Polar Coordinates

Sam and I had gotten invites to two very different events yesterday. Our good friend, Lee (Skittles…’Taste the Rainbow, bitch!’), invited us to a tattooing convention, where he was getting more work done on his newest tattoo. Matt and Brian invited us over to a pumpkin carving party, and since I didn’t yet know about the tattooing thing and I really really wanted to finally meet Matt & Brian in person, and to spend some time hanging with Pete, who I don’t get to see nearly enough of, we chose punkins.

This bears repeating: on the one hand, we had the opportunity to go to see “a bunch of gay and straight tattooed freaks”, as Skittles put it, or carve pumpkins with a bunch of gay male couples and their adopted children.

God(dess), I love San Francisco.

So, like I said, we chose the latter. It was a lot of fun. I love kids. I often think about having children of my own—of our own. I think I’d be a damn good father. I think there aren’t enough kids who grow up imbued with the notion of the Possible, suffused with Hope and Opportunity instead of shot-through with “hard reality” and clipped expectations.

Lee and Sam and others have asked me why I never got a tattoo. My answer is typically that I haven’t thought of something that a) applies to my immediate life and b) also means something I can carry with me indelibly.

It turns out that just the other day I thought of something—or at least the possibility of something—that satisfies all criteria: in getting to know Soonae and Jong at Cafe Commons, I have also learned a great deal about Korean values, Korean food and Korean culture. I’ve asked them to think about the Korean language, if there’s a glyph or set of glyphs in Korean that may have no equivalent in English, but mean something along the lines of “open-ended future” or, the last words from Sunday in the Park with George: “White. A blank page or canvas. His favorite: so many…possibilities.” Which, I suppose, brings us back around to children.

And how two very different things, when given the right context, can be profoundly simliar.

Guess the Hypocrite!

Guess who said this:

“…a political candidate who jumps to conclusions without knowing the facts is not a person you want as your Commander-in-Chief.”

Guess who said it! No, c’mon, try. I’ll narrow it down for you: it’s one of the two people running for President (yes, there are more than two, but sssserioussssly).

Here are some hints. The same fellow also insisted in front of his own god, country, congress and populace the following things:

  • Mustard gas
  • enriched plutonium
  • there is a connection between Al Qaeda and Saddam Hussein
  • Biological weapons
  • We have rock solid intelligence on it
  • Weapons of mass destruction

Thanks, George. I’ll have to agree with you for once. That’s absolutely NOT someone I’d want as Commander-In-Chief.

And another thing, Republican pundits, bloggers and the thuddingly stupid general population of Republicans: enough with the crap about Kerry and the now-famous-yet-still-untrue “Global Test”. You’re all liars and you know it.

Tea for One

There is no moon!

Not the moon I know. And I know the moon. After all these months, enough months for most would express it in years. And mostly I do, too, except for nights like this. Nighttimes spent walking, spent in the neighborhood, spent with Sam.

Or spent alone—or both.

Sam is off to a meeting. He and I parted ways after a quick dinner. He likes to get to the meetings early. The seats fill up fast, he says. There’s a bit of sadness when I think about that: so many in need of help. There’s a note of joy, too: so many helping those who need it.

He got there early tonight; he always needs to get where he’s going earlier rather than later. It’s a thing of his. It’s a thing of mine, too, but only sort of: I just don’t like scheduling anything for a given time. Ish, I say, and let’s meet up at the bar next door an hour before ish. That way we’re all collected at some point, at some time, ready for dinner, or ready to just be together. I guess it’s how I can be compulsive and incognito. Compulsively incognito. And compulsive.

Nighttimes like this aren’t meant for us who are earthbound. The Earth inteferes. The walk down 18th Street from Collingwood to Sanchez wasn’t about footfalls so much as the gliding sensation of moving towards an amber, eclipsed moon. Not my moon.

There’s a strange quality to the nighttimes in San Francisco. I’ve mentioned this before; I mention it often. Whether from being at sea-level or from moist air or from a thaumaturgy particular to the City…who can say. In any case the sky is touchable, almost, a shield-dome barely higher than the tallest earthbound thing. And on it is painted a black-amber moon. Not my moon.

Nighttimes like these are not a time for the earthbound, are not about time at all. Calendars don’t make any sense, clocks make even less. Stranger still for a night when Sam has an hour-long ‘on the dot!’ meeting where he’s receiving his 30-day chip. I am not, can not be with him so I sit at Samovar, drinking peppermint-jasmine-chrysanthemum tea which, strangely, makes my neck pain and back pain disappear.

I couldn’t be prouder of what he’s accomplished in this even though I can’t possibly understand what it may mean to him. Simultaneously (simultaneity I understand), I am not surprised. Sam is a force of Nature with the face of an angel and a devil of a wit. Sam occurs. He’s there with and for and beside, making it difficult to remember when he wasn’t Just There.

Just like my Moon. Which is not my moon tonight.

Stupid is as Stupid Does

The latest crap is from FoxNews…that somehow Bush is smarter than Kerry.

How could this be? Well, FoxNews compares two IQ-like tests to qualify for two different branches of the US Armed Forces. I can’t even imagine what kind of test that must be. So, going back to when each of the men were 22 years old, and taking nebulous percentile ratings from two different tests, Fox can claim:

While the two tests aren’t perfectly comparable, Sailer says they provide no evidence that Kerry is smarter and that, if anything, Bush is smarter than Kerry.

Huh? This is why Republican supporters are so anti-intellectual, calling those of us who value intelligence “elitist” and “effete”. Well, fuck y’all. How’s that? At least people like me don’t get tripped up on basic logic. And FYI, the “expert” that FoxNews quotes is actually a contributor to an extreme right-wing blog. Liberal media, indeed.

Let’s try this, minus the political evocativeness: I have an Apple and an Orange. You can’t really compare them because they’re of different species…but if anything, an Orange is better!

Maybe the deluded, stomach-thinking dullards who plan on voting for Bush call the rest of us “barking moonbats” because when they hear clearly stated, properly pronounced, logical arguments, all they are capable of interpreting is Bark! Bark! Bark!

Bush isn’t stupid, he’s clumsy. He’s not dumb, he just can’t speak clearly. He’s not retarded, he just doesn’t get the larger world where what he accuses Kerry of is exactly the kind of thing he actually, historically, demonstrably done.

I can’t wait til this election is over and Bush is gone from our lives.

Mosh

At first, I really just resented—maybe even hated—Eminem because of the homophobic, short-sighted, shady stupidity that served as the subject matter for his first albums. Then I felt further insulted, not because he told people to take a flying leap if they didn’t like his stuff, but rather because he hedged on it, passed the buck to some Shady character.

Then I met Sam, and he liked Eminem. He made me listen to the music not for content, but for rhyming and meter and fit. Doing that, it was a no-brainer to see that the kid is extremely talented. I remember telling Sam that I wished Eminem would find better use for his considerable gifts.

That brings me to his latest video, Mosh. It’s an astounding video…the images, the transitions, the special effects. Most importantly, though, it’s about the content. I’ll post some of the lyrics below, but the magic of a song is the synergy of word and music. So go watch the video. Go buy the song. Good for you, Marshall Mathers. You may end up changing the world.


Come along, follow me as I lead through the darkness
As I provide just enough spark, that we need to proceed
Carry on, give me hope, give me strength,
Come with me, and I won’t stear you wrong
Put your faith and your trust as I guide us through the fog
Till the light, at the end, of the tunnel, we gonna fight,
We gonna charge, we gonna stomp, we gonna march through the swamp
We gonna mosh through the marsh, take us right through the doors

To the people up top, on the side and the middle,
Come together, let’s all bomb and swamp just a little
Just let it gradually build, from the front to the back
All you can see is a sea of people, some white and some black
Don’t matter what color, all that matters is we gathered together
To celebrate for the same cause, no matter the weather
If it rains let it rain, yea the wetter the better
They ain’t gonna stop us, they can’t, we’re stronger now more then ever,
They tell us no we say yea, they tell us stop we say go,
Rebel with a rebel yell, raise hell we gonna let em know
Stomp, push up, mush, fuck Bush, until they bring our troops home come on just …

Come along, follow me as I lead through the darkness
As I provide just enough spark, that we need to proceed
Carry on, give me hope, give me strength,
Come with me, and I won’t stear you wrong
Put your faith and your trust as I guide us through the fog
Till the light, at the end, of the tunnel, we gonna fight,
We gonna charge, we gonna stomp, we gonna march through the swamp
We gonna mosh through the marsh, take us right through the doors, come on…

Boneless Chicken Ranch

Dear King Bear:

"So you say you aren’t happy being who you are. You’re depressed because your clothes are full of a closeted git. The last time you allowed others to see who you were, you were probably ashamed. The last time you looked in a mirror, it was screaming “HELP”. Your favorite saying is ‘One more act of cowardice can’t possibly make a difference.’ Face it, you are a lazy, spineless useless piece of cr@p who couldn’t own up to his own opinions more than a day even if someone offered to pay you to lose your shame."


You can’t even write your own shit. How worthless are you?

Yes, kids, the fuckwit is back. Please bear with the possible small messes until he slithers away again.

Maybe They’re Really Confederates

A combination of two things: a West Wing episode from a few years ago where the White House’s Supreme Court nominee turns out to be opposed to a fundamental (and Constitutional) right to privacy; an excerpt from America (The Book): A Citizen’s Guide to Democracy Inaction about how the Founders f*cked up on their first go at a Constitution.

Now, lifting literal references from a dramatic television show and/or a surprisingly sober (yet humorous) “parody” book would be tantamount to, say, listening to Rush Limbaugh without doing your own reference checking or painting Hannity & Colmes as a fair and balanced debate show. So no, I’m not doing that.

However, I do get inspiration usually in the form of synthesis, where two rather disparate ideas are nonetheless juxtaposed, insisting that I find some commonality or at least relationship between the two. This is what I’m talking about here.

What I’m talking about is two seemingly separate thrusts by the current Republican regime. The first, an attack on privacy. Oh, not their own, because they have privatized measures of protecting their own privacy. Think Patriot Act.

The second, they wish to unilaterally disarm everything about the Federal government, except for those programs that will keep them strong. They gut education, claiming localities handle it better—tho, if that were true, small towns would learn nothing about the outside world except to avoid it, and urban schools would teach that rural areas are full of uneducated cousin fuckers. And no one would learn that the USA is part of a bigger world that has its own ideas of what’s valuable and what’s not. They gut social programs because, although they claim to want a smaller government, they only believe in entitlements that show up at their own doorsteps, dressed up as well-earned rewards.

Consolidation. That was my goal in entertaining these two facts side by side. Cosolidation. Of Power. That’s what the Republicans are doing, except not for all Republicans, just the regime inner circle. A conservative government is not enough. Oligarchy is the goal.

I invite you to read the text of the Articles of Confederation. It’s a good read. And by the time you get to Article VI, you’ll see why it failed: they wanted to have their cake and eat it too: State Sovereignty was explicit. Federal Power over them was implied. It’s never good to pigeonhole your own power while giving jurisdiction in abstract, exploitable terms, to someone else. That’s why, when the Constitution rolled around, the claim wasn’t that the feds owned catch-all power, but rather that the feds stated their own power, only giving latitude to those explicitly subordinate.

The presumptive oligarchy in this country isn’t about to assume only powers not explicitly stated by the Constitution. That’s why they’re out to change it, or gut it. Or silence the life’s breath of it: the American People.

Look around at all the ennui. Look around at all the division. Look around at all the paradoxical support for larger government while stating they’re for smaller government. Look around at all the tax “relief” being doled out like bubblegum from a parade float while spending obscene amounts on war. Look at all the nation building going on while idealizing self-determination.

Look at it.

Meatspace

Joy may be ethereal, but pain is a thuddingly corporeal thing.

The Skipster is looped on muscle relaxants. The traps and the next are rigid, scream at motion.

I have always had a very high threshold for physical pain, whether that’s an actual threshold (meaning I just don’t feel pain so severely) or a logical one (I feel pain but I have learned to abide it). Quite an upside when you can just ‘walk it off’ when something hurts. The downside is that once the threshold is crossed, I basically fall apart, defeated.

I am at that stage right now, near to crying because matter is trumping mind, because the pain is so high there is no escape. Still, I am nowhere near annihilation fantasies. Tomorrow I’ll see my doctor, the incomparable Lisa Capaldini, if I can snag one of her”emergency” same-day reserved appointments.

I look forward to seeing her, though my composure may simply, totally, collapse when I see her. She gets in, has always gotten in. And I have no defenses this time. Trust and faith run high between her and me, so I don’t dread it, though.