Wednesday, August 01, 2012
Wednesday, October 05, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Constrained strife slowly woke me up. Opening one eye, I wondered what movie I was watching. I know just about every disaster movie and this wasn't a scene I remember. So I rolled over to pinpoint what movie I was watching. And then the commentator came on...I think it was Katie Couric...and fitfully stated in that newscaster fashion, that a plane had flown into the World Trade Center.
And I sat up in bed to watch a movie that had never been made.
I got out my bed to watch mayhem. And helicopters. And people waving white believing, perhaps, that an impossible rescue would be mounted. And people falling. And fire. And people I knew for a fact were dying in front of my eyes. On the living room television because I have to have the noise in the house to help me feel not so alone.
I could not leave the television for weeks. I watched the skies for weeks. I cried for weeks. I could not sleep for weeks. The people, I sobbed to my mommy late one night. All those people, Mommy.
All those people. But what got me, what still gets me, is that I could have been any one of those people hanging out of windows waving futile flags, surrendering my life, had a different target been chosen.
Today, as I listen to the names of those who died that day read, I know these surnames. I've known people with these surnames. They haven't gotten to the Rs yet, but I'm sure the FDNY lost some Ryans that day. My high school friend, Peach Ryan, is a flight attendant. Grounded on that day but if the fates would have had it, she could have been one of those who died.
So the people. All those people. People I could have known. People who could have been me.
Saturday, August 06, 2011
So Playboy interviewed John Mayer and the internet and its contributors have gone all Heathers, picked out some admittedly awful quotes and deemed him pariah. I'm sad to say that I contributed. I'm also loathe to link to TMZ but here's why he's not eating with the popular kids in the cafeteria.
But it's worth it to read the interview, header and all. Something I should have done before mouthing off. Blogs and politics are seductive that way. You read a snippet of something outrageous, have an immediate outraged reaction, and comment about your outrage. And other outraged commenters note your outrage by adding to it. And we're all outraged.
Here's my theory. This interview is irrefutable proof that he is a cocky 32 year old white talented male rock star who got to hang out in the studio with equally talented black folks. Let's say Jay Z and Kanye (himself no stranger to outrage) and maybe Common. Probably Jay Z, while counting his money, offhandedly told Mayer he was a badass guitar playing motherfucker. And then Mayer was just there being Jay's guitar playing motherfucker while Jay Z, Common and Kanye had some "we just talking bullshit" conversation about white-girl crazy. Mayer, stoked beyond the telling of it that Jay Z called him "motherfucker" got into the spirit of things, dropped some yammer about exacly how big Jessica's tits are and what it's like to fuck an almost virgin, everyone laughed (he made them laugh!!!!), got comfortable and nobody was self-censoring. John, imagining that it would be that way in the world for him because after all, his touring band is mostly black and they do the same thing with him and he's, well...John Mayer...and incorporated what he thought to be the truth of him hanging out with black folks for a minute and ran his mouth.
Now see, I blame Jay. And while I'm at it, I'll pull Common and Kanye's and John's band's coattails too. You know you should have told your bad ass guitar playing motherfucker that that bullshit you talk - is just that...bullshit. Don't REPEAT IT.
Yeah, AND. John should have never racialized his dick because if his dick is racist, then he is racist. Much as men like to refer to their peens as something other than they, it is not. It's attached to you, it is, therefore...yours. So, if you think it's just your dick that wants to screw Jessica Simpson*, it is not. It is you. Own it.
And if your dick doesn't open itself up to the concept of sex with black women, then you don't either. And that's hard for me, at least, to hear. It plays into too many insulting concepts about standards of beauty in America.
So, upshot? John was just talking out his neck.
Here's John apologizing. And I still like "Gravity" and he is a badass guitar playing motherfucker. Jack White's better though.
*It seems like I'm bagging on Jessica Simpson but I'm not. I think she's had a hard row to hoe - a row she doesn't understand.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Saturday, April 09, 2011
Tuesday, April 05, 2011
Saturday, April 02, 2011
I watched Jeremiah Johnson again today. I really love that movie, not the least of which is for Robert Redford. Yes, I have a weakness for the towheads and if ever there were a prototype towhead, it's Bob...well, I call him Bob...in my mind, y'see.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
Those 18 months meant a lot to me.
I went back for this school's reunion this past weekend. Fairly few remembered me. Or if they did remember me, remembered that they didn't like me or really a less self-pitying point of view, remembered that I didn't matter to them in the same way they mattered to me.
That was hard. Harder still to ignore which I have been mightily trying to do for the past 48 hours. I'm good at denial and ignoring but I'm not having much success right now. I've cried during this time...not real tears because that would mean showing how I feel. I'm crying on the proverbial inside.
This is a constant in my life.
During the after party of her fifth grade classmates that they were kind enough to invite me, the unremembered one, I embarrassed my sister by being loud, demanding and obnoxious. Not of her but of the people around her. I apologized to her, but she didn't ask me why. She said "No worries," but didn't ask me why. If she had I would have told her that I was tired of people taking advantage of her. Long story, but she has been organizing and taking charge groups of uncooperative, privileged people and I saw that happening at this get together of her classmates. I spoke up loudly which I probably would not have done if I hadn't had that second half beer. **sigh** This is why I don't drink - it's cute when you're young and obnoxious when you're old. I'm old.
It wasn't because of whatever reason people who don't know me think. I suspect my sister has a reason why I was all obnoxious also. She, of course, has a bit more insight but I don't know. I don't know because she didn't ask and I didn't volunteer the info.
Nobody asks how the hysterectomy has affected me.
Nobody asks how afraid I am of dying alone.
Nobody asks how sitting next to an unaware bigot brings my life down.
Nobody asks how never being able to be excellent in my job depresses me.
Nobody asks how my self-loathing affects me.
Nobody asks why it's there.
Nobody asks why I don't cry.
I now have to take my uterusless self to a job I'm failing at while listening to the mildly bigoted ditz drone on next to me while I do the bidding of grown lawyers who think of me as the same ilk as a xerox machine.
Though I've ignored this space into internet oblivion, still too many people know this blog is here, so this is about all the pathetic blues crying that's barely appropriate.
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
The page takeover is what seals it. Here's another example for the Honda Insight. I don't watch broadcast much anymore getting pretty much all my content on the internet. I'm an advertiser's dream for this stuff. That page takeover. Wow.
Fun, huh? And speaking of colors. I am a big fan of OK Go's synchronized treadmill video. Here they play on kinetic motion to make something really interesting and fun. Trying to keep up with what's moving things forward is a challenge.