President Bush has spent much more time addressing the issue of Terri Schiavo than about what happened at the Red Lake Reservation. From what I have heard President Bush has not said a word about the violence there or at any reservation, yet this family was able to bring congress out of recess.
Nothing agianst Terri Schiavo, but shouldn't Red Lake have been a greater priority that this poor woman?
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Saturday, March 26, 2005
Baby Gap
It’s Saturday morning and I have started a ritual of coming down to this coffee shop a little way from the place that I am staying and trying to write. It’s a nice spot, I like having a place to go and I can get on the internets and read other people blogs. It has been weird being down here, I have found a new pattern a new way of living life and I like it. I have started rising early and doing stuff around the house before my walk to work. I don’t have the internets at home so I am reading a lot more which is satisfying. I’m working on becoming a civil war buff, which involves a lot of reading, CNN didn’t cover that war, it had to be sketched.
The first few days in the new place I tried to ride the bus to work but the busses didn’t really show up so I started walking the entire way. It takes about half an hour and is a great way to start the day. The city feels like it hasn’t swept up yet from winter, there is still dirt everywhere and all the garbage that ends up blowing into every corner and gutter. A little note to dog owners: you have the dog, pick up the shit. I see more dog shit in my half hour walk than I want to in a lifetime. If I ever see any of you walking away from your pile I swear I will look at you harshly and may even shake my head.
My walking compulsion took me even further yesterday as I went in search of a gift for my cousin’s twins that were born a few weeks ago. I walked up Halsted, doing the look behind for the bus the whole way, only to see it blow past me as I was in the middle of the block and I didn’t want to make the run, so I kept walking. I was on my way to the baby gap, a place I had never been before, but was told had what I needed for a baby visit. BG is in the middle of the CrateandBarrellBordersBedBathandBeyondContainerStoreAmericanEagle vortex that clogs up North Avenue for miles. Maybe because it was a full moon, in fact probably because it was a full moon I entered this area feeling like a complete stranger entering a world of commerce and trade that made me feel insignificant and unprepared. I don’t know if was the way that I saw so many of these products as a feeble attempt to purchase some identity that everyone could take back to their condos and reveal in them what they were to others that came by and judged who they were by what they brought home from this vortex, or I was jealous that lacked the where with all, the planning, the gumption to go out an achieve status so that I too could get the soft green grill for my new condo in the Ukrainian Village. As Bill Hicks would say I was in a mood. I don’t know if it was how in the last three weeks I have gone from the icy shores of Lake Superior, to standing before Martin Luther King, Jrs. Tomb, to getting pushed by a police horse now into this center of commerce that to me was such a hollow place, this place where I saw so many of my peers, struggling around determining patterns and purchasing item.
Entering the Baby Gap I was in a sea of color and I knew I needed a minute to just sort of adjust, get the microphones out of my ears, (something that I purchased to raise my street cred, increasing the contradiction of this entire rant), I did not have a minute I had 17 seconds when I was greeted. My mood although somber, agitated was not inclined to rudeness and I was polite, I even try to be chipper to spread a little friendliness in this fluorescent purgatory.
It is worth saying that no one was mean to me, no one looked at me funny, I hadn’t been cut off in the parking lot, in fact no one had even talked to me or even regarded my existence, which maybe was where this feeling was coming from. This feeling was not hateful, not angry, it was a little sad, but more than anything I think I was disappointed in this, and in what I was a part of. Here we are, all of us, us people on this planet and what do I get? Stuff.
The Baby Gap went well, although the people that work there, although attractive come across as robots who have not interest in who I am and what I am doing there. They wanted to know how many boxes I wanted and if I needed a gift receipt. I was excited to tell them that my cousin had had twins and that they already had two great kids and what was it going to be like having all of these little people around on Christmas, and I was going to see them for the first time tomorrow, what did she think of these clothes that I was buying them.
I signed the chit and got my thank you and walked out, with gifts that I was excited to give new family members, I’m sure that they will look cute, I don’t know if I will ever see them in them, but who knows, maybe. The socks had a cowboy and anchors on them. I stuck my status symbols back into my ears and listened to the band GBH, and some Steve Earl on my way to Borders to find something form Ben and Maggie, the older sister and brother of this clan, kids that I liked and would be excited to see them. I was confused as to what I was going to be to these kids, the odd uncle type figure who had hair that was a little longer and didn’t have partner, a positive influence I hope. I guess since I wrote those things down that is how I see myself, and I must be wonder something about identity to have to think how children see me. I have started seeing a psychiatrist and it has been a pretty positive experience, so pardon the self-evaluation. Art is Therapy, Therapy is Art.
Borders provided some wonderful items for my consumption, a store for me in this vortex, a place that I could identify with and feel comfortable in. I found the kid’s section after a cd in my bag announced my arrival to the store. The alarm went off and I stood and waited until a Borders official came and “deactivated” my bag allowing me complete access to the store. In the kids section I found a couple of classics for Ben and Maggie. Go Dog Go, and the Little Seed. Shopping for kids is not only shopping for kids but for the parents and you never know if you are going to score on all four accounts. Something in this relationship always makes me nervous, something for another session with my doctor, probably not for these pages.
I got into the line at the borders and traveled to the next available cashier, setting down my selections.
“Did you find everything okay” my cashier started.
“Oh yeah” I returned, enjoying a conversation.
“Are you a member of our children’s book club?”
“Ahhh, no”
“Do you buy a lot of kids books, debit or credit?”
“No, debit”, I could answer honestly.
“Do you want to sign up?”
“No thank you”, knowing that not doing so I was somehow throwing money down the toilet.
“Are you interested in becoming a Borders member”?
“No”
“I just need you to sign this please.”
I signed.
“Thanks have a great day”
“Do you ever get tired of trying to sell me stuff instead of having a real conversation with me?” I asked grabbing my bag.
“No”, she answered, “I feel strongly about these promotions about my customers.”
“Thank you.”
I was able to catch a bus home; it ended my walking for the day. I got to get to Naperville to deliver these gifts and see the twins.
The first few days in the new place I tried to ride the bus to work but the busses didn’t really show up so I started walking the entire way. It takes about half an hour and is a great way to start the day. The city feels like it hasn’t swept up yet from winter, there is still dirt everywhere and all the garbage that ends up blowing into every corner and gutter. A little note to dog owners: you have the dog, pick up the shit. I see more dog shit in my half hour walk than I want to in a lifetime. If I ever see any of you walking away from your pile I swear I will look at you harshly and may even shake my head.
My walking compulsion took me even further yesterday as I went in search of a gift for my cousin’s twins that were born a few weeks ago. I walked up Halsted, doing the look behind for the bus the whole way, only to see it blow past me as I was in the middle of the block and I didn’t want to make the run, so I kept walking. I was on my way to the baby gap, a place I had never been before, but was told had what I needed for a baby visit. BG is in the middle of the CrateandBarrellBordersBedBathandBeyondContainerStoreAmericanEagle vortex that clogs up North Avenue for miles. Maybe because it was a full moon, in fact probably because it was a full moon I entered this area feeling like a complete stranger entering a world of commerce and trade that made me feel insignificant and unprepared. I don’t know if was the way that I saw so many of these products as a feeble attempt to purchase some identity that everyone could take back to their condos and reveal in them what they were to others that came by and judged who they were by what they brought home from this vortex, or I was jealous that lacked the where with all, the planning, the gumption to go out an achieve status so that I too could get the soft green grill for my new condo in the Ukrainian Village. As Bill Hicks would say I was in a mood. I don’t know if it was how in the last three weeks I have gone from the icy shores of Lake Superior, to standing before Martin Luther King, Jrs. Tomb, to getting pushed by a police horse now into this center of commerce that to me was such a hollow place, this place where I saw so many of my peers, struggling around determining patterns and purchasing item.
Entering the Baby Gap I was in a sea of color and I knew I needed a minute to just sort of adjust, get the microphones out of my ears, (something that I purchased to raise my street cred, increasing the contradiction of this entire rant), I did not have a minute I had 17 seconds when I was greeted. My mood although somber, agitated was not inclined to rudeness and I was polite, I even try to be chipper to spread a little friendliness in this fluorescent purgatory.
It is worth saying that no one was mean to me, no one looked at me funny, I hadn’t been cut off in the parking lot, in fact no one had even talked to me or even regarded my existence, which maybe was where this feeling was coming from. This feeling was not hateful, not angry, it was a little sad, but more than anything I think I was disappointed in this, and in what I was a part of. Here we are, all of us, us people on this planet and what do I get? Stuff.
The Baby Gap went well, although the people that work there, although attractive come across as robots who have not interest in who I am and what I am doing there. They wanted to know how many boxes I wanted and if I needed a gift receipt. I was excited to tell them that my cousin had had twins and that they already had two great kids and what was it going to be like having all of these little people around on Christmas, and I was going to see them for the first time tomorrow, what did she think of these clothes that I was buying them.
I signed the chit and got my thank you and walked out, with gifts that I was excited to give new family members, I’m sure that they will look cute, I don’t know if I will ever see them in them, but who knows, maybe. The socks had a cowboy and anchors on them. I stuck my status symbols back into my ears and listened to the band GBH, and some Steve Earl on my way to Borders to find something form Ben and Maggie, the older sister and brother of this clan, kids that I liked and would be excited to see them. I was confused as to what I was going to be to these kids, the odd uncle type figure who had hair that was a little longer and didn’t have partner, a positive influence I hope. I guess since I wrote those things down that is how I see myself, and I must be wonder something about identity to have to think how children see me. I have started seeing a psychiatrist and it has been a pretty positive experience, so pardon the self-evaluation. Art is Therapy, Therapy is Art.
Borders provided some wonderful items for my consumption, a store for me in this vortex, a place that I could identify with and feel comfortable in. I found the kid’s section after a cd in my bag announced my arrival to the store. The alarm went off and I stood and waited until a Borders official came and “deactivated” my bag allowing me complete access to the store. In the kids section I found a couple of classics for Ben and Maggie. Go Dog Go, and the Little Seed. Shopping for kids is not only shopping for kids but for the parents and you never know if you are going to score on all four accounts. Something in this relationship always makes me nervous, something for another session with my doctor, probably not for these pages.
I got into the line at the borders and traveled to the next available cashier, setting down my selections.
“Did you find everything okay” my cashier started.
“Oh yeah” I returned, enjoying a conversation.
“Are you a member of our children’s book club?”
“Ahhh, no”
“Do you buy a lot of kids books, debit or credit?”
“No, debit”, I could answer honestly.
“Do you want to sign up?”
“No thank you”, knowing that not doing so I was somehow throwing money down the toilet.
“Are you interested in becoming a Borders member”?
“No”
“I just need you to sign this please.”
I signed.
“Thanks have a great day”
“Do you ever get tired of trying to sell me stuff instead of having a real conversation with me?” I asked grabbing my bag.
“No”, she answered, “I feel strongly about these promotions about my customers.”
“Thank you.”
I was able to catch a bus home; it ended my walking for the day. I got to get to Naperville to deliver these gifts and see the twins.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Computer Concert
Okay this is the second time this has happened. I go to a “concert”, a
“show”, and the “band”, is a guy with a laptop sitting at a card table playing songs off of his computer. This is not a show, this is a guy playing music off of his computer. If I want to hear this, please e-mail it to me. What joy is there in watching a guy on his computer? I can do that in a coffee shop any were for free. The only way that this would be exciting to me is if I could see what was happening on the screen, like in a cooking show, we need the mirror to look down. What could be going on that makes us call this a show?
“What instrument do you play?”
“Power Book”.
Please.
There should be a sign in front of the place and a Surgeon Generals type warning on my ticket:
“Tonight’s music will be coming from a computer, there will a guy, who will bob his head occasionally, sitting at a card table looking at a computer screen.”
People cheered at the end of the song, and I don’t know why. For what? Putting something on the server? Forwarding an e-mail? I guess if you did play the computer you can’t really e-mail a song over as a demo because they may play it and then where does that leave you?
The only place that I think this should be allowed is in coffee shops, that would be cool, but opening up for a rock band is not. Put it on the server, I’ll download it if I want to.
“show”, and the “band”, is a guy with a laptop sitting at a card table playing songs off of his computer. This is not a show, this is a guy playing music off of his computer. If I want to hear this, please e-mail it to me. What joy is there in watching a guy on his computer? I can do that in a coffee shop any were for free. The only way that this would be exciting to me is if I could see what was happening on the screen, like in a cooking show, we need the mirror to look down. What could be going on that makes us call this a show?
“What instrument do you play?”
“Power Book”.
Please.
There should be a sign in front of the place and a Surgeon Generals type warning on my ticket:
“Tonight’s music will be coming from a computer, there will a guy, who will bob his head occasionally, sitting at a card table looking at a computer screen.”
People cheered at the end of the song, and I don’t know why. For what? Putting something on the server? Forwarding an e-mail? I guess if you did play the computer you can’t really e-mail a song over as a demo because they may play it and then where does that leave you?
The only place that I think this should be allowed is in coffee shops, that would be cool, but opening up for a rock band is not. Put it on the server, I’ll download it if I want to.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Two Years
The side of the policeman’s horse was pushing me and I didn’t know why. I was in the street, walking with a bunch of other people and when we got to a spot, the designated protest area, we were herded in, literally. The thousand cops that were there, (I’m not really exaggerating) moved us into this spot and they used the horses to do the pushing. No asking us to move in, not a please, not a thank you, but having a horse push me into the spot. The option of going around the horse was to walk into the arms of a police man who was covered from head to toe like a baseball catcher, and he was carrying a bat. The line of people who were together to recognize the second year of armed conflict in Iraq were ringed with these cops and followed by a fleet of paddy wagons and buses used to carry prisoners. Now I wasn’t sure why I was down in Chicago, my feelings of this war are that we went there on a lie and we are torturing and killing people. If you asked anyone down in the middle of this protest, or march or whatever you want to call it, you would hear a bunch of different answers, but the only thing that united us was the way we were herded by the Chicago Police Department. It was pretty amazing, and it made me angry, not at the war but at whoever decided it was a good idea for a horse to push me out of the street.
I saw people I knew, I saw more people that I didn’t and I saw a lot of people talking about whatever, all while whoever was on stage was trying to address the crowd with a sound system that didn’t reach further than twenty feet from the stage. There was a woman up on the stage telling people about her brother who had been killed in Afghanistan, which would have been nice to hear but you couldn’t. In the rear of the crowd there were a bunch of people showing their political dissent by drumming on empty plastic buckets while the speakers were doing their thing. Another guy did nothing but hacky-sac for about four hours, he probably still is as far as I know. I heard one girl say to another: “That guys sign is so stupid”.
There were young people who had their faces covered with black masks, there were couples with kids in strollers, there were old guys in berets, bunches of signs that defamed President Bush in so many ways, there were people putting down the member of congress who spoke, a woman from Georgia who had voted against the war, calling her a capitalist or something like that. This person was from the socialists I think, some group of complete assholes who are against everything as far as I can tell except maybe the color black. The congresswoman from Georgia was worth the walk downtown. She suggested that the billion dollars spent on military recruitment in this country should go right to the Department of Education. Made sense to me, I clapped. It was hard to hear everything that was said because there were all these people passing out fliers, trying to interview people, or taking a survey. A quarter of the crowd was paying attention to what was being said on stage, the rest were trying to out hate Bush with each other. I liked the woman from Georgia, I’m glad she was in office and it was too bad more people didn’t listen to her, or couldn’t listen to her. She brought up the woman who was in Farenheit 9/11 who’s son was killed in Iraq. I saw that movie and it was inspiring to see this woman, who I didn’t recognize right away walking the walk. It was also neat to see this overweight, normal looking person get up and speak eloquently and simply about her dislike for the policies of our nation at this time. She made it real and reminded me that I too did not think that this violent action in Iraq was a good use of our resources and people. Too bad the people playing drums in the back didn’t hear her.
The speakers went down hill from there. A woman from Iran came up and screamed in the microphone for about twenty minutes, twice as long as the congresswoman about the CIA and how we were going to invade her country next. Then a guy got up and talked about Venezuala, then a lady got up and talked about how shitty the cops were and called them pigs and that we should fight them. I didn’t think that was so bright, and I bet the people with there babies did either, but most people had left by this time and I had started walking around. I am an anti-violent person and I wasn’t comfortable with this woman trying to incite some violence, I left the area where people were listening to her and started picking up all the trash that was now littering federal plaza.
The inconsistencies of the message of this gathering was staggering, I don’t know what the common message was, but I guess we were pro litter. After a few handfuls of this I went across the street to where the group protest warrior was set up. They are like little stormtroopers sucking on Rush Limbuaghs teet, ready to gobble up everything that he and his cronies at Fox News cough up. They were a bunch of kids, early to mid twenties who seemed to love to get peoples goat. One of the guys kept going on about the number oneness of the United States, which was okay I guess but I don’t know how he got his ranking. A guy engaged me, handing me paper telling me that the call for a draft was a farce and that President Clinton had attacked Serbia, and where were the protestors then?
A group of the black clad socialists went by chanting something and a woman with a mega phone pointed at the sky shouted something at them. It reminded me of a high school basketball game, when two different schools clash. The two sides engaged and then about 75 bored cops covered from head to toe with padding went to break them apart.
I didn’t see anyone I knew, things were wrapping up, so I left, stopping to watch an old policeman with a lot of gold stripes and insignia on his uniform talk in front of a bunch of news cameras.
As I walked I wondered what the purpose of this day was and was it time well spent? After two blocks I was just another person, not a protestor, just a person walking, shopping the streets of Chicago. I could stand in the road no problem and not get pushed by a horse, I might get hit by a car, but not pushed by a horse. I wasn’t going to get yelled at by a protest warrior, I could just do my thing. What was the purpose of this get together? How could it be made better?
I reflected on my recent trip to Atlanta and thought about standing in front of Martin Luther King Jr.s tomb and how the movement that he helped lead had worked long and hard to achieve a goal, a reality that could be seen and one that thousands of people not only got behind but went out and sacrificed for. What is the goal of this peace, anti war, anti Bush movement? Drumming? Face-paint? Hacky sac? Right now I see it as a social movement, as a refuge for the odd and starry eyed, I don’t see much intellectualizing about world politics, not in this venue anyway. What I did see was what an organized movement of any kind would face on the streets of Chicago. Tons of muscle who have technique, training and strategy, something that this movement is entirely lacking.
I saw people I knew, I saw more people that I didn’t and I saw a lot of people talking about whatever, all while whoever was on stage was trying to address the crowd with a sound system that didn’t reach further than twenty feet from the stage. There was a woman up on the stage telling people about her brother who had been killed in Afghanistan, which would have been nice to hear but you couldn’t. In the rear of the crowd there were a bunch of people showing their political dissent by drumming on empty plastic buckets while the speakers were doing their thing. Another guy did nothing but hacky-sac for about four hours, he probably still is as far as I know. I heard one girl say to another: “That guys sign is so stupid”.
There were young people who had their faces covered with black masks, there were couples with kids in strollers, there were old guys in berets, bunches of signs that defamed President Bush in so many ways, there were people putting down the member of congress who spoke, a woman from Georgia who had voted against the war, calling her a capitalist or something like that. This person was from the socialists I think, some group of complete assholes who are against everything as far as I can tell except maybe the color black. The congresswoman from Georgia was worth the walk downtown. She suggested that the billion dollars spent on military recruitment in this country should go right to the Department of Education. Made sense to me, I clapped. It was hard to hear everything that was said because there were all these people passing out fliers, trying to interview people, or taking a survey. A quarter of the crowd was paying attention to what was being said on stage, the rest were trying to out hate Bush with each other. I liked the woman from Georgia, I’m glad she was in office and it was too bad more people didn’t listen to her, or couldn’t listen to her. She brought up the woman who was in Farenheit 9/11 who’s son was killed in Iraq. I saw that movie and it was inspiring to see this woman, who I didn’t recognize right away walking the walk. It was also neat to see this overweight, normal looking person get up and speak eloquently and simply about her dislike for the policies of our nation at this time. She made it real and reminded me that I too did not think that this violent action in Iraq was a good use of our resources and people. Too bad the people playing drums in the back didn’t hear her.
The speakers went down hill from there. A woman from Iran came up and screamed in the microphone for about twenty minutes, twice as long as the congresswoman about the CIA and how we were going to invade her country next. Then a guy got up and talked about Venezuala, then a lady got up and talked about how shitty the cops were and called them pigs and that we should fight them. I didn’t think that was so bright, and I bet the people with there babies did either, but most people had left by this time and I had started walking around. I am an anti-violent person and I wasn’t comfortable with this woman trying to incite some violence, I left the area where people were listening to her and started picking up all the trash that was now littering federal plaza.
The inconsistencies of the message of this gathering was staggering, I don’t know what the common message was, but I guess we were pro litter. After a few handfuls of this I went across the street to where the group protest warrior was set up. They are like little stormtroopers sucking on Rush Limbuaghs teet, ready to gobble up everything that he and his cronies at Fox News cough up. They were a bunch of kids, early to mid twenties who seemed to love to get peoples goat. One of the guys kept going on about the number oneness of the United States, which was okay I guess but I don’t know how he got his ranking. A guy engaged me, handing me paper telling me that the call for a draft was a farce and that President Clinton had attacked Serbia, and where were the protestors then?
A group of the black clad socialists went by chanting something and a woman with a mega phone pointed at the sky shouted something at them. It reminded me of a high school basketball game, when two different schools clash. The two sides engaged and then about 75 bored cops covered from head to toe with padding went to break them apart.
I didn’t see anyone I knew, things were wrapping up, so I left, stopping to watch an old policeman with a lot of gold stripes and insignia on his uniform talk in front of a bunch of news cameras.
As I walked I wondered what the purpose of this day was and was it time well spent? After two blocks I was just another person, not a protestor, just a person walking, shopping the streets of Chicago. I could stand in the road no problem and not get pushed by a horse, I might get hit by a car, but not pushed by a horse. I wasn’t going to get yelled at by a protest warrior, I could just do my thing. What was the purpose of this get together? How could it be made better?
I reflected on my recent trip to Atlanta and thought about standing in front of Martin Luther King Jr.s tomb and how the movement that he helped lead had worked long and hard to achieve a goal, a reality that could be seen and one that thousands of people not only got behind but went out and sacrificed for. What is the goal of this peace, anti war, anti Bush movement? Drumming? Face-paint? Hacky sac? Right now I see it as a social movement, as a refuge for the odd and starry eyed, I don’t see much intellectualizing about world politics, not in this venue anyway. What I did see was what an organized movement of any kind would face on the streets of Chicago. Tons of muscle who have technique, training and strategy, something that this movement is entirely lacking.
Saturday, March 12, 2005
MLK
I forgot that Martin Luther King Jr. started his life in Atlanta, but I drove by a sign to the visitors center while driving aroudn down here. Today my cousins and I went and checked it out. If you get a chance, go, it is pretty cool.
Non-violence, not a political concept that we think of too much these days around here, direct action, taking it to the man, a self righteous way to go. How did he put it? Not the actions of a coward, or something like that. It was great to see all the displays about how this group of people decided enough was enough and it was time for them to make a change and stop being stepped on. What could be cooler? Now how do apply this concept so that there is freedom to our friends and families who want to get married but can't because they want to do it with someone of the same sex? If that is a threat to the institution of marriage, then not allowing it a threat to freedom? Does one institution or belief have more weight than another? In a nation that covets freedom I would say that yes, freedom trumps marriage. Now as the religious institutions in this country are the ones that are declaring a restriction of our freedoms is it time to take the facts and engage the churches? They are the ones declaring this against the wishes of God, who suddenly is helping to rule this nation. I don't remember voting for this entity last November, so now is the time to engage those who are using this ficticious being as a tool to stop the freedoms of my friends and family, or all of our friends and families and make them stand up and say, yes this being says you cannot be with this person.
The lessons in social change that Dr. King shared with us can be applied to this struggle and it can be won. I saw that today as I stood before his tomb, down the street from his old house, in the text written in the building dedicated to his legacy. Freedom isn't free and my visit to this shrine today showed me the price tag.
Non-violence, not a political concept that we think of too much these days around here, direct action, taking it to the man, a self righteous way to go. How did he put it? Not the actions of a coward, or something like that. It was great to see all the displays about how this group of people decided enough was enough and it was time for them to make a change and stop being stepped on. What could be cooler? Now how do apply this concept so that there is freedom to our friends and families who want to get married but can't because they want to do it with someone of the same sex? If that is a threat to the institution of marriage, then not allowing it a threat to freedom? Does one institution or belief have more weight than another? In a nation that covets freedom I would say that yes, freedom trumps marriage. Now as the religious institutions in this country are the ones that are declaring a restriction of our freedoms is it time to take the facts and engage the churches? They are the ones declaring this against the wishes of God, who suddenly is helping to rule this nation. I don't remember voting for this entity last November, so now is the time to engage those who are using this ficticious being as a tool to stop the freedoms of my friends and family, or all of our friends and families and make them stand up and say, yes this being says you cannot be with this person.
The lessons in social change that Dr. King shared with us can be applied to this struggle and it can be won. I saw that today as I stood before his tomb, down the street from his old house, in the text written in the building dedicated to his legacy. Freedom isn't free and my visit to this shrine today showed me the price tag.
Friday, March 11, 2005
SEC - Atlanta
There is a basketball tournament happening around here in Atlanta this week so there are all these vehicles referring to Kentucky and Arkansas, I'm in the South by gosh. The hotel is now full of round ball fans instead of the drug reps who are about the most perfect looking group that I have ever seen. They appear to be right out of the greek system into the rep world. Perfect suits and teeth, I was suprised that the gym wasn't more crowded last night. There was one guy in there who threw his nalgene bottle down after he strutted to each machine that he used. Not being a weightlifter, or whatever you call it when you use those machines, I don't know if that is what you are supposed to do, strut to a machine, look at it for a while, then do a quick few reps, then feel your muscle and then sit down, stretch out a little, (definitely move your head around, get the neck), then strut to another machine and repeat. Is that the workout? I just ride the stupid bike so I don't know. I mean iIget sweaty, it's kind of hard to walk after a while, but should I be strutting more? Do I need to throw my towel around?
Any help with this would be great, I want to look good in my swimsuit this summer.
There are a bunch of pan handlers here in downtown Atlanta, I mean more than I have seen since Jamaica, everywhere. The climate won't kill you this time of year down here, so it makes some sense. It is a nice downtown, you can tell that the Olympics had been here, it has the same feel that Salt Lake City had when I was there in 2004, (Toreno 2006, is that a year away?). The only truly odd thing about Atlanta is that every other street is named Peachtree and I am not kidding. That is so asinine it almost negates all the positives about this city. If you want to look like an idiot please name all the streets the same thing in your city. I will get to explore some more of this southern gem this weekend, and will report.
Any help with this would be great, I want to look good in my swimsuit this summer.
There are a bunch of pan handlers here in downtown Atlanta, I mean more than I have seen since Jamaica, everywhere. The climate won't kill you this time of year down here, so it makes some sense. It is a nice downtown, you can tell that the Olympics had been here, it has the same feel that Salt Lake City had when I was there in 2004, (Toreno 2006, is that a year away?). The only truly odd thing about Atlanta is that every other street is named Peachtree and I am not kidding. That is so asinine it almost negates all the positives about this city. If you want to look like an idiot please name all the streets the same thing in your city. I will get to explore some more of this southern gem this weekend, and will report.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Blog-Fight
When I was in 6th grade Chum Skira and I were the only ones in the contest to see how many book reviews we could do to win the "prize". We went back and forth, remembering what books we had read and scribbling down whatever we could to show we read the book. We weren't writing for quality, just quantity. Mr. Risk let this go on for a little while and then I think Chum and I reached a decsion that we would just tie so that he would have to give both of us a bookmark with a half dollar taped on it.
Mary and I are having a little contest now, a blog fight, but we haven't figured out the rules. Mary you just wrote me that we should have a point system for comments. Good idea, but what Chum and I fugured out is that they can't be our comments, we should do it by other peoples words, so I guess we'll have to recruit people to read out blogs. What do you think?
Mr. Risk used to carry around a old silver dollar and would tap it on a desk, I think even on your head, to get attention when things were kind of loud. It stood for 100% of our attention which he wanted, so that is where the half dollar comes in.
When I bought my house last month I took the silver cross pen that Mr. Risk had given me when i graduated from high school to sign all the stuff. I don't use that pen all that much, but I was glad to have it for this. How nice that he came to my Graduation party and gave this thing to me.
So Mary, yes let's try and get some people to read this stuff, and get some comments.
Maybe team Rohlf is the place to start.
Mary and I are having a little contest now, a blog fight, but we haven't figured out the rules. Mary you just wrote me that we should have a point system for comments. Good idea, but what Chum and I fugured out is that they can't be our comments, we should do it by other peoples words, so I guess we'll have to recruit people to read out blogs. What do you think?
Mr. Risk used to carry around a old silver dollar and would tap it on a desk, I think even on your head, to get attention when things were kind of loud. It stood for 100% of our attention which he wanted, so that is where the half dollar comes in.
When I bought my house last month I took the silver cross pen that Mr. Risk had given me when i graduated from high school to sign all the stuff. I don't use that pen all that much, but I was glad to have it for this. How nice that he came to my Graduation party and gave this thing to me.
So Mary, yes let's try and get some people to read this stuff, and get some comments.
Maybe team Rohlf is the place to start.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
March, so far.
I didn’t bring a journal on this trip, I forgot my belt too, but other than that I have everything that I need, a guitar would be nice, but the neighbors appreciate it’s absence. The week was a good one, leaving Washburn with almost a foot of new snow to see me off. Gary my neighbors dad came and blew me out, telling me it was good to have a good neighbor, not really caring for the people who owned the house before me, a little strange he said. I had leftover beers from the housewarming/going away party and left a six pack in the front seat of the mini van.
“I’ll find someone to drink them”, he said. It felt good to give something for the blow out, it would have taken a little while to shovel, I was already delayed. The drive was only a little terrifying, nice and icy. There was a big black pick up on it’s side and a car load of women looking like they were on their way home from a weekend shopping adventure scrambling out of their hatchback as I drove by, one on a cellphone. I felt bad for a second, but what more could I do? I would have blocked up more road and there was no way to stop quickly right there and right then. I drove on, later seeing a semi who went off the freeway, now nestled into the median, un hurt but not coming out of there without help. I drove on, slow, I didn’t want to be in any ditch today and I was sliding a little, that was the terrifying part.
Liz had been in Chicago that weekend, helping Mary getting a dress and we passed each other, waving, each of us with a cell phone in our hand. No time to stop today, each of us ready to get moving. I called my employer on the way down, it sounded like I would work from home, well Ben Schneiders home, and that was okay with me. Luci was back from Europe and down there too, I hadn’t seen her in a few months, a long time for me to think of what had happened and wonder what that reunion would be like, how would it happen? That was tomorrow’s problem, now just get there and not go in the ditch. Stay on the road.
“How are you?”
“Good, where are you?”
“I’m at a vitamin shop, I’m looking for Powell’s Bookstore”
“I’m not far from there, but I need to get to work”
“I think it’s at 825 Wabash”
“Okay, well I’ll call you later”
I hung up and then remembered advice I had been given, go after them, don’t let them just slip away, show that you care. So I forgot about work for a little while and started walking up Wabash, my heart beating and my eyes scanning the street for her. I knew what vitamin store she had been in, I had once had to talk to every business up and down this street for My Best Friends Wedding, there is a scene where Julia and the McDermott guy walk up this street. Central Camera is right there, one of my favorite signs in the city. Nothing yet, I should have a couple more blocks, shouldn’t I be going to work? They don’t know me, it’s my first day, they won’t know. Oh, there she is, did she see me? I hide behind a bush and in 35 seconds I scare the shit out of here,
“What are you doing hiding? You can’t scare people like that.”
“I thought it would be sweet, I wasn’t trying to scare you.”
Later that week I came upon a movie scout and saw a bunch of people that I used to work with. Like a school reunion, but with more teachers than peers. It reminded me of the old career, did I still want it? My blood pressure went up just thinking about it, but of course there were a bunch of good times too. Billy Dambra, I lost his petty cash once, well the driver left it at the hotel and a week later I went and got it. He left me a message about it:
“Where did you put that envelope? I’m about to pop my cork.” I found it, it all worked out, but seeing him reminded me of that moment. Rich Lederer was there, he used to hire me, now Jen Deigl gets those calls and that is fine, I don’t know how much I like that business anymore, but it’s always nice to get the call.
Now I’m in a hotel room in Atlanta, I think I went outside today, it’s warm. I spent all day in a room in the lower part of this place that still has a big Atlanta 1996 Olympic sign in the lobby, which looks like the inside of a whale when you look up. The entire middle is hollow, but the age is starting to show and the $15.00 I spent on a salad and a basket of chips really rubs me the wrong way. I was told that security is tight because of that movie Michael Moore is doing, how can I let him know it is here but not expose myself? Too bad he didn’t give me a job. This weekend I’ll hang with the cousins, maybe see some civil war stuff. Then back to the big windy, my new little sub let, and all the joy of the big city. Three people to play guitar with. It should be a good Spring.
“I’ll find someone to drink them”, he said. It felt good to give something for the blow out, it would have taken a little while to shovel, I was already delayed. The drive was only a little terrifying, nice and icy. There was a big black pick up on it’s side and a car load of women looking like they were on their way home from a weekend shopping adventure scrambling out of their hatchback as I drove by, one on a cellphone. I felt bad for a second, but what more could I do? I would have blocked up more road and there was no way to stop quickly right there and right then. I drove on, later seeing a semi who went off the freeway, now nestled into the median, un hurt but not coming out of there without help. I drove on, slow, I didn’t want to be in any ditch today and I was sliding a little, that was the terrifying part.
Liz had been in Chicago that weekend, helping Mary getting a dress and we passed each other, waving, each of us with a cell phone in our hand. No time to stop today, each of us ready to get moving. I called my employer on the way down, it sounded like I would work from home, well Ben Schneiders home, and that was okay with me. Luci was back from Europe and down there too, I hadn’t seen her in a few months, a long time for me to think of what had happened and wonder what that reunion would be like, how would it happen? That was tomorrow’s problem, now just get there and not go in the ditch. Stay on the road.
“How are you?”
“Good, where are you?”
“I’m at a vitamin shop, I’m looking for Powell’s Bookstore”
“I’m not far from there, but I need to get to work”
“I think it’s at 825 Wabash”
“Okay, well I’ll call you later”
I hung up and then remembered advice I had been given, go after them, don’t let them just slip away, show that you care. So I forgot about work for a little while and started walking up Wabash, my heart beating and my eyes scanning the street for her. I knew what vitamin store she had been in, I had once had to talk to every business up and down this street for My Best Friends Wedding, there is a scene where Julia and the McDermott guy walk up this street. Central Camera is right there, one of my favorite signs in the city. Nothing yet, I should have a couple more blocks, shouldn’t I be going to work? They don’t know me, it’s my first day, they won’t know. Oh, there she is, did she see me? I hide behind a bush and in 35 seconds I scare the shit out of here,
“What are you doing hiding? You can’t scare people like that.”
“I thought it would be sweet, I wasn’t trying to scare you.”
Later that week I came upon a movie scout and saw a bunch of people that I used to work with. Like a school reunion, but with more teachers than peers. It reminded me of the old career, did I still want it? My blood pressure went up just thinking about it, but of course there were a bunch of good times too. Billy Dambra, I lost his petty cash once, well the driver left it at the hotel and a week later I went and got it. He left me a message about it:
“Where did you put that envelope? I’m about to pop my cork.” I found it, it all worked out, but seeing him reminded me of that moment. Rich Lederer was there, he used to hire me, now Jen Deigl gets those calls and that is fine, I don’t know how much I like that business anymore, but it’s always nice to get the call.
Now I’m in a hotel room in Atlanta, I think I went outside today, it’s warm. I spent all day in a room in the lower part of this place that still has a big Atlanta 1996 Olympic sign in the lobby, which looks like the inside of a whale when you look up. The entire middle is hollow, but the age is starting to show and the $15.00 I spent on a salad and a basket of chips really rubs me the wrong way. I was told that security is tight because of that movie Michael Moore is doing, how can I let him know it is here but not expose myself? Too bad he didn’t give me a job. This weekend I’ll hang with the cousins, maybe see some civil war stuff. Then back to the big windy, my new little sub let, and all the joy of the big city. Three people to play guitar with. It should be a good Spring.
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