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The past 3 days have been jammed packed. Got so much work (typing) to do, but my hands/arms are really hurting today for some reason. Hopefully the day will pass quickly, and I'll start paying more attention to my typing and taking breaks.
In the evenings I've been catching up with my friend Nils, who I haven't seen in nearly 6 weeks since we have both been traveling. Monday we had dinner and talked about photos, last night we saw a movie. I don't know how we got to this topic, but somehow I got started on my observations of my ex's wallet. She had this super cutie photo of me in the front of her wallet taken at last year's Gay Pride. For a while, I was wondering when she would take it out, sort of anticipating the sour taste of that realization. I of course was also wondering whose photo would replace mine. Were any of her present relations up to replacing the icon of a stable 5 month relationship?
I was surprised how long it stayed in there, until her wallet was stolen. She's got a big heart and gave a ride to some homeless folks who took it from her car. "Game over, Joe." I thought, "Natural events cleanse away the detritus and memories, making room for the new – that's life baby." A week later, they mailed her the wallet without the cash and credit cards, but with my photo! My eminent position was restored.
All that was months ago. And since then, I don't know what its status is. I haven't even looked, and I don't care to – or do I mean I don't care?
Nils had a similar story. His ex still has a picture of them looking couple-ish on his refrigerator door. You have to wonder when that will come down, or what his ex says to boys that he brings home when they ask, "oh, who is this?"
Last night we saw Get Real at the Kendall. Really enjoyable movie. It had the right balance of "coming out" angst and the joy of life. But on the walk home, I realized that even with the young gay trauma, his teenage life was looking a lot more social and involved than mine at that age: just a shy, insecure, hetero who didn't have a girlfriend till he was 19. Nils agreed, saying that even given the angst, the kid had it relatively easy and the film was an idealistic portrayal of a youth who found enough strength and self-confidence to out in front of his whole school.
Actually, most of the fan mail I get are from men. Literally "cruising" the Web, coming across my MIT site, or my picture on the W3C page. Just yesterday my roommie wanted notice prompted a rather surprising email:
Hey, I am not looking for the situation you have available, but you sound like a great person. You might get a few people who just want to meet you! I have a boyfriend, but if I didn't maybe I would be one of them.
Wow! I don't know if this is actually from a man, the "I have a boyfriend" doesn't sound typically gay, but "Walker" is a man's name yes? Regardless, a sweet sentiment none-the-less.
This weekend did not proceed as planned. That meant I thought I had a lot of things to do, but ended up with a lot of brooding time on my hands. Friday night I turned down a party invite because I thought I had plans with Lisa. Lisa's band changed their practice, so I just ended up sitting around my house interviewing prospective roommies, and later got bored and went off to a club by myself. Saturday night, I'd been looking forward to going to a gallery show/party that Jessie was showing at – she does cool zine/punk stickers. I walked there, nothing doing, went back home and realized it happened the night before!
But I did do lots of reading, and I worked on my audio project. Also, on Saturday Lisa showed me Jamaica Plains (JP). That was my first time out there, though I've heard of it often. I always thought of it as an indie elephant graveyard: where the cool people move to after they've finished their early "single and twenty" something phase in Allston or Cambridge. (Naturally, Lisa is married.) We enjoyed the sun, yummy food at Centre St. Cafe, ice cream, and the Harvard Arboretum. At the cafe, I had the most yummy waffle piled high with all sorts of fruit.
Sunday afternoon I saw Go, and returned home to watch Moore's The Awful Truth. Go wasn't too bad, but it was definitely in the Tarantino/LaBute GenX dissaffected/sex/drug genre that I am getting so very sick of. The Awful Truth of course rocked.
Next weekend is a holiday, and I'm wondering how I'll spend that time. Maybe I should go to The City and hang with mimi. She was gonna visit me, but her brother is coming up from Florida for a rave, so maybe I should go visit her instead?
I'm feeling really hectic, but not in a bad way. It isn't the feeling of stress resulting from feeling unmotivated or buried. Rather, it's that hectic feeling resulting from wanting to do lots of things, but just not having the time. I got to scan some photos, work on zines, work on my audio documentary, find a new roommate (I'm showing 3 candidates the place tonight), catch up with some friends, start the Gandhi book, finish the Secret Museum, write an essay on the ethical anarchist, look through tons of patent prior art for work, write a little Web page/essay describing my workstyle, start creating the XML-Dsig pages, register for a conference, submit some papers, edit papers based on comments, and chase a thousand references and emails resulting from an interesting conference yesterday at Harvard. The interesting bit was a Berkman Center reception in the evening. They did an amazing amount of toasting, roasting, and humorous story telling about each other, particular for those that were moving on. Wow. I don't think I'd have it in me. What would I say? Maybe these people have a natural good sense of humor, or it is part of the curriculum of Harvard and Yale. I also saw Richard Stallman play his flute, and John-Perry Barlow donate all 500 megs of his email since 1986 to the Harvard Library.
I had to say, "wow" to the email donation. Not so much because he made it public: I totally dig and take for granted that as a part of the zine/online-journal community. My surprise was at the privacy implications for those he corresponded with. Hell, I'd make all my email public if I didn't think it would be unfair to those that I communicate with and about. I confront this in my journals and zines even. Generally, I don't dwell on others. I figure this writing is about me and my thoughts. Sometimes that involves other people, but I'm not here to gossip about them. To address this, some people play games like abbreviating the names, or renaming characters in their life. In both these examples, I've been able to eavesdrop on others' thoughts regarding my-ex. Rather odd. Regardless, I keep to the rule that I should never say anything, that I can't bear to have regarded as public, because it is. I don't follow this rule in email because it's not unless everyone I spoke with and about was of the same mind.
No man knows himself or can describe himself with fidelity. But he can reveal himself. This is especially true of Gandhi. He believed in revealing himself. HE regarded secrecy as the enemy of freedom–not only the freedom of India but freedom of man. He exposed even the innermost personal thoughts which individuals usually regard as private. In nearly a half-century of prolific writing, speaking, and subjecting his ideas to the test of actions, he painted a detailed self-portrait of his mind, heart, and soul.
–Fischer's Forward to the Essential Gandhi; An Anthology of His Writings on His Life, Work and Ideas.
you laugh at a man when he tries | you're trying to make up for your size
to you life is a rivalry | keep a step ahead of me | small man, big mouth -- minor threat
I got back very late Wednesday night, I felt I could make better use of my time doing real work and reading the conference papers in Cambridge rather than spending any more days in Toronto; I was getting meeting-fried: my information absorbency was as good as a wet sponge floating in the loo.
Thursday, I worked at home, then went to Central Sq. to read in the sun and spend some time chatting with my new friend Katie. I was supposed to meet up with Sue to check out a Mass Art student film showing. In the end she couldn't get out of work, but I went anyway. On the way over, I ran into Jae and Pam, past roommates and alumni of my graduate program. On the T ride back, I bumped into Sal! Wow. I've never lived in one place for very long it seems and I have the itch to move again, but I am beginning to feel what it is like to have roots, it's the pleasant surprise of seeing friends and familiar strangers.
After work on Friday, I came home, changed, ate, and headed out to a toneburst event at museum of science, part of the Boston cyber-arts festival. I had my minidisk with me and was dancing on the subway platform. I don't know if I was happy to be back in general, or if this allergy medicine gets me high. I was dressed monotone punk: funky black-and-white wingtips with 4" soles, high-water chef pants, my cool "New York, New York" t-shirt with a giant cockroach, a bondage belt, and a spiked collar. I saw these kids at the end of the platform looking at me and making fun, and two start walking towards me; I keep dancing. Eventually, one approaches me, and seems a little awkward but not completely unfriendly. He starts small talk, but soon transitions to asking, "What were you doing?"
"I was dancing."
"People are gonna think you're weird."
"Like I care? I'm out there man."
He was teenie-punk of some sort. He didn't come over to be friendly, but he had a hard time bringing himself to be as macho as he originally intended. I kept bombarding him with positiveness in a teasing way, asking how I should dance and emulating various punk moves like the windmill and floor punch. He agreed: yea, or best of all, I should just stand still and nod my head. Once the T began to approach, he must've realized he hadn't made a threat yet, so he concluded with something for the benefit of his friend standing near by: "Well, you better watch out with the weird shit man or I'm gonna have to do something about it," legs apart and his arms swinging like two clock pendulums colliding with fist in palm.
Oh well. But on the T ride, I got more and more annoyed. What a little fascist fuck! He's gonna tell me how I have to act? First, I think it is interesting how people react to dance as an evocative and nearly frightening behavior in some public contexts. I would've got less hassle for pissing on the wall. Second, what gives him the right, and what has he done but shave his hair, wear tight jeans and Doc Martin boots? What was his last social protest? What's his DIY project, where's his vinyl, zine, or stickers? Did he bother talking to me because I was wearing the trappings of punk and consequently he felt he had a right to police "our" norms, or was that the thing that kept him semi-friendly? He totally didn't get it, most people don't:appreciate that ethical eccentricity, non-conformism, and radicalism are important to challenging fascism, prejudice, and media-brainwash and government-censorship. If you don't exercise your rights, they will atrophy.
Once I got to the toneburst event, I wish I could've dragged the kid with me. There were clubby kids with 50" fat pants, punks, goths and whatever checking out the visuals and dancing to the experimental beats: people were different and some were even in costume. Cool! Of course, I saw a bunch of people, said hi to trouble and chatted with Sal. Eventually Sal and I took the T back to Central Sq. He headed to Hell at Manray and I went to Hollywood and rented a movie for Ann and me before wasting time at 1369 waiting for Ann and Jess to close shop. At midnight, Ann and I headed to my place to watch "Underground" which I got on trouble's recommendation. Very interesting visuals, but it had that very distinctive European humor and perhaps it was overly metaphorical for our limited understanding of Yugoslavian history. Plus it was well over two hours, I drifted off for 10 minutes somewhere in the middle.
Today is lovely! I did a little shopping at Filenes' Basement (black hat, black socks, and black sandals that will stay on when I pedal) since they always send me 25% coupons because I bought some suits there. I then ran some errands in Central Sq., talked to Katie who was painting faces near-by (making kids into lions and such), and wasted some time in Harvard Sq. I finished Technology of Orgasm : 'Hysteria,' the Vibrator, and Women's Sexual Satisfaction in Toronto, but I'll be able to keep my intellectual prurience satiated with The Secret Museum : Pornography in Modern Culture that I found in Harvard Book store for $5!
I'm sitting in a day long committee meeting and just had lunch, so I'm feeling that siesta drag. Things went well yesterday with Masha. We walked about and ate. Later in the evening, we were both tired and cold. She crashed in my room but things were cool: just friends, no tension nor stress. I'm glad, I feel like I've re-established a more stable way to relate to her given my recent angst.
When we were walking about, we saw a big NATO protest. There were many Yugoslavian/Serbian flags which greatly annoyed me. I believe that protesting violence and failed foreign policy is very different from parading about a genocidal form of nationalism.
This meeting is frustrating me a bit, for a couple of reasons. First, I'm impatient. I've been advocating some action on a couple of fronts for a long time, and other people are just beginning to come around to the ideas and seem pleased with the discussion. This probably isn't fair, this is the first time I guess they've had to consider it... But it does combine with the second more general issue which is perhaps partly my fault. I always feel alienated in most gatherings, and perhaps I even feel the least alienated in the professional context. But even so.
I do look young, and my bleached hair and lower lip goatee are in full bloom. Plus, recent nerves/stress has got me looking like a spotty 19-year-old. Regardless, in the past when I was even looking my most mature, I've been on panels where I spoke within my time and said things that made sense. Others rant, grandstand, say stupid things, and abuse their time; then get an inordinate amount of attention.
I feel most comfortable in a Working Group. I work openly and diligently to define and meet my commitments. I feel like I earn the respect of those I've worked with for good reason. The people that have reason to know, know I'm a sharp guy. But sans that, in the politicking and smarminess of press, panels, and conferences, I'm happy to let others have an opportunity to talk and lack the ability to self-promote.
I'm spending some of the boring time catching up on work and reading pages on Gandhi. I meant to follow up on him after King's biography. Also, I recently saw "non-violence" associated with the ethical aspects of anarchism. Today I came across a curious quote from Gandhi: I do believe that where there is a choice only between cowardice and violence, I would advise violence. My brother Greg said that Gandhi advised nonviolent citizens to fight for India's independence if they were not brave enough to follow the path of non-violence. Interesting.
Sitting in rehearsal. Today (Sunday) is the rehearsal of talks for the upcoming two days. Fortunately I'm not speaking, so I don't have to rehearse. I do give a talk 3 days from now, but that should be no biggie. Masha got to Toronto late last night and we went to a Goth club. She's staying at a hostel a couple blocks away. It was nice to chat over some tea, and I got some good dancing in at the Goth club, but ... I don't know ... I still don't feel very comfortable going to Goth clubs with her. And I still feel emotions that are more than just friendly. That will persist until there's someone else to fix my affections on – whenever that might happen.
I hope in the afternoon to ditch this day long meeting and go walk about – though I have to return for some required smoozing at a reception.
Toronto, Canada: I arrived yesterday. My mind is skipping grooves. Five days ago I was in London and I find myself talking about pounds and surprised when people speak in an American accent. The couple of days I spend back in Cambridge were nice. I was glad to be back home and to see friends; particularly amy, who is leaving for the summer and won't return for a year because of a semester in Australia. Now I'm alone in Toronto for a week. Not completely alone, all my team-mates and colleagues are here. That should be engaging.
Also, ironically enough, one of my closer friends may be here: my ex. She asked a while back if she could come and I said yes. In the meantime I went through some frightening angst and she's been seeing other people for a while, and recently one guy in particular. During my angst, she said she was glad she didn't make plans to come. After I got back from London, she told me she booked a flight! I wasn't sure what to make of it, or if I felt comfortable with her staying with me. And even though I arranged to have some time to putz around with her originally, the flights she booked meant I'd get very little if any time to hang out with her in Toronto. Basically, she'd just be sharing the bed.
I don't know what her plans are, or if I'll even see her. Her plane should've landed an hour and a half ago, don't know if she's made it into the city yet – the airport is an hour away – or even if she's staying with me. My heart yearns for the simplicity of a boy and girl in love, where little else matters.
Today was rainy, so I didn't quite know what to do; I've been reading " Canticle for Leibowitz" and a local zine on exploring drainage pipes. Also moping about my hotel room feeling lonely. This week I figured two long shots I was hoping for in terms of femmes, are probably never gonna happen. Supposedly both have boys, and will continue having them.
But even in the drizzle today, I did return to Queens Street. I spent a lot of time there yesterday. It has many cool stores: clothing, shoes, comics, toys, books, food, etc. Last night, I also went Beat Junkie for some jungle. The place has an attractive wood'ish low light setting, with the floor upstairs, a bar/lounge on the first, and a "patio" out back. The first set and MC rocked. Things started to get too crowded but I had to give the place some credit for managing how many people were shoved in. It never got oppressive like in London.
So in anticipating the next 5 days, it's meetings, politics, and conference sessions, with potentially some interactions with my ex thrown in. I'll be glad when this week is over, and I can settle back into Cambridge for more than a couple days..
We spent the last two days in London seeing museums and relaxing. After a couple of days... you just don't think you can walk anymore, so you end up feeling guilting for relaxing. The trick is too not feel guilty about lazing about!
Sunday evening we went to the Prince Charles to see "Very Bad Things" because some other folks from the hostel were going. I hated it. Once I saw the poster, I remembered it was a movie I disliked just from the trailer months ago. My immense moral loathing of this film is interesting in the context that I thought "Happiness" was one of the better films of last year – but even more disturbing. I haven't quite figured this out yet, but my mind is working on it.
In the end, this trip provided a much needed opportunity to get away and reset some of my mental malfunctions.
Saturday morning. I slept surprisingly well given the anxiety and angst I've been swept up in of late. But nothing bothered me and our roommates were very quiet. There is French couple in our room, and I think wow, what a romantic/intense experience: to go on a vacation together with your girl. I've haven't done that yet. I've gone with friends, but I think bumming around with a SO would be so nice.
Dan and I grabbed free rice krispies and rolls in the kitchen/eating area and headed out for a long trip to Greenwich and the Royal Observatory. We stood on the median line and then headed back to the tube to go to Highgate. Lots of hill climbing through beautiful (very wealthy) neighborhoods. In Highgate Park there are a number of swimming ponds. I knew there was a female only pool, but snapped a quick picture of a lawn covered with half naked gay men – obviously there is a "male only" beach too.
Next up, we headed to Camden Town, the neato place with cool stores and funky folk; I saw some outrageous Goths, but no hardcore punks. I searched for some yellow Doc Marten shoes to replace my dying plastic imitations, but with no success. If I can't find them here, I haven't a chance.
We returned to the hostel for napping and hanging out with some of the other folks there. Lots of neat people. Matt was an Aussie. David was this intense little American dude. Lisa (US) had recently quit a job doing organic food accreditation in South America. Kylie ( AUS) was going to South America to hunt frogs for the Smithsonian.
In the evening we headed out to Brixtol to hear Ronni Size and Ed Rush spin at Mass. The club was located in a old church (St. Matthew's) and there was quite a line when we arrived. I was psyched by the potential of the space, crowd, and DJs. The Jungle room was half of a single floor, not that large unfortunately. It had a larger area, that looked down on a smaller wood dance floor and DJ cage. No one was dancing down there, so I set to it and was joined by two other Americans (you can tell, we can dance). Natasha and Olivia were from DC but living in Europe presently. Olivia was a cutie dressed in baggies, half a tank top, and pig-tails, and happily bounced around without stop. In contrast, Natasha was a good dancer, but she smoked, so she only broke it down every once in a while.
The music rocked and I hit a good groove for a while, but awakened realizing I'd been breathing in an evil cloud of smoke and that the place was getting absurdly crowded. I was feeling ill from the smoke and frustrated with the lack of space so Dan and I headed out early. In the course of 2 hours, I got asked for drugs 3 times, and had a bouncer ask me about what people were asking me. Without fail, people think I'm a dealer which is ironic given my straight-edge tendencies. Dan and I managed to get into the tube system before it closed, but only got half-way to the hostel before we had to exit and take a confusing cab ride home.
After arriving at 8:00 a.m. , I set out for the 1.5 hour tube trip to meet my younger brother Dan at St. Paul's. Dan had a large bag so we decided to head off to the Hostel to dump our bags. We stayed at the Quest Hostel in Queensway – very cool. People are very indie and sociable. Half the tenants are regulars who have lower rates for doing odd jobs around the place.
I was pretty toasted from the flight so we spent most of the day lazing about in the park, sitting in the sun and playing frisbee. In the evening we headed off to Piccadilly Circus and passed the area where a neo-fascist nail bomb had exploded a couple hours earlier. This was the third, targeted at gays; earlier ones had been targeted at blacks and immigrants. I thought, "at least America isn't the only fucked up country."
The flight to London wasn't too bad. I slept the whole way, much to the wonder of the two women who were terrified of flying: they had smuggled alcohol on board and were drinking before take off; an hour in to the flight they were seriously pissed.
this weekend was the first spring weekend in my spring, had the (mostly) good bits like sun and friends, and (some) bad bits like allergies. it was a Maryland weekend; the tourist brochures always said my home-state was like a tiny America, a perfect little sampling.
friday i met up with some snot-goths at 1369. someone had proposed watching Dangerous Liaisons, and i had not seen it yet, and it was on DVD, so i offered my place but the proposed meeting time was 9 and i planned on going to a party later in the evening. if people didn't get it together till 10, then a 2 hour movie, argh. but the original instigator of the social event never showed, so they went to her place to bug her. i stopped in, but left soon for my party. i think i'm gonna avoid goths until this whole shooting thing blows over, the conversation drives me nuts. the party was cool, cowboy themed, but i hadn't had time to change. but i had lots of nice conversations.
saturday i lazed about, did some roller blading, and then went to a little vegie barbecue at trouble's. it was an eviction party, landlords are booting tenants out, renovating, and charging twice the price to yuppies and HBS students. so we sat in the sun, putting things on the barbee and i threw a nerf football about. loungin! i mozied off at some point and harrassed ann and linda at 1369, read zines, and went home. later, i went back to trouble's for the second phase of the party. i had a really good time. kickin music, friendly people, and i sorta got in the zone while i was dancing. while i always love dancing, hitting that sweet mental spot where your above it all, doesn't happen all that much any more.
sunday i mostly kept to myself, feeling a little lonely. i spent the afternoon on the grass in front of city hall soaking up the sun and coding my beantown zinetown interviews for the audio documentary i wanna do. these two adorable pitt bull puppies would frequently come tumbling into me while i was snoozing and get tangled in my earphone wires. i wish i was a puppy.
my evening walk landed me in harvard square. for about a 1/4 of the walk, these student boneheads were focing this guy dressed in a dress to skip and sing something about penises. i thought how offensive, to exert their authoritarian display upon my nice little walk. once i got to the square i sat down, and the place was crawling with groups of students, all conservatively dressed except for the pledge, who was being forced to humiliate him/her-self. i figured since they were imposing on me, why shouldn't i return it? so i took to shouting "drone, conformist, tool, peon" when they would walk by. i refused to be the audience for their fascist little game and i could see it totally humiliated both the group and the pledge. a cute little punkish girl with a long orange skirt and Dhingo puppy came and sat with me and said the people wouldn't even look at me when they passed, they looked too ashamed. i thought it neat that she had that punk/dyke haircut, completely shaved head except for a little tuft in the front, how i'm sure she gets ostracized a hell of alot more than these twerps. but her's was an expression of individuality, not conformance.
things quieted down, and i started walking back and passed an ice cream store, where the fascists were harassing a pledge. i noted the micromanagement of the commands shouted from the street: "give them man the money... tip him... tell him 'thank you sir'... now smash the cone on the top of your hat, like a hat" i could see the fascists had gotten the hand of dominance, and the pledge had a silly vacant smile that showed a surrendering of will. maybe one day they'll take a social psychology class. i just kept walking.
Someone recently wrote on the SnothGoth list the
following:
>Goths abhor violence, are disgusted by
racism, and, for that matter,
>dislike the music of Marilyn Manson.
When I first saw the reference to "Goth" about the Columbine
shooting, I thought, oh boy, here we go. I figured I'd see defenses
of Goth, and defenses from the D&D and on-line gaming
community. And I have – as demonstrated by the tons of lists
I'm on. A friend of mine who is in charge of the user policy of a
popular on-line gaming network had to address the issue of
boneheads entering their network game servers with handles of
"tenchcoat-mafia." (And I saw a story that domain names related to
"trench coat" are being gobbled up.)
I also expected to see "righteous" defenses bordering on over-generalized and dramatic histrionics, particularly in the Goth community. <grin> I take the quoted text above as an example of dangerous over-generalization. As I stated in the only other email I've posted on a list related to this topic
A tragic event. And whenever the mass media focused on a sub-culture, you can't help but blanch. Is what is at the root of this a complete inability for people to understand issues beyond misleading labels and over-generalizations?
And in the context of the quoted text, I have to second my expressed sentiment. There will always be good and evil in any movement. Why? Because people are involved. There are Nazi skin-heads, criminal hackers, and violent straight-edgers. It is very frustrating to see a movement mischaracterized by the media. Perhaps the best example is the Martin King's depression I wrote of yesterday: resulting from seeing the non-violent civil rights program purposefully associated with accusations of Communism (for his opposition of Vietnam partly) and racial riots.
Consequently, I think it is fine to correct the media and state that the Goth label has no association with "fascist, racist, violent, or otherwise discriminatory groups." (Quoting Jen) However, to say all Goths are disgusted by racism? Not in my experience. To the degree that those young men were calling themselves Goths, I'll call them Goths – fucked up ones too. Challenges to over-generalization are appropriate. However, restated generalizations that attempt to shed any association, to paint only a rosy picture are no better. I will not testify to the character of every person in a subculture I am associated with. I understand the defensive impulse. I also understand that people like labels, but in my mind it is a form of moral laziness. It is the inability to look at people and their behaviour and instead rely upon the dogmatic definition and enforcement of labels like fag, nerd, jock, Goth, commie, and Serbian that is the root of the problem.
BTW: I'm listening to Marilyn Manson right now, ironically enough. <smile>
Over the three day weekend I read Bearing the Cross Martin Luther King, Jr. and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. It actually saddened me. Martin King was getting really depressed at the end of his life because he could see the tensions in the black community weren't being addressed, and the non-violent concept was unravelling, blacks were rioting, he was being told he had sold out, and whites were becoming even more reactionary. And he was of course ferociously attacked and accused of damaging the civil rights movement for taking a stand on Vietnam. And the government/FBI had all its evil/boneheaded spying, red/commie-scare shit. Near the end of his life, he'd say how this society that we lived in is really sick to the core. How he had lost his optimism, though he retained his hope – without hope/faith, he wouldn't be able to go on at all. So all of this surprised me, cause when I think of him, I think of this rosy/optimistic guy that did good things, which he did, but to see it dragging him down in the end was depressing.
When I finished the book, I was reading up on the assassination theories, and J. Edgar Hoover, what an evil fuck (a repressed homo I think.) So I think, ah but we've learned so much. Civil rights movement was good, the red-scare was shit, Vietnam was a fraud, Hoover was a fuck, and Nixon was thrown out of office. We now know governments can't be trusted, and people can look at actions (not ethnicity, race, gender, sex, etc.) and universally condemn a wrong action. You can't say all Christians or Musliims – pick your poison – are good and everyone else is bad. You gotta look at someone's action/behavior and say is this person acting with kindness/compassion/respect for others and their community? This is what we need to teach to children and praise in our communities. But how do you teach such things? Through personal example, not hypocritical religious dogma... and so you look at Kosovo, it's just evil feeding evil. And those goth-boys that gunned down their school mates, yikes: a fucked up society indeed.
I think King's mistake – or maybe this why he was a leader – was that you can't take too much of the world's responsibility onto your shoulders. You have to focus on your own life too, make time/space for that (which he didn't) and have that to fall back on when the world seems like shit. In the end, you are also only responsible for your own actions, if you've made the world a better place, even in little personal/community interactions, you should be happy with yourself. Not that you shouldn't try to improve the world... argh, going in circles, sorry.
... oh, let me count the ways that i abhor you | you were never a good lay | and you were never a good friend | but, oh what can i say, i adore you | you've been juggling two women | like a stupid circus clown | telling us both we are the one | and maybe you can keep me | from ever being happy | but you're not going to stop me | from having fun. – DiFranco, Gravel
it's sorta sad when you realize that patience won't lead to something working out the way you'd like. sometimes with some people, you just have to give up that they'll ever hear what you were saying. but such is life.
so i've been reading the way cool straight-edge FAQ this weekend, and it is very interesting. and somewhat inspiring, i was thinking i'm gonna get my shit together. stop (occasionally) fooling around with an ex. it's not like i'm smoking, or drinking, nor that i'm fooling around with other people, i prefer to do that in the context of a relationship with someone i love. which i'm doing, so i still fit the sXe'er definition, but i feel like i've made compromises in what i've expected of others. which again, is not a bad thing, i used to be so rigid no one met my standards and i try not be too judgmental (though I still come off as a snob probably...) but to use the metaphor, this relationship has rubbed the edge right off of me and i'm in a situation that isn't to my liking. i want honesty. if people are hiding things, that's just bull: either you are deceiving yourselves – which is a disservice – or your not pressing yourself to address the issues squarely. playing these games makes me feel more like a jealous ex than a friend.
so i feel muddled sorta. like i want a clean break, i want to move to NYC, and meet amazing new people, and nothing will be dumbed down, nothing will be compromised, everyone will have this big mutually reinforcing push to excel, to be better, more honest, thoughtful, kind, and full of integrity. that sounds stupid, and i met lots of new people at zinetown which is feeding that want right now, but this feeling that things fall to the lowest common denominator still chases me. when i was in highschool, it related to my thoughts. i got in arguments with teachers who said i purposefully used big words. a new teacher (fresh out of college, assisting a more established one) once wrote on a paper that he had looked "visceral" up in the dictionary and couldn't find it, so it must have been a word i just made up. i told him to try a dictionary that didn't have pictures. i had a teacher plead with other students during a debate "don't listen to him, he's just snowing you!" my philosophy teacher gave me the middle finger and stormed out of class when he argued that he was right because he had a master's degree and i responded, "fallacy of authority."
now this lowed common denominator relates to wisdom and expectations of others. seems like a lot of my 20-something friends are sorta giving up now in little ways. give up on depth and take the breadth. i want challenge in my life, to strive to improve, to become wiser and better. why shouldn't friendships and relationships be the same? because it's work i guess.
"you would not even ask for half of what i'd give"
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