nostalgia...

Busy week at work... took on a project that unexpectedly took more time and energy, and had less help, than I had expected. I think it's finished now... or at least one phase of it is finished... enough that I can bow out of the rest of it I think without seeming to drop it in the middle.

We are supposed to be finishing up the year with our service learning projects. I don't think I can manage the two that I had planned - just one, maybe. I feel tired and the end is in sight and I just want to coast on the wind and slip sweetly into the hangar... but I've promised to create children's books about immigrant children's experiences, and a museum-quality display about the Black Panthers; I need to follow through on at least one of them.

I think the students I'd selected to do the books are not mature enough for the interviews or careful enough for piecing together the finished products, so I won't follow through on that. I'm nervous about holding the older students' attention for the Black Panther piece, but hopefully that will happen of its own accord because the material is really very compelling.

The translator I mentioned in the previous blog entry seems to be becoming a friend and has touched off other things for me... or re-awakened I should say... perhaps due to hearing him quote Persian poetry, I uploaded a new stack of my Iran photos (that's me with the flying lions at left... aka the Gate of All Nations, where all the subject nations' representatives brought their gifts to Darius on New Year's Day...) And definitely due to hearing him quote Chinese poetry, I've been thinking about all my Chinese and Japanese studies, my poetry... I've looked up my favorite poems online, of which I could only remember a few words - found them in their entirety and enjoyed that I can still read them and delight in them. I found my dear old Genji Monogatari online, with multiple modern Japanese translations side-by-side so that you can compare them, no less (you can even check which ones you want, and what commentary, and the page will reload exactly to your specifications - heh). I have thought about my thesis, and marveled that you were actually willing to read it for me, Amy n Nadine! What great friends I had and not sure I barely appreciated it at the time! Only as time passes do I realize how rare and precious those friendships are, and how little I deserved them, young and stupid as I was... I remember our trip to Cape Cod, Nadine, where I did a good chunk of proof-reading; I remember happy things from that trip (when for so long I've only thought about one negative event) - snow on the beach and stars at night, and sitting by the fire marking up my draft... I wonder where my thesis is... my Japanese books are still packed away in boxes and I sprang out of bed this morning fully intending to disinter them, but other things distracted me (such as uploading Iran pix to Flickr). I wrote Sylvia and it amused me to note the difference between this note and my previous epistle to her - it's like the Harvard student in me has been re-awakened and I used words like "epistle"... that oh-so-ironic language, with perfect grammar and elaborate vocabulary... self-mocking and showing off at the same time.

I've been hoping to make an East Coast trip this summer, though it looks relatively unlikely; that was one reason for contacting Sylvia. I have friends and/or relatives in DC, NY, Boston... and I miss the East Coast... I am trying and trying to find Chicago homelike, particularly as it's so much cheaper than back East, but if I could wave a magic wand and transport us to NYC or even Boston - job and housing of course being equal or better - I would do it, I would do it, I would do it in a nanosecond.

So I'm being nostalgic for a former life. I need to shake it off and get on with my day. But it's interesting to remember who I once was, what once engaged me and took all my time... and how I used to be, as I bragged to impress my translating friend, one of the best translators of Heian period Japanese prose in the country (maybe the world). I didn't even think of it like that at the time but it must have been true, thanks in large part to the fact that there are so few of us and that I was trained by the best. What happened to that life? I know what happened to it but... life's twists and turns are so strange, and one throws away or disregards pearls when one is young... I should have just at least finished up my Master's at Columbia... at the time I thought I just couldn't, but... I think back over all the turning points and wonder what would have happened if I'd gone another way... I don't wish that I were an academic, not at all, that life is painfully circumscribed, particularly in the field to which I would have devoted myself... but I wish I had finished my Master's and that I had finished more of the projects I had going at the time, whose fragments are also packed away in boxes that I've not opened since our 2007 move.

Well, maybe when I retire...

happy spring...

happy again... my new meds (well, new a year ago now) have really turned me into a different person... mostly i'm happy, most days - almost all days - i'm glad to be alive. Pema Chödrön says,

“I’m glad to be alive to agreeable, I’m glad to be alive to disagreeable. And I’m glad to be alive to sour and sweet and tingly and itchy, and refreshing and cold and hot and the whole thing. And it doesn’t matter that there is this voice that says I don’t like this, or I do like this, that’s fine, you know, that’s also fine, but somehow open and at home, with your body, your mind, and your world, and meditation is actually the means or, the tools that we need… It actually is that the present moment is the doorway to liberation, vastness, unobstructed quality of our mind. And we could experience the world that way.”

and just because of the meds i do begin to feel glad to be alive to different experiences, interested in what's around the corner... i know my world is still small and cramped compared to the "liberation, vastness, unobstructed quality of our mind" that i experience when i do meditate regularly (haven't been, due to the falling-asleep issue)............but i open my arms to the wind and the sunlight and i tip my head back to blue sky or rainy.... and laugh or smile and just feel glad. i love the trees blooming right now - i've taken photos - wait let me upload them...




and i love the blossoms falling so sweet and fluttery, flowing and eddying like powdery snow in the wake of cars... i love the tulips so red and the tulips falling apart... this morning i walked out in the park and i loved the birdsong and the sound of wind in the trees, the sweet smell and feel of dewy grass... spring is in full swing and summer's coming... i have so much to cover in my classes and so much joy to be able to have so much to teach.

looking ahead to the summer, i'm gonna quote (with some editing) from an email i sent to Nadine... i'm laughing as i note somewhat more anxiety and somewhat less 'glad to be alive' than what i'm expressing now... that's ok... glad to be alive to anxious and glad to be alive to peace.

"have a trip planned to Montana and Wyoming (wild beautiful country like in Brokeback Mountain) to see a bunch of cousins - but it's me and mom in the car for 10 days - what was i thinking? ? panic setting in. wondering how to fix that - but her whole trip depends on me chauffeuring. well, i'm gonna ask her how i can shorten it - there may be some days at the beginning and end where the cousins can drive her places.

i mean... i know the scenery is beautiful but... TEN DAYS???? damn...

on top of that i just accepted a job from the boss's boss's boss, writing curriculum in the summer... which wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't already accepted another job writing curriculum for my own boss (the principal) and a third (well that was foisted upon me) working with an outside program to design and provide select services to specific students.

I don't know what all these jobs entail and how much of my time they'll take up, but I'm starting to worry that I won't get any summer break, and come fall I'll feel like I was at school all during my break. I'm told curriculum writing involves taking all the materials away and coming back later, not being at school all the time, but i'm suspicious. anyway i took the jobs for the sake of the serious banking of brownie points... so i think i should just focus on that and consider this summer an investment... frontload the brownie points... hopefully the investment will pay off in the long term and not just be a stupid move in a game i was bound to lose.

so i have this wyoming-montana trip lined up at the end of june/beginning of july, and a week-long queer buddhist retreat in august (same one i went to last year) and id like to get something else in, a trip to new york maybe - i'd like to see the cousins in Boston and Colin and Joel in NYC... and just be in NYC for a day or two... i miss it and i love being there when i get the chance... i've also thought about going overseas somewhere but i don't think i really have time for that... and i'd like to go somewhere with R (she is not interested in the NY-Boston trip). She can't really get any time off work for various reasons... so a quick trip to England to see our friends there is out. A quick trip to Minneapolis is more appealing to her... but that's frustrating cuz it's in driving distance but we'd have to fly because R doesn't have any time. So all this adds up in terms of time and money. I'd have to choose between my east-coast trip and our couple trip to MN, and R doesn't seem to care but I don't know if she does or not, or if I do or not ("I can spend time with you at home," she says). So anyway. Lots to think about. Lots of balancing acts... between what i want to do if i could do anything, and what's in the realm of the possible, and commitments i've made that i am reconsidering too late...

(end of email to Nadine)

so that's my news, my life, my state of mind. long post... my 800th, incidentally. yay me, yay blog. blog is 6 years old, born on May 18, 2004. Weird. May 3 is another anniversary, a good one - first contact with a friend. Recently met a new potential friend - translator of classical poetry in Persian, Latin, Chinese, etc etc... speaks every language, it seems... he knows more than i do about a lot of things, which makes it fun to learn from him but also makes me feel stupid, so i can't take too many hours of conversation with him... he also talks a lot... so you know, like any friend, good and bad mixed together. trying to make more friends here in Chicago... settle in and make it home. still doesn't feel like home and when i think about it i'd still rather be in NYC, but Chicago is so much cheaper and really has many charms, so i need to reconcile myself to being here.

babbling now.

love to all.

birthday coming round again...

today i want to go see this art exhibit
.

i'm hoping Loopy will want to go and will actually enjoy it. she might. it may involve naked people, and who doesn't enjoy that?

well, if not, at least we can have lunch somewhere new and just enjoy each other (the museum is way up in a northern suburb so new territory to explore).

it would be the beginning of my birthday celebration. (i've posted about birthdays and even one of the memories that follow in other years, but i don't care... :) )

next weekend we are going to Madison to spend Saturday with herspiral and her husband. then we're going to have a party two weeks after my birthday. we realized we know and like six people in chicago. that's enough for a party. :) two former coworkers plus one fiancé, one current coworker, and a guy i used to know when we were small children plus his wife whom we met for dinner with my mother and who turned out to be delightful.

i always try to have an extended birthday celebration, at least two weeks and sometimes a month, full of gathered friends and special pleasures. one of these is usually a museum - often an art museum, tho one year it was the . (i didn't consciously create this tradition, but when i ask myself where can i give myself purest joy, that's usually my answer). when i was in college i went to the Museum of Fine Arts at least twice... once I went alone and sketched this piece:


I spent all afternoon, allowed myself to just fall into it, alone in the dimly lit gallery, just become completely absorbed with nothing else to do... it was one of the greatest pleasures of my life. (Of course i had forgotten and missed a meeting with my thesis advisor so guilt and rushing quickly resumed their usual roles...)

(some of you - to the extent that there are any of you! - might know that I am or used to be, or sometimes am an artist, of sorts, maybe. as well as photography i know how to paint and draw, though i haven't for years. after i left art school i was always working on a painting or other piece in my head, but never painted them and the ideas stopped coming. though just this morning i saw a piece in the New Yorker that reminded me of one of these unborn or stillborn ideas... it sounds ludicrously obvious if i describe it but i wanted to make it haunting.... i have a number of pieces in my head related to different phases in my perceptions of our current system of schooling (wouldn't dignify it by calling it 'education') and the harm it does especially to Black children...)

ANYWAY! birthdays.

another year i went to the Museum of Fine Arts with Sylvia and Franklin and we came upon this painting:


(MFA has ridiculously gigantic links - that one was 562 characters!)

It says in the upper right corner - and is titled - "D'ou venons-nous? Que sommes-nous? Ou allons-nous?"

Sylvia commented with wry amusement (misreading the middle phrase), 'We came from Cambridge. We're in the museum. We're going to lunch.'

It is a beautiful painting...

in recent years I have taken to breezing through museums... the slow pondering way I used to traverse them has come to seem too painfully obsessive to me... i remember feeling very driven to absorb all the information about all the works and slot it into a massive database in my brain... it's a relief to leave that behind... associate it with Harvard and over-achievement. Loopy has taught me this...

at the same time I hurry more than I would without Loopy (she may be surprised to hear that! heh)... she is not the biggest-ever fan of museums and i try to balance our conflicting desires for depth and speed by looking at one or two things in each room in depth, then skipping the rest - it's a good Buddhist practice to just let go. it's a good human practice to remember others and be considerate... had to do the same in Iran. consider the group and don't get sucked into anything...

there is a sort of agreement tho that for my birthday i get to linger and savor... be a lil bit selfish... maybe?

This makes it sound like I don't have fun at museums with Loopy. i do. i have a lot of fun - it's just a different kind of fun. Loopy has definitely added new dimensions to museum going... we have little games that sound silly when i describe them, so i deleted the descriptions, but we have little games we play among the objects, that bring us into our own shared world and give us (or me anyway) a lot of pleasure... and i'm looking forward to today, I'm gonna go wake her up.

It also occurs to me that since this is Valentine's Day, maybe I should offer to do something that SHE wants to do. hmmm. there's a concept. ;) anyway i miss her and will go wake her up. :) even though i didn't make her Valentine's Day project which i still want to :) and will!

lil added bonus: while browsing the MFA site i discovered a section on wallpapers for your phone... i don't get why you'd buy them since you can just download them or screenshot them and then email them to your phone, but maybe if you have a simpler phone you can't do that. Anyway, their suggested wallpapers are fun, including some like this:


i love that lil frog. if i didn't already have a lovely picture of Loopy i might get any one of these....

summer definitely ending...

for a couple days, the opening line of a Keats ode to autumn I had to study in college has been running through my head.... the line that keeps repeating is, "Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness." I love that. Of course, I hate the next line, "Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun..." I hate all that Romantic personification, blah blah blah.

I remember I loved that class when I took it, freshman year, with my friend Sylvia; I loved the feeling I was reading Great Literature, I loved the poetry, I loved reading out of a big heavy anthology edited by my professor. Today kids accuse the prof of just trying to sell books when s/he assigns hir own work... I was star-struck that my prof had written an actual book, he was actually the authority in the field... I have no idea whether that was true, or whether that's just my youthful naivete....

Here's the whole poem. It's about equal parts insufferable affectation:

Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee* sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind...
[* "Thee" = Autumn, personified as a lovely woman, of course]

and gorgeous, succulent imagery:

While barrèd clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;

and

Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

*sigh* how long has it even been since I've read a poem?

help! Seattle cat needs a home!

Nadine's cat needs a new home as the family is moving to Singapore. Nadine wrote on her blog, "I really hope we don't have to take her to a shelter or put her down. So heart wrenching. If anyone knows of a good place for cats, please let me know. Also, if anyone knows someone who wants a cat..."

This is so sad! Please forward this to friends who might be able to help, especially if they're in the Northwest. Here's Nadine's description:

---

Xiti is a 16 year old cameo (cream) Persian. She's in good health. She's a gentle indoor cat and not one to climb much on things. Great lap cat, loud purr. A little shy and will prefer a quiet home. That said though, she super gentle and just stays clear of my toddler when she is trying to "pet" her.

My husband* has had her since she was a kitten. We are very sad to be leaving her but we will be moving to a different country at the end of the summer and don't think she will weather the hot temperature, long flight and quarantine period well. We'd love her to find a good home.

Here are some pictures of her.

She will come with litter box, litter locker, bowls, brushes, mats, beds and any of the kitty accessories that we have.

---

help people!

*that's Nadine's husband in case you weren't reading carefully

New photos of Nadine's and Colin's visits

I posted a bunch of pix to my Flickr site from the last two weekends with dear college friends. I don't know why I didn't write a blog post about what a great time we had with Colin, and now I'm too tired to write about either weekend. But, here are some pix. Click on any photo for a larger version.


Colin generously splitting his key lime cupcake with me. We had a wonderful picnic while waiting for an outdoor Bonnie Raitt concert. I'm a huge BR fan and I love picnics, so the whole expedition was sheer heaven for me.


Two good-looking people in a lovely light...


Ice cream on Armitage St., enjoying the cool evening after a hot day


Bean and her Beanlet visit the Shiny Bean (aka Cloud Gate in Millennium Park)

Click here to see more on Flickr.

Note: You can only see them if I've marked you a "friend" in Flickr; if I haven't, email me your Flickr i.d. and I will rectify the problem (assuming I actually consider you a friend... just kidding, anyone who reads this blog is a friend...both because I'm grateful to have readers, and because mostly only my friends know about it!)

ah, summer in the city

We spent the last week in Chicago which was blissful, because I had nothing scheduled every day and spent at least a couple hours every day (sometimes much more than a couple) getting shit done. Took a lot of lovely walks down pretty streets, most with Loopy who is all about exercisin' these days. It was great all around!

Spending time in the easy-care apartment makes me resent, a little, the burden of dealing with a whole damn house. I know, I know, lots of people would kill for a whole damn house, but it's a pain in the ass after a while... my "to do" list is as long as my arm and everywhere I look there's something else to add to it. Ugh.

So anyway, it's finally warm in our part of the world and last week was very warm, so all the windows were open, and I got re-acquainted with the low constant cacophony of city noises that drift in those open windows...dogs barking, cars honking, trains passing, machinery working, a/c rattling, footsteps and snatches of conversation as people walk past below.

So one morning R and I were, uh, getting busy and suddenly a voice said "Hi!"--right in the room it seemed. We both just about jumped out of our skins. But she was downstairs in the alleyway. That was funny.

It also reminded me of when our dear friend Carol lived three floors below us in our apartment building in Manhattan. The windows opened onto a narrow airshaft between our building and the next, and you could hear all the sounds from all the apartments on both sides... every time I hear "Back on the Chain Gang" I think of the anonymous person who blasted that song at top volume every time s/he was cleaning his/her apartment, or needed to get going in the morning, or, well, a lot. There was also the couple I called the cops on several times... my only problem was I could never identify where they were. "They're either in our building or the next one... uh... can you hurry?" Yeah, sure, to some building or other, that's so helpful, we'll be right there.

So anyway, one Saturday afternoon we ran into Carol in the elevator and she smirked at us and said, "Were you guys having sex this morning at about...uh...10:30?" Uh, yes......We all had a good laugh.

Ah yes, summer in the city. No privacy... and you get used to it.

chicago part 3: lah-di-dah, I'm off to play the grand pi-ah-no

So the whole reason for the trip was that Shamus had free tix to a concert series. I seem to be the only one around here who likes "classical" music, so I went.

It was at the beautiful Chicago Symphony Center, shown below in someone else's photo:


I wasn't allowed to take photos in the concert hall, but here is a view of the rotunda (at right) and two views from the window up by our nosebleed section seats (as usual, click the photos for a larger view).

That's the Art Institute across the street—click here for the largest version of the left picture, and maybe you'll be able to make out the White Sox cap on the lion out front.

We heard a program of Debussy, Kurtág, Ravel and Schumann played by Pierre-Laurent Aimard, described by the Chicago Tribune as "the thinking-man's virtuoso," whatever that means (details on the pianist and program can be found here ). He was definitely some kind of virtuoso—these were incredibly difficult pieces. I don't know the correct musical terms but there were a lot of notes all over the keyboard in very quick succession. I was impressed that he managed not only technical perfection but beautiful expression, if that's the right term.

It's been a really, really long time since I've been to hear classical music. Not since we moved here from New York, when I had tix to a spring series at the Brooklyn Academy of Music with my friend John.

It was interesting to be back in that atmosphere. As a kid I went with my parents—they got me a season ticket to the opera from the time I was eight (The Magic Flute was my first opera), and to the symphony starting just a few years later. (Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm getting to that.)

In high school and college I had friends who were accomplished musicians, so I also went to hear their concerts and events. In college I also sometimes managed to take advantage of the immense smorgasbord of musical offerings in Boston... (hey, Ame, remember going to the Handel & Haydn society stuff with what's-his-face? remember that damn red sweater I wore to every single friggin' thing? remember the Laura Ashley dress?) I also used to listen to classical quite a lot as background music around the house or whatever.

Then there were all those fun/silly traditions in college, such as the midnight concert in Adams House, where all these incredible musicians sight-read an old war horse (Dvorak's 9th was the one I went to hear). Every spring in the courtyard of Lowell House, a random assemblage of musicians played the 1812 Overture (probably sight-reading as well), with dramatic sound effects—the bells in the bell tower were rung and balloons filled with hydrogen were torched for the cannon shots.

And, hey, kids, remember Noam the brilliant musical prodigy (http://www.math.harvard.edu/~elkies/ !!) playing Handel's messiah on the piano for a sing-along in the LoHo Masters' Residence? (While waiting for people to assemble he would amuse himself by transposing it—on the fly—into any key the audience called out).

I have really mixed feelings about all that. Of course I know now that this is all about cultural capital, oppression, elitism, etc. I know that one sort of person goes just to feel superior to others, and many sorts of person feel out of place, intimidated, excluded etc. at such events.

But I really enjoy it. And on top of that, it just feels like home to me. There are so many layers of happy memories—getting all dressed up to go out with my parents, or seeing/hearing so many beloved friends performing.

I mean, I know that's all just life, and there's nothing I can do about it. I just...I don't want to whine about privilege and all that, but I do just wish I could enjoy those memories without having it be all contaminated with knowing what that means to the rest of the world—the things I experienced that other people couldn't get access to, things that qualify me in some people's eyes for some higher status that I don't believe in, but that "comes with the package" anyway. Things I know that supposedly make me smart, that are like keys that open doors. Even though that has nothing to do with "smart" and it shouldn't be that way.

The only thing I can do about it is keep doing what I'm doing—I see my teaching as a form of dedicated treason to my class.

I have to go pick up Loopy, so I'll have to finish that thought another time.

---

Check out these music jokes. They're categorized by instrument—how wonderfully geeky is that?

news and gossip (1 of 2)

It's making me very happy to read all about Franklin's adventures at Rhinebeck (a yarn festival of some sort, for those of you fellow non-knitters), which you can read about here, as well as here, and here. (That last link is to someone else's blog, but it has the best photos of Franklin—more good ones are here).

Also for the non-knitters: I followed a link to the blog of one of Franklin's new friends, and found the photo below, which I thought was too good not to share with other non-knitters (of course, the knitters have already seen it in its original location).

Anyway, I just can't get enough of this little story—I'm so glad Franklin had so much fun and made so many friends, or cemented the developing friendships or however he might say it. I dare to think I've seen him that happy once or twice, but I can't think when, and I don't think it lasted more than a few minutes...but now....well I hope it just continues on and on.

Oh, and the best news of all is that he will be illustrating a forthcoming knitting book by a famous and beloved knitting blogger! This is very exciting! It's so funny how this stuff unfolds...

I doubt Franklin ever thought something like this would come of his knitting and blogging! For those of you who haven't seen it, you should also check out his photography website, which is full of breathtaking pix and which, I imagine, would have been predicted to be a more likely source of fame, fortune, and universal adulation than his knitting cartoons! No doubt that too will happen.... but isn't life funny?

more baby pix

Nadine with her baby and Nadine's father's mother, i.e. her Chinese grandmother, in Singapore. What a great shot! Click to see a larger version and to see more pix of Alexa...



Now if only some of my other friends with children would start their own Flickr sites! RHR, where are you?

flickr addiction continues

This guy's work reminds me a little of Franklin's*... but Franklin's is warmer and more affectionate. The guy I linked to... people are part of the imagery in every picture, but it's somehow a cold gaze; there's no connection with them on a human level—not like with Franklin where you feel like he regards his folk dancers or nuns holding hands or children or Lollapalooza spectators with something like affection, some recognition of the common human condition, tho Franklin might not put it in such grandiose terms.

It's funny, looking at Franklin's work & other folks' Flickr stuff, I am struck by how studiously I avoid getting people in my photos... I think of people as obstructions, problems, and irritably wait for them to get out of my shots... but a lot of photographers do a lot of very beautiful work taking photos of people, or taking photos of famous buildings etc. that include human beings relating to the buildings or landscape.

For example, look at these two photos, taken in the same place—a mosque called Ulu Camii in Bursa, Turkey. The photo at left is by someone named Kalloosh (see also her photo here); the one on the right is mine. It's not just that she's looking at the floor & I'm looking at the ceiling. She's looking at the human level, the emotions and the feeling of the place; I'm arranging arches in the frame, and the only human in it is an accident (my friend John is just too goddamn tall!)

Funny, eh.

Did I mention I wasted an entire day yesterday uploading photos from our 2001 Turkey trip? Check them out, arranged all pretty in my brand-new Turkey photoset, if you like.

And you though I was speaking hyperbolically when I said "addiction."

---

* Didja check out Franklin's new website? It rocks—go look at it! I insist!

for the record....

Franklin was right, and I was wrong.



...about the painting, anyway.... that's not to say Sylvia didn't misread "ou" for "que." (Hey, it's possible, okay? Throw me a crumb here...)

Oh and, just to keep you posted, I'm working on that "Best Experiences in Japan" post, but there are lots of pix to go with it, so it's taking some time.

we interrupt this travelogue...

...to bring you some disjointed thoughts on Hurricane Katrina.

Sylviaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

First, those of you who knew that Sylvia P moved to Baton Rouge will be relieved to hear that she is fine. I provide herewith our email discussion for your entertainment.

on 8/30/05 6:03 AM, [birdfarm] wrote:

>> Are you alive? I'll call you when it's a reasonable hour. Yeesh.
>> Welcome to Louisiana.

[Sylvia responded]:

> Yes, I'm fine. Baton Rouge has some power outages (not me) and a lot of
> debris, but we weren't in the path of the real hurricane. I did have an
> awful lot of rain water coming into my apartment, though, much of it on top
> of my television.

[birdfarm responded to that]:

Glad you're okay. How did rainwater get into your apartment? Are you on the top floor, or did it blow in through a big hole in the wall, or what? And why didn't you move your television? Inquiring minds want to know.

No response as yet. But I'll keep you posted.

Duh, I never thought of that...

There was a guy on TV saying "we didn't evacuate because we don't have anyplace to go." Until I saw that, I used to regard the folks who waved for help from their rooftops with some derision--"Stupid person, why didn't s/he evacuate when s/he was told to do so?"

But I realized it never occurred to me to wonder what a poor family would do if they didn't have relatives to go to--or didn't have a car, or didn't have money for another means of transport, or if all the busses had stopped running, etc. I mean, what are they going to do--walk through wind & rain until they figure they're on a big enough hill, and then what? Just sit down and hope the wind doesn't blow the baby away?

Obviously, it also didn't occur to the state of Louisiana to wonder what a poor family would do, and that's what pisses me off.

I mean, even if the state has no sympathy or consideration for poor people, consider how much more money they're going to spend helicoptering people off of rooftops, than they would have spent on a decent evacuation plan.

In Japan...

In Japan, before the typhoon that hit the night before we left, the police rounded people up in vulnerable areas of Shizuoka (where it hit worst) and took them to a school gym somewhere. It appeared that basic meals were even provided. The news had the evacuees on TV... a grandmother said she was a bit annoyed at the inconvenience, but commented that "It's just one night, so I guess it's no big deal."

So when the vulnerable areas of Shizuoka flooded, nobody died, and there were no dramatic helicopter rescues off rooftops. (The only person who died was smashed by a billboard that blew over... what a way to go).

OK, granted the typhoon was smaller than Katrina, but after being in Japan for three weeks I am quite confident that they could have handled a bigger typhoon in a similarly efficient manner. But I'll come back to that in a later post.

But c'mon, people, it just doesn't have to be so haphazard. How crazy is it to have 10,000 people in a sports arena without any running water--including people who need serious medical attention? How crazy is it for a city 8 feet below sea level to be so ill-prepared for something like this?

How many people in Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama are going to die needlessly? It's insane.

Some of my favorite memories...

...are referenced on Franklin's blog. But as is always the case with these things, I remember them differently. But for some reason I thought it would be less irritating of me to comment here, rather than on Franklin's blog. Not sure if this is true; do let me know (no, not really).

1) The Gaugin quote--I remember the second phrase as "Ou sommes nous," or "where are we," and hence, I remember Sylvia's dry remark as, "We came from breakfast. We are at the museum. We are going to lunch."

This is one of my all-time favorite memories, partly because at least in my memory the trip was a birthday celebration for the three of us who, if I'm not mistaken, almost share a birthday. I remember that as a very happy day amidst a sea of troubles.

2) The Jewish grandmother quote--I remember as, "sometimes you just wanna go to shul to get away from all the goyim." When Franklin & I first heard it, I believe we were hanging around on the lawn down by the river with a bunch of random queer kids, talking about why we still went to our school's queer club (known as BGLSA--uh huh, yeah, that really rolls of the tongue, doesn't it?) meetings even though they could be dull and/or irritating.

This memory is colored by a wash of carefree happiness that suggests (along with the green grass) that it took place some year either before or after the actual school term.

But whose grandmother was that? Dr. Faustus's? That doesn't seem right, but for some reason all the other queer Harvard boys I can think of (I'm sure it was a boy) are either Catholic or Chinese. Not that that would disqualify them from having a Jewish grandmother, but....

3) Pooh sticks. I have spent many happy hours playing the innocent game of Pooh sticks with various individuals, Amy most prominently among them, but featuring many others from my chequered past in its less chequered moments. And I refuse to have these delightful daydreams shattered by Franklin's insinuations. Really. Hmph.

4) And last but not least, a note about Japan. I've been displacing my stress about every other aspect of this trip onto stress about looking nice (or at least halfway decent), particularly when I first meet up with the assembly, which features in a prominent role someone whose respect I have in the past sought and (I at least believe) never attained, specifically the (Japanese) daughter of the founder of the high school I attended here in Japan. I feel that she always thinks of me as just a big mess who can't take care of herself (this dates back to my time here as a 16-year-old, when she had to call my parents to tell them to get me some new shoes because she had to hide my hole-y shoes when guests visited).

So today I carefully allowed an extra half hour to tidy myself up prior to the meeting. But everyone else was early too, so I showed up with messy hair, sweaty everything, and lunch stains on my shirt.

Ah well. More lessons in letting go of ego and accepting my lack of control over the universe.

Okay, that wasn't last. Last is, Loopy described the current situation well in her post; I am kinda freaked out by this. It wasn't until I visited dear Anushka in SF that it was pointed out to me that by helping these folks out I am supporting their endeavor. I'm not sure how prepared I am to do that. It's not exactly the opposite of socialism, but it's not really compatible, in terms of a worldview...what it is like, in terms of worldview, is the religious cult/group my parents belonged to for years....I just got done deprogramming myself from all this... I feel a bit like an AA twelve-stepper who accidentally signed up to support and accompany a vodka-swilling tour of Russia, or something. No, worse, a vodka-selling tour of rural Montana. Drink vodka, it will solve all your problems. Really.

The parallels start with (but certainly don't end with) the whole "let's all make friends and then there won't be any more war" thing.

Cuz y'know, that worked so well in Iraq (how many times in how many venues did I hear or see Kitty Kelly talking about her humanitarian work with the Wonderful People of Iraq? And did that stop the war? Not that I noticed; you?) (You probably never saw Kitty Kelly and maybe never even heard of her. My point exactly. Ever hear of Ben Granby? Jeremy Scahill? All of them, and hundreds more like them, traveled around the US pleading on behalf of their dear Iraqi friends. The only way to stop war is not "citizen diplomacy" but an end to imperialism, which of course is impossible without an end to capitalism. But don't get me started!)

I mean, international friendships are great, don't get me wrong, and the more kids from Kansas who are forced to travel the world and make international friendships, the better, but.......I'm too tired to explain what I mean right now, although I feel like it's still pretty murky. I'll catch up with y'all later.

cute cute cute!!!

Nadine's baby Alexa, again. SO CUTE!!!!! (Chip's baby too, sorry).

When I'm done with this never-ending work for the socialist summer school (geek geek geek!) I'll post some more pix of my friends' & relatives' adorable children. Nobody else so obligingly puts the photos online, I have to do all the work. Phooey.

Of course, secretly I look forward to the reward of playing with all those fun photos. I just gotta crank this thing out.... yawwwwwwn.....

unmitigated mush

I'm having trouble finding a way to express how deeply satisfying and beautiful it was to see Franklin again.

He's been through some really, really rotten shit since I last saw him.

Pain does all kinds of things to people. Although I don't feel like writing it all out here, I was connected to many things and people who were destroyed or damaged by 9-11, and those events shook me to the core. At the time I wrote something about how we have a choice about our response to pain.

Suffering can either harden you and make you narrow, scarred, and bitter, or it can soften you and open you up to a deeper connection with other people. You can't avoid suffering in life and you can't avoid being altered by it, but you do have a choice about how you respond, how you are transformed.

With Franklin, my dear dear Franklin, I am so moved to see him changed. It's moving because it's sad and beautiful at the same time. I am deeply sad about what he's gone through and I wish more than anything that it had never happened to him. But the change—it's like polishing a precious stone.

He seems more fully himself.

He always had a big, kind heart and a gentle soul, but now they are more evident: they almost literally shine out from him.

Like so many or maybe all of us, it seems to me that he used to "hide his lamp under a bushel," you might say (bible quote, sorry). In college, he seemed afraid to be as warm and kind as he is; he seemed to seek ways to protect himself, so that at one point, to my eternal regret, I became confused about which was "the real Frank"—the warmth and kindness or the armor.*

And yet, there are moments that are like touchstones, that I remember so clearly, when I really needed something and he was there for me. He really came through for me, in more than one crisis, with an inimitable insight and wisdom that cut right to the heart of the matter, bringing comfort and illumination. This used to take me by surprise because he usually seemed to prioritize being seen as entertaining and witty rather than wise and solid.

At times he also seemed to be overcome with self-loathing and despair of ever finding love or happiness, even though he was surrounded by people who cared about him. Although... now that I look back to those college days, I can see very clearly how lonely his position must have been...there were many ways in which he was an island unto himself. Back then I hadn't yet learned how to see other people, except as mirrors I used to judge whether I was okay. Not a very useful friend to anyone, I'm afraid; if I ever hit the mark, it was a blind shot in the dark.

Anyway, the lamp is no longer under the bushel.

Frank's eyes are warm and steady, his smile is open and warm, and he seems unafraid to be his ownself.

His goodness and kindness come through so clearly now, not hobbled by self-doubt anymore; it's funny, but I can also somehow feel the presence of his family in his life, and see how these good qualities are in a way channeling his parents, his sister, his grandmothers, his aunt Eva. I think this may seem new to me because he only came out to his parents late in college, so there may have been a barrier there much of the time I knew him.

He seems both gentler and stronger, and more solid on his own two feet.

He still seems a bit raw from the pain that is still not so long ago, but he also seems unafraid of this rawness.

He is so beautiful I can hardly stand it.

I wish I could give him another hug right now.

As you can see, it is this feeling that I'm having trouble expressing. I guess it's just plain old ordinary extraordinary love, which seems more and more precious as we get older and realize how few people "out there" we'll find to love so easily and comfortably.

Being with old old friends always makes me feel more complete, like there are more parts of me awake and alive. I think that's a bit how Loopy felt about being in Chicago.

Frank may not see himself the way I've written him here; he may not see his past self the same way either, but I decided to risk it since he did as much in posting about me. I have a unique perspective, not having seen him in so long. That means I may be missing some things and exaggerating others. But I don't think I have the "big picture" wrong—unless he hasn't changed a bit and I was more oblivious in college than I realized.

As I said, it was so deeply moving, satisfying, and beautiful to see you again, my dear friend. I hope we spend many more happy weekends together before one or both of us leave the region behind.

---

*I regret this ten times more when I realize that if I had not made this mistake, if we had been close all along, maybe there would have been something I could have done to help prevent everything from getting quite so bad... but probably not, I guess. I had another friend who went through something similar. A controlling spouse is very skilled in separating the best of friends. Still... this is a very strong, deep regret. I accept that maybe it couldn't have been otherwise, or maybe it doesn't matter now, but I am still heartbroken to think of my mistakes in the past. This makes me all the more grateful to Frank who appears to have completely forgiven (or at least decided to forget, which is much the same thing really).

going to chicago, and then Japan

Well, not immediately afterward. But in honor of the Chicago trip—whose highlight will be seeing Franklin again after lo these many years!—I'm posting an old photo of me & Franklin.

I was going to post all about both trips and lots of photos, but I stayed up all night last night and it's catching up with me. Then I was going to scan in a better picture than this, then I was going to at least try to make this picture a little less blurry, but, same story. Also, I was going to post a moving and grateful response to Franklin's tribute to me. But not right now. Gotta sleep.

Q: So why am I just slapping this photo up here despite having fallen short of all my other goals?

A: So that I can feel that I accomplished something in the last forty minutes since I came home & DIDN'T immediately climb into the hot bath & nap I'd promised myself.

Here is probably the best photo of Franklin and myself in our younger years. There are many others, but I have to make sure it's ok with Franklin before I post them. (No, no, you naughty-minded guttersnipes, nothing like that. Worse, actually—they're just photos of us behaving very, very strangely.)



We were on our way to the Lowell House Waltz. We're in Beth B's room, I think (but those two posters were ubiquitous; I included them 'specially). That dance was a lot of fun—a LOT of fun—definitely worth a lot more of a post; maybe later.

All's I'll say now is, little tip: never wear a long-sleeved corduroy dress to perform any strenuous activity.

Nadine's baby girl...

Since friends from college make up an increasing proportion of my occasional readers—not to mention fully half of my most regular readers (a.k.a. Franklin)(my other regular reader is Loopy who, thank goodness, has rarely been in spitting distance of my alma mater, and when she was there, she pretty much spat most of the time)—I thought I'd post the following. Plus, it's just too darn cute not to share.

Here is Alexa Sophia, flying through the air courtesy of Nadine's hubby Chip.



god, she's adorable!

See more of Nadine's baby pix or read her blog for entertaining updates on Alexa's growth and daily life...(and other topics as well).

george lucas should be digested for a thousand years

a conversation with Sylvia, one of my favorite people...

Disclaimer: I can't remember the comment I made that prompted Sylvia's first remark. It was a case of my misusing the preposition "in" when I should have said "among," but I'm not sure what the verb or object of the preposition were.....it's not important; what follows is the funny part, so please excuse the oddly rendered first sentence.

Sylvia: I think you would be better off [verb]ing among the [object] rather than [same verb]ing in the [same object].

me (laughing): I think you're probably right about that.

Sylvia: Otherwise it would be like that disgusting scene in Star Wars.

me: Which one?

Sylvia: You know, where Luke Skywalker is nearly frozen to death, and Han Solo cuts open the beast and puts Luke inside it to keep him warm.

me: Oh, yes, right. Ugh. I thought maybe you meant the one where they were going to be fed to the Sarlacc and digested in its stomach for a thousand years. Though I always wonder, how would you live a thousand years to be digested that long?

Sylvia: Maybe there's some miraculous preservative function, so that your life is being prolonged even as it is being digested.

me: Ok, but then what would you eat, all that time? Other things that were being digested? and if so, wouldn't something bigger than you eat YOU?

Sylvia: It is these little mysteries that make life worth living.*

me: So are you gonna go see the new Star Wars movie when it comes out?

Sylvia: I have not seen any of the new movies.

me: Wow! Good choice, good choice.

Sylvia: Sometime I may rent all three of them and watch them back to back in an orgy of masochism.

me: Ugh. No, no, that would be too painful.

Sylvia: Perhaps I would feel as though I were being digested for a thousand years.

me (laughing): At least that long.

Sylvia: Yes.

me: I'm going to put that on my blog.

Sylvia: Is your blog nothing but other people's words?

me: Yes. Pretty much. Other people are funnier than me.

---

*This is not exactly what she said, but it would have been dry and ironic like this, except probably funnier.

Franklin on Frank

You have to go read this post from Franklin about visiting Anne Frank's house during his trip to Amsterdam. No, really--it's true that Anne Frank's story lends itself to bathos in the hands of lesser writers, but Franklin is too good for that.

Go read it. I insist.

---

P.S. While you're at it, you may wish to read everything Franklin's written since he got back from Holland (and of course before, as well, but let's try to have SOME focus here), especially his amusing summary of his experiences "abroad" and his very depressing account of racial profiling on the way home. (For some reason the INS dude's last "yeah, right" pisses me off more than the whole rest of it. You?)