SOME of what I'm thinking...

Keith Jarrett, Dammit.

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Sat, 20 Mar 2010 09:17:00 +0000

Keith Jarrett and the sound engineer he flew in from Switzerland for last night's solo concert at Davies Symphony Hall in San Francisco may not have gotten the clean, fully realized recording they'd hoped for, but the audience most certainly got more than we'd bargained for.

Jarrett, the consummate maestro/diva - notorious for stepping away from the piano to the microphone to make beef with his audiences over their various misdeeds - was incensed early on by what proved to be the incessant audience coughing that plagued the first half+ of his performance. In a series of quips turned barbs turned reprimands turned all-out heckling match, Jarrett variously told us:

(1) [In response to the first loud cough that landed between keystrokes] "That was well placed. That could be a royalty." [Laughter.]

(2) [In response to the domino-effect series of coughs that followed] "Oh, now there's gonna be a contagion!" [More laughter.]

And as the coughing seemed to become self-perpetuating:

(3) "It's amazing how many people get colds at my concerts." [Nervous laughter.]

(4) "Somehow I've managed to play hundreds of concerts without coughing. I don't know how I've done it." [Awkward laughter.]

A genuinely bewildered Jarrett stood at the mic grasping at theoretical connections between the words "soft" (as in playing the piano softly, which seemed to stimulate audience coughing) and "cough." Then, starting back to the piano, he turned on his heel and returned to the mic to propose a connection between the words "mucus" and "music" (as in, we have to get them both out).

But the most dramatic moment in this battle of coughing vs. concert took place when Jarrett, soldiering on despite the seemingly hopeless hack fest of his audience, was compelled to truncate a new composition due to the non-stop and highly audible interruptions. This was the only number whose conclusion saw Jarrett simply hang his head over the keyboard as the audience applauded, in lieu of his customary stand & bow routine between numbers. Subsequently, he strode to the mic and stated, "That was not the ending I wanted." He then expressed nostalgia for the sanctity of his home studio, where he typically prepares for live performances sans "intrusions," and said his only audience that really understood the import of relative silence during a live recording had been in Yokohama.

SFJazz founder Randall Kline announced at the top of the show that the piano was not being amplified despite the two floor stand mics that were trained on it; those, he said, were present strictly to record the performance. This was one of three live solo gigs Jarrett will perform in 2010, and the other two preceded San Francisco. The Davies performance had its chance to be on a live KJ disc, but the relentless coughing spoiled it. It seemed the technical gravity of Jarrett recording himself did not register with some members of the SF audience at all. An occasional cough is understandable, but the tag-team coughing was over the top last night, and not just because Jarrett kept heeding it. Blame it on the perfect eve of Spring and possible early onset hay fever if you will, but please people! Contain yourselves!

When Jarrett made an explicit attempt to say so, several obnoxious men in the nose-bleed section eventually yelled out such gems as "Play!" "Why don't you just play!" and "Play something!" as though commanding a trained monkey. I paid top dollar for my ticket just like everyone else in the place, but I found the audience's heckling of the artist absolutely inexcusable. In turn, the maestro told us he felt something strange was going on in San Francisco, and that he was reminded of an unruly European audience he once faced who "hated Americans." I was disheartened to see Jarrett disrespected on the Davies stage. He is a known nitpicker, and his griping is part of his shtick. But he was in rare form - namely, a jaunty mood - when he took the stage last night. The constant coughing took him right down.

At the height of the dust-up, after a few audience interventions in his defense, Jarrett said he would only play "loud" for the remainder of the show so as to dampen the coughing. He returned to the piano and began banging away (Important note: Keith Jarrett banging away at the piano is nothing to sneeze at), but soon got up, resumed the mic, and said, "No, I won't." He then retook the piano, hesitated briefly, and asked, "To the people who are yelling 'Play,' what are you requesting I play?" This set off a riot of requests that was answered by a brilliant rendition of "Summertime." The audience loved it and Jarrett soon returned to form, letting go the precious proposition of recording live before this rowdy crowd and simply delivering a little bit of everything in his repertoire - a brilliant sampler that may not make a concert release but left even the most aggrieved audience members sated. He was, in the end, the consummate professional, despite a few grumbles overheard on the way out and on Twitter.

It was interesting to note that while Jarrett returned for not one, not two, not three, not four, but FIVE encores, the coughing virtually ceased. When he reappeared for ~encore number three, someone yelled out, "You like us! You really like us." At that, he was disarmed, and by the fourth encore he seemed truly moved by the love in the room. Those of us who remained until the end were truly moved as well, by his thoroughgoing mastery. It was a breathtaking resolution after the audience briefly ran amok.

[A more lyrical personal review will follow this one. The matter of the coughing, unfortunately, took a degree of precedence.]

The Poet In Me

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 06:09:00 +0000

I feel like writing poetry. Or writing something. Personal. And so I sit in front of my computer, partially decompressed from work after having left it behind several hours ago, and wander about the Internet, periodically feeling this impulse coursing through my veins, and I realize I'm not sure where to turn. I don't want to announce on Facebook that I feel like writing poetry. I don't want to announce it on Twitter (but I do, on one of my three pseudonym accounts, where I feel safely anonymous). I don't feel like opening a new Word document and writing on a blank computer screen/page. I have a fleeting impulse to begin a new blog. Then I go and visit the archives of the many defunct new blogs I've started and abandoned in the past. So back here I return. And that is that. A little throat-clearing in a comfortable setting before I do open a new Word document and stare at it for a little while and see what happens.

Savion Glover Does It (To Me) Again

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 08:41:00 +0000

Savion Glover: jazz concerto conductor, whole body instrument(alist), art form boundary exploder, performance revolutionary, world class athlete, genius.

Peerless.

Obama's Hard Row

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 08:25:00 +0000

I swore off blogging when I took up tweeting, but the shit that's going on around Obama's attempts to reform our broke(n)-ass health care "system" is, as Bertice Berry once (probably more than that) said, making me want to move my neck.

On CNN tonight: a protester at a Washington "rally" carrying a sign reading "Obama Bin Lyin." The allusion is obvious and the implications - both of them - are ignorant.

More on this later, but it boggles my mind how afraid people seem to be of having a Black man as President. That's not all there is to these anti-Obama protests and sentiments, but so much of it is so blatantly racialized that it would be naïve not to call it what it is.

Where I Am Online

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Fri, 01 May 2009 05:27:00 +0000

I am no longer blogging here regularly (or semi-regularly, more like). If I'm that compelling to you, go find me here:

Twitter (work)
Twitter (personal)
Facebook (work)
Facebook (personal)

Next project here: updating the landing page to reflect this information.

See you on Twitter & FB.

A New Day Has Dawned

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 05:58:00 +0000

Twitter is the new television.

Period.

Every Picture Tells A Story...

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Sat, 07 Feb 2009 06:15:00 +0000

I am dying to take pictures. It's been way too long and I am missing photography now not merely as an instantly gratifying result-yielding activity but as a form of artistic therapy. Very frustrated with the writing thing at the moment and realizing that I need to get a new camera and start shooting again -- I need it as a creative bridge between this blocked writerly state I'm in and the more fertile period I do feel is around one of these bends.

Six or seven years ago I bought an Olympus C50 pocket camera that I absolutely loved, and I used until it gave out. As a fierce brand loyalist, after a sustained period of mourning and several futile attempts to coax the C50 back to life (note: by the time of its death the inexorable evolution of technology had rendered it not worth repairing), I eventually made the mistake of purchasing an Olympus E500, which just didn't do it for me. Not entirely the camera's fault, I might add; I need the portability and simplicity of a pocket camera, and the E500 is not a pocket camera.

Some time later, while traveling through Chicago, I picked up yet another Olympus - this one a new generation point-and-shoot whose model number I can't even remember because I hate the damn thing so much. No more Olympus brand loyalty for me.

But the point is it has been YEARS since I have had a camera that I haven't wanted to put down, and this long stretch of not indulging my love of photography finally has me feeling desperate to get back to it. I have been shooting my world through the pinhole lens of my iPhone for the past year, and as much as I love that device and the convenience of its built-in camera, it just isn't enough.

So... off to Gasser's I shall go this next week (is that an oxymoron? this next week?) to compare two cameras that were recommended to me recently by a pro photog friend: the Panasonic DMC-LX-3 and the Canon G10.

Wish me luck.

President Barack Obama

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Sun, 18 Jan 2009 20:46:00 +0000

It is my 42nd birthday today and I am watching CNN alternately on mute and with sound as the festivities leading up to Barack Obama's inauguration are under way in Washington DC.

This is an amazing moment in history, certainly the most amazing historical moment in my life to date, and safe to say an extraordinary birthday present.

Because I do consider it a gift to be alive right now, and to be witnessing what promises to be a transforming moment in the history of this country.

Amen.

White Men Behaving Badly on MUNI Buses

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Wed, 03 Dec 2008 06:15:00 +0000

Okay, so if you're one of... five people in the world, you may have an idea of why I was riding a MUNI bus this morning.

It's been a while since I've ridden MUNI, but I AM a San Francisco native (third generation, if you must know) and have spent my fair share of time "on the bus."

Anyway. I walk into the Citibank branch on Van Ness at Clay to get change for the bus, and there is this guy turning over a hundred dollar bill for bus change. I mean, I was just there with a twenty, okay?!

So this same guy walks out of the bank a few steps ahead of me, and consequently we wind up on the same eastbound 1 California bus. We both sit down, coincidentally, on opposite sides of the bus in the front-most inward-facing seats -- the ones reserved for elderly and disabled passengers. He, by the way, has been on the phone since leaving the bank. And he's one of those who sits in a sideways seat but tries to face forward, so his elbow is on the seatback beside him and that same hand is holding his cell phone, into which he is speaking rather boisterously. One stop down the road, at Clay and Polk, a bunch more folks get on the bus, one of whom, an unfortunate young Asian woman, makes the unwitting mistake of sitting down next to hundred-dollar-bill-changing-phone-talking guy. Recall now his seating arrangement as I described it above, which is a complete encroachment upon the seat our young heroine has taken. She is now forced to lean forward in order to avoid contact with his elbow on the back of her seat, and furthermore she is subjected to his TALKING INTO HER EAR due to the angle at which he is propped, with his cell phone right behind her head. MISERY!!! The one upshot of this story is that the scowl on this woman's face from Polk Street to Grant Ave., where she disembarked, was PRICELESS.

Next up, on my way back from my outing (again, if you know, you know), I'm sitting again in the same general area when ANOTHER obnoxious white man boards the bus with a Subway soda. As the bus lurches forward - as MUNI buses are wont to do - my boy trips in the aisle and a spurt of soda shoots out from the top of the straw in his cup, landing treacherously close to my kicks. Um... I will refrain from drawing the facile analogy and suffice to say that I'm not sure when MUNI gave you the go-ahead to drink soda on its buses, motherfucker!

All of which is to say, white men, please try to curb your obnoxious behavior in public places.

Oooh... it's good I don't have comments active here!

Peace out.

.....

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Thu, 20 Nov 2008 21:30:00 +0000

So Obama did indeed crush what I can only call the pathetic John McCain in a landslide that gave many of us a sense of hope and optimism about the political future of the U.S. that we simply have not had in our lifetimes. A change is gonna come - and our man has his work cut out for him.

To wit: as if things were not already horrendous enough on November 4th when Obama was confirmed as President Elect, the economy has continued its downward spiral, which feels more and more each day like the sky falling - with CNBC's on-air personalities as so many Chicken Littles (or would that be Chickens Little?!) - and, well, when the median home price in the San Francisco Bay Area is down 41 percent, you know things are dire.

Those of us who intend to weather this storm and one day look back and grimace at this period of promise and upheaval are employing a strategy that is best described as whistling past the graveyard. Avert eyes, pretend nothing is wrong, sally forth.

Hmmm... although that does sound suspiciously like much of the government policy that got us into all of these messes in the first place.

More on this later as I consider whether I actually want to resume blogging - or not.

My President Is Black

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Sun, 02 Nov 2008 01:48:00 +0000

Obama in a landslide.

WHAT Were They Thinking?!

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 06:32:00 +0000

1. The New Yorker

Barack Obama was in for it from the get, when his parents bestowed his middle name. But then Fox News got involved when it featured two white women having a ridiculous discussion about the meaning of the Obamas' fist bump (in conjunction, it must be noted, with a slightly less ridiculous discussion about the meaning of Bush's chest bump with an Air Force cadet). The story was about body language and what it means today, and the problem was that the Fox reporter proposed the possibility that the Obama gesture was "a terrorist fist jab."

Wow. If so, there are a lot of terrorists among us.

Anyway, now my once beloved New Yorker has entered the fray with a mind-bogglingly tasteless cover depicting the Obamas as... well, I won't even repeat the miserable array of falsehoods and stereotypes that are reinforced by Barry Blitt's cover illustration, complete with American flag burning in the fireplace.

Ugh. Yes, we all get it, and ha ha ha. But it's offensive because regardless of its high-minded satirical intentions, it reiterates a whole slew of very problematic notions about the Democratic nominee and his wife that didn't need reiterating.

On a certain level, this is right up there with Jesse Jackson's recent faux pas.

What's up with all of this sabotage from the left?!

2. My New Mini Cooper

Just swapped a 2005 Cooper S for a 2008 Cooper S (the lease was up, okay?!). I'm not going to write an automotive review here, but there is one glaring problem that must be noted, and urgently: in my '05, the dealer-installed iPod adapter lived inconspicuously in the glove box. In the '08, the factory installed adapter is at the bottom of the center console, so not only is there a big ugly cable sticking out of the dash at all times, but every time I park my car I have to unplug my iPod and slip it into the secret compartment in the dash WHICH SHOULD HOUSE THE USB/IPOD ADAPTER. That little secret compartment is one of the coolest design updates. The fact that the iPod adapter isn't housed inside it is so stupid that I can't believe BMW is responsible for it.

On a related note, I MISS MY HARMAN KARDON. The new nameless sound system is a sorry substitute for BMW's former longtime audio partner.

But on the whole I'm happy enough with the new ride, especially, well, the new ride. The suspension is so much more luxurious, the ride so much smoother, and the seats - oh, the seats. Like night and day. The new seats are Recaro-like compared to the old. And the new ride is that of a luxury sports car, whereas the old one was more go-cart-like.

Motor on, and Obama '08.

Michelle Obama

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Sat, 14 Jun 2008 17:53:00 +0000

Here's an interesting one. Throughout the contest for the Democratic nomination, I found myself cringing every time I heard people - be it in the media or in my daily life - talking about the fact that for the first time in history a Black man (well, an African American man, because people still don't seem comfortable with the more all-encompassing [and let's face it, more radical] term "Black") and a woman essentially were running for the right to run for President of the United States.

Why, I ask, is it that people do not feel the need to racially modify the woman in that equation?! A Black man and a white woman. Not, to quote Seinfeld, that there's anything wrong with that, but I think it's important that we remain mindful of the fact that a white woman (and especially a former First Lady) contesting the nomination is not the same as a woman of color contesting the nomination. Now when and if that ever happens, well... I hope I'm alive to see it.

Which brings me to the interesting issue of Michelle Obama. Michelle Obama, who now stands poised (and indeed she is wonderfully poised) on the historical precipice of becoming America's first Black First Lady. Damn - just those five words strung together make you realize what a radical reality that would be for this country. I mean, we've already heard - albeit in a slightly mind-bending context - the words "America's first Black President" used liberally (no pun intended) to describe none other than William Jefferson Clinton. But "America's first Black First Lady?!" This is unheard of ya'all!

And wouldn't it be something.

So here is Michelle Obama, now coming under scrutiny, and probably about to become the most scrutinized Black woman ever to walk the planet. This, no doubt, will be a very interesting process to observe.

And in the meantime, I have one magic bullet suggestion. Michelle Obama is scheduled to co-host "The View" next week in order to reach out and grab white women, whose support seems to be eluding the Obama campaign thus far. I say, have at it and knock 'em dead, which I'm confident she will if they aren't too intimidated by her intellect and composure.

But let's cut to the chase: Who is it that commands the attention - and indeed the largest market share - of so many women in general in this country? That's right: Oprah Winfrey. So... Oprah needs to (and no doubt will) invite Michelle Obama on her show to give her a forum for making herself known to an audience that apparently is having trouble warming up to the Obamas. We've seen the power of Oprah's endorsement of Obama. Now let's see what an appearance on her show can do for his wife. Make it so, Oprah!

And I think it's important to clarify that it isn't that Michelle Obama has a likeability problem, but rather that by and large the American public are not accustomed to having a Black woman attached to such high stakes. And that includes Condoleezza Rice. After all, Michelle Obama represents revolution. Condoleezza Rice represents... well, to tell you the truth I still don't get what the hell she represents. She is completely mystifying to me. But the bottom line is that she has helped George Bush to fuck things up completely, and Michelle Obama represents the antithesis of that - indeed the antidote to it - in the public imagination. In my opinion, Condoleezza Rice has never represented hope to the American people. She has been a spin doctor and an apologist and a mouthpiece and no doubt at times a ventriloquist for George W. Bush. And any one of those offenses is unforgivable. Put them all together and you've got something very wrong.

T-shirt for sale on Venice Beach, April 2008.

January 20th, 2009.

Say WHAT?!

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 02:47:00 +0000

(06-05) 15:03 PDT WASHINGTON, (AP) --

Defense Secretary Robert Gates ousted the Air Force's top military and civilian leaders Thursday, holding them to account in a historic Pentagon shake-up after embarrassing nuclear mix-ups.

___________

Um... "embarrassing nuclear mix-ups?!"

I'm pretty sure that the second word in that phrase should never be used in combination with either the first OR the third.

As the World Rejoices...

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Wed, 04 Jun 2008 16:03:00 +0000

So the entire globe is celebrating Obama's nomination, and how refreshing is it to have the rest of the world feeling relief at something the U.S. has done for a change?! I can't wait to see how long it takes the worst elements on the Republican side to begin using this international applause against the Democratic candidate.

BARACK OBAMA FOR PRESIDENT

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Wed, 04 Jun 2008 04:36:00 +0000

This is a good thing, ya'all. I am envisioning January 20th - the swearing in of the first Black President of the United States of America. This is without question the most exciting historical moment in my lifetime.

BUT... let us not forget the realities of racism that persist in this country. CNN reported tonight that an exit poll in Montana revealed that a significant percentage of Hillary Clinton supporters stated that if Obama were to win the nomination, they either would vote for McCain or stay home.

WHAT THE FUCK?!

I have a hard time imagining what else that could be about but out and out racism.

NONETHELESS... Barack Obama is, among many other qualities that we desperately need in our Commander in Chief right now, uniquely suited to lead this country in making significant strides toward diminishing the specter of racism.

And in my humble opinion, this is, and long has been, one of the most urgent domestic challenges we have faced in this country.

JANUARY 20TH 2009, BABY!!!

Um.. hello?!

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Wed, 28 May 2008 17:47:00 +0000

Is anyone surprised by the allegations against George W. Bush in Scott McLellan's new book?

I hope not.

In Defense of Hillary

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Sat, 24 May 2008 06:33:00 +0000

Yes, I am an equal opportunity free speech defender. (Except of course when it comes to hate speech, which is another matter all together.)

I'm sorry but I think the uproar over Hillary Clinton's Bobby Kennedy remark is yet another instance of the media whipping themselves into a frenzy over something that should be nothing more than a passing matter. I have been disgusted with the political process in this country since a well-aided and -abetted George W. Bush stole the election in 2000. Now I've come to realize that the media are at least half of what's wrong with our political picture. The media have an appalling tendency to make their own reactions to the stories they cover into self-perpetuating masturbatory news events. In this way, the "endless loop" effect becomes a distracting force for the American public, who are increasingly challenged to engage in meaningful, productive dialogue when it comes to politics. This is an unfortunate set of circumstances to say the least.

As for Hillary, yes it is a painful, tragic, unfortunate, traumatic memory that she evoked by bringing up Bobby Kennedy's assassination, and yes the matter is even worse in light of Ted Kennedy's recent diagnosis. But the very obvious point she was making was simply that when he was assassinated in June of 1968, RFK was (still) campaigning for the Democratic nomination; in other words, the current Hillary-Obama face-off does not represent the first time that the Democratic nomination has been contested into the month of June.

Facing overwhelming sentiment that she should throw in the towel and give the Democrats as much time as possible to unify behind Obama as their nominee - an eventuality that all but Clinton herself seem to have accepted is a foregone conclusion - it is perfectly understandable that she would be grasping at straws right about now.

And granted, she did grasp at an unfortunate one, but let's face it: there was no offense intended, and none, really, should be taken.

Wright (is) on.....

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Wed, 30 Apr 2008 08:07:00 +0000

I was informed Tuesday of the firestorm that has been raging in the media over the Reverend Doctor Jeremiah Wright, Barack Obama's now infamous "former" pastor. It is evidence of the extent to which I have been immersed in my work recently that I was completely out of touch with this situation.

I have just watched Reverend Wright's entire presentation at the National Press Club from Monday morning, including Q&A, on YouTube (best sequence is posted by user CSPANJUNKIEdotORG in six separate clips). It is worth noting that this speech essentially comprised introductory remarks to a 2-day seminar on the African American religious experience. It is also worth noting that on this subject, this man is absolutely unassailable. I did not find one word that he uttered at this gathering to be anything other than thoughtful, intelligent, and mind-bendingly well-informed.

What I did find to be many things other than thoughtful, intelligent, or even mildly well-informed were the questions posed to Rev. Wright following his comments by the poor woman who was in the unenviable position of being the mouthpiece of the National Press Club on this occasion. She found herself unarmed in a battle of wits with an intellectual giant. I felt for her because the questions she was made to pose were an embarrassment, designed to provoke and inflame a man who is misperceived, in large part due to the media's inaccurate and unfair portrait of him, as some sort of loose cannon. Instead, Rev. Wright remained calm, cool, and composed - and always well-spoken - as he fielded with great intelligence and not a little humor what were a representatively appalling collection of questions from members of the NPC.

Now. Another matter all together were Rev. Wright's remarks to the NAACP in Detroit the night before (also available on YouTube - best sequence is posted by user westthea also in six separate clips). This speech was indeed far more inflammatory than the relatively palatable - dare I say whitewashed - presentation to the NPC. But, as a graduate of both the English and African American Studies departments at UC Berkeley, I am challenged to identify Rev. Wright's NAACP speech as anything more than a Black clergyman telling it like it is to his peers.

Anyone who has any significant degree of understanding of the reality of the African American experience - and I do count myself as one such person - knows that Black folks talk differently amongst themselves than they do amongst white folks. Now if you consider that observation in any way inflammatory, then I propose that you do not have a significant degree of understanding of the reality of the African American experience. This is a fact, people; it's the way it is. It's an historically rooted matter of survival, and one to which Rev. Wright alluded in his NPC presentation when he spoke about the Black Codes of the late nineteenth century that prohibited more than two Black people from "gathering" without a white person present.

At the NAACP event Rev. Wright was talking to a room full of mostly Black folks. It's always sticky territory here because race is such a hot-button issue, and the age-old problem of anti-Black racism in the U.S. not only is the result of but breeds a tremendous amount of misunderstanding. But I am going to try to push through here because this is important. Rev. Wright's remarks to the NAACP gathering were neither edited nor censored for a white audience. Nor should they have been. What is problematic is that they were broadcast, and how the media are handling the story. Immediately following Rev. Wright's speech, which aired on CNN, Rick Sanchez appeared onscreen looking like he'd just had his heart ripped out. His body language and facial expressions betrayed his prefabricated intention to inflame viewers by painting Rev. Wright as some kind of madman. And that is pretty much what he proceeded to do. It was painfully obvious that Sanchez was programmed to pick a fight.

Oh... I realize that the argument I want to make here would require days and days of writing (which I would be up for if this were my job). But Black folks know what I'm talking about here.

Andrew Hacker's 1992 book Two Nations: Black and White, Separate, Hostile, Unequal is one of the most concise volumes I have read on the subject of the Black-white racial divide in the U.S. If you're Black you don't need to read this book; you already know it because you live it. If you're white, check it out and you may begin to hear Rev. Wright through a new set of ears.

Yes, yes... the Black-white divide again. What about Latinos and Asians and Native Americans and all the rest? Well I am talking here about a very specific sociological challenge that has plagued this country for centuries, and that is the psychic damage wrought on all sides by the historical oppression of Black people in the U.S. It's not easy to undo, and the impact continues to wreak havoc on our society. Witness all of the fallout because a Black man who was the pastor to another Black man who is running for President of the United States has been saying what's on his mind.

I seriously could and would love to ramble on about these subjects for several days but alas I must get to sleep so that I can get back to work tomorrow. But I will say that as a former Black nationalist (those of you who've known me for more than ten years know what this means) I found Obama's reaction to Rev. Wright's NAACP speech - or let's put that more accurately: his reaction to the media's reaction to Rev. Wright's NAACP speech - to be disheartening. Disheartening not so much because I think Obama should have done anything differently - he couldn't. He had to, as Rev. Wright knows and said in both of these public addresses, do what a politician would do under the circumstances. But what I find disheartening is that the climate in this country around race remains so charged and so mystifying and so positively confounding and unresolved that a wedge has to rise up between these two Black men, each of whom in his own right is such a powerful public figure, and who once were as close as two crossed fingers. This is treacherous terrain and I am not even going to attempt to qualify this. It is my opinion and you either get what I'm saying or you don't.

Anyway, I have been in Obama's camp not quite from jump but for a good long while now, and I don't mind saying that one of the reasons I hope he will be the Democratic nominee is because I believe he has a better chance of defeating McCain than Hillary does. I do not believe that this country is prepared to deliver such a blow to the institution of patriarchy as to elect a woman President. And what we are witnessing right now, with Hillary's refusal to back down and with the media feeding frenzy over Jeremiah Wright and his association with Barack Obama, is the weakening of the best hope we have for radical change in this country.

And by the way, radical change is exactly what we need and of the three Presidential candidates left standing, Barack Obama - despite his concessionary conciliatory stance on the issue at hand - is the only one who represents radical change.

Not quite as radical as Jeremiah Wright, but plenty radical for the White House.

If you're not buying my half-baked argument, please see Jimmy Carter on "Larry King Live," a.k.a. a real voice of reason, on this subject.

Peace out.

Worth Noting... Forgot to Mention!

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Sun, 27 Apr 2008 23:21:00 +0000

Went to see the Annie Leibovitz exhibit at the Legion of Honor a few weeks ago. By far the most moving photos - and I would say the most interesting component of the exhibit - are the formal portraits and casual shots of Susan Sontag in varying degrees of repose and decline. The abundant family photos are of interest as well. As for the plenitude of celebrity portraits, they are less engaging in part because they are so familiar (as a long-time Vanity Fair subscriber/reader I feel like I've seen all of these photos before)... however, as a friend pointed out, they possess their own value if only for the elaborate setups and the deliberateness of the compositions.

For me one of the highlights of the exhibit were two "working walls" of small format prints that were meant to recreate the feel of the photographer's studio during the period when she and her editor were selecting photos for her book "A Photographer's Life." This process is depicted in a five-minute film that runs on endless loop in one corner of the exhibit.

Highly illegal snapshot from inside the exhibit, nabbed by my iPhone.

Leibovitz explains that as a child she and her family took many road trips, and that she began to see the world around her framed through a car window, a sort of ready-made - or makeshift if you will - viewfinder.

She was in town in mid-April to lecture at her alma mater, the San Francisco Art Institute, and I went with my pal Charlotte. It was an exquisitely stimulating evening. Leibovitz was sharing from an unedited manuscript of her forthcoming book (yes, another one!) tentatively entitled Work. The premise: a select few photographs will be accompanied by her reflections not only on the circumstances and technical details of the photographs themselves, but on her own development and evolution as a photographer, as well as on some of the more adventurous phases of her career - e.g., being on the road with the Rolling Stones.

Perhaps the most surprising part of the evening was discovering the fact that Leibovitz herself is charmingly unassuming - pretty remarkable for one who has seen and done all that she has in her 58 years.

Amendment

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Sun, 27 Apr 2008 22:27:00 +0000

No sooner is it memorialized than I need to amend it.

So there are four iPods in rotation here: a 40gig that stays home, an 80gig in my glovebox that kicks out through the Harman Kardon system in my '05 Cooper S - which is about to be replaced by an '08 Cooper S that sadly will not have Harman Kardon because for some mystifying reason BMW elected to ditch their longtime audio partner in favor of an unnamed "Hi-Fi" provider, the only compensation being that the premium sound system has gone from eight to ten speakers, which potentially is a head full of music for such a small interior space - a first generation Shuffle that accompanies me on the bike, and then the iPod partition of my iPhone.

Needless to say it's a lot of capacity for a lot of music, and the other day my 40gig iPod, which sits atop a now obsolete but still beautifully functional iPod HiFi unit, decided to remove itself from the DMB playlist I had it fixed on, and returned to an "All Songs" / "Shuffle Song" mode.

After getting over the fact that there was a ghost in the machine, I have settled into this more expansive listening mode, which takes me trekking through my very eclectic music collection where the frequent surprises and long-lost ditties can't help but make me smile. What could be better than jumping from Keith Jarrett improvising in top form at Sun Bear to Jay-Z's mother talking about how Hova taught himself to ride a bike at age four on "December 4th" to Aerosmith cutting up on "Mama Kin" to Hendrix blazing through "Crosstown Traffic" ("...so hard to get through to you!") to a Bowie oddity from "Images" to D'Angelo purring his cover of "Cruisin'" to k.d. lang crooning "Wash Me Clean" to Morrissey wailing "Jack the Ripper" to Bob Marley preaching "Blackman Redemption" to Zeppelin laying down "Whole Lotta Love" to Daniel Ash keeping time on "Ghost Writer" and back to Hendrix, this time for a flammable version of "Hear My Train A-Comin'" live at the Fillmore East. Well, you get the idea. Damn!

And the beauty of it is that there is so much Dave Matthews up in the joint that he cycles through at least once every dozen or so songs.

So no more DMB endless loop at home for the moment.

Free your mind and the rest will follow. (Catch the En Vogue reference if it rings a bell.)

Why I Love Dave Matthews

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Wed, 23 Apr 2008 03:28:00 +0000

If you know me you know that I pretty much listen to Dave Matthews on endless loop at home, in my car, and on my iPod while riding my bike. He has surpassed the Red Hot Chili Peppers as my primary musical interest, although the Chili Peppers still rank a close second, and if I resumed listening to them on endless loop they probably would persuade me that they are worthy of recapturing the top slot. All of which is to say that it's pretty much a tossup.

But right now it's Dave, Carter, Boyd, Stefan, and LeRoi. Eckhart’s book (see previous post below) stays in my bed and DMB stays in my head – they’re my constant companions right now. And in much the same way that rereading a thought-provoking book can yield new insights each time, I find that the more I listen to Dave’s lyrics, the more I realize how enlightened he is. And the music itself – the musicianship – is nothing short of epic. I think one cannot be that creatively fertile without having reached a certain level of enlightenment. I’ve pondered this from the chicken-or-the-egg perspective and feel pretty certain that the creativity follows the enlightenment and not vice-versa.

I should interject a sidebar here on a subject that I consider one of the organizing principles of my life, and that is the challenge of finding/identifying the artist within - or as I like to refer to it, the inner artist. I believe there is an artist inside each of us - and when I say artist I do not necessarily mean a sculptor or a painter or a writer or a musician or a photographer or the like; your inner artist may be engaged in business or science or raising a child... anything about which you are utterly passionate.* So I guess what I'm really talking about is finding/identifying your passion in life.

Anyway, I was online the other day looking up a guy named Daniel Lanois, who wrote a beautiful song called “The Maker” that Dave Matthews occasionally covers in concert. Before I knew it I had clicked my way to the Wikipedia entry on Dave Matthews. For all of my – ahem – enthusiasm for this guy’s music, I don’t know a lot about him. Well, for starters he was born exactly nine days before I was. But more important are a few details about his personal history that go a long way toward explaining the origins of his gorgeous existential lyrics. When he was ten his father died and when he was 27 his older sister was killed by her husband, who later killed himself. They had two kids whom Dave & his younger sister apparently have either raised or helped to raise. Such grist for the songwriting mill, and his music resonates so deeply with Eckhart's teachings that it boggles my mind at times. His lyrics are intensely philosophical (as pop music goes that is) and he is deeply invested in living responsibly and loving well, right now.

So a little anecdote that is tangentially related. On St. Patrick’s Day I went to meet a cherished friend at Liverpool Lil’s. She had been waiting there for me for a couple of hours, having gone directly when she got off work, while I was enduring a particularly dragged-out session of writing class. By the time I walked in, she was seated in a corner surrounded by a bunch of reveling men. You’d have thought it was the second coming the way she jumped up and expressed her delight that I’d finally arrived. So around the bend we went, out of the bar area and into the dining area, which was deserted but for one other table. Whereupon we somehow got onto the subject of music. Well, my dear little friend has the musical tastes of a gay man – Streisand, Garland, Minelli, obscure off-Broadway musicals, etc.

So I confessed to her my relative ignorance of her preferred musical genre and revealed my passion for Dave Matthews. To which she replied, thrusting her arm out, index finger pointing over my head in the direction from which we had just fled, and with a slightly horrified look on her face, “That’s what those guys listen to!”

I became aware in that moment that a preponderance of Dave Matthews fans are basically frat dudes perpetually transitioning into manhood. And this was confirmed by what I saw that same night of my Wikipedia wanderings when I watched two DMB concerts on DVD to distract myself from other matters.

My point – and yes there is one – is that I’m oddly gratified to know that millions of frat boys and their ilk are being exposed to the enlightened messages in Dave Matthews’ lyrics. Because on some level I think Dave Matthews is like an accidental Johnny Appleseed of Eckhart's teachings.

This brings me to my dear friend Page Hodel, deejay extraordinaire, who once asked aloud of no one in particular (but while I was standing a couple of feet away), something to the effect of, "Does anyone get Dave Matthews? I just don't get it. What is the appeal?" I vowed right then and there that I was going to, well, enlighten her on the subject by making her a CD of hand selected DMB songs, and she said she would look forward to it and it became this sort of unspoken challenge: would I be able to convert her to DMB appreciation?

Shame on me, for I never have delivered that CD.

But I surely do carry on listening to Dave & Co. like there's no tomorrow.
________

*It is a question for another day whether it is in fact possible to be passionate about raising a child. Completely dedicated, yes. Passionate? I wonder.

Back in the Saddle?

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Sun, 13 Apr 2008 02:38:00 +0000

Well goddamn, it's been too long. Forgive the profanity but it's part of the deal.

Where has one-quarter of 2008 gone already?

For me these last several months have been all about getting enlightened. Yes, I'm on the Eckhart Tolle bandwagon, and enormously grateful for the fact that when he appeared on my radar a couple of months ago, I was ready for him! I have been making my way through A New Earth at a glacial rate because (1) I don't want it to end (though I will simply begin rereading when it does), and (2) I tend to read it really late at night - or more accurately, often around 2am - so [a] I start to zonk out pretty quickly, and [b] in general I find that I can read only about three to five pages before I feel compelled to take a break either because I'm overwhelmed by the information I'm taking in or because I'm overcome with gratitude for same, and for my own preparedness and receptiveness to same.

The overarching lesson of "the power of now" is so profoundly useful in daily life... it's like Prozac without the pill. I am able to talk myself down pretty quickly from just about any level of anxiety, melancholia, etc. The key to this for me has been becoming aware of and mastering control over ye olde pain body. Set that shit down by the side of the road! Um... I was aided in this neat trick by a recent passerby who I'm hoping will circle back around (you know who you are). One small casual conversation leads to one giant advance in personal growth. Wow. You never know when life is going to take a dramatic turn.

Back to the subject of Prozac and the like for a minute, I'm one of the few people I know who is not on anti-depressants, a reality that at times freaks me out because it makes me feel like all of these people who are near and dear to me, and with whom I am interested in having deep and meaningful relationships, are kind of numbed out. I don't mean to sound judgmental about SSRIs or people who take them, but their effects have been described to me by someone who has taken at least four of the most popularly prescribed SSRIs (and is no longer taking any) as basically dulling emotional sensation. Hmmm... my own emotional sensations are so acute that I wonder sometimes where this leaves me in relation to so many people I love.

Well, if I am indeed back in the saddle, it's quite a dramatic return.

The other notable activity I've been involved in for the last four months or so is a writing class through The Writers Studio. This terrific program is based on mastering the narrative voice, and was founded by Philip Schultz who just won the Pulitzer Prize for his latest collection of poetry, Failure.* I had the pleasure of hearing Phil read about a dozen poems from this superb little book on Saturday, March 29th. I was on the verge of tears for about 45 minutes while he read. The sensitivity of this man's heart when he is writing about subjects dear to him... wow. After he read I had a brief conversation with him about his work and the challenge to legitimize oneself as a writer, and then I drove to a bookstore and bought the last copy of Failure. And literally nine days later he won the Pulitzer. Absolutely glorious.

Anyway, as those who know me know, I recently have been around the block and back about writing versus photography versus Web design as my primary creative outlet(s). And try though I have over the years to abandon this goddamn writing thing, I can't get away from it. And in recent months the stars have aligned to help me accept the fact that this is my medium, and that what will be will be.

More on this another time. Methinks I'm rambling and I've got other things to do.

But it's nice to be back.

If indeed I am.
________

*When I grabbed that link to Amazon, I noticed that Failure is currently out of stock. Go Phil!

Resolved...

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 03:50:00 +0000

In the most general terms, my resolution for 2008 is to live my life with decision and direction.

Something new & different!

Not going to delineate my specific goals for the year because I've already subjected myself to too much public humiliation doing that in years past and then not getting things done.

Just going to go quietly and methodically along and focus on doing what I say I'm going to do.

Happy New Year.

Follow-up on the Spam Email Issue

noreply@blogger.com (sk) — Mon, 17 Dec 2007 17:34:00 +0000

Several months ago I found salvation in the form of Cloudmark, a breathtakingly effective spam/junk email filter that works seamlessly with Outlook Express and costs a mere $39.95 per year - well worth the bargain for the impeccable service it performs.

Further to my post below about this subject, I now use my ThinkPad exclusively for email and am anxiously awaiting the day Cloudmark comes out with the same technology for use with Mac Mail.

If spam and junk email are wreaking havoc on your PC, get thee to Cloudmark immediately. Your problems will be solved as soon as you've downloaded the trial, and your use of the product free for a few days will persuade you to buy the product.

Now if Cloudmark would just have mercy and create similar technology for Mac users, all would be well. Mac Mail's junk filtering system is no longer cutting it.