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052508 I was in touch this week with an old friend named Martha whom I knew in New York in the early '90s. My piece Amber is loosely based on Martha and her daughter; I sent it to her. She encouraged me to submit poetry for Poem of the Day on a web site she is co-director of (possibly the founder and main editor), Listen and Be Heard. I submitted two pieces and they published Rugby. You can see it here: http://www.listenandbeheard.net/home/2008/05/19/rugby/ They/she also published my other poem, Scratch Paper, the following day: http://www.listenandbeheard.net/home/2008/05/20/scratch-paper/ _____ I'm in touch with a fellow I haven't seen in more than 20 years on Facebook. He sent me a note and said he still thinks of one of my lines (!) to this day, "Crime pays when you're having fun." Did I say that, or was it stolen, was it projected onto me? Regardless, it's clear that not only have I always been a malcontent, I've always been up front about it too. For better or worse. _____ I was talking with my friend Jim at the Co-op about the sorry fact that I don't get any special consideration when getting a loan because of my status as disabled. The federal government calls me "permanently and totally disabled," and forgave some $15,000 in student loans after my diagnosis. Other than that concession, there are no special loan programs just because I'm disabled. Jim said his grandfather faced the same problem. His solution? Starting his own bank, just for lending to disabled folks to help them buy homes. Unfortunately, he passed away before he could realize his dream. I might just see if I can do something about it. As I said to my friend Mark, "It's not like you need any money to start a bank." *Grammar* Do NOT put an extra space after a period. That rule is obsolete. In the old days of typewriters, it might have been necessary, but know that in the age of computers, word processors/text editors automatically put more space than normal after a period. Putting in that extra space in the 21st century is tantamount to calling boys under the age of 18 "master:" it's antiquated and needs to be put aside now. Please. For the sanity of editors like me. Also an ellipsis is this: ...; it is like its own word, except that my preference is no spaces before or after it. You do need proper punctuation before and after it. At the end of a sentence it's.... If it's someone speaking, it would be, "He said...," he said. At the beginning of a sentence it's maybe slightly more complex. This looks better to me: "...At the end, there was nothing," than this does: "... At the end,...." Oh, and periods, commas, etc. go inside quotes. *PoeminProgress* Always a Question Once I knew a girl. *Art&Capitalism* I overheard a couple of friends talking about pricing their artwork (paintings, etc.). I thought to myself, "If I could get $350 for just one of my poems, I would long ago have been a millionaire." I voiced this idea to my friend Jesse, and he (a little bit defensively) explained that it costs more to reprint art, where it costs next to nothing to reprint a poem. Yes, I countered, but for me to make $350 from poetry, I would have to sell 50 of my chapbooks; I'm sure I don't need to say that's no mean feat. They certainly were not printed for free. True, one has the potential to publish for money, but then one is playing by exogenous rules. The fact is most folks simply don't value poetry anymore the way they value "real art." It's quite as though my calling is less legitimate than that of a painter. But which of us deals more concretely with ideas, with the nature of knowledge, with the implications of history? I haven't seen Jesse in a year or so. We had a really, really good talk. Turns out we're both serious armchair philosophers (like Marx), though I have more academic philosophy in my background than he does. We touched on about 1000 topics in the span of an hour. Isn't the major thrust of our lives to arrive consciously and proudly into "I"? Isn't God often referred to as "the Great I Am"? Wouldn't a being (and surely one day there will be one) tasked with leaving earth in search of new beginnings elsewhere in the universe need to be totally detached from human experience, and so, detached from any interest in "I"? I contended that the "natural" choice, when the time comes, will be to make use of artificial intelligence, as an artificial human creation would have the necessary detachment. Jesse for some reason was not so sure; he seemed to think we might be able to train ourselves to be self-less. *Music* Jenna Mammina--I can't say everything Ms Mammina has recorded is great, but she has a number of tracks which are absolutely stellar. A true jazz singer who combines the little-girl schtick of Blossom Dearie with the modern artfulness and hip grooves of Abbey Lincoln. Particularly stand-out tracks include: Lotus Blossom (Strayhorn), In a Mellow Tone (Ellington), Watching the Detectives (Elvis Costello), Everyday I Write the Book (Costello), and Hope That I Don't Fall in Love with You (Tom Waits). If you happen on one of recordings, it's sure to have at least of couple of very excellent songs. Check her out. She lives in San Francisco, but she comes to Portland sometimes. Feist--The woman who brought you the hit from the Apple iPod ads 1234, Feist, is not so poppy as that one track might have you believe. I downloaded the album Let it Die. It's accomplished, polished, in-the-pocket music. Each track is its own animal entirely, and is highly engrossing and satisfying. Leslie Feist is an excellent singer, with the wild creativity of David Bowie, his endlessly keeping things new, and the confidence that Rickie Lee Jones showed off on her first eponymous release. This record feels as timeless as that album too. The instrumentation is all over the place, and often unexpected. Every track makes sense and touches the listener with a poetic punch (if there is such a thing). AMG rates this 2004 record higher than the 2007 The Reminder. Much of it sounds retro, clearly harkening back to the music of the late '60s and early '70s, while being modern music of high technical quality. I like it. *Quotations* Literature, like magic, has always been about the handling of secrets, about the pain, the destruction, and the marvelous liberation that can result when they are revealed. If a writer doesn't give away secrets, his own or those of the people he loves, if he doesn't court disapproval, reproach and general wrath, whether of friends, family or party apparatchiks, the result is pallid, inanimate, a lump of earth. --Michael Chabon Magic is believing in yourself, if you can do that, you can make anything happen. --Goethe Books are a uniquely portable magic. --Stephen King Love can sometimes be magic. But magic can sometimes just be an illusion. --Javan Disbelief in magic can force a poor soul into believing in government and business. --Tom Robbins There's an elegiac quality in watching American wilderness go, because it's our own myth, the American frontier, that's deteriorating before our eyes. I feel a deep sorrow that my kids will never get to see what I've seen, and their kids will see nothing; there's a deep sadness whenever I look at nature now. --Peter Matthiessen A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit in. --Greek proverb The frog does not drink up the pond in which it lives. --Chinese proverb All good things are wild and free. --Thoreau Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit. --Edward Abbey *MyJourney* [A story of creative nonfiction] We did end up heading to the hot springs that night. My goodness, Taroko gorge is s sight to behold. On the drive up to the springs, on the back of William's Vespa, it seemed at times the gorge was about to close in around us. William brought a bottle of Kao Liang, the most heinous liquor ever created. Made by soldiers on a tiny island southwest of Taiwan. As Frank Sinatra said, this could peel the paint of your boat. The next morning was late and not pretty. Once awake, we went out for traditional Chinese breakfast, a hot bun, hot soy milk, maybe a fried egg. Feeling somewhat revived, we resolved in fact to look into the possibility of actually finding work as an English teacher. William mumbled something about having a few students; I didn't believe one word. We got the address of a so-called bushiban, a language center where Chinese who don't actually speak English pretend they do, and set out to find it. To this day, I find it miraculous to remember: on the way there, we stopped a Chinese man to clarify directions. We got to talking about what we were looking for and why and he presented me with a simply irresistible offer: teach my two children English and I'll give you your own apartment and your own shiny new Vespa. He made this offer to _me_, mind you. William pressed the issue, and the gentleman, Mr Xie, was totally up front, as is the Chinese way. He said he wanted his kids to learn English with an American accent, not an English one. All I could think was that this man was quite astute, the first Chinese man I had met who could tell the difference between an American and an English accent. He was quite sure of what he was saying. William took this cold shoulder as an egregious insult; he was so mad he turned red and stormed off to sit on a bench while Mr Xie and I firmed up plans. I would start the very next day! I was quite impressed with myself: my own apartment and Vespa! And I'd only arrived the day before. William was not so pleased with this turn of events. I walked up to him after Mr Xie was gone. "I tell you what," he said, "we wait and see if that apartment is big enough for two. That's what." "Right," I said, thinking No absolutely not This gig is all mine. I offered to buy us some beer, and William kindly obliged. We went to a place called the Watermelon King which featured watermelon of course, in season, and beer, lots of beer, at other times. A person could get shit-faced and eat some darn good Chinese grub to boot. Which we did. "You look pleased with yourself," William said. "Well, I am. Wouldn't you be?" I loved turning a barb-filled statement like that back on the speaker. William paused to think. "I guess I would be, at that," he said. "Let's toast to new beginnings," I said. William duly conceded. The owner saw us toasting and saddled over to our table. He didn't speak English and was pleased to find I spoke Chinese. "The thing is," he explained, "we have a special way of toasting. It's the only way we drink. You always toast, you always use a special small glass, and you always drain your glass." He fetched some of said small glasses, one for each of us, poured the beer, and held up his glass, saying, "Gan bei." We followed suit, and repeated the process numerous times, each of us taking a turn toasting. This was our first lesson in the art of getting drunk Chinese style. We would have many more such lessons, or I would anyway. And I would come to learn that this gan bei thing was a holdover from Japanese occupation of the island. In Japanese is kan pai. In any language, it felt awfully good to toss a few back knowing I would be safe and secure by the next night. *Politics* SOS Children's Villages, started in the Vietnam era, are places where orphans of war find homes and safety. Many of those who support the villages are soldiers or veterans. Here's an interview with one such veteran: "SOS: When did you serve in Vietnam? "SOS: What did the war mean to you? "SOS: What does Memorial Day mean to you? "SOS:What was it like during the war? "SOS: What would you say to other Vietnam Veterans who still havenÕt made peace with the war? "After the war I needed to understand the purpose of the war, but I couldnÕt. I needed to create a purpose for myself. So it wasnÕt for naught. I could not let my friends just die in vain. I am honored and blessed to be a part of your wonderful organization. When I die I will leave something in my will for SOS." *PoeminProgress* One Night We Touched I think we were Peace, love, and ATOM jazz 051808 Be aware that the only chance the republicans have of winning this year is by stepping up one of their age-old tactics: they are already doing everything they can to prevent folks from voting in November. Remember that historically the higher the voter turn out, the more likely the race is to go to a democrat (tells you a lot about the egalitarian heart of this nation). Republicans everywhere know this fact only too well. Did you notice that the Elections Division this year requires all voters to quadruple check their info and send in yet another secure letter with our address details? Don't forget to send that in! This is just one of many tactics they'll use to ensure as low a turn out as possible. Don't let the elitists win by default! *Errata* --The name of the character in My Journey that's staying at the teacher's guest house in Hualien is William, not Jeremy. The problem is that the man in real life is named Jeremy, so I couldn't get it straight in my head; the name change is to protect the innocent from unnecessary association with me. Jeremy's name came out in at least one place where William's was supposed to be. For example, it should have been: "Your Chinese is better than WILLIAM's, I'll say that much." "Well, thank you. I don't think William--" "Tries? No, I know he doesn't." *ErosAromatics* This week a woman I'd contacted about doing illustrations for Eros Aromatics backed out. I was about to solicit a different illustrator when I looked at some of the really cool advertising-type ideas in my new perfume bible. I decided going with something more modern suits me best; I had been thinking art nouveau, but I realize that theme is a bit pat. There are a few images in particular that I find quite attractive. I took one advert from Chanel which features a woman with her head cocked back, in perfume-smelling bliss, and I made a small logo modeled on a small part of it. In the original she's wearing a dress, has on a scarf, and her hands are raised and gesturing evocatively. I'll have to get some input to determine whether the image works without the scarf and hands; it's just her head. Where the original was a drawing or watercolor, mine is a modern-looking capsule, done in Illustrator. And so far...it's three emphatic yes votes. Also, I realized the big companies, mostly based in Paris, make a point of highlighting that fact. I've decided I'll highlight Portland, so labels will read, "Eros Portland." *PoeminProgress* My CDs Looking at my CD collection *Architecture* One of those memories I have branded on my brain is that of a fifth-grade art teacher in Florida. One day she asked the class what our favorite thing about art was; naturally, all our answers were childish. When she had her turn though it was so well thought out that I remember it word for word to this day: "I've always appreciated most of all the artful enclosure of space as represented by great architecture." I don't know why but it's taken me many years to get a handle on that sentiment; maybe it's just that deep. As I get closer to owning my own home, I find the recollection of that statement finally finds its forever spot in my heart and mind. I feel this house and lot I will likely buy soon are very powerful. Their power comes not only from the huge tree in the back yard, but also from excellent, native feng shui. This is a great spot to be in and an even better time to be soaking in its peacefulness. *MyJourney* [A story of creative nonfiction] I was sleeping when William returned. The past few days seemed like a bad dream I needed to sleep off. He barged into my room; the way he tried to wake me reminded me very much of the way (a much-hated way) my step-mother used to wake the kids for school. "My long-lost friend! Rise and let me look at you." "Oh, cut the crap, William. We hardly knew each other," I groaned, rubbing my eyes. "A speaker of my mother tongue is something I've witnessed only too rarely since I left the city." "Oh, I get it. You're excited because you don't have any foreign friends yet." "Well, no, it's not like that. I've no problem making friends as you well know." In fact, I knew William to be a cantankerous sort who was rarely befriended. That's it, I thought, I must be one of few people that's ever paid him any mind. I looked at him more closely now. Not ugly at all; must be his crotchety nature I surmised. "I see you met Stella," William continued. "Oh, is that her name?" "I gave it to her. A lady needs a proper English name; I think I'm correct in that assumption." "Stella, huh?" "My dear grandmother's name. A touch old fashioned." "Indeed," I concurred. "I see you've unpacked." "I didn't bring much." "Did you bring your trunks? We should go for a swim." "Where?" "On the north side of town there's a beach I like a lot. In the shadow of mountains. It's brilliant. Some of the Chinese kids even join me sometimes, much to the chagrin of their parents." "Why are the Taiwanese so afraid of swimming?" "They fervently believe ghosts reside in any body of water just waiting to pull them under. Stems from 20 million people being packed onto a small island." I rose and put on my shorts. "Right, then, we're off." I hopped on the back of William's Vespa. As we made our way through town, then to its outskirts, I was overcome with the sense that this would be a place I'd stay for some time. I had only seen Taipei, a cramped and dirty city, and here I was overwhelmed by the beauty of the natural world in a way I hadn't been for years. The mountains were ever-present; the ocean was everywhere. We passed farms being worked by oxen, papaya fields with ripe fruit heavy on the branches, and more shrines and temples than I could count. I started to think William was right: Hualien was indeed a little slice of heaven. As we pulled up at the beach he'd mentioned, every bit as splendid as he described, William said, "Tonight, we'll grab some beers and head up to the hot springs." "Do you have a job or is it just beers and beaches?" "Oh, I see you're worried about finding work." "Of course I am." "Don't fret a minute more. The work is there. Like the papayas, ripe and waiting to be taken in." "Where do I start," I asked. "First, the beach," William said. "We'll suss out a job tomorrow." He sounded very certain of himself, so I decided to let my guard down. With the mountains above us, an early moon on the rise, and a sun setting on the other side of the sky, I found I had to agree with William: this beach was absolutely brilliant. *Democracy* Wherever I have lived in this country, I've always had reason to call the League of Women Voters (www.lwv.org). This is one of those organizations that really does, as its tag line reads, make democracy work. Whatever question you might have about participatory citizenship in America, no matter how small or how large, the League of Women Voters is there to help. I called just the other day to ask if I was required to fill in a response in every race on the ballot; I had my answer within seconds (No; vote in only the races you want to). I decided that since I know so little about judges, I would not vote in any uncontested judicial race; there were none, so I didn't vote for any judges. The races for mayor and the four city commissioner spots I did vote in however; I even did some research, so I can hope I made a positive difference. The League of Women Voters is one important piece in this working democracy. *Quotations* Suffrage is the pivotal right.
--Susan B. Anthony Universal suffrage should rest upon universal education. To this end, liberal and permanent provision should be made for the support of free schools by the State governments, and, if need be, supplemented by legitimate aid from national authority.
--Rutherford B. Hayes Look back, to slavery, to suffrage, to integration and one thing is clear. Fashions in bigotry come and go. The right thing lasts.
--Anna Quindlen When a citizen gives his suffrage to a man of known immorality he abuses his trust; he sacrifices not only his own interest, but that of his neighbor; he betrays the interest of his country.
--Noah Webster What ass first let loose the doctrine that the suffrage is a high boon and voting a noble privilege? Looking back over my 19 years of it I can recall few times when I have voted with anything approaching exhilaration.
--Henry Louis Mencken If you asked me to name the three scariest threats facing the human race, I would give the same answer that most people would: nuclear war, global warming and Windows.
--Dave Barry The radical right is so homophobic that they're blaming global warming on the AIDS quilt.
--Dennis Miller Global warming is too serious for the world any longer to ignore its danger or split into opposing factions on it.
--Tony Blair America has not led but fled on the issue of global warming.
--John Kerry The warnings about global warming have been extremely clear for a long time. We are facing a global climate crisis. It is deepening. We are entering a period of consequences.
--Al Gore *Politics* From Environmental Defense Action Fund: Top five reasons congress must enact global-warming legislation this year-- "1. Every year we wait equals extra effort. If we delay this bill by just two years, we will have to make twice the annual cuts in carbon emissions to hit the same cumulative reductions by 2020. "2. The science is unforgiving. As the Earth warms, we approach a "tipping point," after which large destructive climate changes become inevitable. "3. The political opportunity is ripe. 78% of Americans want Congress to act on global warming. We need to take advantage of the tremendous momentum that exists today. "4. Someone is going to win the global race to reinvent energy. It should be us [sic]. Renewable energy promises to become one of the world's most profitable industries. But advances in renewable energy technologies will not be fully realized without a national cap on global warming pollution. The sooner we act, the sooner these new industries will start to flourish. "5. What legacy will the 110th Congress leave? When future generations look back at this moment, they will either praise the Senate for starting us down the path to solving the global warming crisis, or blame the Senate for squandering this opportunity." _____ Finally, common sense is taking hold to address the intense food crunch facing the world's poor. Remember: using bio-fuels is taking food directly from some starving person's plate. And it always will be. But I read the President now openly supports international-aid organizations purchasing locally, and developing local farm networks where now there are none. Keep in mind that this common-sense approach is an about-face from previous ones. The World Bank and the IMF are infamous for insisting that developing countries opt into the global food-market system; I had an economics teacher in college who was a former World-Bank economist. He and I frequently argued on this topic; I stood fast by my conviction that the best thing for poor people is to become more and more self-sufficient, while he insisted self-sufficiency is not efficient. Self-sufficiency, in fact, is the most efficient course of action given any set of choices; this almost by definition. (I know now that what he meant by "inefficient" was simply that no one, in a system geared toward self-sufficiency, makes a killing.) Any good economist knows that when systems get large enough, there are serious losses at the margins. So, in the previously dreamed of global food system, there are pollution losses when it comes to shipping, nutrition losses when it comes to freshness, losses of sovereignty when it comes to dependence on exogenous forces, etc. Now, folks in the know acknowledge that all the works of the World Bank and the IMF were catastrophic failures, leaving millions with useless machinery, crops they can't afford to maintain, and astronomical debt. Finally, what we radical economists have been pushing for for decades, self-sufficiency, is coming to the fore. *Fiction* I've been reading The List of Seven by Mark Frost. I was reluctant at first because it deals with the occult and the "dark side," and is populated by ghouls and ghosts; but one character is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Frankly, it's far too well written to be written off. At times, it has me in hysterics. The antics of the two lower-class, burglar manservants/gofers named Larry and Barry are enough to keep the humor going. The following passage, however, reflects well the erudite underpinnings of this gripping tale set in the 1880s: "You assume that surrounding ourselves with these new, arguably liberating devices will fundamentally change some persistent qualities in the human character." "What qualities are those?" "The will to power. The impulse to hoard. The impulse to fend for ourselves at the expense of others." "The instinct to survive," said Sparks, as if Doyle were taking him exactly where he wished to go. "Ensuring the survival of the strong." "At the expense of the weak." "Just as in nature--as in a competition, Doyle, a fight. For air, water, for strong, attractive mating partners, for space and food. Nature does not announce to its components, "Life requires of you no aggression, for I have provided on this earth an abundance, an embarrassment of riches,"" Sparks said, vehemently tapping his fingers, rattling the glasses on the table. "And when those same powerful impulses are expressed by the human animal, as in every other kingdom in nature--" "Dominion. Domination. Material greed. The root of human conflict." "We are in agreement," said Doyle. Sparks nodded, his eyes hot with discovery. "It's inescapable. Man is compelled to obey the instinct to dominate, because of our unconscious imperative to survive. And this message is so persuasive and commanding it overrides every biological influence--compassion, sympathy, love, any of the niceties sacred to the privileged lives in this room--well after our physical safety has been secured and every serious threat to our existence completely eliminated." "A paradox then," said Doyle. "Does man's will to live present the single greatest danger to our survival?" "If human nature does not soon demonstrate the ability to willfully change its course, I submit to you that it does," said Sparks. Bravo to Mr Frost for weaving such deep, intellectual interludes seamlessly into a ripping thriller like this. *Music* Sure I'm into my Decemberists and Iron & Wine and Radiohead. But I will always return to Van Morrison's Astral Weeks. The record is seminal, combining Irish stream-of-consciousness with folk/jazz instrumentation. Recorded in 1968, it is a tremendous force of an album. I think you'd either love it or hate it (as with all good art), no in between. I read once that Van Mo was such a raging prick and a drunk at the time, he came in and recorded the guitar and vocals alone; the rest of the band was over-dubbed later. That is quite an amazing fact; the record sounds a good deal more unified and detailed than you'd think. Van Morrison is like Bob Dylan: one of very few "great" artists that I know of who are nevertheless terrible people. This recording is for me a desert-island work; if I found myself in the middle of nowhere, I could keep my hopes up if I only had this recording. Some food would be nice but.... *PoeminProgress* I'm Not Gay However, Peace, love, and ATOM jazz 051108 Missy and I started a garden. Well, I suppose I did all the talking; Missy did all the actual gardening. As some of you know, I used to be an obsessive gardener; my life was frequently completely consumed in the gardening process. I thought of myself as a mini-farmer. And I was all about back-to-basics, get-the-hands-dirty, over-the-top-ness. I started all my own seedlings. I aimed to get as much of my diet as I could from my garden. With a book called One Circle from the Biointensive people at Ecology Action I was able to calculate not only caloric yields, but also right down to the micro-nutrients like tryptophan, selenium, and sodium. A number of years, I grew grains, like wheat, barley and popcorn, and grew large quantities of potatoes with the aim of storing them and living off of them through the winter. Needless to say, it feels good to be gardening again, at least closely involved. My raised bed is directly across the road from my house; I can see it from my dining-room table. The Sabin community garden is on the grounds of what used to be the neighborhood water-tower utility; it's now a park, with one part turned into the garden and one part a playground, which was recently completely refurbished. Sitting there in the garden with the water towers watching from above, the children playing, and sensing my own home only a few feet away is a sublime experience. Having Missy's infant son Caˇl with us enhanced the peaceful experience. I've grown to adore this particular spot so much I'm starting to think about staying here, as in forever, assuming I can figure out a way. *Lyrics* This piece by Peter Mulvey is a modern classic. It is mostly spoken, except for the one line which is sung as noted, and Mulvey is playing in-the-pocket, simple, occasionally extravagantly embellished, satisfying, rootsy acoustic guitar to accompany himself. This is as grand as any spoken word or performance poetry I've heard anywhere. The Dreams (Peter Mulvey) Inside the tunnels, the stone tunnels, _____ This song by Andrew Bird snuck up on me. I'd say it's one of the best songs I've heard in years. It's a catchy, snappy pop number. While the lyrics look as though they would lead to an overly intellectual song, in Bird's hands, they are nothing but musical and intensely memorable: Imitosis (Andrew Bird) He's keeping busy. Poor Professor Pynchon had only good intentions And despite what all the studies have shown Why do they congregate in groups of four, _____ Many of Joe Henry's lyrics sneak up on me. The line that got me from this song is, "Time is a lion and you are a lamb." If you fear the angels above while you sleep *MyJourney* [A story of creative nonfiction.] The train ride to Hualien from Taipei was relatively brief but nevertheless somewhat harrowing. I took the morning train mid week; there were not many others aboard this, what I gathered to be a commuter train. About an hour outside of town, the train neared the coast. At first I thought we'd remain at a safe distance; no, the tracks led us right up onto the dramatic cliffs on the Pacific. At times, as we came to a turn, my heart jumped as I had the impression we were about to plunge into the ocean. It often seemed that it was only the train's level position which kept us alive; were we to put too much weight on the ocean side, off we would go. We made it, much to my surprise, in under three hours. Outside the train station were a number of food stands, a couple of rickshaws, and a couple of taxis. As I wasn't sure how far it was to the teacher's guest house, I opted for a cab. I had learned in my time in Taiwan that the best bet for a foreigner to succeed in hailing a cab was to sneak up on it from behind, jump in, and bark out your destination before the driver even had a chance to decide one way or the other. I found once they knew you could speak Chinese, the drivers were put at ease. I followed this procedure and my cabbie sped off in some direction before he looked in his rearview to see I was white. He nearly jumped. He asked what I was doing there. I asked if I was unwelcome. He said no, he just had never had a foreigner in his cab before, especially not one who spoke Chinese. As always, I agreed with him that the gods had meant for us to meet, and I politely declined his offer to join him and his family for dinner. I explained I was on a rather urgent mission to meet a friend of mine, so I wanted to get myself settled. He understood. As we drove through the small center of town, he pointed out the various places to eat, the best noodle shop, the best vegetarian, the best dim sum. When we pulled up at our destination, he informed me that the best outdoor-market in town was held right outside the guest house every Wednesday, which happened to be the following day. I thanked him and tipped him; I forgot that it was not customary to tip. He was slightly taken aback, but I explained that tipping was the American way. He liked that and said, "Smooth journeys, my new American friend." The teacher's guest house was in a very old, monolithic building which seemed to have walls four feet thick. Once inside the front door, there was deathly silence. There was a middle aged woman at the front reception counter too deeply engrossed in a magazine to notice my entrance. "Hello, miss?" She looked up. "I'm too old to be a miss. Don't call me that. Look at me. Old enough to be your mother." "Well, I wasn't sure if you were married," I said. She thought a moment. "Oh, I see," she said. "You're new here." "As a matter of fact, I just arrived." "Let me guess, you're one of William's friends." "Exactly," I said. "Is he in?" "He's either out teaching or he's at the beach swimming. You English people are crazy with that swimming stuff." "I'm American." She appeared tired. "You all look the same to me. Your Chinese is better than William's, I'll say that much." "Well, thank you. I don't think William--" "Tries? No, I know he doesn't. As far as he's concerned, English is the only language worth learning. I tell you what, he might just get himself killed with that kind of thinking." She rose and grabbed her keys. "What's your name?" "Chinese or English?" "Do I look like I care to speak English?" "Gao De Shio," I replied. "Well, that's a fine name. Where'd you get that?" she asked as she led me to a room. "I assume you're looking for a room. I'll put you next to William." "A friend I used to have," I said. "Used to have?" she asked as she opened the door for me. "I guess she's a girl then. A Chinese girl?" "Part Chinese, part Japanese." "Take my advice: stay away from that combination." I said, "I wish I'd met you months ago." *PoeminProgress* Until Our Dying Days Every day that I read the news headlines *Music* Johnny Hartman & John Coltrane--I suppose the actual title of the record is John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman, but Hartman owns the show so completely, I feel his name should come first. Admittedly, Hartman's voice is over the top; this is not a background-music kind of jazz-vocals record. In my opinion, the very distinct style Coltrane employs here, much more sparse and simple than his usual fare, is the best Coltrane there is. Hartman's voice is a culmination of all the great singers; there are parts that are like Sinatra (the two are sometimes indistinguishable), parts that sound like Mel Tormˇ, parts even that tread where Billie Holiday was most comfortable. This is a so-called desert-island recording, one of those any human would like to have with him were he stranded; I believe it would be the perfect recording to play for aliens to teach them what jazz is about. The most classic track for me is Lush Life (Strayhorn). Hartman sings the following line, then in comes Coltrane, displaying better than anywhere else the richness that characterizes transitions and borderlands, in all arts. "And here I'll be while I rot with the rest of those whose lives are lonely too," soaring into Coltrane's very spiritual improvisation. It hits home, people, it hits home. *Politics* It's amazing how clearly white supremacy rears its head still in the 21st century. We've all been bludgeoned with news about Obama's unstable pastor; why have we heard nothing about McCain's radical, militant preacher, a man whose support and endorsement McCain sought out, a man McCain refuses to step away from, a man with even crazier and more radical views than Obama's Jeremiah Wright? Could it be that because McCain is a good, Christian white American, the media feel no need raise the awful spectre? Obama's black and he has a tempestuous, radical preacher? Must be something un-American there. McCain is white and he's best friends with a man who openly believes Islam must be destroyed; he also believes it's America's original duty to destroy Islam. But he's white, so of course he stands for what America believes in. NOT! Look at this video and please tell me this only reinforces your understanding that a racist, patriarchal, war-mongering pig like McCain MUST HAVE NO CHANCE EVER OF BECOMING COMMANDER IN CHIEF OF THIS GREAT NATION: http://bravenewfilms.org/blog/38133-mccain-s-spiritual-guide-wants-america-to-destroy-islam?utm_source=rgemail *Quotations* TOP TEN OUTRAGEOUS QUOTES FROM MCCAIN'S SPIRITUAL ADVISORS 1. "Do you know the difference between a woman with PMS and a snarling Doberman pinscher? The answer is lipstick. Do you know the difference between a terrorist and a woman with PMS? You can negotiate with a terrorist." --Pastor John Hagee in his book What Every Man Wants in a Woman (Charisma House, 2005) 2. "The Quran teaches that [all Muslims have a mandate to kill Christians and Jews]. Yes, it teaches that very clearly." --Pastor John Hagee 3. "I believe that the Hurricane Katrina was, in fact, the judgment of God against the city of New Orleans.... I believe that New Orleans had a level of sin that was offensive to God, and they are--were recipients of the judgment of God for that.... There was to be a homosexual parade there on the Monday that the Katrina came. And the promise of that parade was that it was going to reach a level of sexuality never demonstrated before in any of the other Gay Pride parades.... The Bible teaches that when you violate the law of God, that God brings punishment sometimes before the day of judgment." --Pastor John Hagee 4. "The military will have difficultly recruiting healthy and strong heterosexuals for combat purposes. Why? Fighting in combat with a man in your fox hole that has AIDS or is HIV positive is double jeopardy." --Pastor John Hagee on Don't Ask Don't Tell 5. "[Gay marriage] will open the door to incest, to polygamy, and every conceivable marriage arrangement demented minds can possibly conceive. If God does not then punish America, He will have to apologize to Sodom and Gomorrah." --Pastor John Hagee 6. "It is impossible to call yourself a Christian and defend homosexuality. There is no justification or acceptance of homosexuality.... Homosexuality means the death of society because homosexuals can recruit, but they cannot reproduce." --Pastor John Hagee 7. "Only a Spirit-filled woman can submit to her husband's lead. It is the natural desire of a woman to lead through feminine manipulation of the man.... Fallen women will try to dominate the marriage. The man has the God-given role to be the loving leader of the home." --Pastor John Hagee in his book What Every Man Wants in a Woman (Charisma House, 2005) 8. "I cannot tell you how important it is that we understand the true nature of Islam, that we see it for what it really is. In fact, I will tell you this: I do not believe our country can truly fulfill its divine purpose until we understand our historical conflict with Islam. I know that this statement sounds extreme, but I do not shrink from its implications. The fact is that America was founded, in part, with the intention of seeing this false religion destroyed, and I believe September 11, 2001, was a generational call to arms that we can no longer ignore." --Rod Parsley in Silent No More (Charisma House, 2005) 9. "Gay sexuality inevitably involves brutal physical abusiveness and the unnatural imposition of alien substances into internal organs, orally and anally, that inevitably suppress the immune system and heighten susceptibility to disease." --Rod Parsley 10. "Only 1 percent of the homosexual population in America will die of old age. The average life expectancy for a homosexual in the United States of America is 43 years of age. A lesbian can only expect to live to be 45 years of age. Homosexuals represent 2 percent of the population, yet today they're carrying 60 percent of the known cases of syphilis." --Rod Parsley *PoemofExercise* My friend Katie Kurtz sent the following challenge to a group I started on Facebook called Poetry Portland: Write a poem using these elements: Parking-lot Portuguese. "Fire on the Mountain" by Grateful Dead. Independence Mall on Independence Boulevard in Wilmington, North Carolina. Something about spirituality. Here's what I came up with: Romeo is Bleeding Russell sat in his usual spot for Peace, love, and ATOM jazz 050408 Don has agreed to do another Flatland show here at the Bungalow. I don't have a date yet. It will be the same line-up as last time: Don Corey bass, Tim Rap drums, Willie Mathies sax, and Tom Sandahl guitar. If you haven't heard the recording of the last show, found at citizenproductions.com, you're missing out. The next one will be even better. *Errata* --"I wondered what could make a book received in such a way." Should be "BE received in such a way." --"This is a batch of music about which I stop every once in a while to recognize what an enormous piece of my life it is." What an awful sentence that is. How about, "I stop every once in a while to realize what an essential part of my identity this album is." --The female protagonist in Bel Canto is Roxanne Coss, not Roxanne Cross. *ErosAromatics* Dr Bronner's has filed a law suit with the San Francisco superior court targeting use of the word "organic" by a number of mainstream cosmetics companies, including Estee Lauder and Kiss My Face among others. In recent years, many of us fought to see that the label Organic on food products means what it's supposed to mean; it is only because some of us fought very hard that there aren't ridiculous loopholes in labeling organic food. There is, however, no law on the books anywhere that pertains to the labeling of cosmetics as organic. Maybe Dr Bronner's has enough pull to enact some substantive, positive change in this department. I will, however, plan to offer locally made, all-natural liquid-soap alternatives at some point, alternatives that is to Dr Bronner's. I brought a couple of samples into my favorite watering hole the other night, The Yellow Brick Road (heavy on the osmanthus, pron. oz-man-thes, thus oz, thus yellow brick road) and Eden's Amber: Eve, which is my attempt at a more feminine (or at least unisex) amber. Got some really positive responses. Women, apparently, and very generally, seem genuinely to like osmanthus a great deal. One of my oldest friends in Portland, Andrea, was clearly impressed with the fact that I had made actual, honest-to-God perfume. Sidney, one of my other oldest friends, the real perfume lover, was the recipient of two small vials. She told me she likes my other amber, Eden's Amber: Adam, but that she does find it a little masculine in the first couple of minutes. I'm hoping she finds Eve more to her liking. There was one older fellow at the bar, quite the talkative one. He was raised on a ranch in southern Oregon, not too far from the ocean. The minute he heard me talking about perfume, he began a story about the fact that when he was a boy, whenever his family went to the beach, his parents specifically told him to be on the lookout for ambergris washed up on the shore, explained to the kids exactly what to look for. "Turns out the finest perfumes known to man are based on whale vomit," he said [Actually, it's an intestinal secretion], "and you find a lump o' that stuff, you call Paris, you're set for life." Hyperbole of course, but I'd imagine 40 or 50 years ago, finding ambergris on the beach was a not-infrequent experience. Now, what with the extinction of, well, everything, it's one of the more rarified materials on the planet. *PoeminProgress* With No One Of all the phishing efforts online scammers pull, *Quotations* I think it's a natural impulse to want to find some kind of coherence and meaning in your life, to find that it has a narrative, and that there are patterns. There are themes in your life, and themes that connect back to previous generations. You can see where you fit into the puzzle. Your life starts to make sense, in terms of what you've done before and what you're doing now. --Bobbie Ann Mason People need a sacred narrative. They must have a sense of larger purpose, in one form or another, however intellectualized. They will find a way to keep ancestral spirits alive. --E O Wilson The decision to write in prose instead of poetry is made more by the readers than by writers. Almost no one is interested in reading narrative in verse. --Robert Morgan Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama or narrative, is really a succession of separate poetic experiences governed into a related whole by an energy distinct from that which evoked them. --John Drinkwater The ninety percent of human experience that does not fit into established narrative patterns falls into oblivion. --Mason Cooley Strangers are exciting; their mystery never ends. But, there's nothing like looking at your own history in the faces of your friends. --Ani Difranco For most people, a life lived alone, with passing strangers or passing lovers, is incoherent and ultimately unbearable. Someone must be there to know what we have done for those we love. --Frank Pittman Ninety percent of the world's woe comes from people not knowing themselves, their abilities, their frailties, and even their real virtues. Most of us go almost all the way through life as complete strangers to ourselves. --Sydney J Harris If a man be gracious and courteous to strangers, it shows he is a citizen of the world. --Francis Bacon At the bottom of enmity between strangers lies indifference. --Soren Kierkegaard *Fiction* As one reviewer wrote, Bel Canto (Ann Patchett) truly is a universe unto itself. It is simultaneously funny, beautiful, and heart-breaking. I almost feel as though there was my life before I read the book, and now my life after. It does have that sort of life-altering effect. This is a must-run-out-and-read. What I thought was a comedy of errors becomes at the end a terrible tragedy of errors. Lives and loves are senselessly lost and the result is that the ultimate lovers in the story are the most unlikely of the bunch, even more unlikely than their original pairings, though still every aspect of the story is inevitable. One acquaintance of mine, Dana, said the book made her start listening to opera. I totally understand, though I think that aspect of the book's power would affect everyone differently. For example, it has greatly inspired me to start singing again; I have a good deal of training as a singer, but I hadn't been inspired to take to it with any passion in more than a decade. Bel Canto helped me to realize what a fundamental act singing is, primordial in its presence in our consciousness, central to my identity. Singing is the one manifestation music can have now in my life. This book clarified that somehow. *Theater* Missy, Don, and I went to see A Streetcar Named Desire at the Artist's Repertory Theater the other night. It has been more than two decades since I saw any Tennessee Williams in production. I had forgotten what a master he was at weaving so many themes and questions into his plays that you are left breathless. He drops a powder keg in your head, smirking, "Have fun mulling all this over for a couple of weeks." This gay man brought all the misery he knew as a gay man in earlier America and created stunning, heart-breaking, often humble stories out of his very torment. The character of Blanche DuBois stands for Williams himself, and he portrays her as barely clinging to reality, trying to keep her head held high, maintaining her outward appearances of sanity and high-culture in the middle of a world going crazier by the minute, and with insides imploding. He faces the uncertain parts of morality and in turning the spotlight on his characters turns it on himself more than anyone else. Blanche's famous line "I've always depended on the kindness of strangers," which she utters most emphatically at the end as she's being led away to a loony bin, sticks out in my mind as clearly as the moment I first read it some 25 years ago. Do yourself a favor and go check this show out; it's like seeing it for the first time. Brando won't cross your mind for a moment. ART is located at 1516 SW Alder Street, shows Tuesday through Sunday. *Nonfiction* This week I received a tremendous book, Perfume: Joy, Obsession, Scandal, Sin; a cultural history of fragrance from 1750 to the present (Richard Stamelman, 2006). It's an enormous tome, full to the brim with all manner of great perfume imagery, full double-page spreads in many cases (it's roughly 9" x 13"). I would call it a coffee-table book, but there's far too much text in it for that. Instead, I think I will call this an illustrated bible of the art. "Perfume is a language with its own unique rhetoric and its own distinctive syntax or combination of associations, which give rise to a kind of poetry where feelings of love, desire, seduction, romance, and bliss come together to create a sensual fantasy. This is a reality that advertisements for many contemporary fragrances never let us forget, as the following examples show: "The perfume of precious moments" (Tresor, Lancome), "A tribute to the beginning of love" (Shalimar, Guerlain), "The secret of charm is in not revealing everything" (Mitsouko, Guerlain), "Life is more beautiful when one writes it oneself" (Champs-Elysees, Guerlain), "Put it where you want to be kissed" (Ici, Coty), "Never has perfume provoked such emotion" (Opium, Yves Saint Laurent), "A drop of perfume, an ocean of love" (Hanae Mori), "The secret world where every woman is a sun" (24 Faubourg, Hermes), "The perfume is within" (Eau D'Issey, Issey Miyake), and "Yvresse, for women who bubble" (Yvresse, Yves Saint Laurent). "There are even slogans that favor the unconscious, giving pride of place to the dream experience the surrealists found so fascinating: "The best dreams happen when one is awake. Who needs night?" (Dreams, Tabu), "Perfume is the music of my dreams" (Anick Goutal), "When fantasy becomes reality" (Caroline Herrera), "Share the fantasy" (Chanel No. 5), "The unconscious has its scent" (Ted Lapidus), "There is no life without excess" (XS, Paco Rabanne), "Create your dream" (Image, Cerutti), "For the sensualist who believes in making her dreams a reality" (Beyond Paradise, Estee Lauder), and "Fantasy, everybody has one" (Fantasy, Britney Spears).... "Such rhetorical intensity as the scented imagination possesses, such magic to inspire dreams, fantasies, and desires, and such force to make us love or even to provoke acts of collective violence, as happens at the end of Suskind's novel Perfume, was recognized by writers, pre-surrealist and surrealist, early in the 20th century. Mallarme, whose knowledge of the Parisian fashion world was extensive, even sensed a poetic threat coming from fin-de-siecle practitioners of the perfume arts. "They have taken all our words," he admitted to the poet Paul Valery, who passed the comment on to Breton in a letter of March 1916. And in Le Musicien de Saint-Merry, a poem from 1914, Apollinaire offered the following advice to fellow wordsmiths: "Poet, emulate the labels of perfumers."" *Music* I have to give my respects to Stevie Wonder. Widely acknowledged to be a musical master, with a supernatural voice, he's also penned some of the most brilliant modern songs. Here are a few lyrics: "I recall the folks from a movie The speaker in one of his classics, Front Line, is a man who volunteered for Vietnam, duped by such balderdash, where he "got his legs shot off." Can we all be up front about the truth now: a man is one who's got something that's worth LIVING for. In another, Livin' for the City, he confronts the subject of his homeless brothers, lost and wandering the streets: "His hair is long. I never really stopped to ponder those words, couched as they are in groovy music, but this is a prayer, one might say a hymn, for the homeless, for those just barely making it on the skids, foraging in trash, and sleeping in putrid places where no man or woman would willingly choose to lay his or her head. _____ Citizen Mix: May's Gaze '08 1. The Dreams, Peter Mulvey *Politics* It struck me that if Clinton were to win it would be the very first time in history not only that we had a woman president but also that the spouse of o former president was elected, with said former commander-in-chief still living under the same roof. Indeed, the world around us changes more and more everyday. Now when we talk of political dynasties and political lineages, we be talking about both sides of the legacy. Who's to say, if Clinton won, her daughter might not be elected in some future year (assuming Hill didn't blow up the country in the meantime). I can see the history books now: Yes, the Clinton legacy went on for decades, and included husband, wife, daughter, niece and grandson. _____ Timothy Garon died this week because he used medical marijuana, under his doctor's recommendation. Because Prohibition keeps this sacred and incredibly useful plant categorized as a drug, Mr Garon was denied a liver transplant because he was labeled a drug user. This is a horrid and unconscionable state of affairs. We know for a fact that alcohol is FAR more harmful than marijuana, in very real terms; we can say X million people die every year, one way or another, from the abuse of alcohol, and there is no such figure for marijuana (not because no one has done any research, because such a figure does not exist). Yet which one is legal? The results of the age-old prohibition of alcohol are becoming the same as the results of prohibition on marijuana. Where now we waste untold millions of dollars every year to eradicate a substance which has been a part of human culture even longer than alcohol, far, far longer, we could be making untold billions by way of legalization, regulation, and taxation. And no one would have to die if officials only looked at the facts. Please do what you can to legalize marijuana across the board; logically, it would make more sense for alcohol to be banned again and marijuana legalized. Barring that impossibility, all citizens are morally obligated to push for sensible laws. The vast majority of those filling up prisons are in for non-violent crimes; most of those are in for marijuana possession. In this way, the prohibition on marijuana makes a whole lot of money for the fat cats (prisons were privatized and became profit-making entities long ago). As far as I'm concerned, the right to grow and partake of marijuana is a fundamental human right; it is yet another right, like the right to reproductive freedom, with which government has no business interfering (except insofar as governments can find enormous financial windfalls by regulation). _____ See if you can tell the difference between Bush and McCain (then you can go on to see if you can distinguish between McCain and a moldy carrot): http://Bush-McCainChallenge.com/?rc=challenge-friends&r_id=12560-2881040-AX1lE3 _____ From the BBC: "Climate change is already affecting the prospects for children in the world's poorer countries, according to Unicef. The UN children's agency says that increases in floods, droughts and insect-borne disease will all affect health, education and welfare. While richer societies can adjust, it says in a new report, poorer ones do not have the resources. It is asking western governments to reduce greenhouse gas emissions swiftly and provide money to help poor nations. ""Those who have contributed least to climate change--the world's poorest children--are suffering the most," said David Bull, executive director of Unicef UK. "If the world does not act now to mitigate and adapt to the risks and realities of climate change, we will seriously hamper efforts to reach the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) by 2015 and sustain development progress thereafter." "The report is launched in the UK 10 years to the day after the government signed the Kyoto Protocol on reducing greenhouse gas emissions. The eight Millennium Goals include such targets as eradicating extreme poverty and hunger, reducing infant mortality rates by two-thirds and halting the spread of diseases such as HIV and malaria. Progress has been good in some parts of the world, but earlier this month the World Bank warned some targets were likely to be missed; sub-Saharan Africa was likely to miss all eight, the Bank said. "Unicef concludes that climate change is already making achieving them more difficult. Agricultural productivity is forecast to decline markedly in most of Africa, South Asia and Latin America; countries such as Zambia are already seeing a significant reduction in rainfall; the threat of waterborne diseases such as cholera is projected to increase. The 2006 Stern Review concluded that climate change could increase annual child deaths in sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia by up to 160,000 through GDP loss alone. ""All the essential effects we are seeing now are associated with a temperature increase since 1850 of less than 1C," Sir Nicholas Stern writes in a foreword to the Unicef report. "Past actions and the likely trend of emissions imply that another 1-2C will be hard to avoid. Rich countries' responsibility for the bulk of past emissions demands that we give our strong support." The UN climate convention contains funds designed to help the poorest countries adapt to climate impacts, but critics say the sums are far too small to make a difference." *PoeminProgress* Fools If I am a fool for loving with Peace, love, and All That Otha Mutha jazz |