Poem 03.14.09 #1

The eroticism of language, with its mouth filled, tongue touching the
back of teeth, is full of potential.
When Jacques was on a date with his lover, did he feel like ripping
his heart out?
The names one gives credence to are the names that are permanent.
On the inner right arm, in a place where I couldn't write your name,
I have your name.
The tattoos that I chose for myself were the first name of philosophers:
Barthes, Derrida, Foucault, Marx or Benjamin, and the sort.
I had the black ink readied, the needle clean and on my skin.
The words would pour out, little silver mercurial drops, biting the
inside cheek, metallic and cold.
The numb fingertips, tracing the shapes of letters spelling your real
name.
Your given name.
The one you gave yourself.
If I could speak your name, I would.

Fwd: Blogger DMCA takedown notification

They took down my Thomas Dolby post.

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Something I heard the other day

Don't let yourself be define by your setbacks

I really need to take this quote to heart. I have had a couple of recent events happen in my life that have gotten me to be more contemplative, to say the least. I keep asking myself the same questions, over and over: What exactly did I do wrong in this situation? What can I learn from this experience? How can I keep myself from repeating this sort of thing? I am working through these questions, and even though I don't seem to be finding the answers, it reminds me of my favorite quote by Rainer Maria Rilke:

I would like to beg you dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.

HRC Speech by Julian Bond

Vacationesque Edition

My brother and three nephews have come to Los Angeles to visit. Yesterday, we drove up to Big Bear for skiing; which, I must be honest, I have only skied once in my life. Today makes the second time ever. And for some strange reason, I let them talk me into going up to the top of the run and coming down a Blue trail. That was not the best idea. It may have been the worst idea they could have come up with. I am proud of myself that I actually attempted to come down the hill (mountain!) via ski. I criss-crossed back and forth for half way dow, but I fell quite a bit, as well. In the end, I twisted my ankle a little and decided to not risk it anymore. A snow patrol came by and I hitched a ride down the rest of the way. I am not embarrassed or ashamed. It was the smartest thing I could do. And the ride down the mountain at 20 MPH was very exciting!

Poem 03.08.09 #1

Syriana

2009

It's not that trust is contingent upon honesty

For I trust liars every day.

It's not that my love for you is based on anything.

When I walk away from the explosion 

That is our life, I at least want to be carrying something.

I don't want my history to perish with the lies.

I want my briefcase to be filled with evidence

Of the politics of our love.

Provided there is a solution to the pain

Or a solution to the doubt

Or, at least, a solution to my desire.

It's not that honesty is contingent on love.

It's not that I am lying to you.

 

Poem 03.07.09 #1

To the Right of the Jetty

2009

There is a shifty and tingly sand made step

That I try to walk on as the waves come in.

My toes feel the rush of the ground moving away.

There is no fear and no worry, but more of a security

In the dance of ideas in my head,

Like when I was listening to Roxy Music in the summer

In the night on the beach alone.

But, when the water moved out again and I took that next step,

The solid packed sand felt sure, and to me the thought of you was clear.

I remember the firmness of that compressed substance,

And how hard I thought of it when I was nearing the pier.

Hoping that the rocks wouldn't cut the sole of my foot

On my way up the path to where I parked as I prepare to leave.

Broken (or Cracked) Rib

I did a stupid thing. I was reaching over the fence at the house trying to unplug a string of lights when I heard (and felt) a loud POP in my lower chest. I've had this happen before. A cracked rib and there's nothing you can do but wait for it to heal. That, and try to keep from re-injuring yourself -- which is what I've done this time. This morning, I woke up in a lot of pain. I must have slept on my chest. Deep breathes hurt. Twisting hurts. I just have to take it easy and remember to sleep on my back. And maybe get a bone density test and find out why my bones are cracking.

I am a bad blogger

The month of November passed with no blog entries. December came and went. No entries. New Years Day...nothing. But, alas, I am finally round to posting again. And trust me, I feel more sure that there will be activity that I will need to share. I have been active in Facebook as of late, and I have my own art projects I am working on, so stay tuned for that. I face new found vitality and will need an outlet. Please subscribe or check back often.

Cheers.

Show your support!!

A great song for you all...

Ex Guru by David Byrne

Poeetry excerpt #1

I lose my self in laanguage when the words come from a place that is
without languuage. I have trouble moving the spirit through the flesh
through the mind through the fingers. Though, through this all, with
periods of unease, I delight in the words. Languishing on each added
vowel, each stroke of the keys, to provide me one more moment to
connect with an uncertain thought.

Clay's Birthday Dinner

A few shots before Clay's delightful birthday dinner...



Sunflowers next to the grill




Clay getting things ready




Soldiers




Getting the sideboard ready




Setting the gran table





Going over the menu with Chef Bravo



Hopefully, someone has images of the actual dinner, as once it started, I didn't take any shots. Please, pass them along my way.

Artwork

Untitled (23 September - Ramon Emeterio Betances, Segundo Ruiz Belvis, Filiberto Ojeda Rios), 2005-8

C-print, unique, 48 x 32 inches each

On the anniversary of El Grito de Lares (which, led by Ramon Emeterio Betances and Segundo Ruiz Belvis, attacked the exploitation of the Puerto Ricans by the Spanish colonial system and called for insurrection in 1868), Filiberto Ojeda Rios was killed by FBI agents. Some groups are framing the death as the unwarranted assassination of a key player in Puerto Rico's anti-U.S. colonialism movement. This work speaks to the cyclical (Spanish colonialism vs. U.S. colonialism) and arbitrary nature of history and historical dates.

Click on images to enlarge them as they are intentionally blurred:

Tunnels

When I was in Montenegro, we traveled through the Sozina (Созина) tunnel from Podgorica to Bar on one of our excursions. The tunnel was placed into service on July 13, 2005 (incidentally, my birthday). The tunnel is 4,189 m long, and is the longest and most modern vehicular tunnel in Montenegro. I found the tunnel to be a symbol of the progress of the nation as well as a psychological referent to the 'birth of the nation.' This has started an interest in the mythology of tunnels and their place within the human psyche. This is from an interpretation of dreams about tunnels:

Seeing a tunnel in your dream, represents the vagina, womb, and birth. Thus it may refer to a need for security and nurturance. Dreaming that you are going through a tunnel, suggests that you are exploring aspects of your unconscious. You are opening yourself to a brand new awareness. Alternatively, it indicates your limited perspective. Seeing the light at the end of a tunnel, symbolizes hope.

While I am not much of a subscriber to notions Fruedian and/or Jungian, I still enjoy entertaining the idea of pseudoscience (in dream and subconscious interpretation) as being relevant to our understanding of the world. In other words, whether or not there is 'truth' to the meaning of, say, tunnels, we attribute meaning to them through our construction of mythologies surrounding them.

Here are you nice images of the modern tunnel; well-lit, clean, futuristic, yellow and full of richness and meaning:

Image for Upcoming Artwork

I have been working through some ideas regarding Kosovo and Serbia vis s vis the US-born Olympian Milorad Čavić. Above is an image of him holding the Serbian flag and text regarding the act follows.

Cavic endeared himself to Serbs in March when he was suspended from the European Championships for wearing a T-shirt proclaiming "Kosovo is Serbia"—a reference to Kosovo's controversial declaration of independence from Serbia on Feb. 17.

After returning home from that meet, Cavic was greeted by hundreds of fans and met with Serbian nationalist Prime Minister Vojislav Kostunica, who called the swimmer a "hero."

At the Euros, Cavic made his political statement on the podium after winning the 50 fly, displaying a red T-shirt with text in Cyrillic. The European swimming federation ruled the message a political slogan and ejected him— knocking him out of his remaining two events.

"I had to help my people knowing it could be a big risk for my swimming career. I'm proud of what I did," Cavic said then. "I had to do it to help the (Kosovo Serbs), knowing how hard it is for them there."

Cavic became an inspiration among Serbs who object to losing Kosovo, an ethnic Albanian-dominated territory which many Serbs consider the historic cradle of their nation.

Kosovo's independence has been recognized by the United States and most European Union nations.

Cavic, who was born in Anaheim, Calif., to Serb parents and trains in Florida, said he was just trying to send "positive energy" to the country he represents.

I will post more often

Another power grab??

Analysis on the $700 billion bailout in The New York Times:

Some are suspicious of Mr. Paulson's characterizations, finding in his warnings and demands for extraordinary powers a parallel with the way the Bush administration gained authority for the war in Iraq. Then, the White House suggested that mushroom clouds could accompany Congress's failure to act. This time, it is financial Armageddon supposedly on the doorstep.

"This is scare tactics to try to do something that's in the private but not the public interest," said Allan Meltzer (above), a former economic adviser to President Reagan, and an expert on monetary policy at the Carnegie Mellon Tepper School of Business. "It's terrible."

A report that slipped through the cracks

A team of UCLA (University of California, Los Angeles) geographers has uncovered fresh evidence from satellite imagery that last year's U.S. troop surge in Iraq may not have been as effective at improving security as some U.S. officials have maintained.

This interesting story appeared for about 5 seconds on Yahoo's front page but then faded into oblivion. It was distrubuted by AIN, Asian International News, which provides multimedia news to China and bureaus in India. The AIN agency covers virtually all of South Asia and claims, on its official website, to be the leading South Asia-wide news agency. Their coverage includes general news, entertainment, lifestyles, business, science, sports and features.

So here are my thoughts and questions regarding the article, in no particular order:

1) How does a report from UCLA geographers end up on AIN distribution but not the AP of Rueters? Why doesn't make its way to the mainstream? 

2) Why don't we here more about the Independent Commission on the Security Forces of Iraq and their assessment of events? This was a bipartisan commission that was headed by Gen. James Jones, and "reported to Congress in September 2007 on the readiness of the Iraqi Security Forces, their capabilities, and how support and training by U.S. forces contributes to the effectiveness of the ISF."

In a report to Congress in September of that year, General David Petraeus claimed that "the military objectives of the surge are, in large measure, being met."

However, a report the same month by an independent military commission headed by retired U.S. General James Jones attributed the decrease in violence to areas being overrun by either Shiites or Sunnis.

3) What's up with the ethnic cleansing referred to by the UCLA team and Dr. John Agnew, in addition to the September 2007 report?

Night light in neighborhoods populated primarily by embattled Sunni residents declined dramatically just before the February 2007 surge and never returned, suggesting that ethnic cleansing by rival Shiites may have been largely responsible for the decrease in violence for which the U.S. military has claimed credit.

4) This UCLA team is not a group of hacks, if you will, and their research seems easy enough to understand.

Dr. Agnew states that "by the launch of the surge, many of the targets of conflict had either been killed or fled the country, and they turned off the lights when they left."

Baghdad's decreases were centered in the southwestern Sunni strongholds of East and West Rashid, where the light signature dropped 57 percent and 80 percent, respectively, during the same period.

I'm obviously rambling on a bit, but it's stuff like this that confuses me and intrigues me. Will this report make its way to Obama, and if it did, would anyone believe him if he tried to use it to support his position against the surge? Would the general public even be able to understand the significance of something like this? We have to be diligent to seek out and find the truth about what is happening in Iraq. Thanks to Dr. Agnew for his important work.

January 27, 1992 - September 15, 2008

Pascale...



She was cute and did silly, weird things. She liked to meow a lot. She liked to sleep under the covers. She would for no reason suddenly hiss and bite you when you were petting her. She may have been a little mentally retarded (probably, since she rode home in a shoebox with Clay on the back of his motorcycle). She liked to hide in the closet when people came to visit our house. She was suffering from liver failure in the end. She was loved very much and will be missed a lot.