i was always a dancer. still, last night at the hollywood bowl, dancing in a time warp with a throng of 40-somethings bopping and contorting to the tunes of berlin, the fixx, the b-52s and human league, i couldn't help but recall my dancing past.
specifically, i remembered my friend, katie d's den, in claremont. her parents weekended in carlsbad and so, the party started midday on fridays and extended typically to monday mornings, when we would all shuffle home and ultimately to school where many of us would reconvene to work on a college newspaper. the weekends and nights at kathryn's were beer-drenched and clouded by a haze of ganja. conversations in the back yard around the pool were extensions of english literature classes and weeknight poetry readings in random coffee houses. my mexican friends always praised garcia lorca, neruda and borges while the colombians and those white kids from the inland empire just wanted to talk about sepultura or ozzy, or metallica.
kathryn was a chameleon. as gregarious as girls get she was our hostess and also the magnet that brought these disparate cliques together. in addition to the colombians and the white, long-haired inland empire rockers, and the baldwin park contingent who travelled like coyotes to anyplace that held even the slightest promise of barley pops, there were kathryn's claremont friends, the children of the liberal, academic elite, with their perfect skin and brilliant white teeth. (surprisingly, they were largely unpretentious and open.)
i remember the various friday routes to kathryn's. sometimes kathryn and jose and i would just end school with a quick drive in the car to inconspicuously smoke pot. once stoned we would part ways with a plan to meet up later at friar tuck's or the hi-brow for drinks.
friar tuck's was a bright bar with well lit pool tables and there was always a war between those who wanted to hear country and western tunes and those who wanted to hear classic rock. after a few pitchers my mexi-friends and i would wade out into the parking lot to smoke a quick bowl and make our way across route 66 to the hi-brow. if friar tuck's attracted a consistently nascar oriented crowd, the hi-brow drew strictly from the local cluster of liberal arts colleges.
the hi-brow was low lit to begin with and even darker after our arrival as we would often unscrew a few light bulbs or pull the plug on an occasional neon. it was about mood there. gone were the patriotic country songs from across the highway in favor of otis redding and marvin gaye and the pixies and ween. no pool tables, just 16 square feet of hardwood dance floor and a waist high juke box. if i made it to that dance floor it would have been at the very end and it would have represented my arrival at a certain altered state, a sublime buzz in which i could groove on the dance floor without caring if my friends were making fun. they were all too cool to dance. not the girls, just the guys. occasionally gabe would get out there but pep, (jose, or popstar,) and fidel and uncle manual and bear and juice and all my friends from aztlan would decline to dance on the grounds that it simply wasn't cool to do so. their glances as i swayed back and forth to one of those mid-tempo dave mathews songs of the time, surrounded by chicks, mostly adhered to the hips of would be dance-floor harlots but when their eyes met mine their gazes belied a sense of jealousy.
at last call after several distinct groups had met up we all looked at one another and wondered where we could go next and always there was kathryn offering her house. we would caravan the couple of blocks sometimes running into 7-11 to pick up some beer and once in that spacious back yard we drank and smoked more without hint of inhibition and we laughed and talked into the wee hours. occasionally some people hooked up and found places to unleash their new found ardor for one another. otherwise people dropped off by turns, finding a place to curl up or having a ride arrive until at the end two or three heroic figures would see signs of daylight haunting the atmosphere and agree to go sleep somewhere for a while.
'round 11 or noon of the next day those who remained would end up out back smoking cigarettes and discussing the previous evenings events. at some point kathryn would feed the stragglers who had nowhere else to go, (this was a nearly exclusively guy club, save katie d herself,) and we would strip down to underwear or perhaps a pair of her dad's shorts and hit the pool for the majority of the afternoon. in the evening we might barbecue and start calling people to come on over to kathryn's or meet us at some party or nearby bar, and weekend days would bend into nights and snap back into quiet afternoons that would end up right back there in kathryn's back yard, possibly in the jacuzzi, under the cover of night with nirvana or sepultura or maybe jeff buckley seeping through the windows and sliding glass doors of the den to our ears poolside. the conversations about raymond carver and the buk and juan rulfo would commence without missing a pulse only to be dropped for comparisons of bob dylan and leonard cohen or passionate pleas on the corruption and dishonesty in the american justice system around consensual crimes.
last night i remembered a time when kathryn's friends, jackie and shannon and others, came out back to implore me to come dancing, (in the den of course.) i was acting cool and weakly declining when one of them, (kathryn or jackie, i think,) told the guys i was hanging out with to, "stop discouraging michael. "he is a dancer-let him dance," they implored. that was enough for me. i got up and went into the house to get my groove on. as usual it was me and about five or six girls and i had no complaints.
dancing was always good to me. the moves never made any sense really-there was no discipline or learned steps involved. but feeling the beat always came naturally to me and the idea that i should get out on a dance floor, perhaps with strangers, often with hotties, in public places, and bop to the beat and shake my ass and flail about a bit as if immune to ridicule or criticism, well, that always felt like good health to me. i could sense the stress slip away from me with the inhibition. the bounce in my stomach felt like a connection to my ancestors in caves around fires, or to my species, so naturally attuned to music.
it felt that way last night, too. half of the crowd jumped up for the b-52s and grooved while the other half of the 40-somethings stayed seated, sipping their glasses of wine, enjoying the flashback evening with slightly more reserve. as for me, i had to get up. i had to just dance there in front of my seat. it felt good. it was good.
Monday, September 05, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
confrontation
so i was out with some friends in a bar recently and we got to talking politics. actually, i don't like the word politics. it makes the subject sound like a game, like we're talking about our favorite teams or the ones we despise. in fact what we call politics is the actions of the powerful that affect us all.
so we got to talking about the debt ceiling and the struggle democrats and republicans are engaged in at the centers of power. my friend greg makes hundreds of thousands of dollars per year as a mortgage banker. i don't know the exact number but i think he literally makes between $350k and $500k. that's a lot of money. i don't begrudge greg his success. i have known him for nearly 30 years. he is a good person and he has a beautiful family. having said that, over the last bunch of years as his wealth has grown i have noticed his views have changed. it's not that he was liberal and became conservative, (or what have you.) it is more that he was apathetic and he became interested. he grew a viewpoint, if you will.
my friend sid, who represents the cross between greg and i in that sid is one of my closest friends and he and greg are also close, cracked a couple of jokes about how obama is a socialist who wants to spend all this money he doesn't have. it bothers me to hear stuff like this. in fact i actually think it is important to combat views like this when i am confronted with them. to me they are born of ignorance and they wreak ignorance.
so greg chimed in and compared raising the debt ceiling to opening a new credit card to make payments on five other credit cards. first, that is not an inaccurate comparison. that said, the united states of america is and has always has been the most reliable debt the planet has known, so it is different, too. our country has and does pay its bills and a big part of that is because of the nation's earning power. the united states is wealthier than bill gates, (so far, anyway. [i said gates, not jobs.]) ultimately greg's point made me cringe because to me it is simple ideology masking as a meaningful quip. and while we can all wish we weren't in the position of needing to open a new card to pay down five others, or raising the debt ceiling, we are because we have been financing two absolutely inane, immoral wars and we just participated in the greatest transfer of wealth, (upward,) in the history of humankind.
i said as much to greg and to all of my friends there, really, at a tavern in a sleepy hillside community. greg joked back that i was somehow just mad about not being wealthy. he laughed to indicate it was a joke and i have to say i was not offended by the remark. it's not true-why would i be offended? but then i saw a couple of my other friends laugh. i'm not sure if they thought about it and saw it as funny or if they just wanted to make greg feel comfortable since he was laughing. they did laugh a little bit though. just enough really, to bug the shit out of me.
so i leaned into the middle of our group and i told greg his position did not bother me because at least in his case it was self interest. i said he was merely defending his class and protecting his interests since the policies of the republican party, (and especially the policies of the tea baggers,) was to fend for the wealthy. i elaborated by way of saying what did piss me off was those who espoused those values against their own self interest, in other words those in the middle class who are angry at entitlement programs, (examples of the social pact for the common good that has been a part of this country's values since day one,) who think illegal immigration is the big bad wolf, who think one day they will be rich and when the realization that upward mobility is all but dead in our society they adjust their view to blame the various bugaboos of the day such as taxation, and illegal immigration. my other friends, (and i should say all of these particular friends are religious,) seemed offended but it was greg, (again,) who commented. he laughed my remark off again and said something about how it was democrats who were ignorant for thinking they could just spend willy nilly.
i was probably four feet from greg when i lunged with my right fist. i really threw the punch from too far away and so i passed the point of maximum force by maybe a foot before my fist landed slightly but squarely on the edge of greg's jaw. as he fell backwards with a look of shock on his face, i tried to get on top of him, over him actually. instinctively i wanted to bust him in the face a few good ones. sid and another peacemaker from high school, tom, (a todd marinovich's dad if ever there was one,) grabbed me at the shoulders and tried to get legs in front of me to keep from falling on top of greg like an ambush. i did not say a word. my jaw was clenched and i was focused, determined. they were yelling at me to relax and backup. sid gave me a brief monologue on how we were all good friends and we shouldn't let politics and different views bring us to violence. by us he meant me.
i let my weight fall to try to get that one good shot in, the one i craved like something more than chocolate or an energetic drunkenness or an illicit evening with a former lover, but those guys caught my weight and pulled me away from my mean-spirited, ignorant prey. greg landed on his ass and rolled backwards onto his back, and reached at his jaw as if his touch would somehow relieve pain. he whined about what the eff was wrong with me and he actually suggested he might sue me.
the thing was, (is, really,) greg's views have real consequences. irresponsible americans who can't study, don't care to turn a critical eye on themselves or their choices, do not actively work to be better humans or feel any sense of responsibility towards their fellow man, they are disproportionately to blame for the disparate power of corporations, the influence of cash in our government, our wars, our facilitation of high crimes, and the list goes on... these things affect people's lives. they create the kinds of real human hardships that result in unnecessary pressures, broken families, poor parenting, self loathing and so on. i guess i have just been too close to those things and i want to make change.
i have had experiences when i needed to be angry and focused and able to confront physically. i was at a party once where this guy had been drunk and passed out and was put into a bedroom. later, he woke and in another room he overheard me talking to his girlfriend. there was a slight flirtation in the conversation but nothing too overt and it certainly was not leading to anything. it was social gymnastics. from out of that bedroom he came like a demon, raising his voice only when he was within a step of me. he reached for me with his left hand and cocked his right arm. i put my arms up to block a forthcoming punch and scrambled to my feet and he got me right in the eye. immediately i felt a sting and sensed puffiness. a couple of guys grabbed the guy and pushed him away. my heart raced and my breath quickened. my mind scanned a catalog of reactions and vacillated between demonstrative rage and just letting the guys who were holding him work him outdoors. it went the way of the latter and the truth is, i wasn't that angry. my senses were heightened. i had some fear, some fight or flight and some survival instinct but mostly i just thought about what a fucking cro-magnon man this guy was and how angry he was. i considered going out after the guy. my eye was swelling and i knew i would have a shiner. i was offended-the guy's fist had invaded the space occupied by my face, but i wasn't particularly angry, or angry in the measure you might expect. i was pissed but what was i going to do? hunt the guy down? hatch a plot to murder him? run outside and attack him as if a little more violence would make some meaningful difference in this unfortunate event?
when i think about the people who allow the tea baggers to flourish because they don't know and can't analyze history, (thereby doomed to repeat it,) when i hear these same people promoting their ill advised, misguided world views, i get pissed because i know the real and far-reaching consequences of their laziness. i can't help but feeling violent. in a way i am a humanist terrorist. i have laughably little power and by the sheer force of culturization and happenstance, my friendships, (my enduring friendships,) color me an islamic fundamentalist amidst a sea of western influences. i am backed into a corner. there is nothing i can do to stem the tide of ignorance. and so i am mad, mad like a boxer and mad like a hatter.
i screwed that once casual friendship. greg and i have not spoken since i attacked him. my other friends think i owe him an apology. sid told me to call him if i want some help figuring out how to approach greg. (smug jerk.) it will be some time before he and i speak again as well. i don't need these friendships. i have enjoyed them from nostalgia recently but otherwise i have changed in ways that mark me as significantly different from this crowd. i want these friendships. i think they say something about me. they keep me connected to foreign ideas so i don't feel aloof and they allow me to take off my seriousness like a wool cloak. because of the ubiquitous volatility, i, (we. actually,) spend whatever time we have together, laughing and joking. in time that will wear on me but in the past so long as it was not too interminable a period, i have enjoyed getting together with my old friends.
now i have to reevaluate. am i unstable or am i the sane one? honestly, i think i am the sane one. while i never intended to administer some sort of universal flow or karma, i do feel like a vessel that was just there when a little straight right was one hundred percent appropriate.
so we got to talking about the debt ceiling and the struggle democrats and republicans are engaged in at the centers of power. my friend greg makes hundreds of thousands of dollars per year as a mortgage banker. i don't know the exact number but i think he literally makes between $350k and $500k. that's a lot of money. i don't begrudge greg his success. i have known him for nearly 30 years. he is a good person and he has a beautiful family. having said that, over the last bunch of years as his wealth has grown i have noticed his views have changed. it's not that he was liberal and became conservative, (or what have you.) it is more that he was apathetic and he became interested. he grew a viewpoint, if you will.
my friend sid, who represents the cross between greg and i in that sid is one of my closest friends and he and greg are also close, cracked a couple of jokes about how obama is a socialist who wants to spend all this money he doesn't have. it bothers me to hear stuff like this. in fact i actually think it is important to combat views like this when i am confronted with them. to me they are born of ignorance and they wreak ignorance.
so greg chimed in and compared raising the debt ceiling to opening a new credit card to make payments on five other credit cards. first, that is not an inaccurate comparison. that said, the united states of america is and has always has been the most reliable debt the planet has known, so it is different, too. our country has and does pay its bills and a big part of that is because of the nation's earning power. the united states is wealthier than bill gates, (so far, anyway. [i said gates, not jobs.]) ultimately greg's point made me cringe because to me it is simple ideology masking as a meaningful quip. and while we can all wish we weren't in the position of needing to open a new card to pay down five others, or raising the debt ceiling, we are because we have been financing two absolutely inane, immoral wars and we just participated in the greatest transfer of wealth, (upward,) in the history of humankind.
i said as much to greg and to all of my friends there, really, at a tavern in a sleepy hillside community. greg joked back that i was somehow just mad about not being wealthy. he laughed to indicate it was a joke and i have to say i was not offended by the remark. it's not true-why would i be offended? but then i saw a couple of my other friends laugh. i'm not sure if they thought about it and saw it as funny or if they just wanted to make greg feel comfortable since he was laughing. they did laugh a little bit though. just enough really, to bug the shit out of me.
so i leaned into the middle of our group and i told greg his position did not bother me because at least in his case it was self interest. i said he was merely defending his class and protecting his interests since the policies of the republican party, (and especially the policies of the tea baggers,) was to fend for the wealthy. i elaborated by way of saying what did piss me off was those who espoused those values against their own self interest, in other words those in the middle class who are angry at entitlement programs, (examples of the social pact for the common good that has been a part of this country's values since day one,) who think illegal immigration is the big bad wolf, who think one day they will be rich and when the realization that upward mobility is all but dead in our society they adjust their view to blame the various bugaboos of the day such as taxation, and illegal immigration. my other friends, (and i should say all of these particular friends are religious,) seemed offended but it was greg, (again,) who commented. he laughed my remark off again and said something about how it was democrats who were ignorant for thinking they could just spend willy nilly.
i was probably four feet from greg when i lunged with my right fist. i really threw the punch from too far away and so i passed the point of maximum force by maybe a foot before my fist landed slightly but squarely on the edge of greg's jaw. as he fell backwards with a look of shock on his face, i tried to get on top of him, over him actually. instinctively i wanted to bust him in the face a few good ones. sid and another peacemaker from high school, tom, (a todd marinovich's dad if ever there was one,) grabbed me at the shoulders and tried to get legs in front of me to keep from falling on top of greg like an ambush. i did not say a word. my jaw was clenched and i was focused, determined. they were yelling at me to relax and backup. sid gave me a brief monologue on how we were all good friends and we shouldn't let politics and different views bring us to violence. by us he meant me.
i let my weight fall to try to get that one good shot in, the one i craved like something more than chocolate or an energetic drunkenness or an illicit evening with a former lover, but those guys caught my weight and pulled me away from my mean-spirited, ignorant prey. greg landed on his ass and rolled backwards onto his back, and reached at his jaw as if his touch would somehow relieve pain. he whined about what the eff was wrong with me and he actually suggested he might sue me.
the thing was, (is, really,) greg's views have real consequences. irresponsible americans who can't study, don't care to turn a critical eye on themselves or their choices, do not actively work to be better humans or feel any sense of responsibility towards their fellow man, they are disproportionately to blame for the disparate power of corporations, the influence of cash in our government, our wars, our facilitation of high crimes, and the list goes on... these things affect people's lives. they create the kinds of real human hardships that result in unnecessary pressures, broken families, poor parenting, self loathing and so on. i guess i have just been too close to those things and i want to make change.
i have had experiences when i needed to be angry and focused and able to confront physically. i was at a party once where this guy had been drunk and passed out and was put into a bedroom. later, he woke and in another room he overheard me talking to his girlfriend. there was a slight flirtation in the conversation but nothing too overt and it certainly was not leading to anything. it was social gymnastics. from out of that bedroom he came like a demon, raising his voice only when he was within a step of me. he reached for me with his left hand and cocked his right arm. i put my arms up to block a forthcoming punch and scrambled to my feet and he got me right in the eye. immediately i felt a sting and sensed puffiness. a couple of guys grabbed the guy and pushed him away. my heart raced and my breath quickened. my mind scanned a catalog of reactions and vacillated between demonstrative rage and just letting the guys who were holding him work him outdoors. it went the way of the latter and the truth is, i wasn't that angry. my senses were heightened. i had some fear, some fight or flight and some survival instinct but mostly i just thought about what a fucking cro-magnon man this guy was and how angry he was. i considered going out after the guy. my eye was swelling and i knew i would have a shiner. i was offended-the guy's fist had invaded the space occupied by my face, but i wasn't particularly angry, or angry in the measure you might expect. i was pissed but what was i going to do? hunt the guy down? hatch a plot to murder him? run outside and attack him as if a little more violence would make some meaningful difference in this unfortunate event?
when i think about the people who allow the tea baggers to flourish because they don't know and can't analyze history, (thereby doomed to repeat it,) when i hear these same people promoting their ill advised, misguided world views, i get pissed because i know the real and far-reaching consequences of their laziness. i can't help but feeling violent. in a way i am a humanist terrorist. i have laughably little power and by the sheer force of culturization and happenstance, my friendships, (my enduring friendships,) color me an islamic fundamentalist amidst a sea of western influences. i am backed into a corner. there is nothing i can do to stem the tide of ignorance. and so i am mad, mad like a boxer and mad like a hatter.
i screwed that once casual friendship. greg and i have not spoken since i attacked him. my other friends think i owe him an apology. sid told me to call him if i want some help figuring out how to approach greg. (smug jerk.) it will be some time before he and i speak again as well. i don't need these friendships. i have enjoyed them from nostalgia recently but otherwise i have changed in ways that mark me as significantly different from this crowd. i want these friendships. i think they say something about me. they keep me connected to foreign ideas so i don't feel aloof and they allow me to take off my seriousness like a wool cloak. because of the ubiquitous volatility, i, (we. actually,) spend whatever time we have together, laughing and joking. in time that will wear on me but in the past so long as it was not too interminable a period, i have enjoyed getting together with my old friends.
now i have to reevaluate. am i unstable or am i the sane one? honestly, i think i am the sane one. while i never intended to administer some sort of universal flow or karma, i do feel like a vessel that was just there when a little straight right was one hundred percent appropriate.
Saturday, July 02, 2011
independence day
this is the summer of my discontent. all around me the flag is flying. red, white and blue adorns my favorite pub. a neighbor put a huge "old glory," in her main window. my city is decked to the hilt for the festive holiday bash complete with concert and fireworks on july 4th evening. and me? i feel like i can't even speak my mind. disparage america, (or god,) and watch how quickly countrymen turn on you.
why? is it from reciting the pledge of allegiance as children? is it just that our world is scary enough without having to question our nation and our leaders, past and present?
america, you lied to me. you said you were great but everyday you play small. you are the sum of your people: 4% evil, 25% good and 71% lazy. you talk about american exceptionalism as if american imperialism was a myth, as if hegemony was a false notion, as if to claim a moral high ground?
how in the world could you ever claim moral high ground dwelling in the gutter as you do. if your government was by the people and for the people what the hell is citizen's united?
when i was a child i was taught that america only engaged in war when it was on the side of righteousness. when i grew up and opened my eyes i learned that our leaders told us lies to gain a semblance of support for the war in vietnam. i learned that america lied and bombed laos and cambodia. i learned that vietnam, like iraq and afghanistan was fought to create wealth in the military industrial complex, (at the expense of taxpayers.)
in the councils of government, we must guard against the acquisition of
unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the military-industrial complex. the potential for the disastrous rise of misplaced power exists and will persist.
we must never let the weight of this combination endanger our liberties or democratic processes. we should take nothing for granted. only an
alert and knowledgeable citizenry can compel the proper meshing of the huge industrial and military machinery of defense with our peaceful methods and goals, so that security and liberty may prosper together.
- president dwight d. eisenhowser, farewell address, 1961
i learned that america supported despots such as pinochet or suharto for our own financial well being, (which of course really only means the financial well being of our wealthy, ruling class.) america was friends with and educated: noriega, hussein, bin laden's family members, bautista, and so on, but easily turned on them when their demise was secured.
what happened to you america? what happened to the america of jefferson, washington, lincoln and franklin roosevelt? (hell, what happened to the america of eisenhower?)
in my adolescence i considered america the greatest country on earth, and myself of the lucky few for being an american. i slept well at night knowing we had a public safety net. if i should become crippled or otherwise unable to support myself, welfare and disability would help me to survive. when i reached retirement, social security and medicaid would help me to survive. today there is a gathering roar to dismantle these programs within you, america. even as you cut taxes on the wealthiest, even as you protect loopholes for mega-corporations, even as the wealthy and the corporations prepare to move to china and beyond for the next great wave of production, sans occupational safety and health, sans environmental protections, sans a living wage, the growing faction within you plots to disassemble these programs by any means necessary. your mean spiritedness dismays me, america.
your capitalism has run amok, america. your people, lazy and listless,repose beneath the false notions of the past, believing your leaders are not bought and sold, teaching your children to discount so many murdered citizens of other countries or worse, to disregard the unknown and unimagined living in those places, questioning nothing. questioning nothing. america, you are a people who question nothing.
i am sad this independence day at the pomp and circumstance about me. i saw a flag unfurl atop a building this morning down on main street and i recalled the feelings of pride and patriotism i once knew. i remembered how good it felt to learn about fdr's new deal in school, or to read about our involvement in world war II and how we ended hitler's reign of terror. i remember a teacher explaining to me the writers of the constitution knew there were some bad laws in place when it was written and so they made it malleable. and so it changed to abolish slavery and allow women to vote and so on.
how do we celebrate america when america, the idea, is so ill it is nearly dead? how do we celebrate america when 'bring us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses,' has turned to 'get your immigrant-looking ass out of my country?' how do we celebrate america when common sense medical reform is demonized in the face of overwhelming statistics illustrating how truly horrible our for profit system is? how do we celebrate an america that tortures? how do we celebrate america?
how is angelo mozilo not in jail? how do corporations get away with murder in america? why does america care so much about eliot spitzer and anthony weiner but hold no one accountable for credit default swaps or the abolition of the glass steagall act? how did america become the land of manufacturing consent?
i am not feeling it. i am not feeling like celebrating my country because i love my country and the ideals it once represented. i love my friends and family and countrymen too, but i don't want to celebrate with them especially if they think nothing is wrong. decry, decry, the 4th of july...
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
lebron james
i can't really understand how anyone doesn't get the antipathy directed at lebron james. how could one not see his quote after the heat's unexpected failure as at worst deplorable and at least in poor taste. i wouldn't rank him down there with milosevic or qadaffi. he's just an entertainer. but in his realm he is a villain for a reason. the root cause of his vilification is his poor judgment.
to be fair i recognize that i probably would have had every bit as poor of judgment as lebron had i been given so much at such a young and tender age. (see born rich for a poignant illustration of this phenomenon.) lebron was a celebrity in the 8th grade. consequently he never even felt the need to consider how to woo the public. he did not think he needed to do that. after all, when you have millions of dollars, are in the physical prime of your life and widely accepted as an athletic marvel, and have no idea what you don't know, what else is there? no one tells lebron know. he even has a posse around him as a constant reminder of how truly wonderful and omnipotent he is.
"he is," is a perfect phrase for describing lebron. he is an amazing talent, markedly more naturally gifted than those he is currently failing by comparison to, (i.e. michael jordan, magic johnson, et. al.) he is the embodiment of youth, even relative to his basketball career. he is a major celebrity with all the accoutrement of that fabled status. he is beloved and reviled, which is exactly the opposite of the worst humans are capable of feeling for one another, not feeling at all. to this point in his career lebron james has been the jehovah of the hardwood in as much as he has been expected to exceed everything heretofore known in the basketball world. however, something odd happened along the way.
in the year he should have won a championship, in the inaugural year of the new paradigm for winning, the age of not just two "superstars," per team, but three, an idea he can easily be credited with inventing, (for lack of a better word,) lebron james failed. this should be nothing new in the world of sports. failure is germane to sport. failure is the other 29 teams. failure is the best hitter 62% of the time. failure is the boston bruins or vancouver canucks tomorrow night. failure is michael jordan with the wizards. failure is the chicago cubs. lebron was not supposed to fail. he might have won a championship a couple of years ago with cleveland but this year, with dwayne wade and chris bosh, (and a complement of solid talent betting fractions of their salaries on lebron to take them to the glorified landscape of champions,) he was supposed to win it, all the more once the heat had traversed the rigors of the eastern conference to meet the third seeded dallas mavericks in the nba finals, (with home court advantage no less.)
why did lebron fail? the reasons are myriad. first and foremost, in a word, his game. lebron's game is made for the regular season. when that horse of a man barrels down court towards the basket on a tuesday night in philly or toronto, who wants to get their body in front of him and take the contact in hopes of getting the charge call or at least thwarting the two-point effort in favor of a possible miss or two at the foul line? no one. some will. occasionally. most won't unless they see a clear advantage or they are for some reason desperate. the playoffs and certainly the finals are different.
lebron is so physically gifted to date in his nba career he has not been challenged. he is an above average shooter and he is simply a monster when attacking the basket especially on the break or in transition. relative to his size his ball-handling skills and agility are freakish. so where is lebron deficient? he not only has no idea how to beat those teams in the playoffs who are utterly committed to stopping him, he has no idea he needs to have an idea or that such an idea even exists. he is fucking clueless.
other than kareem abdul jabar's sky hook, there is and has only been one weapon ever for overcoming that level of commitment the mavericks recently displayed. the mid-range, pull-up jumper. that shot in the hands of a master in unstoppable. when you think about jordan in his early career with doug collins scoring 63 on the celtics, the basketball prowess he displayed was more than remarkable. however, it failed. jordan, like lebron and so many others, was in love with his own athleticism. at about that point in his career jordan recognized he needed to get others involved to succeed, and he needed to score easier. he couldn't make a move on two defenders, slash to the basket and creatively score a basket every time down the floor. even kobe figured this out at some point. a gifted basketball player, by the very nature of the game, has a huge advantage on the pull-up jumper and from mid-range it is the easiest pickin's there is in the nba game. in fact dirk nowitzki's range of mid-range shots are just variations on the theme. karl malone was a great player because his mid-range shot was deadly, moreso as his career progressed. the same can be said of charles barkley. in his best year, when jordan's bulls defeated his suns in the finals, his ability to score from mid-range complemented his other, power game oriented skills, to such a point he nearly led his team to a championship against all odds. scoring without expending maximum energy is the hallmark of the greats. reggie miller was great because he succeeded at the long ball like it was a mid range jumper.kevin durant is great because of his shot. all the rest, all the stuff lebron has in spades is substantial and effective, but that uncanny shot, that ability to score using less energy, is the difference maker. lebron simply hasn't had to develop it and hasn't had any idea he has a need to develop it. in fact he likely acted from instinct and the sub conscience in choosing to partner with dwayne wade. wade is his perfect complement in as much as he possesses what lebron lacks to the hilt but does not have the body to endure his own style of play night after night over 82 games per regular season plus playoffs year in and year out.
as complementary as lebron and wade are and were to one another, in the finals their team did not have the game plan to beat dallas. their aggressive rotation became an achilles heel against a patient team willing to keep passing until they beat the rotation and take only open shots, (as much as possible.) had the heat been able to shift styles back and forth between what they did and living with a basic man defense, they could have kept the mavs off balance and likely lowered their shooting percentage. it's hard to blame the heat coaching staff however-who could have imagined them losing?
so back to why lebron's comments were so inane. they were angry. as a privileged millionaire, the point of his comment was to mock the average schmuck who pays his hard earned money to lebron's brand and the nba's brand. essentially he said eff you to all of the "haters," who do not live to his standard of living, (you know, the standard where you live in a castle, have everything you want, [except a championship, the true badge of greatness,] including a posse of employees at your bidding,) who had to wake up the next day and go to the office or the yard or the truck or wherever they earned their meager, sub par living. it is not offensive that lebron lives the lifestyle he lives. it is offensive that he is so offended by the regular guy's sensibilities. lebron feels entitled to his lifestyle. his greatness is, in his estimation and therefore, he sees himself as a gift to humankind and the basketball world. (he doesn't feel lucky or fortunate at all.) he thinks he earned all that he has. in fact he deserves a great deal of credit and a portion of his success can be attributed to luck, (in short.)
lebron reminds me of mary baker eddy who believed she could live forever if she purged negative thoughts from her consciousness and psyche. as her end approached she attributed her demise to the negativity of others being projected on her. in some ways eddy was a loon. in other ways, she was a revelation. she did live a remarkably healthy life after all.
this may sound like some sort of psychobabble but humankind is connected. you can see it in riot mentality just as you can see it in cases of extreme isolation. lebron's decision showed an utter disregard for the human sensibility that is loyalty. it would have been one thing to disdain cleveland in favor of miami. that would have been digestible to the masses even though it represented a change that was essentially an nba paradigm shift. the decision however, rubbed his sense entitlement in the faces of those who valued loyalty, or who believed in working class values, values in which it would be anathema to take the easy way out (of cleveland,) instead of persevering. so the masses turned on lebron, (excepting those in miami largely, who heralded his arrival as the beginning of a season of plenty.)
in the end it was a perfect storm. lebron's inability to score easy, (essentially his inability to take two hard dribbles in a direction, stop on a dime and hurl himself into the air while steadying himself for a mid range jumper, which is essentially in itself the inability to study and/or recognize, which again is a byproduct of having so much come so easily,) manifesting at the biggest moment in a system completely unprepared for the unfathomable failure that came about and was exploited by the little basketball engine that could, (aka rick carlisle's team oriented game, that is the dallas mavericks.)
i have rooted against lebron and the heat all season but lebron's comments did not bother me. i had to get up the next day and go work at a job i don't love. i did not feel bitter or jealous that lebron got to wake up in the opulence he has grown accustomed to. i do not begrudge the man his materials. i do find it disappointing he has not become a better lebron yet and he has not used hardship to improve. (once upon a time i could not stand mike tyson but then i came to favor him. to me tyson seemed to improve himself and he gained an air of humility i found refreshing and honest.) i am open to lebron becoming a better man and a better basketball player. his cause could be helped by having more of the masses on his side, too. he could woo the general public by gaining a measure of humility and becoming somehow genuine, (as opposed to writing checks to boys and girls clubs or some corporate charity.) if i were advising lebron i would start by having him apologize for being obtuse. (first, of course, i would try to get him to genuinely see how his behavior has been wrong-headed.) next i would tell him to focus on basketball and work particularly on his mid-range jumper. by improving that one aspect of his game i see no reason, (assuming dwayne wade's health,) why the heat should not win the championship next season. planning for that outcome i would advise lebron to be ready to accept that championship gracefully, by reacting honestly to it when it comes and by heaping praise on teammates and coaches and accepting laurels by pointing to his hard work and determination. over the top praise should be scoffed at. after all one team wins a championship every year. it really is not that big of a deal.
to be fair i recognize that i probably would have had every bit as poor of judgment as lebron had i been given so much at such a young and tender age. (see born rich for a poignant illustration of this phenomenon.) lebron was a celebrity in the 8th grade. consequently he never even felt the need to consider how to woo the public. he did not think he needed to do that. after all, when you have millions of dollars, are in the physical prime of your life and widely accepted as an athletic marvel, and have no idea what you don't know, what else is there? no one tells lebron know. he even has a posse around him as a constant reminder of how truly wonderful and omnipotent he is.
"he is," is a perfect phrase for describing lebron. he is an amazing talent, markedly more naturally gifted than those he is currently failing by comparison to, (i.e. michael jordan, magic johnson, et. al.) he is the embodiment of youth, even relative to his basketball career. he is a major celebrity with all the accoutrement of that fabled status. he is beloved and reviled, which is exactly the opposite of the worst humans are capable of feeling for one another, not feeling at all. to this point in his career lebron james has been the jehovah of the hardwood in as much as he has been expected to exceed everything heretofore known in the basketball world. however, something odd happened along the way.
in the year he should have won a championship, in the inaugural year of the new paradigm for winning, the age of not just two "superstars," per team, but three, an idea he can easily be credited with inventing, (for lack of a better word,) lebron james failed. this should be nothing new in the world of sports. failure is germane to sport. failure is the other 29 teams. failure is the best hitter 62% of the time. failure is the boston bruins or vancouver canucks tomorrow night. failure is michael jordan with the wizards. failure is the chicago cubs. lebron was not supposed to fail. he might have won a championship a couple of years ago with cleveland but this year, with dwayne wade and chris bosh, (and a complement of solid talent betting fractions of their salaries on lebron to take them to the glorified landscape of champions,) he was supposed to win it, all the more once the heat had traversed the rigors of the eastern conference to meet the third seeded dallas mavericks in the nba finals, (with home court advantage no less.)
why did lebron fail? the reasons are myriad. first and foremost, in a word, his game. lebron's game is made for the regular season. when that horse of a man barrels down court towards the basket on a tuesday night in philly or toronto, who wants to get their body in front of him and take the contact in hopes of getting the charge call or at least thwarting the two-point effort in favor of a possible miss or two at the foul line? no one. some will. occasionally. most won't unless they see a clear advantage or they are for some reason desperate. the playoffs and certainly the finals are different.
lebron is so physically gifted to date in his nba career he has not been challenged. he is an above average shooter and he is simply a monster when attacking the basket especially on the break or in transition. relative to his size his ball-handling skills and agility are freakish. so where is lebron deficient? he not only has no idea how to beat those teams in the playoffs who are utterly committed to stopping him, he has no idea he needs to have an idea or that such an idea even exists. he is fucking clueless.
other than kareem abdul jabar's sky hook, there is and has only been one weapon ever for overcoming that level of commitment the mavericks recently displayed. the mid-range, pull-up jumper. that shot in the hands of a master in unstoppable. when you think about jordan in his early career with doug collins scoring 63 on the celtics, the basketball prowess he displayed was more than remarkable. however, it failed. jordan, like lebron and so many others, was in love with his own athleticism. at about that point in his career jordan recognized he needed to get others involved to succeed, and he needed to score easier. he couldn't make a move on two defenders, slash to the basket and creatively score a basket every time down the floor. even kobe figured this out at some point. a gifted basketball player, by the very nature of the game, has a huge advantage on the pull-up jumper and from mid-range it is the easiest pickin's there is in the nba game. in fact dirk nowitzki's range of mid-range shots are just variations on the theme. karl malone was a great player because his mid-range shot was deadly, moreso as his career progressed. the same can be said of charles barkley. in his best year, when jordan's bulls defeated his suns in the finals, his ability to score from mid-range complemented his other, power game oriented skills, to such a point he nearly led his team to a championship against all odds. scoring without expending maximum energy is the hallmark of the greats. reggie miller was great because he succeeded at the long ball like it was a mid range jumper.kevin durant is great because of his shot. all the rest, all the stuff lebron has in spades is substantial and effective, but that uncanny shot, that ability to score using less energy, is the difference maker. lebron simply hasn't had to develop it and hasn't had any idea he has a need to develop it. in fact he likely acted from instinct and the sub conscience in choosing to partner with dwayne wade. wade is his perfect complement in as much as he possesses what lebron lacks to the hilt but does not have the body to endure his own style of play night after night over 82 games per regular season plus playoffs year in and year out.
as complementary as lebron and wade are and were to one another, in the finals their team did not have the game plan to beat dallas. their aggressive rotation became an achilles heel against a patient team willing to keep passing until they beat the rotation and take only open shots, (as much as possible.) had the heat been able to shift styles back and forth between what they did and living with a basic man defense, they could have kept the mavs off balance and likely lowered their shooting percentage. it's hard to blame the heat coaching staff however-who could have imagined them losing?
so back to why lebron's comments were so inane. they were angry. as a privileged millionaire, the point of his comment was to mock the average schmuck who pays his hard earned money to lebron's brand and the nba's brand. essentially he said eff you to all of the "haters," who do not live to his standard of living, (you know, the standard where you live in a castle, have everything you want, [except a championship, the true badge of greatness,] including a posse of employees at your bidding,) who had to wake up the next day and go to the office or the yard or the truck or wherever they earned their meager, sub par living. it is not offensive that lebron lives the lifestyle he lives. it is offensive that he is so offended by the regular guy's sensibilities. lebron feels entitled to his lifestyle. his greatness is, in his estimation and therefore, he sees himself as a gift to humankind and the basketball world. (he doesn't feel lucky or fortunate at all.) he thinks he earned all that he has. in fact he deserves a great deal of credit and a portion of his success can be attributed to luck, (in short.)
lebron reminds me of mary baker eddy who believed she could live forever if she purged negative thoughts from her consciousness and psyche. as her end approached she attributed her demise to the negativity of others being projected on her. in some ways eddy was a loon. in other ways, she was a revelation. she did live a remarkably healthy life after all.
this may sound like some sort of psychobabble but humankind is connected. you can see it in riot mentality just as you can see it in cases of extreme isolation. lebron's decision showed an utter disregard for the human sensibility that is loyalty. it would have been one thing to disdain cleveland in favor of miami. that would have been digestible to the masses even though it represented a change that was essentially an nba paradigm shift. the decision however, rubbed his sense entitlement in the faces of those who valued loyalty, or who believed in working class values, values in which it would be anathema to take the easy way out (of cleveland,) instead of persevering. so the masses turned on lebron, (excepting those in miami largely, who heralded his arrival as the beginning of a season of plenty.)
in the end it was a perfect storm. lebron's inability to score easy, (essentially his inability to take two hard dribbles in a direction, stop on a dime and hurl himself into the air while steadying himself for a mid range jumper, which is essentially in itself the inability to study and/or recognize, which again is a byproduct of having so much come so easily,) manifesting at the biggest moment in a system completely unprepared for the unfathomable failure that came about and was exploited by the little basketball engine that could, (aka rick carlisle's team oriented game, that is the dallas mavericks.)
i have rooted against lebron and the heat all season but lebron's comments did not bother me. i had to get up the next day and go work at a job i don't love. i did not feel bitter or jealous that lebron got to wake up in the opulence he has grown accustomed to. i do not begrudge the man his materials. i do find it disappointing he has not become a better lebron yet and he has not used hardship to improve. (once upon a time i could not stand mike tyson but then i came to favor him. to me tyson seemed to improve himself and he gained an air of humility i found refreshing and honest.) i am open to lebron becoming a better man and a better basketball player. his cause could be helped by having more of the masses on his side, too. he could woo the general public by gaining a measure of humility and becoming somehow genuine, (as opposed to writing checks to boys and girls clubs or some corporate charity.) if i were advising lebron i would start by having him apologize for being obtuse. (first, of course, i would try to get him to genuinely see how his behavior has been wrong-headed.) next i would tell him to focus on basketball and work particularly on his mid-range jumper. by improving that one aspect of his game i see no reason, (assuming dwayne wade's health,) why the heat should not win the championship next season. planning for that outcome i would advise lebron to be ready to accept that championship gracefully, by reacting honestly to it when it comes and by heaping praise on teammates and coaches and accepting laurels by pointing to his hard work and determination. over the top praise should be scoffed at. after all one team wins a championship every year. it really is not that big of a deal.
Monday, June 06, 2011
on selflessness
selflessness moves me in such a way i feel like a human heart muscle bleeding out all over everything i conceive. i read a news story today about a group of 200 senior citizens in japan who call themselves 'the skilled veterans corps.' they have volunteered to go into the fukushima nuclear power plant to work on repairs to the reactor that was damaged severely by tsunami and represents certain illness and death for those who approach it.
the selflessness of this act impresses me. it simultaneously makes me want to jump for joy and sob like a little baby. i felt connected when i read this story, connected to humanity.
these japanese seniors are aware of, concerned with and invested in, the bigger picture. they want to replace younger employees and work in a place few are willing to work due to the precipitous likelihood of harm. they have cited a couple reasons why they should do this work: slower cell division makes a slower cancer, and the time is right for the nuclear generation to take real responsibility for their decisions. they also make clear that none of the members of the skilled veterans corps has a death wish.
what's more is this group of 250 recognize their place in the scope of our species. they’re pragmatic. they care. this quality more than any other touches me.
thinking of them...imagining them as as retired bankers and auto workers, doctors and garbage collectors, conjuring their thought processes, seeing them reflecting on these 60-80 years they have had thus far, fat with all the joys and pain of being human, childhood and adolescence, familiarity with the amazing capabilities of their physical beings but also tasting the bitter reality of the body's frailty...
knowing they will have focused on the specifics of grown children, grandchildren embarking on their great adventure, and some even contemplating the planned obsolescence that is great grandparenthood...
knowing how their hearts must swell at the idea of being able to make such a sacrifice for their kind. i think of them so bravely signing up for the group then having a quiet moment of solitude later at home, alone. i know they are resolute and i know they are afraid though i think their fear is more like a sadness in knowing their fear of death has diminished with age which must feel like surrender. i know they also feel a peace, a humble gratitude and a full knowledge they have not ceased to rage against the dying of the light, rather they have chosen to help the species rage all the more vibrantly and effectively.
the skilled veterans corps embodies all that it should mean to be elderly. they are wise and generous. their selflessness is legendary. we do not see this much in our lives-it is what attracts me to men like bobby sands and che guevara, ghandi and martin luther king jr. these men of various causes displayed the similar trait of recognizing the greater good and being willing to act even at their own peril. that touches me perhaps because i live in a society that seems to pooh pooh that behavior valuing instead the culture of gordon gecko and celebrity investors and respect for winning even if you cheated.
the reward for selfless behavior is clear and undeniable. it ranges from being able to sleep at night to the inner sunshine of bestowing a gift on the brotherhood of man to immortality, (such as immortality is.) still, in my society perhaps a majority of people with a choice of a material windfall and more time on earth versus the opportunity to commit an ultimate act of love and goodness would choose the former and smirk, "suckah..." all the way to the bank.
i read the story in a sandwich shop on my iphone at lunch today and i barely composed myself. i sat alone in a room of populated lunch tables eating my sandwich and reading and suddenly i felt like choking. my face flushed and i felt tears well up in my eyes. real tears-tears such as i typically know only at funerals or the like. i grabbed a hold of myself fiercely and pushed the emotion from my consciousness. i soldiered on through the story but at the end when the group's leader announces his expectation the power company will accept the offer from the elderly group to work on site, because, "they need us," i felt it again. it was a sudden jerking of my emotions right to the brink of overflowing.
i checked them again and wondered to myself why such a strong reaction to a news story. this was when i thought of che guevara and how his life story affected me in such a similar fashion, (so much so his visage adorns my calf.) i am slightly chagrined by the idea of having a man's face tattooed on my body, men being so fallible and prone to err. but guevara, like king and ghandi and sands, for me is selflessness incarnate. selflessness, when i see it, the selflessness of those who would advance the envelope of human understanding and evolution, those who actively work to hammer away at the veil of our time, who are discontented by the plodding advance of our age, it moves me in every way. it restores my conviction that goodness is winning, understanding is conquering ignorance, life is meaningful.
and to mr. yasuteru yamada of the skilled veteran's corps i say, "yes sir. you are right. we do need you."
the selflessness of this act impresses me. it simultaneously makes me want to jump for joy and sob like a little baby. i felt connected when i read this story, connected to humanity.
these japanese seniors are aware of, concerned with and invested in, the bigger picture. they want to replace younger employees and work in a place few are willing to work due to the precipitous likelihood of harm. they have cited a couple reasons why they should do this work: slower cell division makes a slower cancer, and the time is right for the nuclear generation to take real responsibility for their decisions. they also make clear that none of the members of the skilled veterans corps has a death wish.
what's more is this group of 250 recognize their place in the scope of our species. they’re pragmatic. they care. this quality more than any other touches me.
thinking of them...imagining them as as retired bankers and auto workers, doctors and garbage collectors, conjuring their thought processes, seeing them reflecting on these 60-80 years they have had thus far, fat with all the joys and pain of being human, childhood and adolescence, familiarity with the amazing capabilities of their physical beings but also tasting the bitter reality of the body's frailty...
knowing they will have focused on the specifics of grown children, grandchildren embarking on their great adventure, and some even contemplating the planned obsolescence that is great grandparenthood...
knowing how their hearts must swell at the idea of being able to make such a sacrifice for their kind. i think of them so bravely signing up for the group then having a quiet moment of solitude later at home, alone. i know they are resolute and i know they are afraid though i think their fear is more like a sadness in knowing their fear of death has diminished with age which must feel like surrender. i know they also feel a peace, a humble gratitude and a full knowledge they have not ceased to rage against the dying of the light, rather they have chosen to help the species rage all the more vibrantly and effectively.
the skilled veterans corps embodies all that it should mean to be elderly. they are wise and generous. their selflessness is legendary. we do not see this much in our lives-it is what attracts me to men like bobby sands and che guevara, ghandi and martin luther king jr. these men of various causes displayed the similar trait of recognizing the greater good and being willing to act even at their own peril. that touches me perhaps because i live in a society that seems to pooh pooh that behavior valuing instead the culture of gordon gecko and celebrity investors and respect for winning even if you cheated.
the reward for selfless behavior is clear and undeniable. it ranges from being able to sleep at night to the inner sunshine of bestowing a gift on the brotherhood of man to immortality, (such as immortality is.) still, in my society perhaps a majority of people with a choice of a material windfall and more time on earth versus the opportunity to commit an ultimate act of love and goodness would choose the former and smirk, "suckah..." all the way to the bank.
i read the story in a sandwich shop on my iphone at lunch today and i barely composed myself. i sat alone in a room of populated lunch tables eating my sandwich and reading and suddenly i felt like choking. my face flushed and i felt tears well up in my eyes. real tears-tears such as i typically know only at funerals or the like. i grabbed a hold of myself fiercely and pushed the emotion from my consciousness. i soldiered on through the story but at the end when the group's leader announces his expectation the power company will accept the offer from the elderly group to work on site, because, "they need us," i felt it again. it was a sudden jerking of my emotions right to the brink of overflowing.
i checked them again and wondered to myself why such a strong reaction to a news story. this was when i thought of che guevara and how his life story affected me in such a similar fashion, (so much so his visage adorns my calf.) i am slightly chagrined by the idea of having a man's face tattooed on my body, men being so fallible and prone to err. but guevara, like king and ghandi and sands, for me is selflessness incarnate. selflessness, when i see it, the selflessness of those who would advance the envelope of human understanding and evolution, those who actively work to hammer away at the veil of our time, who are discontented by the plodding advance of our age, it moves me in every way. it restores my conviction that goodness is winning, understanding is conquering ignorance, life is meaningful.
and to mr. yasuteru yamada of the skilled veteran's corps i say, "yes sir. you are right. we do need you."
Sunday, March 20, 2011
sometimes
sometimes i feel like tom cruise in minority report. remember how he would watch the film footage of his son over and over and replay the day he went missing and all its events again and again in his mind? remember how agonizing it was for him and even for you as the viewer, how you felt for him?
sometimes i see pictures of my kids and i feel like that. i feel like tom cruise, viewing the pictures as if separated from mark and terra, (as i am by work and obligation and school and a day’s activities, and any physical distance.) i long for them and i fear for them.
i don’t fear some horrific thing happening to them. (i merely rely on odds and karma to hope that stuff away, along with some vigilance.) i fear the world and all its cruelties, all its rude awakenings, all its unkind moments, its puppy love and encounters with policemen, its realizations about the system and money and how things work.
it’s funny, too, my little creatures could hardly be more selfish. it seems seeking one’s own is definitely a natural state and so i am helping them to learn the value of considering others. they fight amongst themselves and it is always the one against the other and of course, my six-year-old is more cunning than my four-year-old although he has some tricks of his own. it is interesting though because generally speaking they both are highly attuned to possessions and materials. they want stuff and they want to declare ownership of that stuff even if it’s not theirs but is merely in their possession in a given moment.
it is a complex dynamic this need to want or want to need and i think the buddha and jesus and perhaps even allah would agree with me on this one, (though i am not well versed on the tenets of the koran,) it is worth trying to overcome it. you see, when one is able to set that stuff aside, the petty wanting of a child, it seems to me they are free to become great and by great I mean, wholly kind, beautifully productive, givers and creators.
i look at those pictures of my children. i see mark grimacing over his mother’s shoulder dismayed at the sight of a camera staring at him and i can see what he wants more than any other thing. he wants to be loved. and, he wants to love. he wants to be considered and he wants harmony with his surroundings. he has zero malice in him. zero, in spite of the times when he may hit at school or refuse to share. those are the meanderings of a child trying to find his place, trying to know his boundaries and learn where his wants and needs should end and where the wants and needs of others, perhaps, should begin.
sometimes i see pictures of my kids and i feel like that. i feel like tom cruise, viewing the pictures as if separated from mark and terra, (as i am by work and obligation and school and a day’s activities, and any physical distance.) i long for them and i fear for them.
i don’t fear some horrific thing happening to them. (i merely rely on odds and karma to hope that stuff away, along with some vigilance.) i fear the world and all its cruelties, all its rude awakenings, all its unkind moments, its puppy love and encounters with policemen, its realizations about the system and money and how things work.
it’s funny, too, my little creatures could hardly be more selfish. it seems seeking one’s own is definitely a natural state and so i am helping them to learn the value of considering others. they fight amongst themselves and it is always the one against the other and of course, my six-year-old is more cunning than my four-year-old although he has some tricks of his own. it is interesting though because generally speaking they both are highly attuned to possessions and materials. they want stuff and they want to declare ownership of that stuff even if it’s not theirs but is merely in their possession in a given moment.
it is a complex dynamic this need to want or want to need and i think the buddha and jesus and perhaps even allah would agree with me on this one, (though i am not well versed on the tenets of the koran,) it is worth trying to overcome it. you see, when one is able to set that stuff aside, the petty wanting of a child, it seems to me they are free to become great and by great I mean, wholly kind, beautifully productive, givers and creators.
i look at those pictures of my children. i see mark grimacing over his mother’s shoulder dismayed at the sight of a camera staring at him and i can see what he wants more than any other thing. he wants to be loved. and, he wants to love. he wants to be considered and he wants harmony with his surroundings. he has zero malice in him. zero, in spite of the times when he may hit at school or refuse to share. those are the meanderings of a child trying to find his place, trying to know his boundaries and learn where his wants and needs should end and where the wants and needs of others, perhaps, should begin.
it is as true with terra too. i have a picture of her from the same day, when we visited the snow. she did not want to be bothered to pose for the picture but graciously she turned to me and made the best smile she could which ended up being super cute actually. it was different. it was accommodating, a sly tilt of the head accompanied by pursed lips turned up slightly at the corner and terra’s wide, curious eyes. she could not be more graceful if her name was audrey hepburn.
and that picture too, hurts. it is a reminder of all i have, all that could be lost if tragedy struck or i screwed up. it is a healthy reminder of everything i need to live up to on a daily basis. if it makes me cry it is from joy and pressure and a will to be as perfect a dad as i can possibly be, (knowing i have fallen far short of perfection so many times.)
terra, too, is angelic by nature. while she does seek her own it is because she is a child and lacks experience. i have no doubt when she grows into the woman she will become she will be a wonderful citizen of the world. unlike mark she is not prone to say “i love you.” she says it but with her actions. she is fluent in chinese and so I know the gobs of money I am spending on her private schooling is not for naught. she works hard at her homework. when she is scolded she takes it personally and feels genuinely bad for her shortcoming.
we were on a trip recently and found ourselves sharing a bed and at 5am mark popped awake like an early bird ready for a worm. he went to the bathroom and when he returned i asked him to snuggle up with me and try to rest a bit longer. as he put his head in the crook of my arm and looked indiscriminately up at the ceiling he had this comment for me; “daddy, when you are mad at me it feels like you don’t love me.” (is that heartbreaking or what?)
i know that question was a product of my imperfection. i know there have been times when my patience was in short supply and mark was being, well, four, and i expressed anger and frustration and in my eyes he saw utter disregard, (which in this gray world and that split second was 100% accurate.) i told him i always love him and that i was angry but i am just trying to help him be the best mark he can be. he seemed to accept that.
the thing is i am different than john anderton, (tom cruise's character.) i have not lost my children. i have them and i want to cherish them everyday. but i can relate to that feeling cruise's character represents. it's not something i dwell on but when they are not around and i look at a picture, i long to have them near me, which just feels more natural than whatever i am doing, more right. the pictures are bittersweet. they are memories. i love them even though they injure me ever so slightly.
Sunday, January 09, 2011
9-year-old christina taylor green-rip
tragedy is a word that fails to inform the death of christina taylor green today in tucson, arizona. this is one of those events that prompts anger, fear and pessimism.
this event is a sign and says something about america. in america we refuse to scold ourselves.
the fucking creep who went on a shooting rampage today in arizona killing christina taylor green, (among others,) blasting congresswoman gabrielle giffords in the cranium at point blank range-19 shot, six dead. fuck.
who was this killer? what group did he belong to that found gabrielle giffords so threatening or hideous as to shoot her in cold blood and indiscriminately spray bullets in a crowded area even killing a 9-year-old innocent? was it the gun people?
was it a group of small-dicked men who saw giffords as a threat to their right to bear arms? man i hate these fucks more today than ever. can you imagine how truly small they are, frightened to shivers over the idea their god-given, american, right to bear arms might somehow be in jeopardy. this is how dumb that group is; while some gun control efforts have been pushed and certainly there are people like myself who would not mind if there were no guns, there is hardly a discernible voice against guns being heard in the media or the public realm and yet, this group is easily riled and afraid. what a bunch of whiny, little, bitches.
was it the tea party?
in america we don't get together and call dumb; dumb. we never conclude. we value two or more opinions and we tend to act as if one opinion is as good as the next.
so if the murderer was a tea partier, it is high time we recognize that group for what it is. did you ever notice that the people who drank the kool-aid never admit or even know they drank the kool-aid? but they did and if we can't identify that out loud we're lost.
(you can click on the header to read the story as early facts came out...)
this event is a sign and says something about america. in america we refuse to scold ourselves.
the fucking creep who went on a shooting rampage today in arizona killing christina taylor green, (among others,) blasting congresswoman gabrielle giffords in the cranium at point blank range-19 shot, six dead. fuck.
who was this killer? what group did he belong to that found gabrielle giffords so threatening or hideous as to shoot her in cold blood and indiscriminately spray bullets in a crowded area even killing a 9-year-old innocent? was it the gun people?
was it a group of small-dicked men who saw giffords as a threat to their right to bear arms? man i hate these fucks more today than ever. can you imagine how truly small they are, frightened to shivers over the idea their god-given, american, right to bear arms might somehow be in jeopardy. this is how dumb that group is; while some gun control efforts have been pushed and certainly there are people like myself who would not mind if there were no guns, there is hardly a discernible voice against guns being heard in the media or the public realm and yet, this group is easily riled and afraid. what a bunch of whiny, little, bitches.
was it the tea party?
in america we don't get together and call dumb; dumb. we never conclude. we value two or more opinions and we tend to act as if one opinion is as good as the next.
so if the murderer was a tea partier, it is high time we recognize that group for what it is. did you ever notice that the people who drank the kool-aid never admit or even know they drank the kool-aid? but they did and if we can't identify that out loud we're lost.
(you can click on the header to read the story as early facts came out...)
it has been 10 days since i wrote this angry opening to a blog post. since then funerals were held, speeches have been uttered and healing has begun, (most notably for representative giffords.) and politics went on as usual. the left, (certainly the progressive left,) sounded as i did initially. i did not think jared loughner was told to murder directly by sarah palin or glenn beck. i did not think palin or beck or any of the other right wing commentators were responsible for this shooting rampage. that said there are certainly lunatics of every political stripe. the point for those who decried palin's "targeting," of giffords and others on her website was to take the opportunity to state the obvious. it is ugly and irresponsible to use imagery such as cross hairs and verbiage such as, "don't retreat, reload."
and this is when we call a spade a spade. when national news happens we talk about it. what did the right want you to hear? don't politicize this tragedy. how convenient was that message? it wasn't keith olbermann or rachel maddow or bill press out there telling ardent gun lovers to fear so many bogeymen who would outlaw their guns or that the way to protect their second amendment rights would be to, "take aim," at progressive and liberal candidates.
nope. fuck that. on behalf of christina taylor green i say now is just the time to point out that palin and others have been irresponsible, (at least,) by using the rhetoric that would incite. there will always be unstable people and there will always be public figures of influence. it is up to us as individuals and collectively to recognize what is simply wrong.
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