words, words, words
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If I begin to detail myself here, will you understand?
P. I am me
Q. I don't always know exactly who that is
R. I am Quaker
S. I like words and playing with them
T. I like genmaicha tea
U. I like the word napkin more than most others
V. I spend time walking my neighborhood
W. I cook rice often
X. I sleep well most every night
Y. I eat large amounts of fruit and vegetables
Z. I munch, sleep, write, create, cook, bike, watch, walk, listen, hope, learn, drink, live, breathe, touch, know, question, taste, copy, read, stare, carry, talk, dance, finger, try.
raisin@gmail.com
albums:
Magnetic Fields: 69 Love Songs
Erasure: I Say, I Say, I Say
Depeche Mode: Black Celebration
The Beach Boys: Pet Sounds
Marvin Gaye: What's Going On?
David Bowie: Hunky Dory
George Michael: Listen without Prejudice
George Gershwin: Porgy and Bess
Yo La Tengo: And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out
songs:
Wild is the Wind: Nina Simone
Come Undone: Duran Duran
Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini: Rachmaninov
My Funny Valentine: Chet Baker
Feeling Yourself Disintegrate: The Flaming Lips
This Must Be the Place: The Talking Heads
Hyperballad: Bjork
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Friday, February 28, 2003
Every few weeks, I have to re-examine why I am doing this, why I have chosen to conscientiously object from the air force. This is partly because we live in a world that values highly the military we have, with our memorials, our odes to war, our basis of freedom resting on the force behind it, the blood of other countries' people, the blood of our people. This is also partly because I hardly believe myself sometimes; I grew up thinking war was necessary; I joined the air force in hopes of serving my country. I have no doubt that this is the most difficult decision I have ever made, and possibly will ever make. Since I make that decision every day, I have to remind myself often of my actual belief in it, that it is not something I am idly following. It also helps me to support myself, in the face of an active antagonism from my family. It is good to remind myself of all the people who have supported me, both from bloggers I know, good friends of mine, and random people who have stopped me in St Louis who saw me on tv and wanted to support me.
Salon.com's article on a c.o. in Israel reminded me of what a lot of people told me to do instead of claiming c.o. Just wait till you get out, tell them you're gay, or, as my lawyer first offered, get a psychiatrist to deem you as mentally unfit.
"Ben-Artzi was also offered the opportunity to see a military psychologist who could declare him mentally unfit, but again he refused. "I'm not mentally ill," his sister quotes him as saying. 'I'm a pacifist. That's not a mental illness. Don't tell me to go to a psychologist who will sign a letter so it will give you a way out so you don't have to deal with me.'"
Since I joined the Air Force, I have struggled with myself between working hard or simply avoiding work. my natural state has always been to sign up for work, to do extra things. somehow, I learned other habits, trying to get out of everything I could. It's gotten worse and worse, and I've grown progressively unhappy with myself over this attitude. I'm realizing how much damage this did to me and how much I still yearn to exercise myself, my brain, my abilities, my talents.
Ben-Artzi also said this, "'Whatever organization I'm going to join, I'll try to do the maximum in that organization, not the minimum. I am a pacifist. I don't want to join this organization. It does not act in my name. It's morally weak for me to be in the organization and yet to avoid doing what others are doing.'"
If only I had understood this about myself nine years ago. I can't waste time on that emotion though. I have to start here, where I am. and keep working on saving my soul.
9:15 AM
Thursday, February 27, 2003
I found this somewhere, i can't remember where now, but I like it, so i'm sharing.
"Outside, a line has formed, stretching down the block. Kids sprawl on the concrete, drape themselves on the side of the club, take up room the way only high schoolers can. Even from here you can feel the suck of their longing, the weight of the secrets that they dare confess only to Conor Oberst (or Conor Oberst). Maybe years from now they'll be known as members of the generation startled out of puberty by 9/11. Or maybe we will know these kids, or their peers, as the ones who fought in the streets of Baghdad. But one thing is clear: if any generation ever needed a new Bob Dylan, this is the one."
1:40 PM
I like my apartment to fit me, that is, because I don’t fit anywhere else. So I’ll not put a couch in the living room because I never seem to fit on a couch. Instead, I’ll put a twin bed, so I can lounge on it, lie on it with someone else, or jump up on it. I refuse to put the pillows at the top of the bed in my room because that means the bed’s made and shouldn’t be laid upon. I scramble the pillows around the bed so it tells me I can lie anyway I wish, that I should lie down to write, or to read, or to talk on the phone. Leave the decorating to the decorators, and me to living.
1:27 PM
Comedian Al Sharpton said this recently at a Democratic convention: "He described bin Laden as 'a man who comes out every two months with a new video. Bin Laden now has more videos than any rock star in Hollywood.'" yes, laughter is good for us.
1:25 PM
The POW/MIA societies, for which i have great respect, tell us not to forget those left behind in a war, trying to always remember what people went through while captured. I agree with their wish, but I say we shouldn't forget about all the dangers of war, not just of being held captive behind enemy lines. What if "You Are Not Forgotten" meant everyone one who died in war, our side and their side. What if we remembered and told stories about what happened in war, the hideously ugly reports of death and stench, of losing the one next to you, of walking through blood and bodies, of continuing to kill, kill, kill no matter the anguish. My creative writing professor edited and wrote a short story for a book titled, "Aftermath." The stories came from Vietnam veterans who told their story as therapy, to get it out of their heads, to know that sometimes you have to remember what happened to you, so you can move on.
Why don't we learn from war, why don't we remember the visual, the sensory overload of death there? Some Germans are apparently remembering their experience during WWII and are acting out against this proposed war, knowing what actually happens during a war. "For some older Germans who followed Hitler into war, now is a chance to speak up. "Last time, we kept our mouths shut," says Mr. Warlich, one of the former antiaircraft gunners at Kassel. "This time, we feel we can do something positive.'" [wall street journal]
If you don't know, learn about war. If you do know, don't forget. How can the end justify the means? No matter the goal of war, what good compares to the evil of so much death?
1:14 PM
do you know billie holiday's "Comes Love?" Billie knows how love twists your life around, and no matter what you do, you fall into love. She gives you a knowing wink, they only say love is a good thing, but really it's the most frightening thing in the world, and you can't avoid it. The Pet Shop Boys' "Love Comes Quickly" approaches the same haunting, that love is always hiding behind the door you thought just closed, a ghost about to drape you in its charms. You can solve a toothache, weather a depression, get away from a heat wave, or chase a mousey with a broom, but "comes love, nothing can be done."
of course, i say some of this in jest, or just confusion, because, as I've said before, I am not clear on what love for an individual is. I am trying to understand love as a concept, as an action, as a way of life to accept and care for everyone. here's a beautiful cartoon I found through jhames's link site: mend your heart with the thread of love
1:12 PM
Tuesday, February 25, 2003
I have a feeling Bush will get what he wants in the Security Council. I don't want that to happen of course, but it's time I accept the possibility and stop losing sleep over it. I feel like I did when Bush first sort of won in 2000, sick with dread for the future. I've done what I can though, and it serves me no benefit to worry and strain my stomach over it. I can feel it all through me, the distress of the future, the anger at what's going on around me, at politicians, at local people who support the war. It hurts me, but only because I let it. How do I let go of this angst, of this desire to control the world? I don't want to step back into ignoring, but I have to resolve that I will not let my anxiety overrun me.
But how, i keep asking myself? I admit that my arms are not big enough to hold the whole world; I admit that my judgment is not enough to run it alone. And it is sad that I have more anger at Bush than I do at Hussein. As much as I think Bush is doing the wrong thing, there's no doubt that the bigger villain is Hussein. I don't know what Bush is up to; I suspect he has myriad reasons for doing this, some of them legitimate, some of them illicit. I know, however, that Hussein has nothing legitimate about him. Ah, that feels better. I can feel some peace after that statement. My own peace, that's what I'm working for. I've already stepped out and proclaimed that I want peace for the world, but I have no way to control that. I do have control over the peace in myself. If I work in love towards everyone, will that quiet my stomach? Can I love someone like Bush, who seems to stand against everything that I stand for? Yes, there must be something inside him that I can respond to, there must be a bit of commonality between us that I'm just not seeing, that I'm not even looking for. Just like there is with the people here at work, those others who wear the uniform like mine. They're not horrible people. some of them are for this war, some are more ambivalent and choose to let their politicians direct their lives. Was I not the same once? I can talk with Peter about all sorts of things, and enjoy his company, even if he does want to go attack Iraq.
I wrote a bad story in my creative writing class in college. I had developed the girl with all sorts of inner difficulties, all sorts of internal thought and confusion. I had left the guy as an uncaring whelp. My teacher looked at me and said, it's easy to create one-sided villains, isn't it? Real people are never that way. That's what I'm trying not to do, to create one-sided villains in my life. They all have confusion and dilemma and internal struggle. they may hate themselves, just like sometimes I hate myself. They may choose not to think about any of it; they may never even have been confronted with another way. Isn't that compassion, the attempt to create a co-feeling with someone, truly understanding who they are? and isn't that the way to love?
So let go. Take the universe all in your hands and then release it, aware and accepting that it is not yours to control. Do what you can to affect it, to guide your life, to help others in theirs, but let the universe surround you, and not fester inside of you.
8:54 AM
Friday, February 21, 2003
i found an old tape my brother made me when i was in high school, maybe 17 or so. my goodness, does that bring back some memories. most of it was stuff released well before 93, like Beatles the Smiths, aretha franklin, etc. it's funny though because a lot of the songs on there i now have the cd to because I loved them so much. so they're songs i'm very very familiar with. and of course, they all remind me of my brother. there's a great queen song on it, a tom petty song that most people don't know (zombie zoo), U2, and They might be giants. all bands i wasn't familiar with at all when he gave me the tape. in fact, i doubt i recognized a single artist on that tape the first time i heard it. the next song on it, waiting for me in the car, is the cure's mixed version of "Close to Me." it's inredible, especially the mix version. i used to play that so loud in my car. i remember camping with patrick my last spring break of high school. i took him to the phone to call his parents - this was still at the campsite before we went hiking in the woods for a few days. i played that song in my truck while waiting for him. Apparently, some other guy hanging around the area heard the entire song too, emanating from my truck. I remember trying to stick the song in my head because we were leaving all music behind when we hiked out in the morning. Wow. what was i doing camping with just me and Pat and Matt when I was only seventeen? but we were, singing songs in the truck on the way there and on the way back, playing Axis and Allies at the campsite under the parking lot light until 2 or 3 am. That tape though, my brother titled it "Elvis in America" after a U2 song on the tape. It's worked through my memories, focusing much of my musical taste, so copied after my brother's, so clueless was I as to anything at the time. I don't want to go back there, though. No, I hate the feeling of looking back and realizing that I missed so much. But I'm here now, and I'm not missing so much anymore. still, the music sings in my head.
10:00 AM
Wednesday, February 19, 2003
If anybody wants a reading recommendation, I finished At Swim, Two Boys on Monday. It is one of the best books I have read in a long long time. Yes, it's painful at times, difficult, structurally and in language. The language is gorgeous, the ideas encompass so much life, the characters are honestly themselves, and the emotions are vivid. I would recommend it over most everything I've read in the past five years, and well above any gay novel i've ever read. This book will last a long, long time. both in your head and in the literary world.
3:40 PM
My car cd player is in the shop, injured in the accident a month and some ago. i'm forced to listen to the radio since I don't have many tapes left. The radio feels so tyrannical. I know, there are lots of stations out there, so there's an illusion of choice. but there's no skip mechanism, there's no individual programming. Is this the way most people live, with radio and television controlling their lives? I've never been a radio listener (a prisoner as R.E.M. would have it) and haven't watched television for nine years. And I don't mean that I only watch a few of my favorite shows or that the television isn't on very often. I mean that I actually don't watch television. ever. I emphasize that because so many people I tell that to respond with, "oh, yeah, i don't want it much either. I just watch this and that," or "it's on when I'm cooking," etc. People don't seem to understand that I mean I never even turn the television on. I waffle between thinking the television is actually evil and just knowing that I have way too many things to do and can't imagine including television as one of them, regardless of whether seinfeld or the simpsons are actually worthwhile. The issue for me is still that I don't have control, over radio or television. And I hate it. I want to listen to what I want to listen to, not what somebody with a lot more money than I have and who seems to be pushing things wants me to listen to. This is my quiet revolt.
8:17 AM
Tuesday, February 18, 2003
Do you like donkeys? Do you like donkeys more than children? Would you give your money first to a donkey sanctuary or a needy child? Apparently, most people choose the former, at least in Britain. This is horrible, but I found myself laughing anyway. At least the donkeys have it good. Now if we can just get rufegee children to turn into donkeys . . .
12:44 PM
Monday, February 17, 2003
so full of pain. so full of angst. our world is cruel, and i am no help to anyone. maybe i will be someday; maybe i will be able to right wrongs committed by those in power, the police, the politicians, the presidents of the world. not every wrong, maybe just one wrong. maybe just one that i can hold up and say, see, i worked for that change, and i enabled that change, and now some people are a tiny hitch better. but for now, i'm just angry, hurt, and wasting time.
6:16 PM
Sunday, February 16, 2003
Peace, peace, peace. The world chanted peace yesterday. It's good to have company.
11:16 AM
Friday, February 14, 2003
love, love, love. I don't have the singly directed love that seems such a fake part of our popular culture. I dont' know if it exists, that love towards one person for ever and ever, amen. What I am working on instead is love towards everyone, all people. all people. you me, president bush, saddam hussein, jacques chirac, any progeny of frida kahlo, the girl who helped carry my bags out from the commissary this week that I didn't tip because all i had were twenties (yes, i felt ashamed, and i hope i can find her again), my mother, all people. what an amazingly difficult thing to do. but what if i reached it? what if i even get close and pre-emptively cut off a personal attack by the random love i had shared? What if i am strong enough to hope and believe that everyone loves me back so that i feel no vulnerability, but carry in on my life with unassuming love? Can anyone be that strong? Love is more difficult than hate, no doubt. Peace more of a narrow walk than war.
so love, love all you can. happy valentine's day.
10:05 AM
Thursday, February 13, 2003
Last month, Mrs. Laura Bush called on some poets to come to the White House for a poetry symposium. One poet, in response, circulated to other poets asking them to bring their anti-war poetry for the day. Apparently, Mrs. Bush heard about the plan and cancelled the affair. In response, Sam Hamill contacted as many poets as he could to continue writing anti-war poetry. He restarted the poets against the war group, apparently strong during the Vietnam war. He then proposed that poets create antiwar poetry readings on February 12th, when the White House had originally invited them to attend. In an opinion piece, Leonard Garment says this was a failing on the parts of the poets who ruined what could have been a good poetry exposition. Having attended and read a poem at a St Louis anti-war poetry reading to honor this affair, I definitely feel that poets around the country got more out of Laura Bush's snub than she could have intended. People now know even better how the White House feels about art, that it only holds value when it serves their purposes. Also, Mos Def and Arthur Miller are planning a large anti-war gathering to protest all these goings on.
It's been far too long since I had worked on poetry, but I felt with all the writing I've been doing, I hopefully can come up with a decent idea. I hate quick poetry - it ought to be long and drawn out, something that takes months to complete, but here's what I worked on the past two days and read last night (yes, my first poetry reading! I'm so proud of myself for standing up and reading this to a group of people).
Do you see this hand, up in the air?
I raised this hand to say I would serve.
Do you see this hand?
I thought it could help my country.
Do you see this hand, open and strong?
It picked up a gun to follow a lead.
Do you see this hand?
It saluted the fight, the age-old tradition.
I saw this hand, with many others
Letting go of its freedom, hoping for pride.
I saw this hand
Wanting to be right, thinking I had to fight.
I saw this hand, curiously armed,
Learning about truth, turning pages of our history.
I saw this hand
Accepting what I was told, anyway.
And then they fell, those towers,
fell on my world and fell on yours
crushing hopes, crushing safety.
I saw them fall as you did,
felt the people running towards me,
towards my only eyes, the camera in New York.
I couldn't grasp all that death;
I wanted to fall too, to let go.
I grabbed something else instead.
And now, now, I see this hand
Holding new priorities, of life, of love.
I see this hand stretched out
Still hoping to help, but hoping to lead.
I see this hand
Letting go that gun, re-finding freedom.
I see this hand, powerful with spirit
Carrying forgiveness, carrying compassion.
I give you this hand
and let go of anger, revenge, of perpetual warfare.
I give you this hand,
to save what I had pledged to destroy.
9:09 AM
Wednesday, February 12, 2003
I found an article from the Wall Street Journal (I can't link since it's a pay site) today about the Boeing missile plant in nearby St. Charles. The report documented what the plant does, how the residents feel about it, and how antiwar protesters have staged demonstrations there. I know some of them. The man they quoted in the article, Bill Ramsey, who led the demonstrations, is someone I've met, who introduced me in November to the peace rally i spoke at which started my conscientious objection appeal. Besides not being used to having people I knew reported in national news media, I am awfully concerned, dismayed, angry about what the police readily admitted to doing in the article.
"St. Charles police acknowledge they actually were the source of the warning. They also routinely monitor the group's Web site and e-mail distributions. St. Charles Police Chief Paul Corbin makes no apologies."
"Despite the comparatively small size of the demonstrations -- none have been violent -- the police here have been vigilant, videotaping and identifying dozens of protesters by name."
I am bothered about the waste of police resources. that they would work so hard to monitor peaceful people. I am furious that we are criminals to them, worthy of such attention. I guess this isn't news to me. The Denver police department considers the local Quaker meeting to be a dangerous group and has them listed in their rolls. I am somewhat proud that we can make that much of a difference. i cannot accurately gauge my feelings on the rest of it though. I am appalled that the police are treating people I know and respect this way. What about all the fuss of terrorism? Shouldn't they be looking for actually dangerous people? We're trying to stop people from being killed, and yet somehow that's deemed criminal and on the fringe of our society.
I am too tired to be furious. I just ran a 5K very hard, with a good time considering the lazy training I've been doing. So my mind and body will take time to process this. The only hope I can see is that if just a hundred people can go protest one missile plant in the middle of the country, in a small town, and get this kind of attention, maybe we have much greater power than I ever would have imagined.
1:36 PM
I first heard about the Rabbi Hillel from my Jewish sponsor dad in college (we all had sponsor families to help take care of us a bit at USAFA). Of course, all I knew was that he was a famous Jewish teacher. I found a quotation by him today that reacted well with the experiment i am conducting on myself. He asked three questions: "If I am not for myself, who will be for me?" "If I am only for myself, what am I?" and "If not now -- when?" I love the duality these thoughts suggest, that we can be both for ourselves and for others. I respect the inference to act and to do so without much waiting. Too often, the denominations I grew up in talked about hating yourself and trying to lose yourself. I thought everything that was me was bad, that i had to curb every desire I had, relinquish any pleasure. I have found that nobody has stepped in and loved the me that I learned was not good enough. so all of me yearns to be loved by everyone and everything, because I have not made it a practice to love myself. But nobody could love me that much. It's my turn to try and love me.
9:02 AM
Tuesday, February 11, 2003
The latest book I am reading is Jamie O'Neill's At Swim, Two Boys. His writing and his story have impressed me. He's writing about homosexuality both from a early 1900 perspective and also from a boyhood discovery perspective. He's also writing about Ireland, a country I've never understood, and now feel a bit closer to. It's about class politics, some that remind me of our country now.
The story carries so much weight from my own life though, memories of growing up, not even sure what homosexuality was, only knowing that I didnt' care much for girls and thought I was bad for that. I wanted so badly to want a girl, to actually like a girl, like all the other guys around me. instead, they were close friends, and nothing more. I would get close to a girl, who would eventually want to date me, thus practically ruining our friendship. I always felt guilty even though i never intended anything. Girls would say I led them on when I was just being nice, just being friendly. Why did I have to pay for their intentions? I tried to distance myself from some of them, my only friends, because I kept getting blamed for breaking their hearts. what was I doing besides trying to make friends? I had no understanding of what they wanted from me. and the guys around me? Usually too annoying to pay attention to, too loud, too unfriendly, and too skinny.
this book revisits my boyhood, when I was so confused, and so oblivious.
9:39 AM
Monday, February 10, 2003
I've had recent bouts with both bitterness and jealousy who have become my worst enemies. Working on what's going on inside me, thinking with such angst, why haven't i done this before? What use is it to do it now? Does any of this matter - if i couldn't conquer it before, what makes me think I can now? When I look at other people especially, I think, wow, they look like they know how to love themselves and others. Look at that young couple; they seem so happy in their world. they learned how to care about other people at 16. what's wrong with me? why couldn't i have had a significant other when i was in high school? Ok, so i know i did try to date girls some in high school, but found them unattractive. I never really looked at the guys much, and i certainly didnt' know any gay boys. but what if? self-defeating jealousy of what others have today. the bitterness of having to swallow my own life, take what i have, no more and no less, and use it to become better. If I give in to these notions, I'll never learn. The wish for something better in my past will overwhelm me, the lack of my own faith will crush my hopes.
My worst enemies are already inside me. They don't lie in our leaders, other countries, my upstairs neighbor, or even in the fates of the world. they're right here, along with my best friends. Nobody can love me unless I love myself, right? Nobody can finish this except for myself. When did I become so important? right now. I have to accept my own importance, not with the satisfaction of pride, but with the understanding of humility. I can never take care of others, i can never be what and who I should be if i don't get myself right first.
2:21 PM
Thursday, February 06, 2003
Which brand of consumer am I? I answered the questions from this Guardian quiz and found out:
Cutting-edge eclectic
Undercover is your mantra. If more than 50 people know about a brand, it's not worth having. Setting trends is what you do; you work in fashion, film or media. You shop in small boutiques - in Notting Hill, or in retro shops and markets. Ten years ago you would have gone to Ibiza, now it's Reykjavik, Tallinn or Krakow. You're into technology - digital cameras, the latest MP3 players, mini-discs, decks and so on are crucial kit for expressing your creativity.
Yes, i'm proud, but isn't this a bit foolish?
3:32 PM
I read a horrible statistic that most americans dont' realize the difference between Al-Qaida and Saddam Hussein and think that most of the hijackers on September Eleventh were Iraqi, and not Saudi. I would like to blame television for monopolizing the people's attention away from the truth, but then, television didn't reach out and grab them, did it? No, they willingly turned it on, ignored what else was happening, and focused on the pretty dramas. I still cannot believe when I hear my office mates discuss television shows as if they were real life. They know the characters' backgrounds, histories, wishes, and failings; they anticipate future events with them; and they hanker over any big events.
I suppose, however, when I read a book, I get quite entertwined into the story, hope for the characters I like to succeed, and feel sorrow when they don't. Maybe that's why I feel a bit cheated by a fast-acting plot. I feel the author has thrown in a quick event to see how the characters react instead of being able to develop them through their daily lives, the monotony that we all face. Sure it's not as exciting to read about someone walking down the road thinking random thoughts like my underwear are too tight, that's a nice color of blue on the window there, i wonder how much milk costs at the store, or what would my mother say if i told her i wouldn't spend any more holidays with her - maybe i should just not come by and avoid actually telling her. And yet, that's real life, isn't it? Don't we spend much of our time thinking in inanities?
I'm afraid that too much television caters to the big events, the drama that rarely actually occurs in life. It obstructs paying attention to the world. Or even worse, it allows people to willingly forget their world. In some cases, we all need to forget the world. But if we forget for too long, other people take control. How many of us grew up doing little besides watching television? I guess this is what I was trying to say when I mentioned the Thompson article on Monday. Our freedoms are out there, lying around. When we forget to pay attention to them and use them, other people pick them up, take advantage of the situation. Powerful people, using their propaganda, can convince those of us not paying much attention that two people are the same person, that Hussein and bin Laden are acting together. When we ignore our freedoms, other people take them from us easily, and we don't notice.
I have no right to rail against watching television. What I blame is people who continually avoid facing the real world. Whether they use television, gardening, or even their jobs to ignore the world, they are still abusing the freedoms they have.
10:13 AM
Tuesday, February 04, 2003
I cannot understand why the loss of the seven astronauts this weekend hurt so many people. I understand that yes, any loss of life is sad. Why these seven though? Many more than seven died this weekend in accidents. Many more died from gunshots or other violence. Many died by the hands of U.S. soldiers, willingly dropping bombs on no-fly zones, or safeguarding Afghanistan, Kosovo, Columbia, and who knows at what other classified locations (yes, there are quite a few they don't tell us about). Which of these deaths are more important? How can the American public declare national mourning for these seven and not for the thousand others who die? A woman stood in Quaker meeting this Sunday and talked meekly about the pictures of the astronauts she had seen, the stories the news told about them, how they had lived, what they hoped for, what their dreams were. What if, she asked, media took about seven people who had died after a bombing of the Iraqi no-fly zones, talked to their families about who they were, showed pictures, and found out what they had hoped for their futures? Would we be as willing to continue bombing them, to bomb even more of them in the next couple of months? What does it take to make people sad when others die? Is it a heroic effort, a space flight, a car crash, a murder? Or is it just media attention? Maybe it's just a story, where we connect with them, as human beings, as if they could have lived next door to us, could have mattered to us, like you matter to me.
8:39 AM
Monday, February 03, 2003
In Salon.com's feature article today, Hunter S. Thompson, discusses the state of the union and the tyranny of fear. This quote explains all too well what might just be going on around us. i'm afraid it's plausible.
"I believe the Republicans have seen what they've believed all along, which is that this democracy stuff is bull, and that people don't want to be burdened by political affairs. That people would rather just be taken care of. The oligarchy doesn't need an educated public. And maybe the nation does prefer tyranny. I think that's what worries me. It goes back to Fourth Amendment issues. How much do you value your freedom? Would you trade your freedom for some illusion of security? Freedom is something that dies unless it's used."
How many of us ignore problems so long as we feel secure? I know many around me do, and I know there are times I don't speak up when I should. how can we get ourselves to take our freedoms seriously, to practice them so they don't die? keep voting is one way, but there have to be more.
10:27 AM
Sunday, February 02, 2003
Build your own heaven where you are. You won't find it anywhere else, not up in the clouds, or in the depths of that octopus' garden in the sea. you won't find it period; you have to build it with your own bricks and your own mind. build it with your friends, build it with your joy, build it with the passion that stirs you through life, that makes you jump in excitement, that makes you cry to a sad sad song. build it with the energy that comes after a workout, build it with the pleasure of a stranger's glance. build it with the art you make, with the art that you respond to, that reaches inside you and says I know this part of you, because the two of us have always known each other, only separated by miles and miles until now we are together, me in this piece of art, and you in that body. build it with the peace on your pillow, that swarms around you as you fall to sleep; build it with all that you have inside and out, soul and body, inside and out. build it with your love, love for yourself, love for those around you, love for the sky and the earth, love for your family, love for those far from you, even love for those who use you, as much love as you have. build your own heaven where you are, full of love, full of yourself, full of all that you have.
9:20 AM
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