrokes wipes them all clean from my bookmarks toolbar folder in FireFox. I can't even begin to write how annoying it is to want to just click on one of my bookmarks, only to find nothing there. The last time it happened, I didn't even try to find the file. I just went back to all the sites and bookmarked them all over again. Good thing I'm not doing much extensive research, or else I'd definitely be more upset. But who would have thought of this problem even 5 years ago?
***
I might as well gripe about email spam as well, though it's nothing new for anyone out there who uses email regularly. My work email gets clogged to no end - after our trip to India, I was greeted with more than 2500 emails, 90% of which were spam. What a colossal waste of time. If there were spammers in Dante's time, I think that their hell would be to force them to an eternity of correcting the spelling on each of the emails that their poor victims receive, by hand.
Jan 29, 2005
Gentrification and its Discontents
iTunes Selected:
Incubus: A Crow Past the Murder Row
Had a good time reconnecting with a dear friend last night. You don't have to go out and spend oodles of dough to have a good time with folks that you care about, no matter what temptations this city offers. It's easier to say that in the bitter cold, but no matter. We had a nice simple dinner in which the conversation took precedence over the ambiance. After this trip to India, the two of us are more focused on these kinds of interactions, both between ourselves and with our closer friends. She's been good at this over the years - I feel that I've strayed from the core values that make friendship such a dear thing to me in the five-minute dating world of NYC. The ever-changing landscape of restaurants, bars, and lounges contributes to the feeling that I've had that each encounter with friends should be an "event" that exposes me to some new spot in the city.
In some ways, I feel that even as I speak against the gentrification effect in neighborhoods like the East Village and Lower East Side, rather than focus on the few spots that I have liked over the years and the depth of interaction with my nearest and dearest, I've been caught up in the desire to "check out" the new joints. So perhaps there's some dissonance between the anti-gentrification rhetoric that I inevitably spew when I visit the old streets in the village and the act of seeking new places to try out.
But the growth and commercialization of these neighborhoods is really quite troubling. New hip bars and lounges pop up and disappear faster than hopes for a more moderate Federal government in Bush's second term. Part of the obvious problem is the displacement of local residents as rent prices skyrocket and once quiet working class neighborhoods become the weekend hotspots for the out-of-towners and privileged youth. The hidden tragedy is the deconstruction of these traditional neighborhoods, which though not the romanticized notions of ethnic enclaves that residents want to stay in forever, still provide critical support and identity for new immigrants.
The more obvious tragedy can be evidenced in the recent shooting death of 28-year old actress Nicole DuFresne in the Lower East Side this week. A Minnesotan who probably didn't realize that the streets of New York, while more inviting to white folks now than ever, are still not the set of Friends. Witnesses told investigators that one of the men grabbed for the other woman's purse and duFresne intervened, asking, "What are you going to do, shoot us?" A man then fired one shot at her, police said
It's not fair to criticize the dead for their mistakes, but perhaps the message will carry that we are not all immortal, and that these places upon which we tread with heavy steps are not our playgrounds. They are the homes and haunts of many who do not share the live and let drink mentality of the hipster crowd.
While I don't like projecting a negative future, I anticipate more of these incidents in the months to come.
Jan 28, 2005
Automatic
Spin, Baby, Spin:
U2: Greatest Hits 1980 - 1990
Smashing Pumpkins: Adore
The Cure (2004)
Spinning around in the city of lights, I count down the minutes as the weekend slowly approaches. D is away for the weekend for a leadership retreat, and so I'm on my own. Somehow, the days have again become busy, crowded with the many encounters that we plan to fill up the cold moments before we return home to sleep.
I have a different outlook on life since the trip to India, though. I feel more prepared to tackle the doldrums of unsatisfying day-job with the knowledge that there is something better just over the horizon. That's actually helping me to focus more in the job, without focusing on the elements of the situation that drive me crazy. Like being the 3rd most senior person here, and not being part of a "senior staff" meeting. But it's okay. Because I can laugh off the simple stupidity and foolish insults, even as I'm counting them. Because I can laugh now at how petty people can be about their silly little fiefdoms. I have bigger things to do. No more time to waste on the lost.
I am amazed, however, at the ability of people to make working in the community, or community-related work (in the broadest and most generous sense, since many of my co-workers are not very connected to anything outside of themselves or their iPods) into a professional, sterile relationship. There's no passion in their voices about this work, or the community as a living, breathing thing. There's no real feeling for how movement continues, grows, ebbs and flows. There's nothing more than the personal ambition, the career ladder, the rhetoric thick with theories. I can't become like that. I can't become automatic.
Jan 27, 2005
Missing India
Sometimes you feel like a pepper.
Other times, you're better off just staying at home.
SMS.ac SUCKS.
Okay - so they finally got me. I thought that I was internet savvy enough not to fall for one of these email/website scams that suck up all your contacts and use your name to spew out their trash. Guess again.
I went against my better judgment and decided to sign up for one of those stupid services that everyone else seemed to be getting onto. Bad idea.
SMS.ac is a scam. If you get an email from someone, chastise them, but definitely don't sign up. It sent out emails to my entire list, and even though, after reading the advice of a friend, I unsubscribed from the stupid thing, it's still sending out emails to my whole address book. I've not taken full action and gone medieval on their arses, but I'm getting to that point real quick.
Caveat emptor, indeed.
Jan 26, 2005
Happy Republic Day
kickin' it old school wit
Depeche Mode: 101
Tribe Called Quest: Low-End Theory
I'm finally back, and happy Indian Republic Day to all my worthy and lovely readers. I remember being back in India last year on this day, kickin' it with my brothers, one getting married, the other on the "very available" list, and watching the goosestepping pride and glory of India on the TV screen in Jamnagar. Jamnagar - which had been so exuberant to greet the Chief Minister, Narendra Modi, architect (or in the most generous reports, encouraging bystander) of the 2002 anti-Muslim riots that left thousands dead and tens of thousands without home or hearth.
Republic Day is the day that the Indian government pulls out all the stops and shows off its military strength. I remember the utter lack of nationalistic chauvinism that I felt when they wheeled out one of the nuke-enabled missiles named after deities (Agni, Prithvi). Flex, Mother India, as the rest of the world cries.
But Republic Day is also a holiday, and while not as festive or as special as the many cultural holidays that populate polyglot India's calendar, it brings to mind the recent memories of rooftop kite-flying and festivities that we experienced for the first time during the trip from which we just returned. Uttarayan is my favorite holiday in any time zone.
Dec 23, 2004
Inch by inch
Digital Rotation:
Liquid Tension Experiment (Dream Theater without the occasionally grating vocals)
Still working through my applications. It's been rather slow of late, though I had a spurt of activity for a while. I think that I'm suffering from some sort of application fatigue, even though it's been surprisingly painless to actually fill them out. I think that I have about 4 left before our trip, which is fast coming upon us. But more important even than these last few applications is the search for scholarships, fellowships, and other things to apply for. So this trip has to be a respite before that aspect of the work kicks in.
Still, I have actually been enjoying this process - there's something fresh and fun about sending out applications in the mail, the new sortie from the postal service that much more exciting with each delivery - perhaps today will come the news that can change my life for at least the next 3 years, probably longer....
Of course, this is the eve of Christmas eve, and the fortunate Federal employees have tomorrow off, which means no mail until Monday now. So I'll just have to hold on and wait it out. Still - with email notices all the rage now, I wouldn't be surprised if I get some news even while intermittently checking my email from abroad. Here's to good news over the information super-fly-over...
Dec 21, 2004
Aloha, Po'ouli
New York Times
Aloha, Po'ouli: Farewell to a Hawaii Native We Will Never Meet Again
December 19, 2004
By LAWRENCE DOWNES
The people who try to save endangered species in Hawaii are
immune to despair. They have to be, to keep doing what they
do. They dangle on ropes from 3,000-foot sea cliffs on
Molokai to brush pollen on a flower whose only natural
pollinator - some unknown bird or insect - has died out.
They trudge into remote forests to play taped bird calls,
hoping that a survivor of a vanished species will reply. Or
they capture and tend one small bird, old for its kind and
missing an eye, then spend fruitless months searching for
another to be its mate.
That bird, a po'ouli, the last known member of its genus
and species, died in its cage on Maui on Nov. 26. The news,
briefly noted in the papers, was another milestone in a
long-running environmental catastrophe that is engulfing
the islands.
Hawaii does not look like an ecological disaster area. It's
too lush and sunny, too green and blue. But the state's
natural splendor masks a brutal, often desperate battle
against extinction. The islands' native animals and plants,
many found nowhere else in the world, evolved in splendid
isolation for millenniums. But in the two centuries since
Captain Cook, their numbers have plunged. Of the more than
1,200 animals and plants on the federal list of threatened
and endangered species, one-fourth - 317 - are Hawaiian.
Development, disease and predation have taken a ruinous
toll. Aggressive invaders like rats, mongooses, pigs,
mosquitoes and habitat-choking exotic plants now dominate
the lowlands. Many endemic species have retreated up the
mountains, clinging to patches of protected land - islands
within islands.
One such refugee was the po'ouli, a shy, nearly silent
brown bird with a black face that lived on the upper slopes
of the Haleakala volcano, climbing tree trunks and eating
insects and snails. The species was not discovered until
1973, when it was already in a death spiral. In 30 years
its numbers fell from a few dozen to three. The other two
are feared dead, though teams continue to trek through the
dense forest, hoping.
Wildlife biologists everywhere are accustomed to hard work
and heartbreak, of course. In many states it's a race to
save habitat from sprawl, as government agencies wage
political struggles and cut deals with private landowners
and commercial interests in rear-guard actions to spare the
marbled murrelets and spotted owls of this world from
oblivion. In Hawaii the battle is literal and immediate -
to destroy or deter invaders. Two of these are the
ecological equivalents of nuclear bombs: the brown tree
snake from Guam and the West Nile virus, either of which
could decimate native birds with appalling speed. Neither
has gained a foothold yet, thanks to luck and frantic
prevention efforts.
The po'ouli's demise is a signal that Hawaii's imperiled
species have received nowhere near the attention and money
needed to match the immensity of the problem. Teams of
biologists from federal and state agencies and private
organizations manage species-protection programs with
budgets totaling in the mere hundreds of thousands of
dollars, cobbling together grants and annual allocations
that are continually subject to being cut off, and begging
for private donations of money and time.
They make do with slivers of federal pork, and yearn for
someone in Hawaii's four-member Congressional delegation to
take up the cause more loudly. The federal Fish and
Wildlife Service, which recently cut funding for the
tree-snake interception efforts on Guam, has 49 other
states to deal with, and getting the Bush administration to
push for a major increase in the agency's budget seems
beyond hope.
Gov. Linda Lingle of Hawaii proudly points to her budget
request for $4 million to fight invasive species, noting
that this unimpressive sum is larger than any the state has
spent before. The state, in fact, has starved its
Department of Land and Natural Resources, which operates on
less than 1 percent of the state's $7.9 billion operating
budget and, according to an analysis by Environment Hawaii,
an advocacy group, recently had a grossly disproportionate
share of staff positions eliminated in a cost-cutting
drive.
For doses of optimism, it helps to talk to biologists in
the field. They point to progress in reforesting
pastureland and the surprising adaptability of some native
birds. A modest amount of money can go a long way, they
say, since Hawaiian species live in tight quarters -
wildlife refuges cover mere thousands of acres, making it a
relatively manageable job to fence out intruders.
Those who have made do with so little say they could do
much more. The captive-breeding program that tried
desperately to save the po'ouli, run by the San Diego Zoo,
has had several other successes, hatching and rearing the
'alala, or Hawaiian crow, which is extinct in the wild, and
the state bird, the nene goose. Dozens of puaiohi, small
thrushes, have been returned to the Alakai swamp on Kauai.
But the federal portion of the program's $920,000 budget
has been cut for the 2006 fiscal year, from $550,000 to
zero. Where the money might come from to keep the program
going is anybody's guess.
The po'ouli's quiet struggle to survive is over. There is
no time for silence about the struggles that remain.
Dec 19, 2004
The New Colossus
Thought that we'd moved so far away from this that perhaps it was time to remind myself of what a more welcoming immigration policy was supposed to be about.
The New Colossus
by Emma Lazurus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
'Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!' cries she
With silent lips. 'Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!'
Dec 18, 2004
So why not end the death penalty?
NY Times Quote of the Day
"The comment may sound a bit whimsical, but it's literally true that the leading cause of death on death row is old age."
- RONALD M. GEORGE, the chief justice of the California Supreme Court.
Dec 17, 2004
Sad Revelations...
ERASURE'S BELL HAS H.I.V.
ANDY BELL, singer for British pop duo ERASURE, has announced that he is H.I.V. positive. Bell was diagnosed in 1998 and has been undergoing combination therapy. "I am feeling fine," he said. "My life expectancy should be the same as anyone else's, so there is no need to panic. Let's just get on with life, i.e., making music." Erasure's next album, "Nightbird," is due January 25th, with the single "Breathe" out the week before.
This is a sad day in music. I'm listening to Chorus right now, another one of those college albums that just takes me right back to freshman year, like Achtung Baby. I'm glad that he's feeling okay about it, and the rumors about their "last show" have been circulating at least since the time that I saw them live, on Halloween in 1993... Wow - that was more than 10 years ago. And they're still making happy music...
In other music news, since I haven't been posting regularly, I missed the chance to pour a drink onto the pavement for "Dimebag" Darrell Abbott, former Pantera shredder, who was shot and killed (age: 38) while performing last week. I actually found out in the Rolling Stone daily missive, which I'd been missing when it mysteriously stopped appearing in my inbox, and then just as mysteriously, began to appear again. Anyway - so I was curious about his former blowhard bandmate, and found this waiting for me in my inbox today...
PHIL ANSELMO spoke about the murder of his former PANTERA bandmate, DAMAGEPLAN guitarist "DIMEBAG" DARRELL ABBOTT, this week. "I love him like a brother loves a brother," said Anselmo, who had feuded with Abbott in the press, recently telling "Metal Hammer" magazine he could "kill [Abbott] like a fuckin' piece of vapor." "I never got a chance to say goodbye in the right way, and it kills me," he continued. "This is the last you'll be seeing of me for a long time." Anselmo was asked not to attend Abbott's funeral in Dallas on Tuesday.
Say Phil, I know that science isn't really a focus in Texas, but a) how do you designate a piece of vapor, and b) once you do, how do you kill it? Regardless, peace to brother Dimebag. May he shred with the best where he is now. Read More......
Dude... where's my car?!
Got up a little late this morning, 20 minutes after the time when I was supposed to move our car. I got up begrudgingly and walked to the spot where we left the car. The street had been swept clean of all vehicles. Still trying to wrap my head around what that meant, I spoke with a crossing guard on the next corner, who only mustered "I didn't see anything."
I walked 2 blocks to the police department, thinking about how ironic it was that this happened the morning after I realized that my congresswoman lives around the corner from me (we tried to park behind her shiny blue SUV, but couldn't fit). At the PD, they told me that it would take another 15 minutes before they could find out if it had been towed, or if it didn't come up on their system, whether I'd have to come back and file a report. They wished me luck with the phone call to the DOT, since "they haven't been picking up their phone lately."
I walked back to my apartment, not at all anxious to tell my partner that her car of 8 years was missing. It was not the best way to start friday morning, not even mentioning my pounding headache. She took the news very well, and we waited until 8 AM, when we were to call the DOT to figure out if they had our car. Meanwhile, I found the site online where I could check, and to our relief, our car came up.
So I took a cab to the Brooklyn Navy Yards, stood in line, and went through the process to claim my car. After the relief of finding the car wore off, the annoyance at why the car was towed at all became my primary emotion. I began to think "wait, there wasn't any sign up that said tow-away zone, and I don't have any outstanding tickets on the car... isn't this excessive?"
When I was shuttled out into the lot of hundreds of cars, I was apprehensive about ours. Over the months together, we had anthropomorphized the car to the point of her naming it. When I saw the little car in this big lot, it had a sort of dejected and forlorn look on its grill, if you buy that whole Herbie the Lovebug emotional thing. I almost muttered an apology as I drove the car out of the lot.
Aside from the time off from work that I needed to take care of this mess, I had to take a cab, and the charge for towing the car was a smooth $185. On top of that was the actual parking ticket, for $60. I couldn't believe it. I'm going to fight this - because I can't believe that they can charge that much. It's literally, highway robbery.
Dec 16, 2004
Bitter pill, starlight, and pledges
I can't believe what absolute posers some people can be. Angry? About what - the movie premiere that you got to attend? Or the fact that you have to "work for the man" and trying to come across as if you're going to be some crazy subversive while there? Hell, man - I temped for JP Morgan and made sure to call my friend in South Africa for an hour at a time while there. That's giving it to the man. You should just give it a rest.
Forgive my bitterness, but some people tick me off.
In other news, I got a chance to attend a small benefit gathering for South Asian Youth Action (SAYA!) tonight. Actually - it was more than just a small gathering - I think that about 200 - 225 people showed up to support this wonderful organization. However, Sarita Choudhury, a pet project of Mira Nair, was the guest of honor, and though I really appreciate that she was stepping up and using her star power to support a good cause, I wish that her remarks were a bit more scripted. For some folks it's better when others write their words for them.
Still, can't be too harsh on her - she's on new turf here, and it's honorable for her to be at the podium and say that she hasn't done enough at all for the community to a room full of young desi professionals who haven't done much to stay quiet during the presentations, let alone anything to give back. The pleas at the end of the event for these folks to pull out the checkbooks may have been a bit premature. They still have a ways to go before they recognize that there is more to life than blowing a few hundred dollars a night going out, being seen, and watching others. That if you miss 4 or 5 of those nights a year and use that money to support a youth for a year, you could actually make a difference in someone's life, rather than pay for a couple of nights you'll forget in a fortnight anyway.
But I guess, I already know that we're planning to give to organizations that we believe in this year, and that we want to continue this tradition of giving and pass that legacy down to our children. I feel like no matter what work you do in your day job, there's nothing like writing that check out for a group, and doing it because you believe in them, not because you get something out of it (like free wine, or a nice dinner).
'Tis the season.
Dec 13, 2004
DC: Chinatown and NMAI
This is from my trip to DC on the weekend of December 4/5... it's raw, but I guess that's okay.
Searching for Chinatown
I walked about 6 miles this weekend, in highly uncomfortable shoes, but it was interesting nonetheless. In my work, I'm always interested in seeing where communities are and where they live. In urban centers, that generally means, for Asian communities, at least, that I should look for Chinatown. Though it's not the only Asian American neighborhood, it's often the most defined, and gives you a sense of where the community is at in relation to the City. NYC is unparalleled in the US on this regard - its main Chinatown (there are 5) is the largest settlement of Chinese outside of China. But most cities have a Chinatown - and I thought, I wanted to start there in my exploration of DC. So I walked (quite a distance from where we were staying). I walked, referred to my map, and kept walking. When I got to the general area where Chinatown was supposed to be, I saw nothing but tall buildings, and both an old and a new Washington Convention Center. I walked around for nearly 1/2 hour and couldn't even FIND Chinatown - for me, that was a real wake-up call. I have had times when I felt like I couldn't get OUT of manhattan Chinatown, it's so large. So... that was a little sad. Because I felt like Washington's Asian American communities, at least, would be a big adjustment for me - because they are quite small compared to NYC, and that's my base.
NMAI
I’m sitting in the National Museum of the American Indian, having walked here from Dupont Circle on a bit of a pilgrimage, the hunger of which I had to satiate quickly in the Mitsitam Cafe at the ground floor of the museum before seeing anything else here. The Potomac Room is really quite breathtaking – it is an enormous round open space – 120 feel tall, and 120 feet across – that extends higher than the 4 floors of the building, opening up in a small round sunlight that makes you feel like you’re in an open space, in the outdoors. It feels more grand than a room, and remains transformed by the light of the sun, both through clear glass, and well-placed prisms that splash small, poignant rainbows on the opposing wall. This main room, unencumbered by tall exhibits in its center, draws immediate reference to the main hall of the Guggenheim on Fifth Avenue. But this room feels far more grand and more intimate at the same time.
I’ve overheard mumblings of “waste of space,” and in the most linear conception of what a place should be, that may be true. But it’s remarkable, and awe-inspiring, and a room that you’re likely not to forget. Kids seem absolutely delighted at the opportunity to break free of linear 10 – 12 foot ceilings, and you feel a release from whatever heaviness or thinking that you may be feeling from the exhibits inside. This space may be less a waste than what you may see in other more “traditional” museums like the Met and the American Museum of Natural History, the multiple exceptionally tall and grand halls clearly not being utilized for anything more than providing a secular cathedral in which visitors seeking sanctuary can lose themselves in their own relative insignificance in the universe.
Next stop: Mitsitam Cafe
I think it was a good decision to make the cafe of this brand new museum reflect the peoples and cultures to whom the exhibits were giving voice. I was anxious to have a piece of frybread, the last that I’d had years ago in a previous trip to the Southwest. But I wasn’t expecting the myriad choices and strangely nouveau cuisine dreamed up by the chef in charge.
I sat alone with my frybread taco (next time, I just get frybread and a plate of veggie beans or something, and eat it the way that it’s meant to be eaten – torn apart with two hands and unencumbered by too much pomp and circumstance) and chili fries, the total of which, with my requisite root beer, put me back a hamilton and a lincoln. That’s a lot of dough for lunch, but I guess it’s still less than I’d spend just to get into the stupid MOMA, and I’ve already been in one other museum to boot (and the Air and Space Museum next door was really looking tempting).
While eating, in such close quarters, you inevitably hear the conversations around you. On one side, a woman and her husband, her mother and her grandmother. From her it seemed like they were in their forties, but looking at him, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were just a few years older than me – it’s amazing how old some people seem when they choose specific lifestyles. Though living in cities makes us tired, it keeps us young – the pulse of the city invigorating our own bloodstreams and making certain that we don’t forget what it means to be open to new possibilities. It seemed like they were from somewhere in the Midwest that isn’t cosmopolitan or progressive – could be Ohio, western PA, even Delaware – somewhere without a strong and defining accent like Georgia, MA, or even MN.
Their conversation seemed innocuous – droll, and innocuous, mind you – and then I found out that at some point, the mother was talking about something, and 50 Cent came up. The younger woman looked blankly and said “what’s that?” And the mother either said that it was “recording guy” or a “rapper guy”, but the woman had never even heard of him. Not even a clue – and she asked her husband, and he didn’t know either. It was a funny thing, actually, though I guess not at all uncommon – I was just taken, because they didn’t seem that old, and for God’s sake, your mother knows about him. It was just odd.
On my other side, there was an older couple, the man sounding off about the museum as a whole, and not really leaving any space for his wife to say much. He spoke about how he was surprised and disappointed that there was such a strong focus on contemporary communities than the anthropological side of things. He said that he was sure that there was tremendous pressure from the native communities to make sure that it represented them (which is true, and regurgitated from the many reviews about the place). But it was generally a dismissal of the importance of this place as a living museum, and maybe he went over those facts too quickly, but I’m looking forward to actually seeing a reflection of the communities now – that’s really my interest, far more than what were they then. And his wife’s contribution was a reaction to his “we’re talking about a lot of money for this place” in which she said “who’s paying for it? I’m afraid to ask”. I bit my tongue to stop from saying “who is paying for the bombs and machines we’re using to kill innocent people around the world every day?” Who’s paying for your impending social security checks? Who’s paid for your kind’s genocidal tendencies that wiped out cultures and peoples for hundreds of years? And your white guilt holds you from being able to deal with the fact that this is a testament to peoples who have fought just to maintain, just to survive, and that they, too, are America.
Dec 9, 2004
Sky.
love, shade of gray.
somber, soft
like october mist.
quiet. brisk.
anxious.
(tremors of what might be)
your quivers full
of unspoken hope.
we hold the night,
a warm blanket
wrapped around us
and count stars
as daydream caterpillars
emerge at midnight;
soaring dreams.
-for D
Nov 9, 2004
Return
it's been a long time, and this motherfucker's gonna burn. I'm feeling angry again. The veil of comfort torn from before my eyes, I don't want to find answers, don't care about solutions, and just want to tear shit to pieces.
Is this a reaction to the election results? Or just a feeling of confinement, the gilded cage a cage nonetheless. People are selfish, and in the immediate desire to withdraw only and fully into myself, I remember that I'm blessed to have D and family.
Personal daemons remain, singing songs in pre-emptive celebration, anticipating my gradual descent into the charred pit of broken dreams from whence they came. I flip the bird and move on. Stop wasting my time.
Why do groups who claim to be working for the community continue to carve out their fiefdoms and slash at anyone who falls within the wide definition of "outsider"? If I wanted to join a cult, I would have picked one with more fun rituals than the social justice movement. The battle ahead is long and will be hard. Do we still have to devour one another in the process? A million clawing hands, our hands, tear at ourselves as the days draw longer, and darkness descends upon us all.
False messiahs, each a deity in their immediate sphere. The promised land of anywhere-but-here, the anointed time of reckoning upon us, the Word an absolute ideology that has only one interpretation.
I have been complacent. There is work to do. The weeds have grown tall and confident.
Oct 9, 2004
A Fulfilling Day
I'm so glad that we left the apartment, and our work, behind today. It was a nice day - not exceptional in the sun or temperature, but just perfect for jumping into the car and exploring a bit.
We took care of my most important errand, getting fitted for the tux I will be wearing for Druid's wedding at the end of the month. That took all of 5 minutes, and from Forest Hills, we decided to go into Flushing. We checked out the desi area on Main Street, which Madhulika Khandelwal talks about in her great book Being Indian Becoming American. I hadn't even known that there was a community out there - and it was nice to walk around a bit, do some of our grocery shopping, and then end up at the Ganesha temple on Bowne Street.
Another destination that we were planning to visit for well over a year, it was really nice to go to a temple after so much time. I think that my partner was happy to feel the South Indian presence in NYC, which is sometimes easy to miss in the midst of the very visible Gujarati and Punjabi communities here. While we reveled in the lingual finesse of youngsters who frolicked in the immediate vicinity of the temple, we also marveled at the range of services and amenities that the temple committees had thought of and integrated into the complex in Flushing. There were a number of buildings that housed the priests, as well as a large canteen, auditorium, and wedding hall - all of which we are certain come in rigorous use for the growing community. Additionally, there was a senior center, which is of particular interest for my work, so I made the mental note to follow-up on a similar note about the temple that I'd filed away a long time ago.
From the temple, we walked next door to the infamous Dosa Hutt, which has been written about in the Village Voice a number of times, as good cheap eats. I have to concur - the sada dosa that I had was only $2.50, and it was as good as the $5 and $6 dosas that you get in Manhattan, and the sambar blew that away. From Bowne street, where D marveled at the diversity (aside from this Hindu temple, there was a Swami Narayan temple, a gurdwara, at least one other desi place of worship, a Korean Church (ubiquitous in Northern Queens, I heard that there are hundreds in the borough), and a large synagogue. I thought it would be good for us to drive through some more neighborhoods and so we took Northern Blvd through East Elmhurst, and into Woodside.
We ended up back on the BQE and headed due south, going through most of Brooklyn to end up going through Midwood, Bay Ridge, and finally into Coney Island, where we walked the boardwalk for the first time. D couldn't believe that we were an F-train ride away from the beach - the visceral effect of the water upon her so clear with each breaking tide. "Why didn't you bring me here earlier?" she demanded. As the autumn chillfelt more real in the wind around us, the pink fading sunlight behind us splashed highlights of remarkable clarity upon her raven-black hair. I don't know why. I guess I didn't think about it as much as I could have - I guess that even when I say we shouldn't take things for granted, there's still so much that we take for granted in our lives.
We returned homeward, driving locally through even more neighborhoods in Brooklyn, the long travel making us both comfortably tired, but content with the spirit of adventure that started this day for us. It felt full, and that was nice. Tomorrow will be another day of deadlines, chores, and its own stress. But it was nice to just take a day for ourselves - a day that ended up being just right. We came back into our little neighborhood and stopped by Brooklyn Social, a nice little bar that opened up 6 months ago, when spring was just starting to settle into 2004. A nice drink in their patio, and the day wound itself up where we began... once again in love, and remembering that our privilege was multi-fold: from the breath we breathe, to the unspoken comfort of an embrace from the one person who understands you most of all.
It's a wonderful life.
New Singles from Rock's Old Guys
Digital Rotation:
REM: "Leaving New York"
U2: "Vertigo"
A beautiful Saturday morning - now afternoon - and we're getting ready to set out on a few adventures in the city. We may check out at least one of the Open House New York events/features, and have pledged that we're not going into Manhattan all weekend. It's nice to have that option, and Brooklyn and Queens hold enough wonder and entertainment (and far fewer of the annoying weekend visitors) to keep our wandering hearts content.
In our preparation to get out - we're listening to 2 new singles from rock pioneers of the eighties. REM has been off-track, as far as this listener is concerned, since the early nineties. I haven't even really paid attention to their releases after Automatic for the People. The new single, Leaving New York evokes some sense of depth - and it has personal resonance for us. D liked it a lot on first listen - and it's still growing on me.
Next was U2's single Vertigo. It's a strong statement, but I don't quite know what it's saying, and it doesn't have the emotional pull of even their most recent work, like The Hands that Build America. I'm not a big fan of this one. Let's hope that the new album, How to Disassemble An Atom Bomb (I think), which "drops" in November, isn't captured in this lead single. Then again, Discoteque wasn't a perfect representation of Pop, so I'll wait to pass judgment.
Oct 8, 2004
Anything Box
Digital Rotation:
Anything Box
For anyone who's a fan of the electropop group Anything Box from the nineties, who broke out with their hit "living in oblivion" many moons ago, I just found out that they are still around and kicking it. I had heard their albums after debut Peace and liked them a lot - the music was a little darker, but the messages soared. Elecrodelica was good - a departure in their sound. Apparently, there was a follow-up called The Universe is Expanding.
Their website has a few free MP3s from the latter, and one from the former album. Also - while cruising through the forum, in which Claude S. (the real mastermind behind Abox, and the voice that you can't forget) and the other members of the band actually post from time to time, that there's a neat hour-long "experiment" that Claude and one of the other guys do once a month. It's basically set up like a music variety show, in which they alternately program fave tracks of now and yesteryear, and then chat about them for a while. I think that there's also some original Abox and other stuff in there as well (haven't listened to the latest fully). Check it out if you need something synth-heavy and radio-like for those long, dreary work days.
Speaking of which - I got a half-day today, and I'm SO HAPPY about it. I think there's nothing in the world like emerging from your office of indentureship and walking into the mid-day sun free as love, ready to relax, sunbathe, dance, whatever - the future and its intricate, infinite possibilities stretching comfortably and happily in front of you... the chill of evening and dusk of winter the furthest thing from your mind. There's also nothing like gloating about it - so forgive me if I relish the moment a little more.
Game 3 of the Division play-off and Round 2 of the spin-doctors' favorite main event are both tonight. What I wouldn't give for a Television with picture-in-picture capability tonight...
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