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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Thursday, October 30, 2003
Rare that an active duty military man can realize that excessive violence often returns more violence. Israel's Army Chief of Staff has recently revealed such an opinion in the ongoing struggle between Israelis and Palestinians. Newsday.com - Sharon, Army at Odds on Palestinians. Three years of fighting is a long enough time for military leaders to see the effects of their destruction, to see that people strangely don't give up, even in the face of unsurmountable odds, that perhaps, there might be a better way than the most violent method. It's hard to see that, especially when your society teaches that violence is the only way to solve major conflicts. Occasionally, people rise above the threat of never-ending violence and realize humans are capable of more.
2:23 PM
Wednesday, October 29, 2003
how nice of you, president bush, to blame the mission accomplished banner on the sailors. if you hadn't liked it then, why didn't you say something? i'm sure the devoted sailors would have done anything you liked. now you punish them for just being there, kind man that you are.
11:47 AM
Sunday, October 26, 2003
Defence Sectretary Rumsfield recently announced a new war, this time a “war on ideas”. Certainly, controlling information has been a staple of wartime, whether securing our own secrets or trying to influence the minds of others, war leaders have always sought to have control. The more interconnected our world becomes, the less governments are able to control ideas, which benefits people in the longterm by exposing government lies. In this case, we can’t help question Secretary Rumsfield motives in his blatant attempt to convince people their ideas are wrong. Many Americans and people worldwide already distrust him because of his comments in the past, based on the examples he has shown us. Will we target everyone who already has their own opinion of the American dream, attempt to step off of our very shaky grounds for this war and convince them that we are always right, that we play this fight fairly? From reading commentaries around the world and from seeing thousands of people demonstrating in Australia and the Philippines against our President when he visits, I know people dislike us, average everyday people who are looking at the evidence themselves. Evidence like the detainment of people at Guantanamo Bay, evidence like the way we ridicule our allies, evidence like the lack of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, evidence they can see right through. I wonder how much damage America will do to itself as we try to convince other people that our judgement is morally surperior to theirs, if we start a war on their ideas? If what the world has already heard from the mouths of our leaders are known to be lies, how can a new American government agency expect to speak and be heard? If they don’t laugh in derision, they will suspect us of something more sinister, of actually expecting to be able to control their collective minds. In an already distrustful world, in a world that has increasing control of their own information, trying to spread slanted disinformation makes a mockery of our ideals.
1:30 PM
Thursday, October 23, 2003
It feels strange to watch our president mocked and rallied against in other countries. People shouldn't care so much about our president, should they? if America didn't try to run the world, if our influence wasn't felt in most every corner, people wouldn't care as much. Of course, our president's popularity overseas doesn't mean a whole lot. As much as I agree with them and support their demonstrations, i wouldn't change my vote over it, were Bush doing things that i supported. I do feel some responsbility as it is though. Bush is my president, and the system that my country runs under pushed him to his current position, whether you want to call it an election or something else. So it's up to me and other Americans to remove him from that office. The Australians and Phillipinos and other people of the world are in a bad fix. The president that has angered them so, is not the one they have any say over. in another way of looking at our predicament, we are lucky, that at least we get the chance next year, to change our collective American mind and move in a different direction.
12:20 PM
Wednesday, October 22, 2003
A week ago, Dan Savage was in town for a book reading. remembering his tighty whity fetish, i decided to wear a pair while I went to hear him. and well, take along a magic marker and have him sign them. see?  he signed my underwear! now, i'm the coolest person I know.
10:52 AM
Tuesday, October 21, 2003
I have about twenty pages I wrote during my sophomore year of college, the first time i began to write about my life and my thoughts. I was falling then, unable to hold onto my fundamentalist faith in Christianity, and unsure where to go as i lost my strength and then my will to hold on. i fell from my parents, too, as I began to distrust what they had told me and were still telling me. usually, people turn from their parents and their religion to new things, friends, new ways to have fun, anything to fill that void. I had never been lonelier than I was that year, being made fun of for being too weird by most of the cadets around me, being just too different from them to relate and unable to leave the campus to make any other friends. Even the dream of the Air Force Academy fell apart as i began to see through the system, the cruelty it promoted, and the cadets it produced, hoping I wouldnt' become one of them, too. Of course, I also had the highest course load I would carry during college, 21 hours a semester for two semesters in a row, full of engineering courses that barely made sense to me, a reader and a thinker. Plus, I had the realizations that i was attracted to men around me and my repulsion from myself for those desires. I don't know how i made it.
Those twenty pages don't say much of this; i was too scared to let it out. My troubles had to force their way out, physically at first. I started going grey that year, at nineteen, and i broke out in hives as spring came around, every time i got slightly heated, just from walking around, the stress coming out as itchy red bumps all over me. I was burning, all the dead wood inside me lit by the sparks of stress. my skin, my brain, my soul, on fire. i remember walking upstairs sometime near april, beginning to panic and tighten up, knowing that i would soon heat up and itch. I don't know how or why, but that day i started breathing, and let a tiny bit go. I was still burning, like Voltaire digging through his soul unsure if he would ever be able to stop the descent. I guess it had to burn, I had so much trash in me after nineteen years of accepting everything i was told.
It's been a long time since then, and every year I have learned better how to breathe. but man, i'm glad i'm not nineteen anymore.
1:10 AM
Sunday, October 19, 2003
twisting, twisting, twisting in the wind. between different stories i'm trying to write. i'm learning that i have to write about twenty pages on a subject before i understand it enough to write about it. a friend of mine told me that he was impressed with the consistency between what i wrote here, what i tell him in conversation, and what i write in my notebooks. i am glad he said that, but i don't think he realized the work that it took me to become that consistent, and how the only way to stay that consistent, is to hide all the contradictions in my life. sometimes i just repeat myself, and so i appear consistent. i question though, whether i couldn't be spending my life in better ways, more doing than just thinking and writing. i used to spend a lot of time training for triathlons, being outside and such. i don't think i should return to that, but i wonder what else i might be doing with my time other than reflecting over every bit of memory i have. then again, what if i have some voice in this that others don't, that others will be refreshed by? then it's all worth it, and i don't have to redirect my life. i can't tell. not yet at least.
1:38 PM
Thursday, October 16, 2003
Maureen Dowd writes a column today about the curse Bush has tried to lay on us, the fairy tale he wants us to live in. More interesting and disturbing though is a quote she uses: " On Monday, Representative George Nethercutt Jr., a Republican from Washington State who visited Iraq, chimed in to help the White House: 'The story of what we've done in the postwar period is remarkable. It is a better and more important story than losing a couple of soldiers every day.'"
This is why I left the military, because our world sees news and creation of news as more important than the lives lost in the process. Not only is he not concerned about our own soldiers' lives, but fails to mention the Iraqis who are still dying because of our occupation. If this Representative's comments would come along as an official statement with every announcement to families and loved ones of each soldier who died, I think support for the Iraqi occupation would dwindle quickly.
It shocks me though; i don't hardly know how to speak to it. Would this Representative be so callous if it had been his son yesterday or last week who had died and barely been reported on the news? Can he not see that these soldiers have been duped the worst of all? Sure, the whole country has been taken on a ride by the White House, but the soldiers, they're the ones paying for it, with everything they have. yes, if they hadn't volunteered, they wouldn't be there in the first place, so that means they wanted to die, right? No. if they are anything like i was at 17, I wanted to give to my country, wanted to serve the people around me, wanted to be a part, to do my duty, to be something more than self-serving. I had no idea what I was doing, and neither do most of the people in the military. They blindly trust those who lead them, and while it may be not their smartest move, to see their trust dying with them because of lies and ill-conceived notions of the world both angers and exhausts me. to see their death flippantly cast off as if it were nothing is an incomprehensible horror.
10:38 AM
Monday, October 13, 2003
Propaganda usually comes from loud voices, and therefore easier to detect. Presidents, senators, and other politicians often use it to their advantage and discredit. But at least ten city newspapers have recently receivedDubious Letters From GIs In Iraq. These letters are signed by soldiers in Iraq and sent back to their hometowns as editorials. They are made to look like an honest grassroots attempt to increase the public's awareness of the Iraq situation. The deception is layered as neither the contents nor the source are true. Every day, it seems, someone is pulling more wool over America's eyes, clouded as they already are. Someone is working very hard to convince us of something that we would otherwise not believe. It must be our job then, to work just as hard to find the truth for ourselves, and share it.
4:38 PM
Sunday, October 12, 2003
I'm tired today, and i can't blame it on lack of sleep, not after the 10 hours i had last night and good sleep the night before as well. i'm tired from taking care of my mother this past week in tulsa, and worrying about her since i left on thursday. i'm tired of the pain in our relationship, the things we can and can't talk about, the hurt i'm still feeling from the words she said to me in the past few years, how she thinks i will kill myself like my uncle did because he tried to live a gay life, how she told me i was lying about my conviction for conscientious objection. i'm trying, so hard, to let it go, to forgive her, but i am not strong enough yet, not when i can't write about it without crying. i'm hoping that the good seeds i planted this week, taking care of her when her husband neglected to stop by during her surgery, will help turn her good will toward me, but i know i have to do such things without such hope for compensation, do them just for her, because she is my mother and because i love her. all this has exhausted me. it seems the love i'm trying to give her is caught in all of my pain and can't quite get through yet. but i fear, too, that her coldness will stop any love i give to her, and she won't see. This kind of work takes time though; seeds don't grow when planted. They have to be watered and cared for; and even then, i can't cause them to grow.
12:30 PM
Wednesday, October 08, 2003
Mary Poppins, who are you? Are you a fairy tale riding your umbrella down to the children who need you most? Are you a teacher and an inventor, inspiring us to see more than we otherwise might? Or are you a side of each of us, that part that says laugh a little louder, dream a little more, and love all you can?
silly to wonder about Mary, isn't it? It's a silly movie, full of somewhat annoying songs about chimneys and terrible dance numbers. and yet, it's also a subtle explanation of how we might live, giving what we have instead of hording it away, finding fun in every possible job, and not being afraid of those who tell us not to be happy.
or maybe i dont know anything about that. but i know it made me laugh a whole lot more than i expected, and that's always a good thing. and it makes me wonder what sort of lessons we give to our children, and when we start giving them other lessons. when do we tell them to stop believing all those wonderful fairy tales and tell them they have to buy their way in the world, they have to accumulate all the money and possessions they can or else they lose the game? well, i guess i'll just have to teach them myself, won't i?
4:40 PM
Tuesday, October 07, 2003
Thanks, Reichen. As much as I am jealous of you for having other gay friends and lovers at the Academy, since I never had even one, I am glad to hear your story. I've had too many people tell me, oh, i heard being gay in the military was no big deal now, people accept it and stuff. No. It still hurts, all the time, all kinds of people. the solitude and the silence can be unbearable.
Still, times are changing. I've heard from people i knew back on the base, that word has circulated about my homosexuality. Everyone seems interested in it, and I guess few people are upset about it. I don't care much, don't know anybody on the base anymore (yes, even after only six months). shouldn't they change the policy then? seems like many people would accept it better now than ten years ago. but then, would they? there's something when it's hidden, when nobody's open about it. As for now, gay sex is still a crime under the military code. I suppose this is why I make it clear to most everyone i meet that i'm gay, and that i'm comfortable with it. i want to hear myself say it, i want to shake people sometimes and force them to be more aware of the people around them, what effect their conversation might have on them. I'm tired of being silent.
2:22 PM
Sunday, October 05, 2003
Several friends of mine have been interested in how I've managed to keep religion as a part of my life, when so many others have thrown it away, and when it's pressured me into so many things when i was young. i feel my religion wouldnt' let go of me, instead of me continuing to search after it. i mean, maybe the old proverb is right, that if you teach a child the way he should go, he won't divert from it later in life. i tried to let it all go for a few years when I was coming out, but i couldn't. I put it aside for some time, unable to reach agreement between homosexuality and christianty. It didn't disappear though; i was interested both intellectually and spiritually, so i kept finding it everywhere; not because i went to church often, although i did off and on, even when I was somewhat trying to ignore things, but because a search for God has always been a part of my life. I have always felt too much truth in christianity, no matter how buried it's been underneath hypocrisy. I never followed the people, not even the pastors. My parents were good enough to teach me that religion was my own, that the Bible held secrets for me other people might never be able to teach me. they must have expected me to find exactly what they did, but of course, that didn't work out. Still, they rooted my faith in an intellectual search for God, no matter how much they might claim that intellectualism and God were incompatible. When my brother and I had to write papers on theology and prepare interesting bible studies, we learned to think critically and interpretively about the Bible. When my mother, who co-hosts a radio show in Oklahoma, interviewed me about being at the Air Force Academy, her co-host asked me at the end of the show, what was the best lesson or example my parents taught me while growing up. I answered that my parents had taught me to learn the Bible, to remember verses, and to understand it for myself.
So when i was struggling with God after college, I tried to observe and learn more. I picked up one of my now favorite short story collections called God: Stories which reminded me that thoughts about God can be about both faith in him and about his absence, can foster faith and can trouble faith. But i learned mostly that my thoughts on God were valid, not something i should walk away from but something I should explore because they were a part of me and my psychology. Reading that book started my excitement about God again, remembering that God was not all about condemnation but about exploration of our world, of ourselves, of the part of God that is in us. From there, I steadily recaptured my faith and improved my understanding, of who I was as a homosexual and as a Christian, of who i was as a person, as someone committed to living rightly and improving myself.
Can I say this? I couldn't sleep one night, was upset in my head, upset in my stomach, had to walk around. I walked outside for at least an hour, trying to calm my stomach, trying to figure out what was going on. I walked all over my neighborhood at 3am and 4am, wandering the streets. at some point, i realized i had to listen. I hate to say that God talked to me, because I didn't hear anything with my ears. instead, i just knew something, something new that I wouldn't have thought of myself, knew it, like it was written inside me by the churning of my stomach, in letters i could feel, like the work of Kafka's machine in "The Penal Colony." It was simple, that i had to talk to my closest friend about religion, that i couldn't keep it from him anymore, as if it had to be a divide between us. Once i accepted that message, my stomach stopped, I felt relieved, as if I had passed a kidney stone. I told my friend the next day, embarrassed, but sure that I had to. I still don't know what effect it had on him. However, I know what it did to me, as if it were a test, can you handle this easy task? I could say it was preparation for later. When I encountered the Quaker message later that year, here in St Louis, that everyone has a part of God in them and that we have to listen to that part in us to find direction, I understood exactly because I had already felt it, rather involuntarily. And when I began to question my role in the military and consider conscientious objection, I listened and waited for such a feeling, for words written inside me. it took around a year, of thinking, listening, and waiting, and even some avoiding. But when I felt the answer inside me, I trusted it, because of all the years I have spent searching for God, because of all the years i have spent searching for myself, and realizing that searching for God is searching for myself, as I am a part of God. This isn't just religion. this is philosophy, psychology, personal experience, existentialism, and a desire for growth and improvement.
12:46 PM
Saturday, October 04, 2003
Many people have given me a hard time for the music i listen to, wondering why i don't listen to what everyone else does, wondering how i find different music or why i bother (remember, i have the skewed perspective of being around unimaginative air force people for nine years). I usually flaunt my music preferences to highlight my differences, but there have been too many times when others' comments plain hurt. but so what, i still love the music. What's wonderful though is when you connect to unusual people through music that you both like. An older black man, a doctor, comes to sit at my cafe several times a week. he never tips, and usually sits there around an hour or so, enjoying his croissant and the newspaper. He's always nice and has one of those great voices you know would be a great public reader. When he mentioned a week or so ago that he is retired now and gets to sit around doing very little and loves it, I said, oh, like the Fats Waller song, it's loafin' time! The song has one of my favorite lyrics in it: "I just love this lazy way of living / doing nothin' ain't no sin / If it is I hope that I'm forgiven / cuz I've got nothing to do and all day to do it in." He looked at me, shocked, how does a young guy like you know Fats Waller? ha! i just do! so every time he comes in now, we chat about old jazz and blues and other wonderful stuff. Apparently, he brought in a few tapes of Lionel Hampton and such for me, but I wasn't around so didnt' leave them. an older retired well-to-do black man bringing tapes for me to listen to! I saw him today and as i turned around to grab something for him, i heard the chink of a few coins going in the tip jar. of course, his friendliness is worth more than the tip, but it's so nice to be appreciated for something that so many other people discount or criticize. and wonderful to find connections between yourself and complete strangers.
8:59 PM
Wednesday, October 01, 2003
October, thank heavens. the air is cool and the sun is warm. I can finally justify wearing a long sleeve shirt outside. Perphaps the weather drives me too much, but i love these days. This just feels right.
I'm sending off poetry today to a local literary journal, the Delmar. Don't know what might happen, but i'm both excited and nonchalant. If they like it, I'll be excited. If they don't, I'll be nonchalant. Two of the poems I've already shared in front of groups, at poetry readings, and people there welcomed them, so I hope others will also. I'm not exactly sure of my motivations here. Yes it would be wonderful to see my name listed as a poet in a journal, no matter how small. I have never considered myself a poet though. Certainly a writer, but poetry comes out of me with difficulty. i have to pull and push and strain. I suppose any good thing does, though, right? The rest of this commentary is the looseness of my head whereas poetry is taking a large chunk of it, molding it into shape, condensing it, and presenting it as a piece of power instead of a loose flowing stream. Both are nice, but the poetry should last longer.
May my pink and black nails which match my pink and black outfit bless the pages with good luck as they go.
3:29 PM
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