We
spent most of the evening surfing news channels. I was
pleasantly surprised by Joe Scarborough who I usually
don't enjoy. He was talking about the people who couldn't
afford to leave. He mention some people asking banks
for a loan of twenty dollars for a tank of gas and being
turned down. I might have thought he would be one of
the people blaming the people that "chose to stay"
and I'm happy to be wrong.
More
than one news person spoke about how much need there
is and how weird it seems that it's taking so long for
help to arrive.
This
morning we got hooked back in. Jane was going to go
out for a skate but she couldn't break away. She just
left.
I
just watched some film of people yelling help, help,
help, help.
I
know that there are humanitarian disasters every day.
Big ones in which whole populations are targeted and
smaller ones in which the elder down the street doesn't
have care. I know it isn't good to get sucked into the
media coverage of any given event, switching from one
cable news station to another, the radio on, eyes glued
to the computer. But I can't think about anything else
right now.
Yesterday
I went swimming and then Jane and I went to dinner.
We came home and turned the news back on. After a few
minutes I went to bed with a book but I couldn't concentrate.
There
is so much I want to say and it seems like other people
say it better and sometimes it feels like it's better
to be quiet.
I
have this metaphor about how racism is taught. In some
families mom and dad wear white robes and the racism
is out loud. In many families it's more subtle. When
you walk past people of color mom, or dad, holds your
hand a little tighter. No one has to say anything. Nothing
is out loud but a lesson is learned.
I've
been thinking about it all week while I watch crowds
of people of color calling for help and listened while
people debated if race were part of the reason.
And
they were poor. And they were elderly.
From
time to time a famous person will mention that they
get so much free stuff now that they are famous and
can afford to buy what they need. I've been thinking
about that too.
What
is human nature and what is learned? We ask that question
again and again. What we do know is that we need systems
to protect us from the worst of who can be. And the
systems either weren't in place or weren't employed.
Or this event shows us that the systems in which we
live are filled with bias. I imagine most of the people in those
crowds are used to governmental slowness to respond.
There
is no purpose for government except to improve the lives of its
citizens. Yet as scenes of horror that seemed to be coming from some
Third World country flashed before us, official Washington was
like a dog watching television. It saw the lights and images, but did
not seem to comprehend their meaning or see any link to reality.
Link
I've
been encouraged by the way the main stream media have
broken out of their lockstep and continue to criticize.
With the exception of the deletion of Kanye
West's comment there seems to have been some very
forth right coverage. By Saturday night there were these
little organized films of time lines. The event was
already in reruns. I turned it off.
As
things move from urgent crisis to recovery the conversation
shifts to what is (finally) being done. That's all to
the good I suppose. But I can't forget those people
yelling - help, help, help.
During
the first few days I watched all the news channels,
including Fox. But that's over. Last night O'Reilly
said:
The aftermath of Hurricane Katrina should be taught in every American
school - if you don't get educated, if you don't develop a skill,
you'll most likely to be poor. And sooner or later you'll be standing
on a symbolic rooftop waiting for help. Chances are that help will not
be quick in coming.
There
were four years in a row in my life when someone died.
My grandparents and two aunts. I lived with my grandparents
and I was close to both aunts so the deaths hit me.
I remember walking around my high school feeling stunned.
I remember looking at people who were laughing and wondering
how it was possible that they could just go on with
life and not notice that someone was gone. And at the
funerals I was uncomfortable when people were happy
to see one another. I thought we should all be dour.
That
was a long time ago.
Dean
was visiting on 9/11. He was old enough to know what
was going on but I didn't think he should be steeped
in it. The minute he left for his internship I would
turn on the radio and the TV and hunch in front of the
computer.
Deb
and I took him to Green
Gulch for a tour of the gardens. I had one of those
moments again. There we were in this place of wonder
and beauty. Calm. Fed. With one another. And there was
all this horror in other parts of the world. How was
it possible?
Having
Jane here balanced my obsessive news watching. And when
she left I made an effort to moderate my consumption.
The schedule at the pool is changing and things aren't
clear. I didn't get as many swims in last week as I
might have wished for. This week I've been swimming
twice. Swimming makes me feel strong and clear.
And
yet, I am distracted.
Two
words you do want to say to me. Blame game. (As
Kristina wrote) This isn't about blame. It's about
accountability.
Marie
is hosting
a family. Bobbi is selling some of her NOLA
shots to raise funds for Habitat. The world is full
of wonder. And beauty.
Maybe
one of the reasons the news has been so compelling
is that it was more raw, less produced. Time and time
again I saw news people lose their cool. They questioned
what was happening. It was like having a free press.
I
read a post
by Jeff several times because it said something
so well.
It’s hard to turn off the specular stream on TV. It was almost a week
before I heard a single “historical recap” of the events because the
events were happening so fast. CNN looped twenty-second clips over and
over, but these clips had little staying power. Unlike the collapse of
the WTC with its signature plumes of smoke, or the toppling of statues
in Iraq, there were no singular images that could approach the impact
of Katrina. This disaster lacks any real unity of image, and perhaps
highlights the artificial nature of these manufactured “signature
images.” It seems as if the public has been slapped with an actuality
beyond image that defies any general sense of truth. It’s not a
spectacle; it is truly a disaster.
For
me the image of a large group of people calling out
for help will always be with me as a memory of this
event but I agree that even that image doesn't contain
the disaster.
Yesterday
Jeff wrote about the
debate over whether Hardy
Jackson should remain in the Wikipedia. I remembered
that Kristina
had posted his picture and I remembered seeing him
on the news. There have been so many people since then
that I almost didn't remember him. I would vote to keep
him because any individual story makes it all more real.
But it is hard to even use the word real when talking
about images on a screen.
As
the days pass the image makers sort and sift looking
for the ones that serve the rhetoric. I've seen plenty
of flags.
The
idea that Fema wants to protect the dignity of the dead
by not allowing the photographs seems completely disingenuous.
The administration must be shocked to realize that the
media that has served them so well actually questioned
them.
If
money were no object I would have subscriptions to way
too many magazines. This might sound like the beginning
of a post in which I wish I had more money but it's
just the opposite.
Despite
the fact that I am slowly having to let go of subscriptions
I still have two stacks to work through. Last night
I was doing just that and thinking that if I had more
I'd be overwhelmed.
One
of the most tempting pieces of mail I get is a really
low price on The New Yorker. There were four months
of back issues when I canceled my last subscription.
I
love reading but I'm a slow reader. And I reread a lot.
And I like to save things I've read. I have years worth
of some magazines none of which I want to let go off.
When
I had a rock-n-roll band I read Rollingstone and Spin
and Vanity Fair and Vogue. When I was cooking professionally
I read Gourmet and Sunset and Cooks Illustrated. A friend
got me a subscription to Metropolitan Home after I confessed
a secret enjoyment of it. I've had subscriptions to
MS on and off since it began. I got The Nation for awhile.
I
will always love The Sun. I like Bitch and Harpers.
I love Saveur. And Poets and Writers. I've had subscriptions
to National Geographic a few times
I
used to read news papers more than I do. I read them
on line now but I still like the feel of the paper spread
out on a table. I like literary journals.
And
books. Of course.
But
I get over whelmed. So right now I have just the right
amount.
It's
a silly thing to write about but I had to turn off the
TV last night. I read a great interview in an old Bitch
with Carol
Lee Flinders.
The
TV is back on. CNN. There's a photo montage of rescues
with sappy background music.
I
spent a lot of time with Leonard Orr.
To be fair, what I learned from him made a huge difference
in how I experienced myself in the world. In a good
way. And. Let's just say, I have some issues.
But
I was thinking about Leonard today. Once we were in
SF and I bought some kind of OM button, or maybe it
was a picture of the George Washington on the dollar,
or something that I knew he'd think was cool. So I was
showing it to him and he asked if I'd bought more than
one. It took me a awhile to figure out that he would
have bought more than one and sold them. The same thing
happened in India. He offered to give me some money
to buy some shawls. I got that he was thinking I'd buy
them and then sell them. I know I'd give them as gifts
so I didn't take him up on the offer. And once he brought
me a box of mugs with the rebirthing symbol on them.
I didn't understand that he was giving them to me. I
thought he was giving them to the rebirthing center.
He was always encouraging entrepreneurship. I was always
failing.
When
I did own a little business I continued with my bad
habits. I did make money but not as much as I might
have. I worked way too hard for way to little. For me
the cafe was part of creating community at my little
college and was heart broken by much of the experience.
I've
been wracking my brain for what I can do since I don't
seem to be able to find a job.
I
had a really nice Saturday with Sonya. She took me for
lunch
and a walk on Piedmont
Ave. We passed two women making music for tips.
One was playing a mouth
harp and the other was singing. Sonya, sweetheart
that she is, gave them both some money.
The
obvious thing for me to do is cook. I guess. Oh. I dunno.
I'm just trying to come up with something.
I
had a truly stupid moment last night while watching
Beijing
Bicycle. I was listening to the Chinese and reading
the English subtitles and I thought - gee, that doesn't
sound anything like how it's spelled.
It's
good to be double Gemini at moments like that. A whole
other part of yourself can make wise cracks about wondering
if they have hooked on phonics for Chinese.
The
movie has everything I like in a movie. Complex characters.
Atmospheric moments. And it doesn't have a trite happy
ending. It has an ending that you can talk about and
wonder about and have your own opinion about what might
happen next.
And
yet, last night I kinda wanted a happy ending. I wanted
the story of how it all works out.
On
Fridays a group of Autistic kids swim in the shallow
end of the pool in which I swim. There's is a rope and
buoy line between us. Some of them run and jump and
splash. The life guards yell. Not in a mean way. One
young man likes to hang on the ropes. I think it believes
that he will be able to sneak to the other side. He
gets such a big smile. Last week he did get over
before someone noticed. Another likes to run up and
down the few stairs and then race to the side and jump
in. He usually gets this done once before anyone stops
him.
If
I don't post for a few days I start getting asked why.
Which is sweet. I used to write out my fears and problems
on the blog but I don't feel safe doing that right now.
I'll get over that. I know that reading other people's
writing about their problems opens my heart and moves
me and is an important part of my reading life. I also
know that this is a public space and if I'm going to
write something I may get shoved. And I have. And oh
well. It is what it is. But it has made me feel cautious
about writing when I'm down. And I have been down.
My
life is not bad. I have amazing friends who help me
again and again. I swim. I have books to read and movies
to watch and yarn to knit. So. It isn't exactly all
good but I am always mindful of the blessings in my
life.
I
don't have enough of any one yarn to work on a project
and I don't really know what I'm doing. I've been knitting
all the different yarns into a blanket of squares but
I don't really know how to attach them or adjust for
difference of gage so it's misshapen and odd looking.
I love it. And I'm crocheting little granny squares
with the smaller pieces of yarn.
When
I was younger writing came easier. I carried around
thin gray notebooks in which I wrote spastically at
any given moment. In school I had to write in response
to a teacher. Even in the MFA program. I built up some
muscle tone in terms of being able to write in different
ways. But the blog has always been my writing refuge.
The place where I just write. The surprise of blogging
has been all the great people I've met.
I
have always compared my Sims playing to the way I used
to play with dolls. I tell my self stories while I play.
In the Sims 2 the story telling is more controlled by
the game. The addition of aspirations for a Sim guides
many of the choices you make.
I
was playing with two of my dorms. One is full
of men and the other women. Some of them were sweethearts
in high school but I mixed them up so they could make
new friends. A Sim can have a handheld game now
and they can play with another Sims if that Sim has
a game. If they play too long they get a crush on the
Sim. The first time I saw that I laughed. It was two
sort of macho guys and they were playing with their
handhelds and - poof - they had a crush. I thought it
was cute.
In
my girl dorm, two Sims played handhelds together (sounds
so licentious, doesn't it?) and they got a crush. Back
in the boy dorm their boy friends wanted woohoo, which
is what the kids are calling it these
days in the Sims. You can fulfill an aspiration in another
house so I went over to the girl dorm to make it happen.
I forgot about the crush. One of the girls, Tillie (named
after Tillie
Olsen by her two lesbian mothers) wanted to have
a party. When they have a party they want woohoo. So
her boy comes over and they are in the bed room woohooing.
Her crush, Lucy, jumps up from the drum set and runs
to go slap her for "cheating".
Now.
This is where it gets kooky in terms of the way I react
to things. The game is a kind of Rorschach test. I stopped
Lucy from slapping but she wasn't friends with Tillie
anymore. I sent the boys home and had the girls talk.
It took two days but they were friends again but with
no crush. And I was kinda pissed at Tillie for upsetting
Lucy. Lucy kept breaking into tears. I was the one who
clicked on the actions but Tillie was the one who wanted
to party. I blamed her.
Sooooooooo.
I had Lucy's boyfriend come over. Lucy never got amorous
on her own. She just wanted to play and tell jokes.
But I had them woohoo anyway. This time Tillie ran to
do the slapping, which was very confusing because the
crush is gone but somehow made me less angry at Tillie
because now she was crying. They're still making up.
Back
in the boy dorm everyone is happy. But Lucy hates Tillie's
boy friend and visa versa. I'm not sure what I'm going
to do about this. I might just leave it be.
I
don't really enjoy playing the game as much as I used
to but still like this is why I keep playing. I'm just
always surprised by my reactions. I'm kind of puritanical.
Who knew?
The
new television season is full of sea monsters and aliens
and psychics. Oh, my. I usually like stuff like that
but none of it is catching me. I wanted to like the
first
woman president show but I just didn't. The first
thing she does is to use a show of military might to
help a character based on Amina
Lawal. Not realistic and not a good idea.
I
still like the West Wing, although it is a shadow of
its former self. I like Gillmore Girls. ER. Numbers.
I'm looking forward to the
Einstein show.
Not
having television to watch is not a bad thing. I just
keep trying to think of something to say about how supernatural
the new season is. It just seems like a response to
something. But I can't quite name it. I am void of course.
And lacking in wit.
But
it was either this or writing about my celery purchase
realization.
I
needed celery to make tuna salad but I didn't need much.
I thought about buying one of those small containers
of pre cut stuff but it cost for times as much as a
large stalk. Four times as much! Sheesh.