I want to talk about this Rick Warren invocation issue, since the emotions in my circle are really running high and I have heard some hard, ugly words in the last few hours that made me wonder if hating hate-mongers is really different from being a hate-monger.

In part, I guess I will structure my response around this particular debate clip from CNN:

Hilary Rosen is pretty upset, and it seems like in the long, dark shadow of the Prop 8 horribleness pretty much anyone who cares about civil rights for LGBT people would be. She takes issue with the fact that Warren is a divisive figure who uses his pulpit to demonize gay people. Warren is well on record for comparing gay relationships to polygamy, pedophilia, etc. etc. I don't debate that, nor do I condone it. She castigates him for being a divisive figure, which perhaps he is, and that Obama should have picked someone less controversial, someone that wouldn't kick gay people when they're down. I can almost get behind that, but one consideration stops me from seeing the inclusion of Rick Warren as adding insult to injury: Barack Obama did not pick Rick Warren because he's a homophobe, he isn't trying to reach out to the homophobe contingency in this country. He picked Rick Warren because he is a man that has done a lot of good in the world, has a powerful voice and following, and because Warren's own stated political ideals emphasize the importance of openness in democratic conversations.

I don't think that Warren's right about gay marriage (for the record, I don't agree with Barack Obama either) nor do I believe that his views on gay rights will be borne out in the evolution of our ever more perfect union. As Roland Martin points out, the benediction will be presented by a pro-gay rights clergyman. Before I make my major point, let me post our President-Elect's own comment, which is more or less the meat of what I want to get across:



This is my view: This is a diverse nation. We have lots and lots of people with lots and lots of different viewpoints. There isn't anyone in my life, not anyone, that I don't have some fundamental disagreement with that challenges my understanding and love for them, as well as my moral compass. Given that fact, and my experience of it over and over again, I have never tried to surround myself with people who thought like I did. It happens, I'm from a liberal town and I spend most of my time in academia, which unfortunately is not as diverse or as integrated as perhaps it should be. But at times like this I'm reminded why that's a bad thing, why it insulates us and makes us callous and bends us toward dehumanizing the "enemies" we are all too ready to imagine.

The pitch of outrage over Rick Warren giving a prayer at Obama's inauguration is disturbing. It's overblown because the castigation of Warren as a spiritual leader is overblown. Hardly anyone I talk to knows anything about him. With the publication of his VERY successful book, he repaid 25 years of salary to the church and continues to dedicate 90% of its tithes to church initiatives. His ministry puts good works and anti-consumerism at the core of its message, supports initiatives on global poverty, illiteracy and disease, including HIV/AIDS, and he's one of the very few Evangelical leaders that has acknowledged global warming and holds human beings responsible. I enthusiastically applaud all this despite the fact that he's a creationist, against gay rights and a woman's right to choose, his dedication to the success of Prop 8 and his stance on euthanasia. Here's a TEDTalk he gave in 2006:



I agree with a lot of what he says here, especially about giving, and how it breaks the hold of materialism. I agree with his interpretation of our stewardship responsibility and the idea that our gifts are best exercised in service to a larger community. Because of all this, I disagree profoundly with classifying Rick Warren as a hate-monger. If he's a hate-monger, then the definition extends to everyone I have heard condemn him with a twisted, poisonous vitriol, who expressed surprise when I told them of his good works, or who said something like "that doesn't matter, he's a bigot."

It does matter. There isn't a single one of us that isn't a bigot at one time or another, not a SINGLE ONE. The fact that Barack Obama recognizes this, and has publicly recognized it in his closest family members, his own spiritual leader and now in Rick Warren is reason enough to praise him to the skies. But the fact that he's willing to WALK that talk, to acknowledge the truth in the controversy and still put his rhetoric in action, his including (albeit in a token way) Rick Warren in the inaugural proceedings only adds to my sense that our President-Elect is a rare man of principle and that we are even luckier than we know.

I may alienate a whole lot of people by saying so, but Rick Warren is not a bad man, and I bet he's going to give a good invocation. I hope that he will have influence with our president, because like so many of us, he has a LOT more to offer than the bigoted bullshit we are all so ready to use, so conveniently, to sum up his character and condemn him. Barack Obama explicitly rejects the ideology of excluding someone based on a disagreement which, I would add, is an ideology that incubates most forms of ignorance and hatred. Disagreeing without being disagreeable is more than a pithy phrase. It is a principle that requires hard work and moral discipline. Demonizing people who have different views and reducing them down to a one-dimensional caricature that can fit in the circle of a bull's eye is not my idea of progressive politics. Our new president has the wisdom to discern that and as in so many other instances, I hope we will take his example to heart.

Just for good measure, I will post Obama's section of the forum that Warren hosted during the campaign. As you will remember, the President-Elect mentions the openness of this forum as one of his reasons for including Warren in the inauguration proceedings:











And there's just a little bit more in part 6 before McCain comes on:

Back in May '07 I posted an article through BoingBoing about a 2,000 year old computer that they had found somewhere in Greece. Cordell posted this to Facebook today, apparently a British museum has made a replica and rebooted it!

Bettie Page has passed away. Her iconic bangs and risque photos are undoubtedly some of the best from the pin-up era. May she rest in peace.

I am delighted to report that there has been another step in the emerging detante between the elder statesmen in my house. This morning around 5am (for some reason, a usual time for four-legged wakefulness) Smokey began his morning caterwauling, and I responded with my usual calls for him to get on the bed and be acknowledged so that we can all go back to sleep. Usually he comes into the bedroom, sees Uroy on the bed and goes back out again, commencing his raucaus. This morning, however, he got up on the bed and tentatively sat down less than a foot from where Uroy was snoring soundly, and let me pet him. Lo! after a few sleepy strokes he settled down and much to my delight began to purr! Even when Uroy stirred and started demanding equal attention, Smokey lay placidly and continued to purr, so loud in fact that I could hear him even when I lay down with Uroy's snarfling in my ear. It was a short lived success, Smokey got up and went about his early morning routine after about 20 minutes, but I was still extremely pleased.

This may seem like a small thing to everyone else, but for me, living as the DMZ between two curmudgeonly sovereigns has its drawbacks. Besides having to sit/sleep in the middle of every piece of furniture so as to allow room for each on either side, I worried that Smokey would feel marginalized in my affections, since he's much more independent and won't approach me when Uroy's at my heel (which he always is). I worried that all the hard work I had put into making Smokey feel like he's a loved member of the household would go to pot with the disturbance of our usual routines. I also worried that Uroy would be forever alienated from his feline housemate, learning to fear him the way everyone else does. But now, with this minor victory, I feel that the lines are still defining themselves, and there is hope for an effective inter-species peace, if not a fully affectionate companionship. Dare to dream.

This is funny, timely and star-studded!!

See more Jack Black videos at Funny or Die

Found this looking around after seeing the Cadillac Records preview:

B.B. King, Etta James, Gladys Knight, Chaka Khan.... enjoy:


And the Preview:



Who's going to see that? *hand up*

This is nice too:



I swear that Beyonce could be the cause of global warming, even in platinum hair and costume jewelry.

Odetta passed away today. She was, as many of you know, one of the truly unique voices in the '60s activist folk scene and influenced just about everybody. Her deep voice, percussive and disruptive style set her apart and I still get goosebumps when I listen to her renditions of spirituals like "'Buked and Scorned", "Joshua" and "God's Gonna Cut You Down". She was also a soulful interpreter of contemporary songs, and below I've embedded a video of her version of "House of the Riding Sun" from 2005, and a beautiful but short close-up clip from the Newport Festival way back when.

And here's just a search result from NPR on some of the specials and interviews they've done with her.

Odetta, Still a Powerful Voice for Justice

May she rest in peace.

Well-produced short video about the Iranian blogosphere:



(from BoingBoing)

I was watching this on Lauren's page and almost died laughing:





Appletini.

Peacekeeping Chickens!



(from BoingBoing)

Okay so the puppies are off-air sometimes, so I have an excuse for yet more too-cute-to-handle.


Once upon a time... from Capucha on Vimeo

BoingBoing says she's like a little Amelie, but she makes me think of Eddie Izzard's hysterical French routine. I'll post that when I find it.

Here it is!

Live puppies!!

Free TV : Ustream

(from BoingBoing)

This has turned into something of a tumble blog lately, so I thought I'd take this moment to get a little more personal. Part of my reluctance as of late has been the result of a deepening appreciation for the virtues of discretion and the benefits of allowing the little movements and turmoils of my inner life to incubate a little before I spew them into the public sphere. Another reason for my silence has been the decidedly unpleasant "what" of my life lately, despite the mildly encouraging signs of change in how I have been able to deal with them. Among the whats: my car died, I have fallen dangerously behind in my academic work, and my once beautiful relationship with an exciting new man exploded in an immensely painful fireball of destruction and betrayal. As it turns out, even this last one is passing through my system with surprising ease. I don't know if it's a result of my emerging maturity or a broadening of my perspective, but the downs -- indeed the bottoms -- are starting to recontextualize themselves even as they're happening. I've shortened the distance and the time it takes to put the pain and anxiety away and act on my better judgment. I'm not immobilized anymore, my panic just folds itself into motivation, and I forge ahead.

On the one hand, I can recognize in this the potential danger that Terrence Howard talked about in the interview I posted below. As an actor, he fears that he is experiencing life as an observer, that everything becomes a study in how to reproduce emotions, and that he will lose the ability to experience his own life as unique and irrepeatable. I have that sense sometimes, that I view all the ups and downs as passing scenes, grist for the mill of that great combine that will someday spill enough ink that I can bind all these experiences between the covers of a book, laced with ameliorating fantasy and tweaked to perfection. I wrote on my mirror when I was a teenager that I was "struggling to gain immortality against the human language," but now I think I see the folly of this melodramatic aspiration. The immortality of art is after all not the immortality of the artist. As an artist, I will not get to enjoy the full life of my art, especially if I am one of those who defy the odds and are remembered. I would like to enjoy my life as I live it, for as long as it lasts, and not perhaps to move so quickly from defeat to action to triumph and back again.

On the other hand, survival is a must. My survival is perhaps predicated on too many unlikely successes: a career that I enjoy, a loving family, material comfort and bodily security. These would constitute much more than survival, and yet the everyday getting up, feeding myself and providing for my dependents has seemed difficult or nearly impossible when I've been roundly defeated. In such moments the ability to put it all into perspective, to take a certain observing distance from my pain and anxiety has been absolutely necessary to my being able to move past my misfortunes.

I suppose the answer, as always, is the golden mean between the two. Walking some fine line of interpretation that allows me to experience the pain and anxiety even as I'm packing them away. It used to be writing that made this motion for me, but now it's becoming visceral, a certain sigh that burns my lungs and throat even as it allows the poison to escape. It's not something I consciously do, and in many ways it's a sign of a resignation I never thought I'd feel, but at the moment I guess I'm inclined to accept it as a progression, a personal evolution. If nothing else, my reaction time is streamlined, so I can pack more in! I'm not too busy searching for the magic words to notice that something else is already happening. I'm not so wrapped up in my transformative incantations that I forget all the good that's already within my reach, and sometimes, with a herculean effort, I can drop the bad shit where it is and let it work itself out, for better or worse. Sometimes you have to pass the buck, especially if you were wrong to accept it in the first place. I'm learning to accept it all, bit by bite.

I'm going out now. I'm going to be out in the world, practising my controlled roll. I hope you are all well.

His name is Maru!



And he's big in Japan!



From BoingBoing

Tiny (pygmy) hippo!



From BoingBoing

This is just cool:


From BoingBoing

Tom Sparrow brought this to my attention:



Well done Mr. Olbermann.

(Despite the silly look on your face)

I'm doing a comprehensive exam on Cornel West's prophetic pragmatism this year, and with the pretense of getting to work on it, I YouTube-ed him. This is the first thing that came up. After watching this talk (and absorbing a few pages of Prophecy Deliverance!), I'm convinced that not only is this man one of the great American philosophers, but he's delivering a political message that's a cogent combination of religion, philosophy and social criticism that I think resonates deeply with this moment in history, with our recent election and what it says about us, what we could be. I hope this really is the death of anti-intellectualism in this country, we are so rich with intellectuals.

So, we did it. In four short years, a young politician rocketed from obscurity into the highest office, buoyed overwhelmingly by the shared hopes and beliefs of millions of Americans. This morning I could almost feel the elation and relief around me. This is a proud moment for us. We can raise our faces to the world, wave our little flags with excitement and maybe for a moment believe that we can turn this country around. Last night and this morning, I can barely express my relief, excitement and pride. But there's a tremor somewhere in my gut, a trepidation that reminds me that though this is the first day of a brighter future, there are still dark days ahead. Americans are still sinking into poverty and alienation, those who were already desperate are clinging to shrinking strands of bare survival, and the wars that we are waging abroad are taking millions of lives, American and otherwise. We cannot rest on our laurels. We cannot absorb this victory and settle back into our old routines and wait for President Obama to save us. This is a call, wider and deeper than any my generation has heard. We have to stand with him and serve. We have to follow our hero's example and reach out to our fellow Americans, especially those with whom we have the deepest differences, and we have to own our ambitions and our ideals. This is a great day, and it's only the beginning.

Mark brought this to my attention:



I hope ya'll are voting tomorrow.

Just fun...



(from BoingBoing)

Jeremy brought this to my attention.

This clip misses the intro song they chose for her, but I think it bears mentioning that Stevie Wonder said it all: "Isn't she loooooooovely...."!

Terrence Howard Talks Tunes, Family, Science

I've been in love with this man for so long (physically, since Mr. Holland's Opus; emoto-psychically since Hustle & Flow). Somehow I could always tell that he had that inner strength that makes people glow in a way that allows me to remember and understand that it's not what happens to you, it's what you make of it. Our inner combine isn't just a machine, it's magical at times too. This interview with NPR's Scott Simon is magical medicine for the cold, discouraging days.

Ithaca and pod cars!!! How cool would this be?!

Ithaca Takes a Hard Look at Pod Cars
by Michelle York
The New York Times

Thanks to Ora Szekely for posting this to Facebook, where I think the relevant first comment was "Monorail!!!"

This is an article from Ron Paul published in Slate today that articulates the point about inflation and indebtedness that Zeitgeist made me think about. Especially scary is this paragraph:

"The monetary base jumping by such a large margin is an indicator that the Federal Reserve has not learned from its mistakes and is hoping to get out of this economic downturn by creating even more credit out of thin air. With such large increases in the monetary base and with banks legally able to hold zero reserves, the vaunted money multiplier effect could theoretically reach infinity."

I think if the Republicans had had the sense to nominate Ron Paul, this election would've been harder for me to decide. Read the whole thing here:

Sickness Unto Debt

The Treasury bailout will only exacerbate red ink and inflation.

By Ron Paul

Zeitgeist: The Movie

(click through and scroll down)

I've been watching this movie in bits and pieces for a couple of months now, mostly through the good influence of Mark and Chris. I've always been convinced that there was more to 9/11 than we were being told, and this documentary puts it squarely in the "false flag for the sake of profit" category along with the RMS Lusitania, Pearl Harbor and the Gulf of Tonkin. There is also a very interesting report on the creation of the Federal Reserve that with the current financial crisis makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end, especially as the movie I posted yesterday about the massive bank fraud that Sen. McCain tried to immunize in the '80's proves to me that this might very well be the kind of thing happening right under our noses, right now. What are we doing? Infusing those failing banks with huge sums of tax payer dollars. Yay...

Oh yeah, and there's no law on the books that says you have to pay income tax. It's actually unconstitutional as a non-apportioned tax. I'm excited about that. I'd rather hand my money to the NYDOT for the roads and bridges, skip the Fed.

Peter Joseph (the writer and director) also argues that aspects of the Christian narrative are related to or extrapolated from ancient religious myths, which makes a lot of sense even from an academic perspective. But the writers are just a little too quick to say that thus Jesus didn't exist and Christianity is a crock. Like so many science and technology valorizing contingencies these days (I mean you Drs. Dennett and Dawkins, and the lesser Bill Maher), Joseph is way too excited about "debunking religion" to actually look meaningfully into the function of myth and religious narrative in human life and history, so he simply demonstrates that religions come from somewhere, are not "factually true" and thinks he has done with it. Overall, I should say that I disagree with the Zeitgeist Movement's perspective on the amorphous and personified force of "religion" in history, and think their position needs to be refined to specific historical institutions in order to be a genuine critique. That being said, the information presented is intriguing, and makes a lot more sense to me than the explanations for war and financial crises handed down by the current administration.

I'm all about the videos lately. I saw Andrew Bird at the State Theater a couple weeks ago and it was really astounding. I'm all about everything with him now, so here's a bootleg movie of some of that concert and a video from his Myspace page:

I know that in a way this is preaching to the choir, and I don't usually go in for negative political ads. But I think everyone should watch this. It's about McCain's personal support of a corrupt financier, his attempt to use his office to excuse white-collar criminal activity on a grand scale and his involvement in the (now catastrophic) deregulation of the financial systems. What becomes clear is not only that he's not looking out for the American people, but that his motivations are the oldest in history: personal greed and ambition. This isn't just incompetence or poor judgment, it's criminality.

I just came across this video from my friend Colleen et al's project Girls Named Carly. It's super fun and features a bunch of my friends and the coffee shop I used to work at (Gimme! Cayuga). There's a plethora of inside jokes for the barista in you, not to mention all that wonderful dancing!

It's just too funny. Cheers to Tina Fey and Amy Poehler for bringing SNL back on task.

Okay, so I've been gone a little while. I'll catch everyone up on the big changes later, for now, enjoy the hottest s*#$ ever:



Gaylord's got a video!

Happy independence day!

This post will be lacking in pictures. I don't even know where my camera is exactly, but it's been a while and I feel like so much has happened I have to write something... this despite the fact that I'm house-sitting for Dom and his keyboard is completely inadequate over and above its wireless convenience.

Seriously, by way of introduction I should say that I have moved back to Ithaca. It's been about a month now and honestly I've never been happier or more busy. Whereas in Syracuse I spend hours and hours on a machine like this typing my life away, since I've been back I haven't spent an hour sitting at a computer. It's so beautiful here and I've been working so much, it hardly leaves time for sleeping, let alone killing time. What a horrible expression, "killing time." I shouldn't say it, let alone do it. Anyway, I'm working for Gimme! again, at the farmer's market on the weekends and Lansing on Thursday and Friday mornings, then Bellwether Cider on Thursday and Friday afternoons. I love the work, I love how tired I get and how calloused my hands have become. I bitch about it, the work is hard and dirty (especially farmer's market), but honestly there's something about getting through a thirteen hour day, messing about until the wee hours and then doing it all again the next day... somehow it makes every hour count, and I'm struggling to fit it all in. I'm broke as hell of course, but I hardly have time to spend the money anyway, so really it's not as big a problem as I would make it out to be.

Further in that vein, I'm moving in with Phoebe and Kate and eventually Jeff in the Fall street house, which used to house the likes of Amy, Colleen, Aniela and Jon. It's a neat house, and I'm SO excited about getting to live with such wonderful people and close friends, as well as Samson! I'm hoping Samson and Smokey get along okay, Smokey's really responded well to my family and to the move in general, he's become something of a socialite it seems. There's no telling what he'll make of Samson, but honestly Samson is such a great dog for animals with dysfunctional personalities, he's so patient and gentle. I'm really super excited about the whole thing.

I also got my hair cut rather dramatically. It was round about the two year mark and honestly my hair was becoming something of an inconvenience, so my IFM boss Meghan cut off a ten inch braid and I sent it off to Locks of Love. All hail Meghan, it turned out great and wonderfully comfortable and simple, and I feel like this is by far my most successful sheering yet. I don't have any pictures uploaded, but hopefully most of you have seen me or will see me soon. I miss all you missing ones terribly.

I can't take this keyboard anymore, so I'll end it there. I had the day off today, and again tomorrow, so I'm going to stay awake and watch Farscape until I nod off. I hope all is well with everyone!

This is old, but I just found it and it made me giggle (from the DailyKos):

He wrote it himself. Think of that. He wrote it. Himself.

Okay, I know this is silly, but today in BoingBoing they're sharing a 16th century golden ear/toothpick:


How lovely. Yet I want to remind everyone of my perpetual battle against Qtips as ear cleaning tools. Doctors agree, you should never stick anything smaller than your elbow in your ear. You can risk busting your eardrum and the bleached cotton on Qtips (nevermind the hard metal of something like this) can irritate your ear canal and lead to excess ear wax and infections. Don't do it.

I'm headed off this afternoon to witness my Brother's graduation from undergrad at Stony Brook. As much as I hate going anywhere near the wrong island, it will be lovely to see my larger family and mark this wonderful occasion. Especially since I never went to mine, I'm hoping this will be all the fresher. Yay Moose!

I was reminded it would have been Malcolm X's 83rd birthday today, and (of course) TheRoot.com has a good article about the civil rights leader's legacy:

Happy Birthday, Malcolm
by Melissa Harris-Lacewell | TheRoot.com

I particularly agree with Harris-Lacewell's eloquent sentiment: "His life is a reminder that greatness is not found in arrogant self-righteousness or intellectual hubris, but in the willingness to be open to our own limitations."

My friend Amy Pennington is a photographer and artist who's got a new beautiful website! She's moving to Syracuse in July to start at the SU art school, I'm really excited!

A Stone-Faced Lie on the Mall
By Ibram Rogers | TheRoot.com

I heard about this on NPR originally (I'm hoping that Michel Martin picks this up on Tell Me More), but this morning in the Root.com there was an opinion article about it that I really agree with (although I have reservations about calling King a "militant", I think that label contradicts King's pacifist message unless you want to parse it away from its connotations of violence). The general story is that the US Commission of Fine Arts is asking the sculptor Lei Yixin designing the Washington monument of Rev. King to make the civil rights leader look less confrontational and more smiling and idealistic. More of a dreamer and (in my opinion) less of the much feared "angry black man" which is getting so much press lately with the Rev. Wright bullpoopy. As far as I can tell, this is more of the same kind of false and disingenuous ameliorating that seeks to deny and cover up the very real impact and continuation of institutionalized racism in this country. Overall I think that plays into the hands of an over-arching public narrative that wants to delegitimate the righteous anger of anyone suffering under institutionalized structures of exclusion based on race, religion, class, sex, gender, sexual orientation and disability. I hope someone can stop this, I'm going to look around for the email addresses of the commission or a petition somewhere, I'll pass it along once I find something.

Update: Neal Conan covered this on Blog of the Nation, including a good interview with Ibraim Rogers.

This is exactly what I've been talking about in terms of the islamophobia in this country and in Europe. In my opinion, this woman was clearly railroaded. I hope we're better than this.

Critics Cost Muslim Educator Her Dream School
From The New York Times
By Andrea Elliott
Published: April 28, 2008

I've been waiting for this since I heard about it on BoingBoing, Sundance has posted the Isabella Rossellini bug porn, and yes, it's wonderful.


Don't watch them all at once, savor.

And a nice piece from Michelle Obama:

A good victory speech always improves my circulation:

Oh, how I love him....

However much I want to hear the words "President Obama", I have to admit he messed up. I agree with Mr. Willis:

Did Obama Betray Wright First?
By Andre C. Willis | TheRoot.com

Fun Primary synopsis from Slate V

Yay!! It's Willie Nelson's 75th Birthday!!!

Nice NPR Bio piece and interview

Happy Birthday Mr. Nelson! I heart your everything.

Yeah, I know, like it's my job right?

I think this should've been called the "Confession Forum"

Part 1



Part 2



Part 3



Part 4



Part 5



via DailyKos

For a beautifully organized sliver of white American intellectual history (and a lot of smoking), click through to the Harry Ransom Center:

The Mike Wallace Interview[s].
"Whether you agree or disagree with what you will hear,
we feel that none will deny the right of these views to be broadcast."

Aldous Huxley, Reinhold Niebuhr, Philip Wylie, Gloria Swanson, Frank Lloyd Wright, Salvador Dali ... oh my!

Via BoingBoing (I think)

My latest cartoon crush:

Today is the anniversary of the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, and I came across this really wonderful collection of articles and videos through Slate on The Root.com. Particularly good I thought was the short interview between Profs. Michael Eric Dysen and James Braxton Peterson on April 4th as Easter and an article by Marian Wright Edelman on why we cannot give in to despair. There's also an interview with Vernon Reid that I'm going to read right now, and another article taking a look at the role of gender in the trauma of the loss. I can't embed the videos, unfortunately, but follow this link to the delightfully full page.

This is a presentation by neuroanatomist Jill Bolte Taylor on her experience of having a stroke. I found it among the TED talks (ted.com), many of which I highly recommend. I think this is just about the most wonderful presentation of personal experience I've ever seen.

Ahhh, springtime. It's 46 degrees outside, just a little windy and I'm comfortably sitting around in a robe and house socks (with those little sticky bits on the bottom). It's soooo nice not to have to be bundled up inside my apartment, which is old and drafty. I'm also resisting the urge to scratch the scab off my new tattoo, which Phoebe designed and embedded in my epidermis on Sunday. It means so much to me that she went to the trouble, and that I now have a permanent, beautiful memento of our friendship and her astonishing artistic skillz. I'll post pics as soon as she makes them available. It's been a while since I've had ink done, the last one was in '99, and I forgot how eerily wonderful it is to have that crazy vibrating pain echoing through my skin, muscle and bones. I totally get the addictive quality of tattoos, and in fact this dogwood that's blossomed on my shoulder is the first part of a full back piece I have planned in various stages. Some people think it's mutilation, and I suppose I can understand that perspective, but for me it's a beautiful commitment to the images and sentiments that have shaped my life and will continue to be a kind of indelible link between my past and my future. This particular image is all about my wonderful Mother, who designed an image of a dogwood blossom for my high school graduation invites. The reference is to a tree that blooms spectacularly outside my bedroom in Ithaca every spring, and I can't count the number of times I've sat at that window, looking through the pink flowers and twisty branches toward the sound of rushing water. That image and the feelings I felt in those moments, as diverse as they were and continue to be, are an important part of my self-understanding, and it seems fitting that when I turn my head, wherever I am, that image will be forever before my eyes. Goodness, I'm getting teary.




Speaking of teary, Gaylord has officially left our little Upstate world for the wilds of Atlanta. They'll be back, of course, allegedly in as little as a few months, but I certainly won't be able to see their wonderful shows as often, and that makes me sad. Never mind the fact that they're three of the greatest guys I've met in recent memory and I'll miss their company immensely. They came and played in Ithaca on Thursday, and despite the very disappointing turnout (the weather contributing to a minimal promotional effort), it was a true love-fest. The fans that came were immensely enthusiastic and the guys played one of the best shows I've ever seen them play. I can't sing their praises enough, their music is complex and hypnotic, catchy and profound, Atlanta is very lucky to have them. Sigh.

School-wise, everything is going rather swimmingly, despite the fact that I've been mightily distracted by extra-curriculars. My classes are great, I'm really enjoying each of them in their own distinct eye-opening capacities, and I'm looking forward to the rest of my time here. For the summer, I have big plans. If the FLAS grant comes through, I'll be spending the summer in Montreal, taking intensive French classes and generally enjoying Canada and a few very close friends who have the good fortune to live there. If the grant doesn't come through, I might sublet my Syracuse apartment anyway and head to Ithaca to work at Gimme and study French on my own. Either way, I think I will be very happy to ramble around in tank tops and flip flops, drinking icey bevies and complaining about the heat. It doesn't seem so far away on days like this, and thank the powers that be this winter is almost over.

In other, wonderful news my Brother Adam was accepted to the Master of Social Welfare program at Stony Brook for next fall! For anyone who knows him and his work it was a foregone conclusion, they're lucky to have him, but being in Ithaca for the receipt of that fat admissions package and my Mother and I scrambling to get him on the phone was a real thrill and I am soooo proud and happy and excited for him. Watching him delve into his passion for helping people and developing his considerable skills in psychology is one of the great joys of my life, and the fact that he'll continue on this path makes me want to leap with happiness. Congratulations Brohan!!!

So many warm fuzzies... I hope everyone is well. I MUST get down to work.

I know this is becoming Barack Obama central, but a lot of people are telling me they can't find these speeches, so I'm happy to help out. This was given yesterday in Fayetteville, North Carolina (I've been to the bus station there a bunch of times, not so nice). It's about the war in Iraq and what Pres. Obama would do differently with Afghanistan and Pakistan, foreign policy, and yes, he calls for the freedom of Tibet! He's getting the hang of presenting good detail with eloquence. He seems to get better with every challenge.

In case anyone missed this this morning, do watch the whole thing. Whatever happens in November, this is a historic moment, and a step forward in the evolution of our ever more perfect union.

I believe in this man, and what's more (and a bit miraculous), he makes me believe in the future of this country.

This is a story I wanted to share as a follow up to the "Charming Burqa" entry from earlier. I heard it on NPR's "Marketplace" just a minute ago and thank the stars at public radio the whole thing is available in audio and transcript on the webs:

Saudi boy meets girl -- via Bluetooth

[There was a picture here that came with the article, but a fleeting bit of feedback from some anonymous commentator asked me to take it down, as it was a picture of her friend who did not authorize the photograph to be used. I don't know if it's true, but I suppose I better respect her wishes just in case.]

This stuff fascinates me, technology as instrumental in identity formation and mutual understanding, limitations and advantages. I'm writing a paper on the North American and European feminist response to the hijab, and this almost makes me want to write another paper as an addendum.

It's been a while since the last substantive personal post to this thing, and I suppose there's several reasons for that, none of them important or interesting. I'm listening to the "I'm Not There" soundtrack (disk 1), drinking Negra Modelo, smoking, and freezing my ass off. I've had several near-death experiences lately, driving wise. Once I lost control of the car trying to pass an 18-wheeler and nearly fishtailed between the wheels. I hit the shoulder and couldn't even slow down for about 400 yards (a long distance at any rate, my distance estimates are notorious). Another time , I watched a guy in a souped-up sports car lose control just as he was passing me and spin through the dividing ditch and across the oncoming lanes of traffic. As far as I could tell his dumb ass didn't hit anybody, but I saw people slow down for him and I imagine he'll live to drive less stupidly in the future. I've never driven extensively in bad weather, and for various reasons I'm doing it a lot lately and I think it's made me pretty paranoid. I'm perfectly comfortable putting on my hazards and going 45 in a 65, watching the douchebags whiz past me, risking their lives for a little machismo, it's effing stupid.

Anyway, I've been distracted lately waiting for other shoes to drop. Up until this point you'd think I was dealing with amputees, everyone seems to be really good at standing on one leg. On the school front I seem to be pushing the envelope, seeing how much apathy I can get away with. Apparently, a lot. Not where it counts of course, but to be honest the day to day responsibilities of this "job" I couldn't care less about. I'm not maintaining my everyday academic life. When have I ever? Even when I'm in the process of working myself into the ground? I've never felt genuinely prepared, so I guess I'm learning there's a more relaxed way to go about this. Looking back I feel a little bit like a robot, a pavlovian anxiety machine of some kind. Cue: I have things to do. Response: Freak out!! After a while I can't even take myself seriously anymore. Thank goodness for journals and blogs. In the absence of a good memory, they're the best thing for self-analysis.

Which brings me to my sand-grain of the month. A very dear friend, who's known me for a long time recently commented on my journaling in public. The comment was something to the effect of: "You're one of those girls," he smiles, "scary." "Oh yes," I respond, "they run for the hills." Who they are should mystify no one, and his comment in that sense was truer than he knows. Far be it for me to point out that he himself was a case in point. It's not a matter of writing in public, that's not the issue. A lot of people think I'm writing for some paper or working on a novel or something. What really makes the difference is the eyes I turn on people when they ask me. I have a knack for making people instantly uncomfortable, even though I can work a room when I want to. If I'm in the middle of searching for something, whether it be some psychological trifle in a previous entry or the precise line that will capture the particular oddity of the moment, if I suddenly look at another person's face I'll have those same eyes, and a lot of people get almost offended, like I'm trying to deprive them of the security of the usual social rituals. Some people like it, of course, and they find me charming in a collector's item kind of way until I ask the wrong question or am too direct about something they either haven't considered or are unwilling to admit. At any rate, as one might imagine, a "girl" sitting alone in a bar writing in a notebook attracts a particular kind of attention, and most of the time the awkwardness of my social naivete is enough to scare off the drunk, the predatory and the stupid. The rest I'm happy to have a beer with.

I suppose it pisses me off because in a lot of cases I feel like I go to a lot of trouble to make people feel comfortable and in the process I contort myself into this insincere socialite (and not a very good one at that), or I convert myself into this collector's item mentality and try to match whatever expectations I can read from their faces. If I let all this pretending slip, I'm left with the usual (and perfectly understandable) rejections of the introverted, moody, self-analyzing neurotic I truly am. I guess I'm starting to wonder what the point of all this ingratiating is, ultimately. Sure, it's deeply rooted in my ever-present insecurities, I want to be liked by everyone, but I'm starting to wear through the illusion that just because I can make people like me I'll be able to maintain the pretense forever without expecting something in return. Of course the other person can't possibly know I'm doing all this work on "our" behalf, so no wonder they react defensively and tell me to go eff myself. Never in so many words of course, such straight-forwardness is not to be expected.

In any case, it's mostly a guessing game. Trial and error, my favorite...

I hope you're all well!

I thought this was interesting (again via BoingBoing), especially insofar as it's discussed in terms of Freud. I'd be interested to hear people's opinions, especially those of you who either wear the veil (I don't think I know anyone that wears a burka, but if you're reading this, please comment!) or study the veil as a religious/cultural phenomenon. Apparently this doesn't violate any Koranic laws, and that's interesting in itself.

The Charming Burka

Hedberg, Mitch - Just For Laughs: Stand Up, Vol. 2: On the Edge - 02

Posted by justinasharlilpagi

First order of business:
If this is your cat, let me know. He's adorable, but I don't necessarily want to keep him. At least I think he's a him, I'm not 100% sure I know the difference between male and female cats by outward signs. Tyra emailed me late Friday night and told me that a ginger cat that had been wandering the neighborhood for a few days was mewling in her entry way, and the weather was bad, so I took pity on him and brought him home. I had been talking in study hall about my kinda plan to get another cat, and how I love orange tiger cats, and lo, the next day one materializes. This, I presume, is the cosmos' way of kicking me off my duff, but I'm not convinced I'm supposed to make him a member of our little family. If I do, I think I'll name him Pursey (he does this cute little thing with his face when he wants something), so if someone out there has already named him, please feel free to spare him the indignity.

As far as the experiment goes, it's hard to tell whether Mr. Mystery and Smokey will get along just yet. There have been some scraps (on my bed no less, while I was sleeping, a singularly unpleasant way to wake up), and my house is filled with hostile feline noises pretty much 24 hours, but I'm pretty sure we're just establishing the pecking order. At any rate, I've had to assert my top position a lot more with the newby than I ever had to do with Smokey, given the former's proclivity for jumping up on preferably sanitary surfaces and his intense desire to seek out Smokey's hiding places and disturb his hard won solitude. He's definately younger than Smokey, but honestly I have no idea what's really going on with him. He could be diseased for all I know, but for now I'm just going to hope I haven't been smited.

Last night Tyra, Sangeetha and I went to Ithaca for the Ani show at the State Theatre. There's something about Ani that's pretty indescribable, I never dance at her shows because I'm always completely transfixed by the way she performs. There's something so private about her presence, even though she's standing before oodles of people. It was interesting at the State because for most of her classic songs (Fire Door, Untouchable Face, 32 Flavors, Both Hands) people were singing along, at times in this barely audible sybillant (sp?) whisper that echoed just after Ani's voice. This was both good and bad, good because it gave a warm fuzzy feeling of community, and bad because she was motivated to sing more classic songs, which frankly, I've heard these numbers too often, they've become bleached of new and startling insights for me. She also played a new song that I flatly didn't like, which is a new experience for me where Ani's concerned. At any rate, seeing her live was important to me, not only because I love her music, but because I think she's one of the few independent female role models I can still hold up. There's nothing compromised about her, she's solidly and (probably) irresistibly herself on stage, and the individuality of her music and performance startles me anew each time.

Ugh, I'm so tired today. Beyond the sleep I lost to the establishment of the pecking order, I've been more or less very hard at work in the last few days. I submitted two papers for publishing of one form or another and I've been trying to catch up with the coursework for next week, which I haven't actually managed to do. Something about school is starting to seem easier, I can't put my finger on it, but the realization that I am no solid judge of my own work seems to put the work I do do in a different perspective. I'm tempted to spend the rest of the day at Dan's house watching the superbowl, but I'm afraid I'd either fall asleep or just be bad company. A big part of me just wants to curl up with a movie and try to wake up tomorrow with something resembling an assembled mental base.

Anyway, I hope everyone is well, wherever this finds you.

Things I'm into these days:

Music

Gaylord
Holy Fuck
Jeff Oussoren
Dave Marcotte
Apostle of Hustle
I'm Not There (Soundtrack)
Antony and the Johnsons

Shows

The Boondocks
The Venture Bros.

Movies

Stranger Than Fiction
dandelion
Knocked Up
Across the Universe
I'm Not There

Activities

Scrabulous (Facebook)
Darts (I played a nine round game of cricket in the Tropicana, there were no witnesses.)
Bar hopping: the Chanti, Korova, Madeleine's, Felicia's, Castaways, Taps, Lux, the Bug Jar, Monty's Krown, Grafitti's, Sneaky Dee's, The Bovine Sex Club.
Indoor gardening
Laser pointering with Smokey
Urban exploration (esp. Syracuse and Rochester)

News

Reversal Of Alzheimer's Symptoms Within Minutes In Human Study (via BoingBoing)

Bits of Inexpensive Genius

The Original Rolling Tray
Tape adapters

Personal Revolutions

Hoop earrings
My car (1997 Mercury Sable GS, formerly my Babcia and Dziadek's)
Free couch
High heels

Pretty Pictures

Aquamarine, Maxfield Parrish, 1917

Royalty, Lenora Clark, 2007

Intertubes Phenomena

Interactive Social Contract

Nearly a month later, I return. I'm not sure what mental block has been keeping me from posting here recently, but there's something about this blank box and the head full of things I could say that has me sitting here tapping my fingers at a full stop.

The break was crazy. Between Christmas and traveling and New Years there's far too much to report. Now that I'm back in Syracuse, trying to work, everything seems too quiet. I leave my apartment once a day, just to get some air and walk around. It's been freaky warm here for the last three days, I have windows and doors open to let the air circulate, and it's nice to be able to stroll, smoke and meditate without getting all geared up. I'm dreading the day I finally get robbed in this town, people tell me all the time I shouldn't walk around by myself, something bad could happen, but honestly the freedom to explore and be alone with everybody is too good to pass up, especially when I have about six gigs of music people gave me to go through. That's something I really miss about Toronto and Leuven, those are great places to get lost in the streets.

Among the highlights of the Christmas holiday was (as always) spending lots of time with my Brother. I don't think I would get through all the consumeristic bullshit of this holiday without our annual last minute shopping missions, and cooking breakfast Christmas morning makes my day (with all due respect to Jesus and his memory). I wish many years that I had a religious service to go to, and we do go to the Unitarian Christmas Eve service at Sage chapel, but those haven't been good in a long time, despite the fact that I see a lot of people I love and miss there. I like the idea of celebrating the prophet's birth, but if I had my druthers, I might light a candle on a cupcake and read the sermon on the mount. A few years ago my Mom, Adam and I went to Venice for Christmas and we ended up going to the midnight mass at the basilica San Marco, which is an absolutely beautiful building. Too beautiful really, all gold and vaulted ceilings, everyone was pushing and shoving trying to get to the front. It was so packed there was no way to get away from all the jockying for position, and about halfway through I had to leave and grieve that this is what the holy day means to us now. I felt it keenly that the prestige of worship had eclipsed the profundity of the message, and I wanted to scream at all those people in the basilica "what hell are you celebrating with all this?" If Jesus had been in the building, I think more than a few people would have been killed in the stampede to rip something from him as a momento. Such is the fate of the prophets, to be consumed like everything else.

On a different, less bitter note, Phoebe and I went to Toronto between Christmas and New Year's Eve, which was so unbelievably awesome I thought my heart would explode. We went hella shopping all over the place and with her fashion sense and my willingness to try on a bazillion things, I came out with so much stuff that I really love it was something of a miracle. I hate clothes shopping, as most of you know, but now I have a taste of what shopping can be like, given the right circumstances and company. The fashion in Toronto is also head and shoulders above anything in Ithaca or Syracuse, so there was so much to choose from. I got to catch up with a lot of good friends, even in that limited time, and the city itself still thrills me in all its gritty little details, I miss it so much. It was especially great to hang out with Mike and Jan, who generously hosted Phoebe and I on their couches, I'm really grateful to count those guys among my old friends, every time I see them they're up to something else beautiful and fascinating.

New Year's Eve was amazing. I was intent this year on dressing up for Lauren's fancy dress party, and wearing something that didn't look like my Mother's prom dress. I have such a tendency to dress solemnly when I get gussied, I thought it was high time I add flirt and flare to the mix. Of course, this involves short dresses with plunging neck lines and crazy heels, but I didn't have any plans to go to any bars that night, so I could be impractical and just chill with people I knew weren't going to make me uncomfortable. When I'm more confident with that kind of attention and can deflect it better, I'll go out into the world, but until then, I'm grateful for all those friends that will tell me when I'm sitting like a boy and steady me on my pins. As it was, even with a relatively large gathering, I had so much fun and got to visit with so many amazing people I think it all bodes very well for the coming year. Ken Hill took these picture of Phoebe and I, look how glamorous she is! Makes me freaking crazy jealous.

School starts soon, and as usual I am tragically unprepared. I meant to read all these books on Jewish mysticism over the break, but I find the tomes so far above my level on this topic that I end up looking up every other word on wikipedia. I'm excited about my new classes, one on Kierkegaard's Works of Love and another on religion, media and international relations, plus an independent study with Dr. Braiterman on the afore mentioned mysticism. Now that the dust is settled and the first semester is in the can, I'm really starting to appreciate how great the department is, and how much my peers and teachers have to offer me. It's all very exciting really, I hope to live up to the chance I've been given here.

I hope all of you are wonderful, and to all those operating on this calendar, happy new year!!