special day

Happy birthday, sweetheart!

doubt

I'm baking cookies and listening to music. I really haven't much listened to music lately but it is wonderful to do so.

I wonder what other people think about.

"All the doubts that linger, set them free"

I just listened to that a few moments ago and sometimes it seems that easy. Maybe sometimes it is that easy.

a song in my head

the days went by
like paper in the wind
everything changed
then changed again

I woke up this morning with those lyrics very clearly singing in my head. It's a very warm morning, with a warm wind blowing. I'm listening to some really beautiful music now--it's some classical music on a tape that I found in the garbage. It's just right this morning.

Jen and I had a beautiful weekend. I really was missing her; although we've both been home the last week, she has been busy with teaching and I was gone last weekend. It was just great to spend time together.

It was very difficult to fall asleep last night. My mind was racing and I couldn't figure out a way to calm down. I finally fell asleep for awhile but then woke from a dream and my mind started doing the same thing.

But now this morning, other than still feeling a bit sick, I feel rested and well.

I uncovered the greens in the front yard, since it's plenty warm today. There was a period of some really cold temperatures last week and that did a bit of a number on the plants. They aren't dead but are a little wilty and thrashed looking. They'll be fine, I think.

I'm looking forward to this day.

right about now

there is one thing stronger than all the armies in the world, and that is an idea whose time has come
--victor hugo

jemm, luther, and crazy freddie in the sewers

I went on a great bike ride today and ended up at some frozen ponds. Groves of cottonwoods stood tall and grey and a thick bed of leaves covered the ground, with patches of snow and grass. I saw a fox; it stopped atop a hill to look briefly at me and then disappeared down into a shallow drainage.

I read the first couple issues of a comic book called "Jemm: Son of Saturn." It was published sometime in the mid eighties. So far, it's about an alien that is lost and alone on earth. He befriends a kid (yeah, it sounds like ET but is a lot different) and by the end of the second issue they are down in the sewers of New York. There is a haunting image of a body floating face up in the sewer water, slowly drifting away from Jemm, Luther (the boy), and a homeless man named Freddie. The body is that of another Saturnian, a white skinned native of the planet from which Jemm also calls home, although he has red skin. These two inhabitants of Saturn, the red skinned people and the white skinned people, have been locked in genocidal war on their home world. Apparently this person, Kamah, has come to earth to kill Jemm but fails and is killed by Jemm. As the body floats away, Jemm is crying.

It's very interesting so far, and I'm excited to read the rest of them. After I find some old comics that I actually like and after reading them, it seems like I might never find more that I want to read. So, I'm happy I tried this one.

"others"

I wrote the previous post yesterday but then decided not to post it on this blog. Mostly, I think, because I was a bit angry towards the end of it and said things in a way that I usually don't. I changed my mind and went ahead and posted it. It's not a big deal either way, but I figured it was okay and perhaps a good way to deal with some of those feelings.

I'm getting sick and I should have gotten to bed earlier last night. And not drank some beer last night. I met with a friend that I worked with a bit on archaeology projects and we drank a bit and talked. It was a really good discussion about humans, early modern humans, culture, societal norms, all that good stuff. We come at things a bit differently but listen to each other and this process helps both of us come to better understandings of how we see the world.

This actually is making me think of the people who insist on celebrating Columbus (and including Indian killing cavalry and conquistadors in the parades--an intentional message to Indian communities and individuals who oppose the celebration and what it represents). I wish people could sit down and recognize each others reasons for their beliefs. For some reason, there is a small group of people who insist on celebrating Columbus even though they know it causes hurt to other people; in fact, this is intentionally part of the celebration (cavalry, conquistadors, "you lost, get over it").

Why won't these folks let it go and choose instead to celebrate Italian-American pride, which could certainly include historical persons, if that is something important to people (Galileo Galilei, Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, to name a few)? There is something to this continued desire to not back down; perhaps in their eyes changing the celebration to something more fitting would be to "lose." It makes me feel that the people who want Columbus Day and the parade and who very much make it a celebration of conquest, must feel disempowered themselves. One way in which to counter this feeling of disempowerment is to wield power over another. Maybe that is part of the dynamic at work. What will it take for people to listen to one another and recognize their hurt, recognize and validate their experience?

This question reminds me intensely of Israel/Palestine. I once read a book that included a small section about a camp at which Palestinian and Israeli youth met one another and camped together. There was not a lot of deep progress towards understanding and acceptance until individuals began to recognize the suffering and pain of the other--until this pain and hurt was acknowledged and understood as real and significant. In no way is this a comparison of pain and suffering--that is pointless in the scope of simply understanding the humanity of another and validating their experience.

And this happens. It happens between Israelis and Palestinians. It just doesn't happen enough. And states try to make sure of that because it is the only way to continue down the path of destruction and oppression that so many states travel. For example, if we here in the United States had this sort of dialog with Iraqi people, on a large enough scale, we would not invade, occupy, and kill Iraqis. And vice versa. Hence, all of the emphasis on "othering." These people (whoever they might be--the scenario changes but the methods remain) are simply different, maybe they are "crazy" or obsessed with religious perspectives. Maybe they are savages (is it any coincidence that enemy territory in Iraq is called "Indian" or "Injun territory" and what does this mean about the larger culture's view of American Indians?). Or maybe, as one man in an airport in Istanbul en route to Israel told me about Palestinians and Arabs in general, they are "animals; no, worse than animals. They are beasts."

A few days ago I watched a video of British soldiers beating Iraqi children. The kids had been throwing rocks at the soldiers, the soldiers grabbed several of the kids and took them inside a walled area. And beat them. The person filming the incident, another soldier, said things like, "Oh yes. You little fuckers. Die! Ha, ha, ha!" This commentary continued while the soldiers hit the youth with batons and fists and kicked them. You can clearly see one boy kicked in the genitals as he is held to the ground.

This is simply what happens, what always happens, when one group of people physically occupy another. This is what happens in Palestine. This is what happens in Iraq. I remember talking to an old British man in his seventies. He told me that he served in the British army during some of their various occupations and it was the same thing; that it didn't matter what a person was like when they went into the situation--the dehumanizing occupation soon makes you see the other people as just that--some "other" that is less than you, less than human. And the abuses begin.

So, this is one long post. I intended to simply state that I decided after all to post the previous thoughts. Now, here I am, many words later. I guess that's what happens sometimes.

sad angry and uncertain

It's been a busy week or more. Stuff that I don't really feel like writing about right now, mostly. Now I am sitting here in this house that Jen and I live in. Snow seems to be melting a bit. I think I'll drink tea.

The weekend was busy with Unconventional Action planning for the DNC (UA is an anarchist/anti-authoritarian response to the DNC and RNC--and, more broadly, the two-party, corporate electoral system and capitalism). There were some long, long meetings in which much was hashed out. I think the weekend was really productive.

That's about all I really feel like writing about right now. I checked email for the first time in awhile and was pleasantly surprised to hear from a few old friends that I haven't communicated with in awhile. It felt good to read their thoughts. I haven't responded yet, though. Maybe later.

I guess I am writing a bit more--here in Colorado, in Denver, we have learned that the city (which is simply an extension of the state) wants to indict and punish people in anticipation of some perceived future actions. There have been some ongoing trials for some people involved in this last October's Transform Columbus Day actions. Yesterday, they were found guilty of some minor misdemeanor charges. During sentencing, the prosecuting city attorney asked that they be punished in such a way that prevents them from taking similar actions during the DNC and this year's Columbus Day, as well as in a way that sends a clear message to other activists that if they take similar actions, that is--peacefully and nonviolently protest, in Denver they will go to jail.

The prosecuting attorney asked for one or two years suspended jail and a $999 fine--the suspended jail sentence would mean that if these individuals were arrested during the DNC or this year's Transform Columbus Day, they would spend the year in jail (in addition to whatever sentencing they received from this hypothetical future conviction). The fact that the city explicitly and overtly said this was really about quashing future protest, dissidence, and activism was really shocking to me.

The defendants did not get jail time--the judge demanded fines instead. It was sad. Not because of fines or punishment but because of what it means in the wider scope of things. Basically, honoring a slave-trading perpetrator of genocide is still a fine thing to do. Which really means that this culture still embraces the legacy of Columbus, manifest destiny, the Doctrine of Discovery, and the continued threats to indigenous people in this continent and the world.

It was sad because I watched and listened to the defendants and witnesses talk about what this legacy means. What it means today. Not in 1492 but in 2008. These people put so much of themselves out there during this trial and were not heard. One statement concerning one of the charges stands out in my mind. It concerned the charge of "disrupting a lawful assembly" (which was specifically drafted and implemented after and as a response to the 2004 Transform Columbus Day actions in which about 250 people were acquitted in Denver). The law states that the "lawful assembly" (in this case a Columbus parade) must be "significantly" disrupted for the charge to stick.

The comment, paraphrased, was something like this: "I don't know how you (the jurors) define 'significant.' 15 million native people slaughtered in North America from 1492 to 1890. That's significant. 25 million native people slaughtered in Mexico from 1492 to 1890. That's significant. The destruction of your culture, your people. That's significant. The theft of billions of acres of land. That’s significant. The lowest life expectancy in this country. That's significant. The highest suicide rate in this country. That's significant. The delay of an hour of a celebration of a slave-trading perpetrator of genocide; the minor inconvenience of an hour--that is not significant."

The city attorney said that people are free to hold a sign on the sidewalk, that if they have issue with something they can simply do this to be heard. One of the defendants, who has been working on this issue since the 1980s, said that he (and others) have met with four mayors, the governor, senators; have written letters, articles in the paper; have worked in the schools; have proposed and drafted legislation to address this (which was never even introduced or read by the state senate); have set up numerous meetings with the pro-Columbus organizers (who have said "you lost. Get over it (concerning the destruction of Indian people)."); have brought in mediators to help come to some equitable solution that is positive for everyone involved and the city, the state, and the nation (the pro-Columbus organizers haven't shown up for the mediation sessions); have held teach-ins, lectures, and various educational programs to help the community learn why this is such an important issue; have held signs on the sidewalks, held rallies in the park, all that stuff. And have found no answers and no voice that others will hear.

The city said that the defendants thought this was a game. And they needed to know that it wasn't a game (hence the desire to convict and sentence with jail time and large fines). One of the defendants, one of the respected leaders within the Indian community here, said (as he did on the witness stand earlier) that this was no game to him or to others. That it is no game to have culture assaulted, your resources continually stolen. That it is no game to have young Indian students call you after Columbus Day and ask why the kids at school make fun of the Indian kids. He said it is no game and that is exactly why he and others took the actions they did.

There was lots, lots more. But that is enough for now. Maybe it gives some picture of it.

There are other things, big things, going on that are important, excruciatingly to those directly involved--like the continued siege of Gaza. But what can I say…..who the fuck is surprised?


Ghost Dance
Two hundred seventy
Ghost Dancers
Died dreaming a world where the white man would drown
In a worldwide flood of their sins.

Where the earth,
Renewed
Would reclaim their
Cities and towns
Leaving only
The Ghost Dancers
Who lived by her laws.

History books tell us
The threat is gone.
The ghost dance
Died with the ancestors
Wovoka and his sacred dream
Destroyed.

Each time it rains
I go out to the sidewalk
Where tree roots have broken the concrete and listen to the water's
Whispering
"It is coming soon."

--Sara Little-Crow Russel

a morning of frost and clouds

It's early morning and there's a cloudy dark sky. I can't see the stars this morning.

Last night I traveled to a mountain to find this old man who directed me to a ruined city in a mountain valley. I had undertaken a perilous journey from my home--across a desert and through a jungle until I found the mountains. Then I entered the catacombs of the city, looking for two ancient artifacts lost to the decay of the city. When I went to bed, I had just fended off some viper-like snakes by setting a pile of rags on fire and making it out of the chamber to another passage.

That's right--the world of solo-roleplaying books. Like choose-your-own-adventure books with dice. You know, from the '80s. From when I was a kid.

I just poured a cup of coffee blacker than the foulest midnight. It's been reheated about five times and, as my Gramma says, it's thicker than lye. But it tastes good.

waking

here it is.in the morning watching the sky through a window.the night before like every night before.it's when the little dreams die.there's broken glass at our feet, guns in our hands.you cannot interrogate this field of broken soil and crusted snow.dying in the cold of night.it always does.they always do.found warmth through the day, clutching close to your skin.holding on.now night comes.stars are lost behind clouds.everything is silent and they crawl out and they die.sometimes slowly but usually it's quick like a haircut.and sprawled on the floor like the shells of beetles on summer concrete under a light.there's a concrete slab wall with thick paint and the light is shaded with bent tin.fluttering, they dance through the cone of light.morning in night.cracks in the cement and up against the sidewalk broken glass, small rocks, some tiny weeds.

alexander lyosha

a future dream from yesterday

yesterday in the stillness of a cold
morning
sat by
the river
frost on this dry grass
growing
around chunks of concrete and bent rebar
ice and a narrow rivulet of moving water
beautiful
overhead circle
two eagles
and a heron passed by in flight


the sun on clouds and in
branches of these trees
solid and quiet in the winter
and this sun
telling me
forget and remember
what is

--a. n. falanay

this morning

i'm up early. it's dark out and i can hear gusts of wind in the trees. that makes it sound pretty cold.

there is some black tea steeping. and i'm hungry.

i wanted to write something here and this is it.

....

in the mountains

It will come: the great transformation of seas to mulberry fields.
Heaven and earth seething, all wind-churned and billows,

feasting whales and battling dragons will turn the waves to blood.
But what do these fish know, happily wandering a deep stream?

--Po Chu-i

an anniversary

January 11 marks the 6th anniversary of the first prisoners taken to Guantanamo. For six years our country has imprisoned people indefinitely without charges. Those imprisoned haven’t seen family and have repeatedly been denied access to lawyers. The Military Commissions Act ensures those imprisoned are denied habeas corpus.

I sicken when I hear names like Auschwitz, Andersonville, Kolyma, Buchenwald. Will we have to add the name Guantanamo to this list?

It’s not the first U.S. internment camp—best known are the WWII “relocation” camps, when Japanese, German, and Italian-Americans were rounded up and imprisoned. However, before that, there were places like Fort Cass, and a whole host of other prison camps, used to imprison Native people as the U.S. carried out its genocidal policies. In 1901, in the province of Batangas, the U.S. again established internment camps, resulting in the deaths of up to 100,000 Filipinos. The U.S. military used what was called the “water cure” during interrogation and torture of Filipinos. Today, the U.S. straps the prisoner down and calls it waterboarding.

The realities of Guantanamo are enormously significant. We’re maintaining a prison camp, imprisoning individuals indefinitely and without charges. The torture of human beings has become synonymous with the U.S. Guantanamo prison camp. How long will this continue? How far along the path of fascism, torture, and atrocity will we go? When will we demand an end to policies the likes of which have been embraced by Nazi Germany, Gulag Russia, and our own imperialist past?

a reminder to myself this 7th day of the new year

only here
only now

back here

It's been awhile since I've posted anything here and I feel like just writing a few things about the last couple of weeks. It was an interesting time--I felt like I wasn't worried about doing anything except just spending time with people.

I am back home after a trip over the holidays to visit family and friends. I spent some time with my brother, my niece, and my parents in the little apartment in Chicago that my brother presently calls home. It was a time of family, food, cookies, Peg-Leg the dog, laughing, and talking. And listening to Elvis sing some holiday tunes. And listening to some old Irish singers sing some non-holiday tunes. The scratch of a record needle and the wind of Chicago from the sixth floor.

Then I went to my folks' place and spent some time by the wood burning stove. I read some good books (Welcome to the Machine by Derrick Jensen, Flight by Sherman Alexie, and The Time Machine by H.G. Wells) and played lots of games with my parents. I snowshoed through deep snow and across frozen wetlands, through the grass and cattails. It was beautiful. My sister came after a few days and when we went to pick her up in Fargo, I was able to see some old friends which was wonderful. And I got to spend a little time with kidpurple's baby son--he is so cool and already knows a few tricks with a soccer ball. Breakfast the next morning was awesome, even if I did drink way too much coffee.

Jen came up and so did my uncle, his partner, and one of his sons. My dad, sister, Jen, and I went snowshoeing--a good long walk with lots of laughing, some falling into the snow, and some pretty tired legs by the time we got back.

We all rang in the new year and played more games, including charades with words such as "meningitis" and "living on a prayer." In fact, Jon Bon Jovi songs (mostly sung by my sister, Jen, and me) were pretty much the theme songs to the whole trip.

I went with Jen down to her parents' place and we all had a fun time together there. We even farkled (anyone had the pleasure of farkling before?). It was the first time in awhile I have spent more than just a night at their house and I was glad to be able to spend the time together.

We rode back to Colorado with a friend that Jen has been friends with since high school. She now lives in Eastern Colorado and dropped us off here at home. We had a fun ride together with more jbj (as we've begun to call him) songs sung loudly and out of tune. A few times during the drive, the spirit of a certain race-car driver managed to take over the wheel. He's tricky like that.

Well, that's some, and probably enough, of my holiday chronicling. Like I said, I'm back home now and I feel a bit weird. I felt a bit weird during the trip, too. I guess I'm just a bit weird. Being with family involved lots of different emotions, mostly due to just being in a different environment with different things going on. But it was a great time and I'm so happy that I spent that time together. It's pretty strange that we live so far apart. We used to all live in the same house, you know? And we all change as we experience being alive but, still, there is something that doesn't change or that is always there.