This from CNN’s website right now:
Americans use enough plastic in year to shrink wrap the state of Texas.
Okay, when can we start?
This from CNN’s website right now:
Americans use enough plastic in year to shrink wrap the state of Texas.
Okay, when can we start?
The New York Times is reporting:
The Oklahoma Legislature voted overwhelmingly Tuesday to override vetoes of two highly restrictive abortion measures, one making it a law that women undergo an ultrasound and listen to a detailed description of the fetus before having an abortion.
Strict Abortion Measures Enacted in Oklahoma | New York TImes
In the interest of fairness, Pawn feels we should have similar requirements for prescribing certain erectile dysfunction treatments. Perhaps mandate that all men be required to listen to tapes of crying babies and change a few diapers before getting those little blue pills…
New York — 14 April 2010
“New York, I love it. New York and me. I was born here, you know. I left, moved away, when I was in high school. But I came back, man, four years later. You can leave New York, you know, but you can’t really. There’s that thing, that bond. You can’t leave that.
“New York, you love it and it loves you right back. It’ll hold you tight and be all nice to you, treat you real good. Then one day; you are down on your luck; you’re layin’ in the street, and New York? New York’ll come up and kick you when you are down. Kick you right in the balls. It’ll taunt you and shit.
“Man! New York; it can be like a woman. All cuddly and close one minute and then all up in your face about shit the next. It be all lovin’ you and helpful and accepting and then, BAM!, it’s kicking you in the ding-dong again. Yellin’ and screamin’ and all down on you like you’re some piece of trash the dog dragged in.
“Shit!
“But you know, like that woman, you just can’t leave it. You just can’t let it go even though you both know it would be for the best. No, like the sick, poor, lovesick fool that you are you just keep trying and you keep getting back up after each indignity and you try to pretend. The next time it shows you some lovin’, you just try to begin again. Begin anew and…
“Yeah, you start all over. Each time; each time you think that this time the city, it won’t let you down. You’ll do what you set out for: You’ll make that next audition, you’ll pass that interview, you’ll win that bet and you’ll win that woman back, and… You know what? You know what? I… Well, what can I say man. I’ve had a rough ride with this bitch, but I’m not done yet. Neither of us is done.”
James was our bartender at Clem’s in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and he had just explained his relationship to the city, and we did the only thing we could; we looked down at the bar, took a sip of our cocktails, and tried desperately to change the subject.
Actually, we sat back in awe, congratulated James on his flow, and recommended he reconsider the stage.
Ah, to be back in New York City again. Pawn was last here almost exactly five years ago, and that is just too long. Why are we, X and I, in Brooklyn? Pawn has a well known predisposition towards Manhattan, so why Brooklyn? Simple, we were waiting, killing time, between our inbound flight and our key pick up for the flat we’ve rented in Greenwich Village. We had 3 hours to kill, so we started out with a prime rib lunch at Peter Luger’s. Then came a long meandering through the Esplanade, the Lubavitcher realm, etc. We were frankly getting a little parched when we crossed over into the more hipster zone, and finally to this innocent looking corner with an innocent looking corner bar, and we saw this nice young gentleman bring out chairs to place on the sidewalk.
“Are you open yet?” queried X. “Yeah, go right on in, I’ll be right with you.” he replied. “Hold on!” I exclaimed, spotting a familiar looking drawing on a chalkboard propped up in the window. It was a chalkboard sketch titled “drunk girl has to pee” signed by one Carri Skoczek, 2009. I know Carri Skoczek, I worked with Carri Skoczek, and this is indeed a genuine Carri Skoczek!
Carri did costumes and props for various shows Pawn lit, back in the olden days of doing lighting design in Milwaukee’s theatre scene. She moved to Brooklyn about 10 or 15 years back, but what are the odds that the first bar we walk into is her old haunt. “We all love her here. We don’t see her so much anymore, but yeah, she used to come in here a lot.” James tells us.
Before the visit is over, James has bought us a drink and we have absorbed countless interesting bon-mot from Thomas, a visiting artist who just needs to take a little of the edge off before returning to his commission for the last few strokes of work.
We finally drag ourselves out of Clem’s and head back to the management office for our keys, and a black car ride into the city, into Greenwich Village, to commence our visit to Manhattan. To our “Greenwich Village Love Nest” as the hosts chose to promote this two bedroom flat on Macdougal Street.
[X chimes in]
Our “love nest” is quite cozy — the beds divided by a new age frosted glass ‘bundling board’ and the toilet divided from the shower and sink in two separate rooms. Accouterments carefully accounted for…i.e. 2 forks per bed; 2 wine glasses per bed. How do they KNOW??? Went out to pick up the basics — fat, sugar and salt for me; wholesome items for Nic and booze for the both of us, then off to Kettle of Fish, Nic’s local here. Met up with MKE Library colleague for drinks and 3-D movies of the Mermaid Parade at Coney Island, the Blessing of the Animals at Cathedral of St. John the Devine and ‘Return to the World’s Fair’ all dutifully watched with goofy glasses and full glasses of libations of choice. The owner, Patrick, is from MKE and his wife Adrian indulges his foibles regarding the Packers, Brewers, and, apparently, thirsty visitors from the Heartland. Back to Macdougal abode and soon to bed — big day tomorrow!
[X drops back out]
It’s hard to believe, sometimes, that James Dean and Jack Kerouac used to drown their sorrows at the same bar where we bent many an elbow this evening past. We met new friends tonight, and introduced old friends to even older ones. The films were a blast, and a very studious audience was very glad that a venue exists which will show the New York Stereoscopic Society productions, all made by Messrs. Meredith and Smith, a careful duo with a canny eye and a dry editorial sensibility. We all appreciated their efforts, and their keen eye for pathos in the otherwise banal events they covered.
Oh, and nudity, adds X.
Andrew Sullivan quotes Saharareporters on his blog over at The Atlantic, and then closes adeptly:
A classic Jihadist profile:
He is the son of the recently retired Chairman of First Bank of Nigeria, Dr. Umaru Abdul Mutallab. The Al-Qaida-linked Abdul Farouk Abdulmutallab is an engineering student at University College London. Saharareporters sources have revealed that prior to his sojourn in the UK, Farouk had studied at the prestigious British School of Lome, Togo. Where he passed his International Bacchalaureates Diploma before moving to UCL.
It sure isn’t poverty that forces these loons to do what they do. It’s religion.
Pawn recently withdrew from the social networking site Facebook following a year and a half involvement. Friends, and “friends” will doubtless ask why (and indeed, some already have). The answer is both simple and complex.
The simple answer is that I don’t like what the use of the site did to how I interact with people. While “social” networking sites bring a lot of promise, they also present many pitfalls. And these benefits and drawbacks have as much to do with you, the user, as with their own inherent dynamics. This blog, and the mailing list which preceded it, going back five years now, is itself a sort of social network. For while it is primarily a forum for me to express my thoughts, etc., it also permits a back and forth, a dialogue, and has even included direct, primary posts by others. In addition to my personal rants or other writings, I have often featured links to articles and stories elsewhere which thought worthy of attention, posted photographs, music clips, etc. In other words a lot of what one can do at Facebook, but without the large community surrounding it.
That community, however, can be a both a blessing and a curse. Facebook, and sites like it (i.e. LinkedIn, MySpace, etc.) provide extensive tools to build community in ways we have never seen before. This is a godsend for organizers from local grass roots up to presidential campaigns, but works equally well for fear mongers as prophets, for hate groups as for charities. My very first girlfriend tracked me down via LinkedIn after nearly thirty years, to share memories and catch up on two lives now very separate. So, too, former lovers have tracked me down whom I would rather not have so done.
Therein lies one of the problems with a media which is at once both public and private. Anyone who has spent any time at all on social networking sites has seen a friend or friends mistakenly post in a public way what was intended to be a private message. I actually made it somewhat of a personal mission to help educate people about how to use Facebook with security and privacy in mind. Just as one can rekindle old connections, so one must cope with the ramifications of doing so, in both the public and private realms. An old schoolmate wants to be your friend, and has become friends with many people whom you actually have kept up with since those old days. If you don’t become friends are you being rude? What will your other former classmates think of your standoffishness? It’s the old peer pressure writ large and on the Internet.
Then there is the odd dynamic of “meeting” new people, a friend of a friend or just someone with common cause, say another member of a local political group. They share your view, or a common link, and in the anonymous and yet connected world of social networking it is perfectly natural to “friend” each other. In a real world setting there is much more context for such a situation. A mutual friend can offer either a direct introduction or a muted aside, encouraging or discouraging such a friendship, or in the context of a local political meeting or other event, one may infer more about the other from the goings on.
Not so in the cyber world. I was friended by a couple of people following a comment I made on the fan page for a long-defunct local punk band. in 1981 I had done several shows with this band, and had gotten to know some of them quite well. Following my comment, a few recollections from that era, I received friend requests from these two, one male one female, who were fans of the band and the nightclub where I had managed back then. Turns out they both used to come there as underage gate crashers whose youth was well hidden by the combination of fake IDs and the heavy makeup and hair dye prevalent in that crowd. I kept them as “friends” more because they posted interesting links to artworks, but never really interacted with them.
Interaction on social networking sites is another area of potential problems. The forum provided on such sites can often serve to magnify the tendencies already present when in a group. Pawn, believe it or not, was a class clown in his youth. One standout characteristic of a class clown is the tendency to speak first and consider later. This is bad enough in real life, where the words one utters are heard by a room full of people. Put it on the Internet, and the potential for regret or embarrassment multiplies. This is further compounded where one cannot remove, un-say or delete ones utterances. Just such a situation developed for me in the recent past.
In making what was intended to be a witty, sarcastic comment to an acquaintance’s post, instead I managed to offend them. My bungled wit came across, even to my own eyes, as mean and rude — and ill considered. There being no way to retract the comment, no way to unring that bell, it instead hung in the air. There are examples galore of ill considered public utterances abounding on the Internet, from sites like Overheard in New York to Texts From Last Night, and new terms in the public lexicon, such as Drunk Dialing and TMI. In the cyber world, when you screw up, it is never just a room full of people who know, or may know.
So, what happened in this situation? The offended party “unfriended” me, a term which has no real world equivalent. Perhaps that’s because in the real world when we no longer wish to associate with someone we simply stop doing so. Now, true enough, anyone who has been stalked can tell you that it is not necessarily so simple (this I know), but by and large if we no longer wish to know what so-and-so is up to, we stop asking, calling, visiting, etc. and our spheres of experience will disengage. Not so on-line, where we must actively sever the link. What can be accomplished passively in-life requires active intervention in on-line.
In the world of Facebook, such an action is silent. It is not like calling someone up and saying “We’re not friends anymore!” but rather you click a button and that person silently and without their direct knowledge is no longer your friend. They may never know that this has happened, until they try to reach out to you and find you no longer in their list. Or they go to a, formerly, mutual friend’s page and see you appear not in the list of mutual friends, but in the list of all friends. This quiet rebuff is all that is needed to lower the boom of disapproval.
That is how I found that I had been unfriended, and it brought home to me just how absurdly this new media (for that is what it is, ultimately, is media) has wound itself into our lives in ways that are as destructive as they are constructive. I was temporarily crushed to see that I had lost a friend, yes, but then reflected on the fact that I have only ever met this person a few times, have no history with them, and only really knew them on-line. The lingering feeling, however, is the shame I felt at my embarrassing comment. Much like that I still feel for a bad joke told too loudly at a public event over twenty years ago.
But more, I had allowed my interactions with this new media become so central to how I interacted with people I truly do know, love and relate to in-life and not just on-line. I recognize my peevishness when someone wouldn’t react on-line to things I had posted, or when they failed to keep up their on-line counterpoint to their in-life reality. And I realized that it was just too easy to pretend that since I was present in my friends lives on-line that I was present in-life, when, in fact, I was absent there.
Thanksgiving is in two days time, and soon after I will begin to make and send my holiday greeting cards. This, too, is an act of make-believe social interaction, this annual ritual of pretending that we are still connected to all of our aunts and uncles, old schoolmates and neighbors. I long ago switched to printing out address labels rather than hand addressing, but I still take the time to scrawl a line or two into each card, lending an air of authenticity to this otherwise artificial intercourse. I will make an effort, this year, to be more present in that process, to be more personal in those wishes, to be more thoughtful as I lick those stamps.
Will I ever return to Facebook? For now I cannot say. Every year I make my own Christmas cards, using images I compose or photograph or cull from family archives. I post those on Facebook, as well. I am not sure I’ll update it this year. We’ll see.
Some political races are getting more interesting for who’s not running than for who is. In several races these past few days, prominent politicians have ended theior candidacies:
All in all a bunch of interesting developments for the final week of October, 2009.
“…The crime scene was so horrifying police would not even describe it, saying only that the victims died of blunt force trauma. After the killings, tow truck driver Elton Napier came across McCroskey: “That was the stinkiest rascal I’ve ever smelled.”
What’s cooking?
How much effort — and money — do airlines really put toward feeding you in flight?
Here’s further evidence that the choice of projectile really does matter.*
* The choice of target probably plays into this as well
Listened this morning to interview with a man who lost his girlfriend to the 7/7/2005 terror bombing of a bus in Tavistock Square in Bloomsbury, London. She would normally have been on the tube, but was diverted to the bus.
Unfortunately for her the terrorist was, too.
She called her partner, and as they spoke he suddenly heard screams, then the line went dead. “I knew then that I’d lost her,” he recalls. News of the three earlier tube bombings was already on telly.
I have fond memories of Tavistock Square from my recent visit to London. It was just a block or so from my flat, and I visited there frequently. The square is a memorial to peace, ironically enough. One charming aspect to the square, which I got to witness after theatre one night, was the formally robed bell ringer whose job it is to sweep through the park at closing time, barring and locking each gate, calling out “One and all, the park is closing” as he rang his bell and moved from gate to gate.
Bad Behavior has blocked 393 access attempts in the last 7 days.