NEW WORLD

Wrap Your Troubles in Dreams

2012-01-21T03:46:00.003-05:00

“All I could do was Cry.” - Etta James (R.I.P.)

Saturday morning, 2 a.m. While I sit sipping another cool glass of Raging Bitch Ale, and try my best to shake the addictive urges inside of me for the illegal and ignorant chemicals that spark my receptors, I feel the “Raging Bastard of Privilege” seething, and he wants more! Nothing can appease this vile insatiable appetite. I should, nay I must, be “happy” and “content” with my life and “success” - but I’m not. I lash out, for more, more, more!

Of course, I’ve much to be thankful for; but nevertheless, when asked tonight (by the wife I love so much) “...what are you happy about?” I could not formulate a proper reply; instead I sat there stone-faced and silent. Admittedly, I felt like a shit for not being able to do so; however, anything that popped into my mind (at the moment) felt shallow, strange, savage, and -most unfortunately- contrived. Maybe I’m polluted? After all, contrived answers do seem to be the hallmark of our daily American discourse - whenever honesty is sprouted-out or sprayed from the lips of the crazed and confused citizens of this country, it is always interpreted as "rude, offensive, or hostile" to “the greater good”. So, when I couldn’t answer her question, I realized, that not only am I “not happy” (wah! wah! wah! - you pathetic whiner!) but that I'm -in all honesty- no better than that shallow swine of a man - Newt Gingrich; after all, I too am a megalomaniacal natural born villain, who -everyday- seeks immediate and instant gratification for his stupid pleasures, and all at the expense of those around me. I'm not a hero. My ego presents itself as a villain -the bad guy. "Don’t ever say I never warned you from the start."

Of course, ultimately, we’re not here (..even though I may be...) to engage in (yet another) narcissistic screed; after all, it is far too late for that. Besides, there has already been too many words wasted today/tonight (and everyday) on the trite and pious concerns of those who should be silenced for their spiteful and silly screeds. Then again, too many words have also been wasted today on the wasteful and unproductive back-and-forth of multiple bureaucratic processes that achieve nothing more than an empty benevolence.

No! This is not the time to waste on foolish personal musings (or sleep for that matter...)! Instead we’re here to discuss “where we are now.” Indeed, what is the “situation on the ground”?

Honestly, to engage in any autobiographical or masturbatory reflections at this point would only be -yet another- escape from what matters most. Or not... perhaps, I’m too addicted to the most vile of poisons? Politics. However, "there is no going back now." and, it’s true - “politics is the art of controlling your environment”; unfortunately, it seems as though our environment is truly beyond any of our control. Undoubtedly, Dr. Hunter S. Thompson was right - “The American dream really is fucked.”

I can feel the sickness seeping-in. I pretend these false speeches and lies matter, but they don’t.

And here “we” are, only a few hours away from the “blood sport” that is the South Carolina Primary and, unlike any other South Carolina primary, voters will have the “opportunity” to vote for satire. Good. Admittedly, this election is, no laughing matter. Thankfully, Stephen Colbert continues to educate (and entertain...) Americans about the ridiculousness of Citizens United (which, also celebrates it’s two year anniversary tomorrow), but why should any of this matter?

Tonight, as I sit here shaking off my needs and wants, until I grow too tired to care (listening to Bing Crosby and the Ink Spots) on the dawn of this second anniversary of Citizen’s United, I know voters will gather, tomorrow (likely while I’m sleeping...) in South Carolina to vet their choice for a Republican candidate to run against President Obama; but ultimately, the “choice” seems to be already made for them (and everyone else for that matter knows) -the corporations have won. Hell, even Rick Santorum got “the Shaft” when it came to his own party’s primary results in the Iowa Caucus. The only “hope” for any political future rests with the Occupy movement.

Tonight, while Berney Sanders (a politician I do respect) spoke on Bill Maher - saying, “Let me be clear, corporations are not people.” I knew he was right; however, Bill's concluding “New Rules” also made it abundantly clear - Americans like a bad guy. They want to be (or at least often support) “the villain.” Which is why most Republican candidates can be so unapologetic about acting and behaving like some hybrid of Gordon Gecko as a rap mogul - flaunting their money, bitches, and arrogance.

There is something sadistically savage about American politics that turns honest people into hacks and good writers into company stooges. But we still go along with it all anayway, playing "the game", as the good soldier who knows no other way to really live.

It’s hard to feel optimistic on this cold New York night -as the first snow of the season falls on the bitter streets outside- but I know, that once the spring arrives, a new hope will bloom that no candidate will be able to avoid - We are the 99%.

Etta James was right - “All I could do was cry.” And how poetic that she would die on the day before these primaries. After all, there is no reason to do any less than cry (or, better yet, lash-out in a show of force!) about this horrible, wasteful, and totally useless election of 2012, which will likely only bring a lot of futile chatter and dribble. But I don’t blame those who won’t lash-out; after all, I too am a “company man” (or “little Eichman” - if you must Ward Churchill), too tired tonight to do anything, but stay awake till 4 a.m. writing (for what it’s worth). Eventually, I will curl up and sleep.

But tomorrow, when I awake, I hope to learn that “Herman Cain” (a.k.a. Stephen Colbert) has won the South Carolina Primary, because, after all, we all need a good laugh.

Fuck Politics... Football Season Soldiers On!

2012-01-18T21:46:00.004-05:00

The 49ers beat the Saints in a dramatic fourth quarter finish securing their spot in next week’s NFC championship game. But the warmth and sun over Candlestick Park was soon replaced by the bitter cold wind and darkness that surrounded Foxboro Stadium, where the cult of Christian personality associated with the Broncos talented quarterback, Tim Tebow, would face-off against the Patriot’s Tom Brady. Saturday night’s game (at least for me) was a symbolic battle that pit nationalism (Patriots) against religious piety (Broncos). In a way, it felt nice to root for “the hometown team” - Go New England! Thankfully, the Patriots won in record-breaking fashion and ensured Tim Tebow would know once and for all - Jesus is on no one’s side!

Sunday would provide football fans with two incredible games. First the Baltimore Ravens against the Houston Texans. Once Baltimore won, we quickly flipped the to Fox and turned the AC/DC way up! (My new tradition is to play “Hells Bells” before every Giants game so as to “ensure” a win.) I suppose, for those of us without religion, it’s sometimes difficult to shake our silly human need for ritual. Admittedly, I - like most Giants fans- went into Sunday’s game against the Green Bay Packers prepared for the worst, but hoping with all hope for a much-needed revenge comeback. Fortunately, Big Blue didn't disappoint and gained an impressive win on Sunday and are now also on their way to meet the 49ers for a chance to win the Championship round.

As football fans watched their teams battle it out through the postseason playoff weekend, political junkies would be gearing up for a different kind of game - the Republican South Carolina presidential primary. It wasn’t just the Packers who lost yesterday, Jon Huntsman did also, finally dropping out of the primary race. Huntsman immediately threw -what little weight he had- behind Mitt Romney. This was of course a completely hypocritical reaction inspired by the predictable amount of Republican Party peer-pressure. After all, Huntsman has been out for Romney ever since he entered the race. In fact, the second he announced his endorsement for Romney, his website took down any and all Super Pac adds criticizing the Republican frontrunner.

But as anyone who lives in America (or anywhere under the guise of a capitalist social contract can attest) - competition breeds strange, shallow, and savage creatures.

It has been difficult to maintain my mission to write about this election year as actively as Hunter S. Thompson did way back in 1972. Of course, the life we live in 2012 is far different from back then, but nevertheless, I guess it's worth a shot. I hope to have a more cogent assessment of "where we are now" by my next column - but what’s the sense? After all, there is no sense being really made from the cast of racist, fearful, and backward thinking Republican Party candidates. Moreover, I'm personally reluctant to begin commenting at all on "my" President Obama; after all, it is difficult to really say I fully support a President who has not been as productive and liberal as I would have preferred him to be. But we can leave that screed for another day.

I suppose the only person really making any sense of this horrible election is a comedian. We have all heard of Stephen Colbert's campaign to promote the "rights" of corporations (after all, they "are people" - as Mitt Romney claims). If you have not, you should really look into Colbert's (excuse me... "the definitely not coordinating with Stephen Colbert" Super Pac - Americans for a better tomorrow, tomorrow. Colbert has been brilliantly and satirically educating his audience (and the American public) about the influence and sway Super Pacs have over the current electoral process.

So, for now, politics can wait - football season rages on.

Go Giants!

2012 - Another Campaign

2012-01-04T01:04:00.002-05:00

“...politics is an art, not a science, you dumb bastards, and so the only real discoveries are made on the ground, amongst the contenders, the mobs and the chaos.” - Mark Grueter

Good advice from my friend commenting on Hunter S. Thompson’s, Fear and Loathing: on the Campaign Trail ’72; unfortunately, most of us are unable to really experience this art of politics “on the ground.” Instead, politics is experienced through the instantaneous and sterilized frame of the mass (social) media machine. Then again, isn’t this where we always make our decisions -through the media? The public square looks much different today than it did in 1972. So, is it possible to experience politics “on the ground” in 2012?
Forty years ago, as the Democratic primary season was gearing-up to select its candidate to run against incumbent Republican President, Richard Nixon, Dr. Hunter S. Thompson rented an apartment in Washington D.C. (where “life runs fast and mean”...) to fully cover the campaign. Ultimately, much of his coverage took place on the road, “amongst the contenders, the mobs and the chaos.” For twelve-months, Thompson wrote an ongoing column documenting his experiences and thoughts while on the campaign trail through his signature “Gonzo" journalism. Back in 1972, there were no iPhones, MSNBC, internet, etc. - writing was still done on typewriters. There was not much room for error. To get his writing to the editors in San Francisco, Rolling Stone magazine even purchased an early model fax machine (which Thompson would come to call “that goddamn Mojo Wire”) to expedite the process of submitting material for publication under an always looming deadline. “There was never enough time.” Indeed; however, I lack sympathy for Thompson’s predicament - the age of Twitter makes it very difficult (if not, arguably, useless...) to reflect - let alone write- on anything.

Ultimately, the Democrats chose Senator George McGovern from South Dakota as their candidate in the general election. Despite McGovern’s idealism and popularity with “the youth vote”, Richard Nixon proved too formidable of an incumbent to beat. President Nixon -much to the dismay of Thompson- won the general election in a landslide. In the popular vote, Nixon received almost 18 million more votes than McGovern -the widest margin of any presidential election.

Times were much different forty years ago and, in ways, one could almost nostalgically look back on these “simpler" times. Of course, the work and cult of personality that has now become “the legend of Dr. Thompson” did much to romanticize an, admittedly, grim chapter in American history (as if any chapter isn’t grim...). Thompson had a way of making things more exciting, poetic, and interesting (than, arguably, they actually were). Perhaps, my nostalgia stems from being jaded with the current political climate? Or, maybe it’s the picture Thompson paints of a life always on the move? He writes that Fear and Loathing: on the Campaign Trail ’72 was written “in airport bars, all-nite coffee shops, and dreary hotel rooms all over the country- there is hardly a paragraph in [his] jangled saga that wasn’t produced in a last-minute, teeth-grinding frenzy.” Such descriptions are an attractive alternative to an otherwise mundane nine-to-five reality of “experiencing” politics through the Huffington Post blog roll.

Although Thompson’s 1972 campaign was dramatically different than the 2012 election will likely be - what were the differences? Were there any similarities or parallels between the campaign of 1972 and the current political climate? Thompson was writing before Reagan and the birth of the “televised” presidency; accordingly, he precedes the Bush years, twenty-four-hour-a-day news-cycle, and Obama administration by decades. But what can be learned from reflecting on Thompson’s ’72 journey of “Fear and Loathing” and the election year that American political junkies are gearing up for now?

Thompson was not a serious political analysts and even admitted that his writings should be seen as more of “a jangled campaign diary than a record of reasoned analysis.” Although Thompson was a “political junkie”, he knew he wasn’t an expert; nevertheless, when flipping through the talking heads and pundits on every channel of the cable news networks or blogosphere, one asks - who really is an “expert” in this sordid game? Despite Thompson’s embellishments and exaggerations, there was something brutally honest about his take on the election of 1972. His purpose for traveling along on the campaign trail was “to learn as much as possible about the mechanics and realities of a presidential campaign, and... to write about it the same way [he’d] write about anything else -as close to the bone as [he] could get, and to hell with consequences.”

And so, why not?... Another campaign and, perhaps, another “jangled campaign diary” -far from the sidelines...so far in fact, I would say, I’m not even in the stadium, no... I’m comfortably and sedentarily ‘experiencing’ this campaign from the screen and my own domestic life. This is sheerly a writing exercise and personal experiment. So...“When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.” - Dr. Thompson

December 2011

I write this five days away from the Iowa caucus. (The MSNBC, yammering-on in the other room has a silly countdown clock in the corner of the screen...). Personally, I’ve been trying to avoid any and all political discourse these past couple of weeks; after all, “‘tis the season” and although I don’t religiously celebrate any holidays, I’m certainly thankful for the quiet time I have off from work and teaching to read, paint, eat, sleep, etc. - whatever my body wants, I give it. Indeed, there’s something marvelous and magical (one could say, miraculous) about this special time of year when celebration, relaxation, and reflection is encouraged. If only “everyday could be a holiday.”

Then again, life tends to get a little dull when spent at home lazily sleeping-in and daydreaming the afternoon away. Although I loathe the subway commute, I do appreciate having to report to class and the office, such responsibilities compliment a more disciplined day. Such responsibilities give a man PURPOSE. And purpose, or perhaps, discipline is exactly what we’re here to discuss. Do I have the discipline to “get my head into the game”? To meet deadlines? To better discipline my body and being? Do I have what it takes to “campaign”?

Christopher Hitchens: 1949 - 2011

2011-12-18T19:03:00.002-05:00

“My own opinion is enough for me, and I claim the right to have it defended against any consensus, any majority, anywhere, anyplace, anytime. And anyone who disagrees with this can pick a number, get in line and kiss my ass.” - Christopher Hitchens

Day 70 - Finding Purpose

2011-11-27T13:51:00.003-05:00

“In spite of my rage, I am still just a rat in the cage.” - Billy Corgan

Been going back-and-forth with some friends this afternoon online about “the purpose” or “end result” of the OWS movement; obviously, the discussion could go on and on ad nauseam without ever achieving any real resolutions. Then again, the “movement” itself could also continue along the same frustrating trajectory of never achieving any real change. (Discouragingly, the OWS movement -despite claiming to be nothing like it- seems destined to repeat the same failures of the Obama presidential campaign - lots of initial motivation, but a failure to execute any real follow through.)

I have a large file folder sitting on my desk full of various articles and clippings from the past two-and-a-half months of OWS press coverage. Some of these articles are critical of the occupiers, most are inspiring. I suppose, this is what it was (...is still?) all about - remaining inspired, maintaining the discussion, and recognizing that the struggle will be a long one. Democracy is messy. Still, these articles -only two months later- seem disappointingly nostalgic. Today the major media outlets have grown tired of covering the protests and occupations; admittedly, shots of police pepper spraying college students does not make for good Thanksgiving dinner conversation. Accordingly, much of the population has ‘moved-on’ to more trivial and banal concerns. So, lets face it - we’re an impatient people with a short attention span. Moreover, we’ve not faced the severity of violence and pain as those in Egypt, which is why OWS can stand in symbolic solidarity with those in Tahir Square, but they will never really know the same form of brutality and injustice.

Perhaps true revolution in the West can never be achieved?

Sure, I still believe those who first camped out in Zuccotti Park and continue to hold the flame are, as Chris Hedges stated, “the best among us”; however, it seems like the worst inside the rest of us eventually just blew the flame out by selling out any real values to the usual comforts and conveniences of capitalism. Who among us will ever truly be prepared for the long fight? When will enough become enough? I suppose it is not until we have lost everything that we will be ready to honestly take injustice on.

A week-and-half ago, after the NYPD forcefully evicted the occupiers from Zuccotti Park, the social political movements supporting the OWS movement called for a mass day of action and march in solidarity with the “99%”. Thousands thronged into the streets of New York, blocking traffic and chanting the usual slogans associated with civic unrest - “Whose streets? Our streets!” etc. etc. I could have stayed at work, safely behind my desk answering e-mails and fielding the usual concerns of the office. But instead, I walked out. Admittedly, my “walkout” was the farthest thing from any revolutionary act; in fact, I almost felt like it was to be expected.

Rightfully, this has become one of the major criticisms of the OWS movement - “Where are the poor? Where are the ethnic minorities?” Where are the immigrants? Those who are marching and protesting are standing against the injustices we all experience; however, unless everyone is able to stand together as one, then the movement seems destined to fail. For instance, as I walked-out of work a week-and-a-half ago, I didn’t notice any black and brown workers from the facilities or security staff walking out with us. Would they have been able to as easily walkout of work as myself and the student workers from our office had? Or, what about my wife who works in a retail shop in midtown? Would she still have her job if she had told her boss she was walking out in solidarity with the OWS movement and that she would be back tomorrow morning? No.

Perhaps real revolution will not happen in the United States; however, what is happening is that people are having real conversations about what truly matters most: economic injustice, racism, the influence of corporations on elections, etc. Ultimately, what the OWS movement has inspired is an acknowledgment of our problems and continues to encourage discussions regarding how we may be able to create and maintain a mutually responsible social contract for all, instead of one that only benefits a small percentage of wealthy elites. As we enter a new year (and one with another election sideshow), these discussions should not go away. Although the movement is going to be feeling beaten-up and ignored, it can learn from its mistakes. Thus, I predict a resurgent OWS movement come spring and into next fall. Hopefully, by then, more people will realize the severity of the problems we all face and that more will be able to find their voice and speak-up in solidarity.

If the OWS movement does not make it through the winter, it can at least be thankful for succeeding at one thing - waking people up! Instead of medicating the monotony and boredom away with another round of beers with gossipy friends, we're now having discussions about ways to reevaluate our social contract. Instead of accepting the banality of the chattering television, we shall shut the TV off and assemble to get into all the messy aspects of a true democracy again, and again. and again.

As Slavoj Zizek warned from Zuccotti Park back in October, “There is a danger. Don’t fall in love with yourselves. We have a nice time here. But remember, carnivals come cheap. What matters is the day after, when we will have to return to normal lives. Will there be any changes then? I don’t want you to remember these days, you know, like “Oh. we were young and it was beautiful.” Remember that our basic message is “We are allowed to think about alternatives.” If the taboo is broken, we do not live in the best possible world. But there is a long road ahead. There are truly difficult questions that confront us. We know what we do not want. But what do we want? What social organization can replace capitalism? What type of new leaders do we want?”

Day 59 - Reason #99 I regret voting for that rat bastard Bloomberg

2011-11-16T07:37:00.006-05:00

Yesterday night, Mayor Bloomberg ordered the NYPD to clear Zuccotti Park of OWS protesters. The original call “to occupy”, made almost two months ago, has successfully spread to cities, towns, and universities. OWS is against the unjust distribution of wealth and privilege obtained through racism, war, and unfettered capitalism. These injustices have aggressively dominated and greedily defined the constitution of our social contract for far too long. The banks and various agencies of power that perpetuate the “magical mathematical manipulation machine” are going to do everything in their power to silence this movement.

The eviction of Zuccotti Park has been just one of many “clean ups” happening across the country to disperse and weaken the OWS "99%" movement. Perhaps to prevent some of the inevitable media blow-back, the media was not allowed to film the NYPD’s eviction process (even the news helicopters were blocked from hovering over the shameful scene unfolding below.) Nevertheless, some news did make it through and footage from protesters’ phones show people forcefully hauled away by the jackboots and helmets in charge. My initial reaction to the scene unfolding yesterday morning on the news was anger. How dare these bastards destroy this inspirational moment! Why do the evil haters and greed heads always win?

But the more I thought about these silly tactics, I realized - we are winning.

As yesterday dragged on, the news continued to change and I began to realize more and more, evil has not won. Emergency legal proceedings unfolded throughout the day between the Brookfield Property owners of Zuccotti Park, City Hall, and lawyers or elected officials who truly support our First Amendment and that ideal of "democracy" itself. As of this morning, the protesters have been allowed back into the park; however, the rules of the game have changed: no tents, no tarps, no camping. This has not deterred the protest - OWS is back in Zuccotti Park. The reality of these new obstacles is that the message must spread to “occupy” places outside the initial camps.

Today, I will attend my first New School General Assembly. For the past few weeks, students from The New School have been assembling in the courtyard outside our office window. I plan to attend this General Assembly in solidarity with those continuing to occupy Zuccotti Park. I also plan to attend in hopes others will be doing the same in their own parts of the world. The conversation must continue.

The brutality of last night cannot deter this movement, it will only make it grow stronger. In fact, there will likely be more pathetic attempts at defeating this movement through brutality. The illusion of power that holds its sway over us all, will not go down without a fight.

On Thursday, I plan to walk out of work alongside other students, faculty, and staff of conscience who recognize “the gig is up.” We will march in a general strike. The time to acknowledge the challenges that we all face can no longer be ignored. It is time to take our ideals and values into the streets. “This is what democracy looks like!”

“I put the bastards of the world on notice that I do not have their best interests at heart.”
- Paul Kemp

Occupy Wall Street - Day 49

2011-11-03T20:33:00.002-04:00

Dear Angela (a.k.a. Sallie Mae Collection Agent),

Is there any way to reduce my monthly Sallie Mae payment to $100? I know it's a meager and laughable amount of dough to your company, but it's something - right? Currently, sending Sallie Mae monthly payments of $430.00 is beyond my income means and, in all honesty, will likely be this way for an extended period of time.

When will I be able to finally pay you that $50-60k (give or take with interest) off? Well, unless I get the time to finally write that big blockbuster script or win huge in Vegas, it's going to be a long time coming. Sorry, I suppose we're all going to have to hang on when that next economic bubble bursts! Anyway, instead of kicking the can down the proverbial road and letting the debt (and interest) mount-up more and more to an astronomical amount that I will never be able to pay off - why not just reduce my payment to a fair and just $100 a month?

If I can pay you more, great! But for now, lets be reasonable.

Currently, I work full-time at a university in New York, I also work part-time as an ESL instructor in the mornings, and split the cost of my rent with my loving hardworking wife. Of course, life is invariably full of needs and wants. I "want" to pay my Sallie Mae loan, but I need to eat. I also "need" to pay The US Treasury, ConEd, Bank of America, Verizon, TimeWarner, and the MTA.

Anyway, I'm sure you get notes like this all the time. So throw this one on top of that pile - just another deadbeat student trying to dodge his debt with the loan company sharks. But I can assure you, I am not that person. If you think I'm being insincere, then why not take my offer seriously? In fact, if you can reduce my monthly payment to $100, then I will gladly pick up that next daily call I get on my iPhone from that mysterious (866) number.

You know you might want to consider this a good method for collecting any of that other mounting $$$ from all those other students and graduates out there. Why not agree to also let them pay more reasonable monthly loan payments? In fact, why not ask the universities to also reduce their skyrocketing tuition costs so that students don't need to pay so much in the first place? Hmmm... I think we might be on to something here!

Well, you know what I mean, right? ...Or, perhaps you do not...

We are the 99%,
Nick

Occupy Wall Street - Day 24

2011-10-10T14:03:00.005-04:00

“They tell you we are dreamers. The true dreamers are those who think things can go on indefinitely the way they are. We are not dreamers. We are awakening from a dream which is turning into a nightmare. We are not destroying anything. We are only witnessing how the system is destroying itself.” - Slavoj Zizek

Yesterday afternoon, while Slavoj Zizek spoke to Occupy Wall Street, I was at home sitting on my couch watching the NFL on Fox (...blah!). Admittedly, I could use the excuse I was nursing a nasty cold (which I was) but, honestly, even if I wasn’t coughing and sneezing, I’d still have insisted on watching the New York Giants play one hell of a game against the Seattle, Seahawks. Sure, the Giants didn’t win, but the sun was perfect and the air was warm. I hoped fans all across the Northeast were also enjoying this pleasant autumn afternoon with their windows wide-open and some trashy AC/DC turned way up. Rookie Victor Cruz played an amazing game (despite a fumble late in the fourth quarter that caused a turnover and, subsequent Seattle win; Cruz made some fantastic plays); moreover, Eli Manning didn’t make any big mistakes (good news for any Giant fan still shaken from last season’s many upsets). Despite the game, good food, and much needed rest, my thoughts kept floating to the protesters downtown.

Although I wasn’t physically in Zuccotti Park listening to Zizek speak, I knew I wasn't alone. After scanning over the Sunday morning headlines, I saw that people everywhere were occupying different parts of the country. Moreover, there were the tens of thousands organizing from home and watching the live streams and reading the reports coming from Zuccotti Park. Make no mistake, Occupy Wall Street has gone viral!

I suppose, I was taking a lazy short cut by “occupying” my living room. Perhaps my domestic occupation could be considered more “rebellious” than my “occupation” of our office at work? But seriously, even if I could spend time away from work, family, and class - I don’t think I’m strong enough to spend those long hours in Zuccotti Park wrapped in a tarp while sleeping on concrete. Which is why the protesters physically there, day-in and day-out, braving the elements, facing hecklers and police, eating donated food, are (as Chris Hedges recently noted), truly “The best among us.”

Occupy Wall Street is inspiring and should cause us all to reflect on how our lives are all oppressed under unfettered capitalism. Accordingly, not everyday has been spent lazily watching sports and sipping on drinks. I stand in solidarity with Occupy Wall Street. In fact, last weekend, I stood with thousands on the Brooklyn Bridge and watched as several hundred protesters were arrested by the NYPD. Then, this Wednesday, I walked out of The New School at 4 p.m., alongside students, staff, and teaching faculty. We marched downtown toward Foley Square, chanting, clapping, and blocking traffic. As we marched, we called out to those along the sidewalks to “join us.” Many took pictures with their iPhones, others cheered us on from open windows above, and a few glared at us over designer sunglasses from boutique sidewalk cafes in SoHo. Regardless,“We are all the 99%!” We all suffer under unfettered capitalism. Unfortunately, we currently lack the language of liberation to adequately express this fact. But we must and will.

As Occupy Wall Street moves into it’s 24th day, there are rumblings of “class war” on the talk shows. Good! Bring it on. After all, the greed heads and haters playing for the banks, corporations, and purchased politicians will soon realize we’re all moving toward a post-bureaucratic society. There is no more patience for concentrated power. The gig is up. The magical mathematical manipulation machine is about to crash and when it finally does, I know what side of history I want to be standing on.

Like most, I’m not able to physically and literally occupy Wall Street everyday; however, I’m no longer making excuses. The time for honesty is NOW. We must work to build a new system that is non-violent, non-racist, and non-hierarchical.

Yesterday, Slavoj Zizek asked protesters in Zuccotti Park a good question, “What social organization can replace capitalism?” Communism and socialism often only create more brutal regimes and, arguably, anarchism is too misunderstood to gather any real traction. So what might our new world look like? Perhaps this new communal environment will look something like the model evolving daily in Zuccotti Park? Certainly, we're imaginative, innovative, and intelligent enough to create a better world. Let us begin speaking this new language. Obama is right about few things, and one is his classic talking point, "change won't come over night." Obama should not only be listening, but should also stop making excuses for the banks and capitalist cronies he is too often than not in cahoots with. The Occupy Wall Street movement may only be one step toward a new social contract, but it is a big step in the right direction.

I selfishly and foolishly wonder if there will still be football, rock-&-roll, and beer in this post-capitalist society? I suppose there will always be these things; after all, somethings are just too fun to replace! In fact, I suppose that is the real question - can we all come together and think of new ways to enjoy life outside of and beyond capitalism? I certainly hope we can. Who knows? What I do know is that I’m relieved to hear discussions like these happening. Politics is a far more interesting "sport" than any football game! The worst case scenario is that we’ll continue blundering along the same inadequate path as before - selling out.

Zizek closed his speech by warning, “The only thing I’m afraid of is that we will someday just go home and then we will meet once a year, drinking a beer, and nostalgically remembering what a nice time we had here. Promise ourselves that this will not be the case.”

History will judge. In solidarity with the 99%. Another world is possible.

Occupy Wall Street - NOW

2011-10-03T21:46:00.004-04:00

Rant From a Raging Bastard of Privilege

2011-08-21T21:00:00.005-04:00

By Nicholas Allanach

“Wild, dark times are rumbling toward us...” - Heinrich Heine

At a bar in the East Village, we were sipping and sulking over the woes of yet another wicked work week. Of course, it wasn’t all that bad. Was it? Thankfully, it never is, nor was. So, not all of our conversation was kvetching and complaints. I was actually enthusiastic about the upcoming academic year and opportunities for more art and creative communication. My friend was also inspired, but by the possibilities of creatively organizing politically. Perhaps we were widely optimistic? (I can assure you we're not. In fact, we’re too of the most pessimistic and cynical bastards you'll meet. No, it would be an injustice for loathsome materialists like us to be held up to such ideal modicums.) But, I guess, we do still believe, and on some level we hold onto a fantastic hope that something NEW can and will happen NOW.

But it doesn’t... So, we’re still stuck in the same ol’ cycle. “Eat, shit, kill - do it again!”

Despite the good company, positive conversation, and cool brews on this humid night, we couldn’t ignore the lurking realities looming-up all around us. As usual, I only had $20 in my pocket and my friend was putting our drinks on his credit card. Of course, considering these drawbacks alongside the greater economic woes: what was an inconvenience for me, was a meal or even shelter for others. I have no right to bitch.

Sure, earlier this week, we had a rather grim meeting about “declining enrollment numbers.” (The elephant in the room was, of course, when might we be having a conversation about "how this can be resolved?") But, I will not let any of this get me down. Even if the “worst” happens, another world is possible. ...or maybe not?

Maybe I’m tired of the optimistic bullshit? I suppose, it's difficult to remain positive with all of this old baggage and clutter still hanging around. And by “old” I mean, the same old way of imagining how to live in this world. I admit, “change will not come over night.” But that shouldn’t mean we should settle for less than what we initially wanted. Why have we allowed our political discourse to spin plates? We're so used to kicking the problems down the road for the next generation. We're so accustomed to “making a better tomorrow, tomorrow...” (that we missed the joke!) But why? Let us make tomorrow NOW!

Today, the economic and representational system is not viable. It must change. There needs to be a massive re-tooling and redesigning of our social economic system; especially, before any possible digital shifts.

Whether we’ll admit it or not, we have all played a pivotal role in making this weird and wicked world into the mess it is. (One of the few collective narratives that is shared worldwide, and cross culturally, is "we’re fucked.") Admittedly, some have pillaged and produced much much MUCH more than the impoverished "others." Frequently, those who have pillaged the most, have a remarkably optimistic view of the future. There is not an equal distribution of autonomy and power. And there never has been. It's always about who gets to decide how this world is to be plundered and prodded more.

Make no mistake, the corporations control this world. And I hate to admit it, but I too am “a little Eichmann.” My hands are stained with the same blood of Empire. Perhaps I’ve not played a direct role in this project, but I am a part of it and will be until I ultimately decide to step outside of this system. I suppose, I’ve tried - but this is not enough... “There is no try, only do.”

* * * *

While getting lost in the daydreams of my own privileged guilt, a young, super skinny girl, with a strong southern accent approaches us at the end of the bar. “Ya‘ all having a good night? Ya’ all smoke?...”

She was going from bar-to-bar with a hand-held computer distributing cigarette coupons to drunks like us. She said she “had been doing this for three years.” Like many, she had originally come to New York “to be a dancer.” Although she “still danced,” it appeared as though the cigarette promoting gig was paying the rent. Feeling sympathetic, my friend and I let her take a picture of our driver’s licenses with her hand-held computer. She then entered two faux e-mail addresses into the hand-held computer so as “to meet [her] quota.”

Before she left, she thanked us for being “so cooperative and understanding. Most people are real assholes!” After she left, I couldn’t help but think that this one girl pushing cigarette promotions in the East village was in some ways synonymous to our larger economic hypocrisies. Admittedly, a stretch, but one’s mind tends to reach out to such far flung possibilities when drunk at a bar. (Of course, my paranoia also kept reeling-back to the sheer methodical nature of our exchange with the cigarette promoter; after all, would my associate, or I, so willingly have given up our information to two cops if they had asked us for the same thing? I’m confident we’d have been a lot more guarded.)

Needless to say, after she left, I began seeing examples of these larger economic hypocrisies all around us: the bootleggers pushing DVDs, the pot dealers, the bartenders, the cigarette promoters, the beggars on the train, the yuppie to my left, and clown to the right, etc. It was all “part of the game.” Ultimately, we're all far more interested in maintaining our addictions than challenging any aspects of the larger industry. There’s big money in this, "Buy the ticket, take the ride!"

Admittedly, addiction is a big word and it's one that will never be adequately defined in this blogosphere. Regardless, there is little doubt that so much of our lives; especially, under capitalism are addictive acts - and nothing less. Why can’t we imagine (and then build...) a new world? (I’m not saying get rid of tobacco, bootleg movies, bars, whatever; I’m not even suggesting it will be easy to “start over,” in fact it’s an impossibility. When I say “new,” I mean a new understanding and new respect for the significance of being human.)

I hope, we do learn from our past to make a better future. But the jury is still out...

As the election year gears-up we should remember those like the scrawny cigarette girl working in dead end jobs. She is like thousands of others (many even worse off than her.) Many will no longer be rewarded Pell Grants for graduate school, federal aid is drying up. There are no signs of job growth for those students currently in school and, most importantly, there are no new jobs for after graduation. She is not alone in being desperate to find work. Why should (cigarette/advertising/etc.) companies continue getting away with the big breaks? Why shouldn’t girls like this girl have more money for student aid? Shouldn’t young minds be more appropriately used intellectually and creatively than advantageously by the corporations of the world?

I guess, there are "no fair fights."

the Union of Ena Hashimoto & Nicholas Allanach

2011-07-28T19:50:00.005-04:00

Every time we think we have a handle on life, and that we can make a prediction or "plan" for tomorrow, life gives us decisions to make. Two months ago, Ena and I were going through many big decisions: should we move to Japan for two years (or more) so that I could gain invaluable experience teaching ESL in a foreign country? Or, should we stay in New York to continue living this dream we have spent the last decade working so hard to achieve?

Sure, if everything had gone "as originally planned," we would be in Japan いま. But instead, we decided we love our life here in New York City. Admittedly, I still hope to teach abroad, but for now, I cannot imagine ever having to ever really "leave" New York. I'm confident the woman I love feels the same. I'm also confident we made the right decision.

Now, I can dedicate more time to my duties at The New School, continue teaching ESL here in the city, and spend time with my brother, nephew, and friends.

I'm delighted to say I have (one week before record breaking crowds at the City Clerk's Office) married Ena Hashimoto - the woman I love and (as I promised in this video) cannot imagine a tomorrow without.

I love you Ena.

And we love you New York!

Winning?

2011-03-20T19:17:00.003-04:00

“Never give up hope.” - Emperor Akihito

“Hope is for suckers.” - Charlie Sheen

I don’t feel emotionally or mentally equipped to properly comment on the events that have occurred since my last post, but I must write. After all, I cannot expect students to write if I don’t. How can I challenge them when I fail to challenge myself?

Since my last post, nothing has changed dramatically in my own life (or, at least, nothing I’ll post about...) and that is something to celebrate. Especially when “the news” from a lot of places is not good.

The devastating tragedy along the North Eastern Coast of Japan is still being processed and will for some time. The people of Sendai wish they had “my problems” (e.g. “That bitch who cut me in line at the coffee shop!” etc.). To be clear, people’s homes are now rubble. Villages are gone. Tens of thousands are missing. Donate.

Despite all this tragedy, there are other stories...

Three weeks ago, protesters were celebrating in Tahrir Square after successfully pushing Hosni Mubarak from power. The Egyptian Revolution then inspired other organized movements to rise-up across the region. Unfortunately, the people of Bahrain, Yemen, and Libya soon discovered power will not succeed without a fight, which is exactly what the UN Security Council has agreed to bring to Col. Gaddafi. As of this writing, a “no fly zone” is in place, rockets have been fired, and Gaddafi vows he’ll fight these “new Nazis” in “a long-drawn war.”

Two and half weeks ago, protesters gathered in Wisconsin and seemed poised to change Republican Governor Scott Walker’s proposed “budget repair bill”; unfortunately, they did not. On March 10th, the Wisconsin Assembly passed the collective bargaining bill with a vote of 53–42. People are pissed, but just how pissed? There are calls to repeal votes. And why not? Governor Walker never intended to listen to Wisconsin voters. He was bought by the same corporate cronies (who continue to benefit off tax breaks). Other Governors will most certainly try to pass similar laws that remove collective bargaining rights for unions. Walker should be removed from office. Good luck making that happen Wisconsin.

Despite the seriousness of these events on the home front, they seem insignificant when placed alongside the destruction in Japan. Yes, these are serious times.

A potential stage 5 nuclear meltdown still threatens to occur at the Fukushima Daiichi power plant. The situation is being monitored very closely, (but is no longer on the top of the news headlines). Fire trucks and military helicopters continue to dump tons of water over the destroyed reactors and spent fuel rods in an attempt to “cool them down.” Enough radiation has already leaked into the environment to affect the food and water. This morning, Tokyo detected increased amounts of radiation in the air.

Anyway, I’m going to listen to a lot of music tonight. Stay centered... maintain. Don’t let the fear creep in...

Who Will Survive in America?

2011-02-21T14:53:00.003-05:00

“This may be the Generation that will have to face the End of the World.”

- U.S. President Ronald Reagan (1985)

“The news is bad today in America and for America. There is nothing good or hopeful about it... and it is getting worse and worse in logarithmic progressions...”

- Dr. Hunter S. Thompson (2002)

The last two weeks have been big. First, a revolution in Tahrir Square, then people took to the streets in Bahrain, Yemen, Iran, Syria, and even Iraq. As of this writing, there are large, violent protests unfolding throughout Libya. Muammar Gaddafi is so threatened by what these protests represent that he’s ordered military jet fighters to fire onto the Libyans. But there is no turning back, activists across the Middle East want their stories heard and they will not be silenced until this happens. The Arabs are tired of bad decisions being made by the same-old autocratic regimes that have stubbornly held onto power for decades. Indeed, change has come to the Middle East. The people have proven they will not be bought by the same old systems of power for one second more. As one protester said, “There was no turning back after we broke through that wall of fear.”

Mubarak was toppled, but the military is still in place. Now, Egyptians must show how they plan to move forward. (Assuming the military hasn’t already essentially done so for them?) Yes, many wonder, who will be the next “leader”? Others question whether there needs to even be a leader at all? Whatever your take on the revolution unfolding in the Middle East, rest-assured, international leaders are not standing idle; especially, the United States. Which was (as indicated by this, conveniently, de-classified report) already planning for such possibilities, years ago. Not surprising, frustration and anger has been simmering here for a long time; but now that this anger has surfaced, the US wants to ensure it has always been standing on the side of the “freedom loving people around the world.” Remember, history is about who wins.

Arguably, the media seems to be delegitimizing the locality of these popular movements by replacing years of anger with the friendly face of a globalized social network. Undoubtedly, social networking sites played a key role in organizing and mobilizing the tens of thousands that took to the streets. As with any revolution, media and information play a pivotal role in making people more politically aware. However, it was not only a media revolution. Media can only do so much. Media connects people and communicates information, but it cannot keep people standing in the street for days. Only a people’s will and courage can stand strong against the brutality of power.

This past week, Americans have also gathered in Madison, Wisconsin. Admittedly, for entirely different grievances; but nevertheless, it is refreshing to see people occupying their statehouse and standing-up to a corrupt government. From Tahrir Square to the Capital of Wisconsin - people are proving they do have power. Americans should take notice. After all, those in Tahrir Square, presumably, fought for what those in Wisconsin argue they already have - democracy. So... prove it. Accordingly, demanding accountability from our government should never be labelled “unpatriotic.”

When the government makes bad decisions, people must stand-up. Gov. Scott Walker (R) is making a bad decision and the people know it. Walker insists he must restrict the collective bargaining rights for public employees (teachers, firefighters, nurses, police officers, etc.) so as to alleviate the state’s growing $3.6 billion dollar deficit. Perhaps the people would have bought Gov. Walker’s bullshit if Walker hadn’t already approved millions of dollars in tax breaks for corporations? No, Gov. Walker has shown -like many elected officials- where his true allegiance resides -with the corporation.

Tom Morello, musician and activists, recently told the Colbuffington Repost, "I really think that the future of the rights of working people in this country is not going to be decided in the courts," Morello continued, "It's not going to be decided in Congress or radio talk shows. The future of rights of working people in this country will be the fight on the streets of Madison, Wis.”

Morello went on to read a letter of solidarity from one of the protest organizers in Cairo, Maor Eletreb. Eletreb wrote, "Justice is beautiful, but justice is never free. The beauty of Tahrir Square you can have everywhere, on any corner, in any city, or in your heart. So hold on tightly and don't let go. ... Breathe deep, Wisconsin, because justice is in the air. And may the spirit of Tahrir Square be in every beating heart in Madison today."

But I wonder, what will happen if those in Wisconsin don’t get what they want? Will they too have the same discipline, passion, and bravery as those who fought in Tahrir Square? Or, as those who continue to clash with police in Libya? Will the American people buckle under the pressure?

Something tells me the Americans could never take their revolution that far. The first sign of tear gas or a concussion grenade in Wisconsin, will have the people running. Of course, this may just provide the right amount of provocation Americans need for a re-revolution. After all, Americans are notoriously “lazy”, “apathetic”, and “jaded”. So, unless the government starts also taking away our entertainment and cheap consumer goods, (while it continues to cut education and public services) then there may be no hope. But history rolls on ...right? Just maybe, the American people still have some fight left in them? I guess we’ll see...

Unsurprisingly, the Obama Administration continues to politically tightrope walk it’s way through each of these heavy situations. In Egypt, we heard no solid support for the protesters in Tahrir Square until after the streets had been swept by those who won the battle. Sure, there was some pandering and empty gestures of a “peaceful transition to democracy.” But imagine the total amazement of the world, if Obama had decided to just show-up and stand there in the square beside Mohamed ElBaradei and/or Wael Ghonim to give a big “thumbs-up” for the cameras?

I know, I know... this is one of (admittedly) many reasons why I’m not working at The White House. Understandably, there are many geopolitical reasons for President Obama’s ass-kissing. Like any good American President, you gotta’ be able to suck-it and smile. Sure, the President can say he has a lot of reasons behind not going, but none of them are very good. Accordingly, Obama (forever the centrists) has also taken-up a very similar position with those protesting in Wisconsin. Sure, he supports the protesters; but why not take it one step further? Imagine the energy that could be created if Obama made an appearance in Wisconsin?

Instead, Obama flew right over protesters standing out in the bitter Wisconsin cold, to land in Silicon Value and have lunch with America’s real engine of innovation. Yes, “We must win the future!” And apparently, winning this future means doing so with the CEOs of Netflix, Google, Facebook, Apple, and Twitter.

What message does this communicate to America and the world? ....Let's be friends?

2011 - week one.

2011-01-08T16:34:00.005-05:00

Inspiration: (noun) the process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, especially to do something creative.

Inspire (verb) fill with the urge or ability to do something, especially creative.

It’s hard to be optimistic about 2011. Looking back on this first week makes me nauseous. There seem to be bad vibes all around - something dangerous looms ahead. To recap: Republicans assume “control” of the House, 1000 more Marines are being sent to Afghanistan, “my President” Obama nominates William Daley as the new White House Chief of Staff (a man with close ties to Boeing, J.P. Morgan Chase, and the son of Chicago's notorious Mayor Richard J. Daley). ...Go Capitalism! Apologies for my sarcasm, I'm disappointed with the way this "new year" has been rolling. Then again, something tells me, I’m not alone - “the American Dream” is a nightmare.

This afternoon, Arizona State Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords was shot. She is still in critical condition. The shooter’s name and “reasons” have yet to be released (As of this writing.); but whatever the “motive” it's safe to say, the TV will be chattering about this for the next week. And why not? After all, this is nothing to take lightly. America is violence. ...Damn.

Hunter S. Thompson once asked, “Who can afford to give a fuck anymore?” I know I can’t. I work, pay bills, and take out the trash. Sure, I try to have a good time when I can. ...But, don’t we all?

This first week of 2011 has left a sour taste in my mouth. Maybe it’s the tax audit? ...Mounting debt? ...Family crises? ...Relationship decisions? ...Inability to feel like my job really matters? Actually, it’s all these things and -for the moment at least- they’ve got me in a limbo.

“A man not busy being born, is a busy being dying.” Damn right Bob Dylan - embrace the journey, don’t resist it! Despite how stable we try to make our lives, challenges will invariably arise to disrupt them. Just ask Job.

Take advice - don’t reject. Adapt. Grow. Accept reality. Move on. Evolve.

For now, I breathe, maintain and try to stay optimistic and inspired. After all, I cannot control everything only "deal with my own problems." I must start with my writing. So, today, instead of getting too wrapped-up in what's on TV (and our guests arrive for dinner and drinks), I’m going to just free-write on how I feel about the following things...

1.) Family/Friends:

2.) Job/Career:

3.) Relationship:

4.) Self:

But will not publish that writing here. It’s just too personal. You’ll need to check my Facebook...

***

Instead, I leave you with these words from Chris Hedges...

“Orwell warned of a world where books were banned. Huxley warned of a world where no one wanted to read books. Orwell warned of a state of permanent war and fear. Huxley warned of a culture diverted by mindless pleasure. Orwell warned of a state where every conversation and thought was monitored and dissent was brutally punished. Huxley warned of a state where a population, preoccupied by trivia and gossip, no longer cared about truth or information. Orwell saw us frightened into submission. Huxley saw us seduced into submission. But Huxley, we are discovering, was merely the prelude to Orwell. Huxley understood the process by which we would be complicit in our own enslavement. Orwell understood the enslavement. Now that the corporate coup is over, we stand naked and defenseless. We are beginning to understand, as Karl Marx knew, that unfettered and unregulated capitalism is a brutal and revolutionary force that exploits human beings and the natural world until exhaustion or collapse.”

“We are moving from a society where we are skillfully manipulated by lies and illusions to one where we are overtly controlled.”

“We break souls as well as bodies. It is more effective."

Herbert Greenhut - RIP

2010-12-21T16:56:00.016-05:00

By the time I got to the office, I was already late. On top of that, a stubborn cold and lingering bitterness over Sunday's Giant loss at the New Meadowlands, had put me in no good mood for the demands of yet another work day.

But my concerns and complaints were soon petty once I opened my email to discover a former Part Time Faculty member, and friend, Herbert Greenhut, died on December 16th. "As were his wishes, there was no funeral service, no death notice and no memorial. He left his body to Albert Einstein College. He was born January 11, 1927." Admittedly, this news was nothing shocking. Herb had called me three weeks ago and left a message: "Nick? This is Herb. The doctors say I have about two weeks to live... Just thought you might like to know. If you want to call me, I'm here..."

Now, Herb isn't here and I never did return that phone call. But what does one say to someone with a week or so to live? No sense in idle talk or chit-chat; fortunately, Herb was never one to entertain such practice either. Sure, he would talk (...and talk a lot), but it was always about the real things: he told you what was on his mind and exactly how he felt. Admittedly, his observations and opinions were not always what you wanted to hear. In fact, most of the time his comments were downright grim. But, that's life, right?...not always pleasant.

I suppose a part of me feels like a bastard for not calling Herb back when I had the chance. But I know he'd understand - I'm a busy guy and only have (like he did...) one life to live. Of course, if it's any consultation, I can recall back to the good times. Like the time a crew of us all went to see "Public Enemies" at the movies. It was nice to watch that film with someone who could actually remember hearing about John Dillinger on the radio.

I also recalled back to those last few visits with him this summer and fall at his apartment on the Upper East Side. By then, Herb was unable to leave his home. Old age had crept-in to make it extremely difficult for the old man to even make it to the corner. Food was no longer served as a solid. I would like to say Herb sat peacefully in his easy chair reading from his many piles of books (some so tall, I warned him about the danger of a pile falling on top of him), listening to music, or watching films. But, this would be an incorrect recollection. Honestly, every time I visited Herb, he was determined to "teach again." He would think of ways to get to school. If only he could get in front of class again. He was very annoyed with the physical restraints that had immobilized his failing body.

Herb's life was fully inspired by teaching. Without it, he just didn't care. Even when his health restrictions made it almost impossible to come to class - he pressed on. (At one point his students at the 92/y had to call the ambulance, because Professor Greenhut had only an hour before stumbled and was scalded in his own shower.) Herb was in and out of the hospital, but never missed a week of class (despite doctor's orders), nor, to properly correct and comment-on his many student's work. Herb Greenhut always said he wanted to "die teaching." Sure, he may not have croaked right there in front of the class, but there were days when I thought he might come pretty close. Professor Greenhut made it his life's mission to teach and for this, I think it's significant to take a moment and honor him for that quality.

Although it was admittedly difficult to see Herb so weak in those final months, I didn't want the reality of his imminent death to taint all our conversation. Unfortunately, he would invariably digress over the gory details associated with his demise. In fact, moments like this made it difficult to even want to see him. After all, the human has a natural aversion to death - we don't like to see it, for real - only sensationalized on TV. However, that is not the reality of death. Death is more commonly experienced as slow and painful. Needless to say, I'd always try to direct our conversation back to brighter times. Sure, I had only ever known Herb as an "old timer", but I also knew that at some point, he was as young and energetic as myself. Why not talk about the times in Herb's life, when he was proud?

When I first met Herb Greenhut in 2005, he had already been a professor of American History and popular culture at the New School since 1991. Before that, Herb had a long history of teaching in public schools, synagogues, and cultural centers. Herb would always walk into our office and say something like, "Good afternoon, I'm here to see Osama Bin Laden." (...or "John Dillinger", or "Bernie Madoff", etc.) Yeah, his humor was dark, but the smiles that came afterwards were always bright. Herb would stand stern-faced and serious, until someone started laughing, then he'd take "his" seat and proceed to talk politics and opine about the news of the day.

Herb's visits became (much to the dismay of upper administrators) routine. Of course, Herb came from "a different University." Perhaps there was a time when a professor's visits and conversations were actually the routine? After all, Herb's University existed before most of the administrators had even started here. Herb's University was also one without computers, smoking lounges - definitely, but no PCs! Herb was most certainly an "old school" New York, Jewish, liberal. He even volunteered hours of his week teaching classes at senior homes. Thus, despite the demands of my own schedule, I always tried to make some time to listen and talk with Professor Greenhut. (Respect for the elders.) Also, I have admiration for old dudes like him - I always respect the way Herb never seemed to bullshit. Maybe he came from a different -more direct- time? Or, maybe it was just that when you don't have anything left to lose, who cares what others think about what you say? I think Herb never considered the University an "office" but as the best place to discuss and debate the issues of the day.

Herb Greenhut was a dedicated professor and always straight-forward in his communication. He cared about his job and students more than anything else. I will miss hearing his stories from the Depression, World War II and (my favorite) the sixties. In a world so full of bullshit, it's a shame we're now deprived of one less voice that always got to the point.

Peace out Herb.

Fall 2010

2010-11-09T19:27:00.006-05:00

Well, I'm "officially" an ESL teacher. In fact, I taught throughout the summer and am now into my first Fall semester at an English Language school in Times Square. Of course, I'm also in my third semester of volunteer teaching "America Now: Media and Writing" at the International Center.

My experience teaching has been challenging and rewarding. Everyday, I'm forced to be creative (whether I want to be or not). My hours with my students go by so quick; accordingly, my

"free time" is mostly dedicated to lesson planning, paperwork, and sorting through the fourty hours of emails I still put in a week at The New School. Yes, yes, ...again, as seems to be the theme running through every one of my "post" - for those living life, it's difficult to ever really take a moment and set the important experiences down onto the page.

Of course, there's a whole Mass Media machine operating around and through us; so why feel like we "need" to contribute or write at all? ...Good question. Of course, bad question too coming from someone who wishes to write more and teachers others to do the same. But, I can't ignore my thoughts. After all, why does Snooki have a published book? For the "working class hero", there is no time to really write about the personal, political and cultural events unfolding around us. And good riddance, most of our rambles are worthless anyway.

I suppose, the ultimate point is that there's no time to stop. We act and react. No time to write. Sad.

Anyway, this entry is a pathetic attempt to regain a bit of my voice again. To get these rusty gears working. Let's quickly reflect back on the past few months: has a lot happened? ...No not really: I went to visit my father and Ben in Vancouver, I attended Ena's friend's wedding in Seattle. We went to see M.I.A at Terminal 5. The Yankees lost their bid for the World Series. Jackass came out in 3D. I voted Working Families Party in this month's election. Did my laundry, walked the dogs, and ironed my shirts. Like a good capitalist - I even scraped-by to pay down my credit cards, taxes, and loans. I suppose, I'll leave the important words (and spending) to those with less menial duties to attend than mine. Besides, there are other, more adept, writers to criticize. Like Chris Hedges, for instance, he's always a good read. (Not always what I want to hear, but sobering as hell.)

Of course, Ena and I went to the Stewart/Colbert "Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear" last week. Much of our reason for going was because we love the Colbert Report and the ride down was free - thanks Arianna. We rode the Huffington Post "Sanity Bus" to DC and even saw Arianna that blustery, cold, morning waiting in line outside of Citi-Field. I honestly thought we'd never get on one of those hundreds of buses flowing through the parking lot, but we did. However, I definitely imagined myself (...more than once) back at home sleeping-in, firing-up some bacon, and watching the whole damn rally from cable TV.

Well, because, this is America. And sometimes, we do things in America for no real good reason other than it might look cool on TV. So, we eventually got on the bus. The ride there wasn't as painful as I thought it'd be. We napped, I studied Japanese, and when the bus stopped for a stretch, I bought our bus driver a coffee.

When we approached Washington, there was an almost giddy, pre-concert, excitement on the bus. Lots of folks checking their cell phones and texting friends already there at the rally. By the time we passed the NSA building on our right, it was difficult to contain the energy. I wanted the bus to start chanting, but we "maintained"; after all, this was the 'sanity bus'.

The bus dropped us-off two miles from the Mall. Ena and I marched fast, but by the time we ultimately got there, the three hour rally was half over. Nevertheless, the sight of the crowd of 250,000 on the Mall made it all worth the trip.

We inched our way through the crowd in an attempt to find a spot to listen. I kept stopping and laughing at the creative signs and costumes. The crowd was relaxed, there was no negative vibes (unless you consider irony a negative vibe). After weaving our way through the crowd, we found a spot to actually hear the speech over the speakers and get a glimpse of the stage from a jumbo-tron. But we listened to the closing remarks of John Stewart, which I will post below, because I thought what had to say was important...

“I can’t control what people think this was. I can only tell you my intentions. This was not a rally to ridicule people of faith or people of activism or to look down our noses at the heartland or passionate argument or to suggest that times are not difficult and that we have nothing to fear. They are and we do. But we live now in hard times, not end times. And we can have animus and not be enemies.

But unfortunately one of our main tools in delineating the two broke. The country’s 24 hour political pundit perpetual panic conflictinator did not cause our problems but its existence makes solving them that much harder. The press can hold its magnifying up to our problems bringing them into focus, illuminating issues heretofore unseen or they can use that magnifying glass to light ants on fire and then perhaps host a week of shows on the sudden, unexpected dangerous flaming ant epidemic.

If we amplify everything we hear nothing. There are terrorists and racists and Stalinists and theocrats but those are titles that must be earned. You must have the resume. Not being able to distinguish between real racists and Tea Partiers or real bigots and Juan Williams and Rick Sanchez is an insult, not only to those people but to the racists themselves who have put in the exhausting effort it takes to hate--just as the inability to distinguish terrorists from Muslims makes us less safe not more. The press is our immune system. If we overreact to everything we actually get sicker--and perhaps eczema.

And yet, with that being said, I feel good—strangely, calmly good. Because the image of Americans that is reflected back to us by our political and media process is false. It is us through a fun house mirror, and not the good kind that makes you look slim in the waist and maybe taller, but the kind where you have a giant forehead and an ass shaped like a month old pumpkin and one eyeball.

So, why would we work together? Why would you reach across the aisle to a pumpkin assed forehead eyeball monster? If the picture of us were true, of course, our inability to solve problems would actually be quite sane and reasonable. Why would you work with Marxists actively subverting our Constitution or racists and homophobes who see no one’s humanity but their own? We hear every damn day about how fragile our country is—on the brink of catastrophe—torn by polarizing hate and how it’s a shame that we can’t work together to get things done, but the truth is we do. We work together to get things done every damn day!

The only place we don’t is here or on cable TV. But Americans don’t live here or on cable TV. Where we live our values and principles form the foundations that sustains us while we get things done, not the barriers that prevent us from getting things done. Most Americans don’t live their lives solely as Democrats, Republicans, liberals or conservatives. Americans live their lives more as people that are just a little bit late for something they have to do—often something that they do not want to do—but they do it--impossible things every day that are only made possible by the little reasonable compromises that we all make.

Look on the screen. This is where we are. This is who we are. (points to the Jumbotron screen which show traffic merging into a tunnel). These cars—that’s a schoolteacher who probably thinks his taxes are too high. He’s going to work. There’s another car-a woman with two small kids who can’t really think about anything else right now. There’s another car, (referring to the Jumbotron blowing in the wind) swinging, I don’t even know if you can see it—the lady’s in the NRA and she loves Oprah. There’s another car—an investment banker, gay, also likes Oprah. Another car’s a Latino carpenter. Another car a fundamentalist vacuum salesman. Atheist obstetrician. Mormon Jay-Z fan. But this is us. Every one of the cars that you see is filled with individuals of strong belief and principles they hold dear—often principles and beliefs in direct opposition to their fellow travelers.

And yet these millions of cars must somehow find a way to squeeze one by one into a mile long 30 foot wide tunnel carved underneath a mighty river. Carved, by the way, by people who I’m sure had their differences. And they do it. Concession by conscession. You go. Then I’ll go. You go. Then I’ll go. You go then I’ll go. Oh my God, is that an NRA sticker on your car? Is that an Obama sticker on your car? Well, that’s okay—you go and then I’ll go.

And sure, at some point there will be a selfish jerk who zips up the shoulder and cuts in at the last minute, but that individual is rare and he is scorned and not hired as an analyst.

Because we know instinctively as a people that if we are to get through the darkness and back into the light we have to work together. And the truth is, there will always be darkness. And sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t the promised land. Sometimes it’s just New Jersey. But we do it anyway, together.

If you want to know why I’m here and what I want from you, I can only assure you this: you have already given it to me. Your presence was what I wanted.

Sanity will always be and has always been in the eye of the beholder. To see you here today and the kind of people that you are has restored mine. Thank you."

2010 - The Summer of Sludge

2010-07-19T13:48:00.006-04:00

Above: The landscape of cheap consumer goods and unfettered capitalism.

After our vacation to Puerto Rico, it felt like the summer was already over; after all, we knew we wouldn't have many opportunities over these warm months for much fun or relaxation. Of course, I shouldn’t bitch; after all, like many, we’re also scraping-by week-to-week and month-to-month for rent, utilities, and to meet the expenses of sustaining this urban existence.

Fortunately, we’re working (many aren’t): I’m still at the New School and have also been teaching two ESL classes a day for five days a week in Times Square. Teaching has definitely become a gratifying and transformative occupation for me. Subsequently, this summer, has also become my season for change, in which I’ve decided it’s high-time to “sober-up.” For the past two months, I’ve not sipped a drop of drink, nor inhaled a puff of plant. This has been the longest I’ve gone without these “vices” since graduating High School back in 1997. Yep, I’m “getting clean,” time to cease the daily damage I do to my brain and body with toxins.

To tame the proverbial “monkey on my back,” I’ve been running every other day, exercising regularly, eating healthier, and consuming a large dose of reading. Admittedly, this hasn’t been easy, there have definitely been moments of near “relapse,” when I wrestle with that old insatiable urge to partake of the pleasures I previously partook. But I stay strong. I maintain.

Of course this summer of 2010 has been a fitting moment to acknowledge, accept, and overcome my own addictions. After all, it’s been rather difficult to even think about really having a good time, when considering the unavoidable damage being done to the planet from our larger, more aggressive, collective addictions.

Yes this summer will mostly be remembered for the environmental disaster in the Gulf of Mexico, which started with an explosion on April 20th on the Deep Water Horizon offshore oil rig. Accordingly, each subsequent day of news coverage would stream live video footage of a ruptured pipe, 5,000 feet below the ocean’s surface, frustratingly going glug, glug, glug, glug, while the ocean around it helplessly became more and more polluted.

At this time, BP has finally managed to put a “working” cap on the gushing well and appears to be very close to having a “relief well” established. Nevertheless, it has been very aggravating to see how inept, slow, and powerless this industry is at preventing, stopping, and cleaning-up an industrial malfunction of this magnitude. It took months to stop the gusher and will take years to return the Gulf to it’s natural condition. Of course, this is an oxymoron; because the sludge is here to stay.

Oil companies have had the technology to “drill baby drill,” at deeper depths and more dangerous locations. However, they apparently never invented nor experimented with the necessary mechanisms to stop nor clean-up such accidents. Dumb.

Week after week, the news only offered-up new techniques and gizmos to stop the crisis. However, it was obvious that BP had (like any good addict) lost control and was just pulling-out any sorry-ass excuse they could to “fix this.” One could almost imagine some team of scientists tirelessly working overnight somewhere at a chalk board trying to come-up with new whacky ways to stop this disaster. My biggest complaint is that there was no contingency plan established in the first place and that no matter how much oversight goes into future offshore drilling, it will never be “worth the risk.”

Yes, the frustration shall continue. And why not? After all, we are (as President Bush said during his Administration) “addicted to oil.” And the oil industry is like the junky, still trying to inject a needle into an infected arm, trying to drill deeper and deeper, all while the mess it created is not even close to being cleaned-up.

President Obama rightfully demanded a six-month moratorium on “deepwater” oil drilling so as to investigate “what went wrong” and to ensure appropriate regulations are put into place to prevent a disaster like this from ever happening again. However, federal judge, Martin Feldman, overturned the moratorium claiming, we cannot conclude that "because one rig failed . . . all companies and rigs drilling new wells at over 500 feet also universally present an imminent danger." He’s right; however, why risk it? Why gamble away the environment?

Stupid question.

We always have and we will continue to do as we’ve always done -sacrifice our future well-being for quick immediate profits. The reason Judge Feldman overturned the moratorium is because he has had stock in big oil and, likely, still benefits from this super industry. Then again, don’t we all? After all, where do you think all the cheap crap we purchase comes from? ...Oil. That’s right, we’re the ones using cars, plastic bags, toys, etc. etc. The oil industry is our “pusher man” and we’re too wrapped-up in this habit to ever break it. The oil industry is entangled in almost every aspect of our political and economic life. We cannot beat this “addiction” until we have a new one to off-set our insatiable appetite for our energy “high.”

Rachel Maddow brought-up some excellent points on her July 23rd show. Maddow said, “The oil industry is the most profitable industry in all of human enterprise and as such it is the most influential.” Maddow then offered-up some startling figures to consider to see the oil companies’ influence on our lives. For instance, “Even if you look at the large costs BP has incurred so far in the gulf, $4 billion (as of last week), this amount is still less than a 3rd of BP’s profits from last year alone.” Moreover, “If you look at all the oil in the gulf, which is an estimated 184 million gallons, this amount only represents a quarter of how much oil is consumed in American in one day.” ...One day?! Ouch!

These are certainly grim, startling, and sobering figures that make me want to read more Chris Hedges columns (like this one) and sadly, have a stiff drink while watching (to quote Jim Morrison) "the whole shit house go up in flames."

But I won’t, because I refuse to believe this fight is over yet.

George Steinbrenner (RIP)

2010-07-13T21:58:00.007-04:00

"New Yorkers have to be tough. ... When you're taking a cab, you're fighting for that cab. You go to a lunch place, you've got to battle for a table. It goes on every day. There's a mental toughness about New Yorkers.” - 1988

“ Winning is next to breathing. That's what made this country great. I believe in the American way, and that way is to strive to succeed. America needs heroes ... I'm not the kind of guy people are going to love, but neither was George Patton. Heroes are not necessarily nice guys.” -1980

Taking America Back?

2010-06-23T14:01:00.003-04:00

"We need to take America back!" has become one re-hashed rhetorical device used to rally New Right Republicans and Tea Party members this mid-term election. When hearing this empty-expression, it makes me think that to "take America back", would either mean one woefully wishes to take the country "back" to a place and/or time it was, presumably, once at before, or, that "we" (whomever "we" is) must "take America back" from someone, or something, that is apparently trying to take "it" away from "us".

According to the New Right, these two interpretations are exactly what this expression means. They argue, "Muslims are moving-in and taking over." And, "We must return our Nation back to the way our Founding Fathers intended." The yellow Gadsden Flag, depicting a coiled timber snake (used by Benjamin Franklin to symbolize the American colonies) with slogan, "Don't tread on me", flies proudly over Tea Party rallies. This flag was initially used by American revolutionaries against the British Empire. But today, this slogan and flag have been dusted-off by "average Americans" who believe the "enemy" isn't from abroad but from within their own government. Of course, this view is perplexing; especially since our current government was chosen in an honest election by a majority of American people. Nevertheless, "Teabaggers" still feel the government is "tyrannical" and "does not represent them." They are paranoid and afraid the government is "trying to take away [their] freedoms."

Such hyperbole is utopian, sensational, and dangerous. America (whether one accepts it or not) can only -like all human civilization- move in one direction, forward. Admittedly, this "forward" progression may not always appear to be moving in the upward and enlightened pace we'd hope to go. In fact, there is a very real danger that we just might blow-it. We could plunge into a dark age guided by religious mysticism and totalitarian political ideals. Yes, the American experiment could fail; however, it will not be because of the fears of the “Teabaggers.” Actually, it is the very backward and confused ideals of the New Right that represent the greatest threat to an educated, pragmatic, competitive, and -most importantly- democratic America.

Of course, there are those who will argue -all for different reasons- that America already failed. There are also those who'll assert I only consider New Right/Tea Party hyperbole a "threat" because I am an Atheist, Liberal, and Democrat. To which, I'd reply - and damn proud of! So, "Don't tread on me!" Politics is messy. However, one of the greatest assets of our country is that we can all debate our opinions, protest our dissatisfactions, and have freedom of (and from) religion. None of us know where America is going, nor can we honestly say we're proud of where our country has been; however, there are very real values, ideals, and customs I trust we all respect, enjoy, and strive to protect at all costs.

Perhaps my perceptions and understandings of "this Nation-Thing" (a.k.a - "our way of life") are dramatically different from those of the New Right? After all, unlike my more conservative and paranoid countrymen, I'm not concerned about having "more" Muslims in America (and feel a Mosque should be built wherever, even if two blocks away from "Ground Zero"). Sure, I'm an Atheist and would prefer to do without religious institutions altogether (however, I also understand the need for people and cultures to have something to believe in); besides, America is about religious freedom - for all.

I'm also someone who voted for and continues to support President Obama. Nevertheless, I'm still critical of his policies (as one should always be of their elected leaders). Admittedly, my criticisms are often that he's not "socialist" or "radical" enough! …Gasp! That's right, I said it, let us "spread the wealth!" In fact, I agree with Bill Gates and Warren Buffett, who recently asked wealthy people to donate part of their fortunes to charity. Regrettably, greed still pumps through the bank accounts and veins of many Americans who will hypocritically muse on Sundays about "the generosity" of Christ, while refusing to pay taxes that “support the general Welfare” of their neighbors any other day of the week.

The Tea Party Movement has recently drafted-up a "Contract from America". (Interesting how this is a contract "from America", as if this one fringe movement can assume it speaks for the entire nation). Anyway, since this document purports to speak from America, I suppose now is as good of a time as any for this American to chime-in on his thoughts and opinions of this document.

* * *

The “Contract from America" opens with three guiding principles. The first, regards "Individual Liberty". I'm mostly in complete agreement with these initial sentences; however, I find it confusing to see the Right stand in defense of "individual liberty", when they are also so concerned with what goes on in the privacy of LGBT Americans' homes. Of course, I'm also very suspect of this paragraph's concluding eight words - "free from excessive control over our economic choices." This is clearly in defense of corporate privatization and de-regulation.

I do agree Americans should be allowed to purchase (or not purchase) what they want (assuming they have the capital to do so); however, what the Right tacitly chooses to ignore, is that in the United States, large corporations are considered "individuals", yet often act above the same laws we expect individuals to follow. Americans (nay, citizens of the world) need to admit corporations have far more power and persuasion than any one individual; thus, there must be more regulation and oversight so that businesses are not allowed to commit anymore crimes against the environment and humanity. If corporations want to remain competitive and sustainable then they should be turned into co-ops, so that the wealth and work of the company is more fairly distributed.

The second guiding principle of "The Contract from America" regards "Limited Government". Of course, I disagree with this Reagan-era relic; firstly, because I believe the danger of limiting government (anymore than it already has been limited), means government can become increasingly unaccountable to the citizens it should represent and protect. When government isn't in control, private corporations are, and when this happens, civic life is no longer democratic but instead a competitive game of who can, or cannot afford the necessary services rendered.

When there's a disaster, do we want the police, fire, and military to show-up, or, a privatized corporation? Unfortunately, this recipe of "Disaster Capitalism" is already happening. More frightening, is what those on the Right would prefer happen to American Health Care, Social Security, and Education - auction it off to the highest corporate bidder so that only those able to afford these services receive the “best” product. When human beings and their needs are only seen for profit motives, then humans lose out. What's most perplexing is that many on the Right come from impoverished and destitute situations that are the direct result of corporate deregulation and un-fettered capitalism. Despite this, these misguided (and understandably angry) people still foolishly believe corporations have their best interests in mind. This is where Republicans and Democrats part-ways and have since President Franklin Roosevelt's Second Bill of Rights.

Paradoxically, it almost seems as if New Right/Teabaggers share many similarities with certain Anarchists and fringe Leftist groups regarding their concern of limiting our government. The New Right wants government "out of our lives" much like Anarchists wish for no government at all. I know where these folks get their paranoid ideas and it is shame they’re unable to see the snake-charming trickery influence the radio talk-show circuit holds over their lives. Of course, if these folks are really concerned with their privacy, they may want to look-back into the many Bush-era Department of Homeland Security policies that initiated much of this Big Brother mentality. Agreed, President Obama has done nothing to remove these policies for the good of our nation. I suppose, Kurt Cobain was right, "Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not watching you."

Ultimately, all this "limited government" rhetoric is based on a host of silly paranoid scenarios. The Tea Party movement is constituted of a combination of conspiracy groups. There are the "truthers" who believe “9/11 was orchestrated by the government.” The "birthers" who believe President Obama is “not an American citizen.” There are a growing number of Militias, all apparently keeping watchful-eyes to the skies for "black helicopters" and our borders from "illegal" immigrants. There are the "oathers" who fear the possibility of an impending martial law, in which "Americans will be rounded-up into concentration camps." Lastly, there are the Dominionists who are inspired by the pulp-fiction of Tim LaHaye and animated by a Christian Nationalism, which seeks to replace the Constitution with a theocratic "Christian Nation." All these groups are adamantly opposed to a multicultural United States and vehemently resist globalization. (I can assure you, resisting globalization will not make for a competitive United States.)

The final guiding principle of the “Contract from America” regards "economic freedom", which wrongfully asserts, "The most powerful, proven instrument of material and social progress is the free market." This point also argues "any other economic system, regardless of its intended pragmatic benefits, undermines our fundamental rights as free people." I could more easily "buy" this point if I hadn't already seen the very real damages a free market economy has and continues to do. Accordingly, individual "economic freedom" is not the same thing as the unfettered, unregulated, laissez-faire capitalism that perpetually consumes and wastes-away our depleting natural and human capital. Something needs to change within our current system. The current outmoded machinery must be reformatted and upgraded for the future.

The rest of The Contract from America is a ten-point list of demands. I shall now offer some preliminary thoughts on each…

1.) Protect the Constitution
The complicated thing about the US Constitution is that is was written in 1787. Since then, things have (thankfully) changed and fortunately, so hasn't this founding document. Americans have amended the Constitution so that African Americans and women can vote. Thus, if we never changed the Constitution, we'd be an even more racist and sexist nation than we already are. I think there should be more Amendments made to the Constitution; after all, we need to better meet the ideals of our country while also accepting the challenges of this evolving world while bravely moving into the future. The Constitution is a founding framework that must be used to guide us as a nation and should be amended when necessary. Period.

2.) Reject Cap and Trade
This concern is completely irrational, unless, I’m confused and those on the New Right are concerned that the Cap and Trade bill doesn’t do enough? But I think this has more to do with our dependence on “cheap oil.”

It is essential -as we continue to see from this summer's BP Oil Disaster- to regulate corporate pollution and begin cutting-back (and removing altogether) our emissions. The reason why rejecting cap and trade is not an option is the environment. Secondly, the proposals for cap and trade policies will make economic incentives for corporations who follow these policies, those who continue to break the rules, will be fined. Good. Make no mistake, global warming is not a “theory.” Global warming is a fact. Unfortunately, those on the New Right, continue to spread disinformation and do so at the peril of our children's future.

3.) Demand a Balanced Budget
Agreed. Let us “balance” the budget. Fortunately, President Obama has already reduced taxes for 95% of Americans. Thus, I’m confused as to why the “Tebaggers” are so adamant about insisting the President has "taken their money." Agreed, he has proposed taxing the wealthiest top 5% of Americans. Good. Tax away and let's "balance” the budget.

4.) Enact Fundamental Tax Reform
This "single-rate tax system" sounds a lot like a "flat tax" to me and is something that is not only unfair but will not work in a nation with such a diverse and imbalanced range of wealth over poverty. Fortunately, President Obama's tax plan will decrease taxes for Americans making less than $250,000 a year and increase it for anyone above this. Again, the budget will be on its way to becoming more “balanced.”

5.) Restore Fiscal Responsibility & Constitutionally Limited Government
Blah… blah… blah… This contract is so repetitive.

6.) End Runaway Government Spending
Sure, let’s redirect the massive amounts of money spent on defense and take back all that money given to the failed banks in the “bailout.”

7.) Defund, Repeal, & Replace Government-run Health Care
Again this is just more of the same “privatize it all” and "let the corporations rule" mentality.

As everyone should know, we (unfortunately) don't have a single-payer "government-run health care" system; in fact, under the recent Health Care Reform Bill, Americans can continue to keep the Health Care they have through their own health care providers. Of course, there is a whole host of rumors and misinformation circulating about "death panels" and "taxpayers paying for the health care coverage of 'illegal' immigrants." This is all foolish.

8.) Pass an 'All-of-the-Above' Energy Policy
This is just a way for the oil companies to push for more "drill baby drill" bullshit. Nope. The only way for America to "reduce our dependence on foreign energy sources" and create competitive jobs is by implementing and creating green and sustainable energy alternatives. There is no "going back" and the jobs that are "lost" because of ending our oil addiction will be well worth the many more we gain with clean energy and remaking our wasteful and outmoded infrastructure. We need to promote the next generation of energy efficient automobiles, now.

9.) Stop the Pork
Local projects are often essential to the well-being of a working America. Thus, these should continue to be presented and approved by Congress on a case-by-case basis. Agreed, there is wasteful spending throughout Washington on projects often carried-out in the interests of certain K Street lobbying firms. Thus, there should and must be oversight; however, to "put a moratorium on all earmarks until the budget is balanced" would be completely destructive to the well-being of long overdue infrastructure upgrades and welfare programs.

10.) Stop the Tax Hikes
Again, President Obama has cut taxes for 95% of working Americans. Enough said. However, this concern to "stop the tax hikes" is regarding "the income, capital gains, and death taxes, currently scheduled to begin in 2011." Now, I'm not as knowledgeable as I plan to be this election season on all of these tax terms; however, I suspect most "average Americans" are in the same "turbo-taxed" boat as I am.

After doing a little research, I discovered the "income, capital gains, and death taxes" are all items most Americans will never see or need to be concerned with. In fact, such "tax hikes" are only in place for the super rich. Thus, most people will never need to be so concerned with avoiding a capital gains tax, because they'll never be liable to pay it.

I suppose in a way, I do agree with the Teabaggers on this one. After all, if someone has "earned", invested, and saved their money, then they shouldn't need to be taxed again later on the investment’s assets. However, like I said, I'm not as well-versed (as I plan to be) on this subject. However, I do agree that in the sake of "fairness" the criminals at the top need to be taxed. As Fiorello La Guardia once so unapologetically roared on the floor of Congress, "I am simply going to say it, soak the rich!"

Signed,
The working American poor

To the Muslim American Society

2010-06-21T12:12:00.004-04:00

Dear Members of the Muslim American Society,

Over the last two weeks, I have watched and read the local news with disgust. As an American, I am so embarrassed and ashamed by the Islamophobic and racist actions expressed by the citizens of Midland Beach, New York. I would like to think they do not represent the America I have been taught to respect and value; however, as I have seen from this and other instances, I fear America is not as enlightened and advanced of a country as I'd want it to be.

I realize many Americans are still angered and afraid of the 9/11 attacks. But despite that horrible event, the ignorance and racism expressed toward your group are unjustified. Moreover, if the terrorists intended to spread fear and discord, then they have obviously succeeded. It frustrates me to see the people of Midland Beach and Lower Manhattan damaging more of our American ideals by trampling your freedom to live and prosper peacefully as a people.

It angers and saddens me to see your religious group fall victim to these bigoted, ignorant, and misguided views. I am ashamed by the actions and statements of these citizens. Your Muslim religious organization should not have to face this hate and anger. Although I am not a religious person, I do respect and value the indelible American right that is our freedom of and from religion. I am sorry to hear you're group was refused the opportunity to build your mosque in Staten Island. I hope you will be able to find a community to welcome you so that you can worship your religion in peace.

in solidarity,
Nicholas Allanach

Isle Del Encanto, o allí y detrás otra vez

2010-06-12T23:04:00.014-04:00

My last night in New York, before leaving for a ten day vacation with Ena in Puerto Rico, would also be my last night as Asst. House Manager at the 92nd Street Y (where Ena and I met). During my two years at the 92/Y, I've had the opportunity to hear, stand beside, and even meet various influential, inspiring and unsavory politicians, writers, and entertainers. On this last night, the 92/Y was hosting it's annual fundraising "gala" for the "pissed-off and privileged" backers of this reputable Upper East Side Hebrew organization. After the catered dinner, the patrons sauntered into the Concert Hall to hear the irritating and unnecessary musical stylings of Barry Manilow.

Once Manilow's set of tacky tunes concluded, I hugged our house manager, and friend, Nancy Kito farewell, shook hands with co-workers, and stole a bottle of Manilow's wine before marching-out the door. Later, while packing at home for our trip, I drank Manilow's awful wine and in a sick way, savored it's bitter-sweet taste, knowing this would be my last perk from the job.

The next day, Rigo graciously drove Ena and I to JFK. Where we check-in at the American Airlines counter and are charged $25 for my luggage. I'll never understand how a company (that already charges so much for it's airline tickets) can feel justified in financially raping it's customers - twice. Of course, there was also the usual mechanical search and savagery from the TSA thugs. As I stood in line, I watched a family of Iranians with two young children make their way through the gauntlet of security and wondered what these children must have thought? They looked scared. What would children in the future think of this system? After all, things weren't always like this. I suppose, things change.

The two toddlers clung tightly to their mother's legs, screaming and crying through the whole sad and ridiculous ordeal. Somebody keep an eye on that three year-old girl! She might have a bomb in her stroller!

I laced-up my sneakers, buckled my belt, and we made our way to the gate.

* * *

Four hours later, we're in Puerto Rico. As always, the first thing that hits is the humidity. We take a cab to The Beach House hotel, which is conveniently located in Isla Verde. Despite the Beach House's "chic" external facade, the room is nothing to get excited about. In fact, The Beach Hotel feels less "boutique" than it does "tacky." Despite the garish room, a girl at the front desk gives us free drink passes for the bar, which is right on the beach. We sip a couple Rum and Cokes under the palms and then take a stroll along the surf. Eventually, we grab food at el Alambique Bar and Grill. After dinner, Ena and I have some more drinks and lose some cash in the stupid slots at el San Juan Hotel and Casino.

The next morning, we eat desayuno at a small cafe'. Frustratingly, there's no orange juice; however, the strong coffee con leche makes-up for this loss. Since we have some time to kill before our Air Flemenco flight to Culebra (a small island 17 miles east off the Puerto Rican mainland), we decide to nap on the beach so as to better shake-off our New York anxiety and comedown to that relaxed no sense-of-urgency-attitude of the locals.

After our nap, we catch a cab to the airfield, and have a few rounds before our flight in the small airport bar called "el Coqui". The aircraft is also small and only fits 10 passengers. The flight itself is amazing! We watch the city of San Juan and Isla Verde pass by below. After that, it's a straight-shot along the northern coast and then nothing but ocean. At one point, someone in the plane notices a whale in the water below. As we approach Culebra, the plane makes it's descent over Flemenco Beach; below, we see clear tropical water and coral reefs. The plane races between two hills to finally land on the small airstrip of Culebra's airport.

We gather our bags and then make our way to the Carlos Jeep Rental counter; unfortunately, Carlos gives me some hassle since my credit card cannot cover the $500 "security hold" for the rental; fortunately, Ena has her card and the rental place allows us to put the "security hold" under her name instead. Nevertheless, it's annoying to have these additional costs thrown at you while on vacation. But no surprise; I suppose, like everyone, I'm just annoyed I'm not wealthier. Whatever, we're not going to let my weak bank account prevent us from having a proper vacation!

After we get the jeep, we drive about a mile to Dewey -the small village center of Culebra- to get supplies and have lunch at Mamacita's, which is a great restaurant, bar, and lodging house located right beside a small salt water canal. Local fisherman and boaters often float-up to the dock to disembark and have a drink. In the trees and along the dock lounge large green iguanas, sun-bathing while watching the tourists eat.

Our drive to the Culebra Beach Villas is beautiful. There are no houses along the winding road once you pass the airfield, only trees. The island is designated a national wildlife refuge, so it's the perfect place to "get away from it all". It's also an ideal environment for Leatherback sea turtles to lay their eggs along the beach and for sea birds to nest in the trees. We take a bumpy and muddy dirt road along the Flemenco Lagoon to get to the villas where we'll be spend the next four days, soaking (burning) in the sun, swimming, snorkeling, and relaxing. The first thing we do after checking-in, is to change into our swimsuits and take a swim in the beautiful warm ocean.

On our last of four nights in Culebra, we eat dinner at a small restaurant called "Barbara Rosa's", which is owned by an older woman (whom I assume is Barbara Rosa). Barbara runs the place from out of her own kitchen and living room. There are no waiters and no kitchen staff. We walk in to Barbara's living room (which has a TV playing CNN footage of the spewing oil leak in the Gulf of Mexico - reality comes crashing in) and step-up to a small window where Barbara takes our dinner orders. There are no booze, because Barbara "doesn't drink"; however, she says "you can BYOB if you want." We don't. After placing our order at the window, we take a seat on her front porch, and wait to be called. "Nick! …Your dinner is ready!" The food is good, a true "home-cooked meal" (please ignore the wilted lettuce), but the experience itself is another great reminder of just how small Culebra is.

After dinner, we drive to Mamacita's for drinks. But before this, we visit the studio of Culebra artist and musician, Jorge Acevedo. His studio is a small brightly painted shack full of paintings, t-shirts, and bongos (one has a little green gecko dancing on top of it). I purchase one of Jorge's silkscreen t-shirts and have a conversation with him about his "fish" symbol (which I'd noticed earlier painted on the side of a rusted-out tank on the edge of Flemenco beach. This tank is a leftover remnant from U.S. military training operations that happened here from 1903 - 1975.) Jorge tells me that the "the dancing fish is a symbol which represents the synthesis between the bones of the fish and the dancing human figure." He explains, "It's all a matter of perspective. For instance, the old-timer fishermen see the island as a place to fish; whereas, many of the younger generation see it as a place to celebrate and dance." Jorge tells us he'll be playing with his band at Mamacita's later, we tell him "We'll see you there."

We have some pina coladas at the bar with some of the local Culebrenses. One islander, an old man named Juan, hobbles onto the dock, sits down beside us, and takes out a small laminated card from his wallet, which reads, in Spanish, "My name is Juan, I was born here in Culebra, in 1934. I am 73 years old." Juan had scribbled and erased-out his age a few times, indicating he'd carried this card in his pocket for at least a few years. This card was obviously Juan's "free drink ticket" and best way to start-up a conversation with tourists. I indulge and decide to buy Juan a shot of Malibu rum. The old man could not speak very well, he mostly used gestures to communicate and small incomprehensible grunts. Juan is friendly; however, "talking" with him was like playing a game of charades.

Eventually, Jorge's band set-up their equipment and began an energetic set of great Caribbean music with lots of percussion. Most everyone in the place couldn't help but dance and clap along with the rhythm. Above us -as if nature herself wanted to join-in on the dance- the palm trees began dripping-down heavy sheets of warm rain, which didn't dampen the audience's enthusiasm; instead, the water was a welcome refreshment as it cooled our warm bodies.

Much later, while walking back to the beach villa, we're stopped by our neighbors who invite us to have some drinks and to dance with them. Our villa neighbors are a large, noisy, group of islanders (most speak English) who stay-up late into the night drinking and dancing. Ena and I join them for some rum and weed. I accidentally break a glass on the deck, which is always a super party faux pas, especially when everyone is dancing barefoot! Nevertheless, we laugh-off the accident and start back-in dancing and sweating some more. Eventually, someone suggests going for a midnight swim; accordingly, we all change and jump into the warm ocean under a beautiful moon and star-filled sky.

The waves crash and recede back. I breathe with the movement of the waves. I'm at peace. I kiss Ena, "I love you." This is definitely one of those too-few and amazing moments that really make life worth living.

The next morning, we check out of the beach villa, say farewell to our neighbors, and take one last look at Flemenco Beach. I make a promise to myself (as I did last time) that I will return here again. We then drive into Dewey to return the snorkeling gear and grab breakfast at one of the few spots in town with working WiFi.

After returning the jeep and checking-in our luggage at the Culebra airport, we walk along the side of the airfield toward the Happy Landing Bar, where Ena beats me at billiards, we listen to reggeaton, drink Medallas, and watch as local teenagers sell drugs in the parking lot. I think of buying some weed off them, but know we'll be back in San Juan soon enough; besides, it's always easy to score in la Perla.

Eventually, it's time for our flight. As the small plane's engine roars to life and we begin to take-off, I feel a little choked-up watching as the little island passes by below. Part of me really loves Culebra, it's just such a simple and peaceful place; so different from the intensity, aggression, and stress of New York. Of course, I may entertain romantic thoughts of returning here to "retire" (as if retirement will ever be an option for my generation), but I also know too much of me would be unable to live in such a peaceful place as this. Likely, I'd go mad. I suppose I'm too addicted to the activity and intensity of New York. I'm of the breed that needs stress and challenge. Sure, Culebra is a beautiful place to visit for relaxation, but it's best to remain untouched and untainted by the influence of aggressive city folk like myself.

When we return to San Juan, we pick-up a rental car and drive to the Acacia Seaside Inn, which is an excellent place to stay. Our room is clean, well-lit, has an awesome shower, plasma TV, and deck that walks out onto a large jacuzzi pool. Whenever I return to San Juan, I'll make sure I stay here.

After freshening-up at the hotel, we take a drive to viejo San Juan, to take photos of the cobblestoned streets, Spanish influenced architecture, and score some weed in la Perla. We have dinner at an excellent restaurant called el Asador. After a brief stroll through the old part of the city, we drive back to the Acacia Seaside Inn to smoke and relax in the jacuzzi outside our room.

* * *

After eating desayuno at the same cafe we ate every morning in San Juan (not because the food was really great, but because it seemed to be the only place not owned by a large fast-food chain), we do some laundry. Unfortunately, I stupidly put a cheap red towel in with the load and, subsequently, turn all our whites pink. Damn! However, we don't get too sore about the ruined laundry - "What are ya gonna do?" Besides, it was time for us to leave San Juan and drive east to Rio Grande, where we'll stay at the el Yunque Rainforest Inn for the next three days to read, write, and -most importantly- explore the rainforest.

That night, while relaxing in our cozy room, we hear, outside the room's many large windows, a symphony of coqui singing their hypnotic mating song through the night. The small frogs' rhythmic noise make for the perfect natural lullaby.

The next morning, we have breakfast downstairs on the veranda with Bill and Laurie, the Rain Forest Inn's two owners. Bill and Laurie have owned the Inn since 2003. Over the past seven years, they have (with help from friends/family and dedicated volunteers) renovated the entire property. The Rainforest Inn is a gem, a secluded compound along the western edge of el Yunque Rainforest. Apparently, when Bill and Laurie first bought the place there was no running water, nor electricity. Before they arrived, the property itself had been abandoned for years because of damage from hurricanes. Originally, the buildings and property were owned by Bill's uncle, David Humphrey -an eccentric inventor and designer- who came to Puerto Rico sixty-five years ago.

Over an amazing breakfast, Bill, Laurie, Ena and I have an interesting discussion on human evolution, "how people who live in the city are more prepared for the future than those living isolated in the country", and emerging technologies. Bill and Laurie are an interesting and hospitable couple. Bill is obviously a very intelligent man who is also very knowledgeable about the natural environment.

At some point, Bill asks, "What kind of a hike are you interested in having today? …Aggressive? …Easy?" I know he senses we're up for a bit of an adventure, so he suggests hiking the La Coca trail, which crosses three streams, takes about 3.5 hours to complete, and concludes at a secret waterfall and swimming hole in the middle of the rainforest.

After coffee, we change into appropriate clothes for the hike, grab some fruit, granola bars, water, towels for a swim, and toss this all into a backpack. Before leaving, I ask Bill one last time for the directions to the waterfall so that I can write them down. "What's the matter?" Bill asks, "Too much pot in high school?" I chuckle, but wonder if he smelt the blunt I smoked on the balcony last night? Likely he did; however, I'm sure I'm not the first guest of his bed and breakfast who partook of nature's finest weed.

Ena and I take the quick drive to the entrance of el Yunque Rainforest and make our way deeper and deeper into the wilderness. As we drive, our ears begin to pop from the rising elevation. We pass la Coca Falls and then keep our eyes open for la Coca trail head, which -according to Bill's directions- should be a bit up the road on the left.

Once we spot the trail, we park the rental car and commence on our journey into the rainforest. For most of the first half of the trail, we're walking downhill. Ena gripes a bit about the mud on her shoes, which I warned her about before the hike; nevertheless, the breathtaking scenery is worth getting dirty over and so we make our way deeper into the jungle.

All around us, gigantic trees reach into the sky as thick vines snake-down from bird-filled tree tops above. Various flowers and plants, that one would need years of study to ever properly describe, dot the sides of the trail. We press-on until we finally get to the first stream. I'm a little nervous Ena may fall into the cascades, or that one of us might hurt ourselves on the slippery rocks. Since I cannot find an easy spot to cross, we decide to take-off our shoes and wade through the rapids. On the other side, we put our shoes back on and continue our trek.

We hike and hike, until we reach the second stream, then the third. It's here, after passing the third stream, that we begin to hear the sound of stronger rapids ahead. We must be close to the spot where Bill told us we'd find a "very steep, muddy, and overgrown hill". We follow the sound of the rapids and are soon right above them. I look down a steep and overgrown hill and tell Ena "The best way for us to get down there is to slide down on our ass." So, we make our way down slow and steady until we reach the large damp rocks beside the water below.

Throughout the hike, Ena and I kept joking "We hoped all of this walking is worth it." Of course, once we made it down the steep incline and looked-up at a huge (five-story tall) rock face, plush canopy of jungle foliage, and roaring waterfall, we knew all this hiking was definitely worth it.

We sat for some time in awe - amazed and humbled by the sheer power and majesty of the breathtaking sight before us. From the rocks along the shore, we could feel a faint mist from the waterfall as it cascaded down through a deep crevice in the rock face. It did not take long for us to strip-off our clothes and dive-in to the cool water. We swam right below the pounding waterfall and then pulled ourselves up onto a large rock in the center of the natural pool. We sat on this rock for a long time to feel the cool mist pelt against our healing sunburns.

The most amazing thing about the towering waterfall was to imagine the centuries it must have took for this one, constant, cascading stream of water, to cut-through and erode-away parts of this massive rock. The scene before us was older than our parents, grandparents, countries…history itself. One cannot help but feel very small and insignificant when standing before the results of an eon of erosion.

After our swim, we ate some fruit and granola, took some photos of the waterfall, and made our way back up the steep hill. Once we reached the top, I say to Ena, "Well, at least that's the worst of it! We know the rest of the hike back is not nearly as tough as this!" Unfortunately, my cockiness would get the better of me. Little did we know at the time, the worst of our hike lay ahead.

On the return hike, we became tired and hungry. Although, I felt at ease and comfortable walking at a steady pace, we'd need to keep moving if we wanted to get out of the forest before sundown. I kept telling Ena, "We're almost there. Ganbatte! Once we get back, we can shower, change, and drive to Don Pepe's for some great Puerto Rican food and cold tropical drinks!"

Unfortunately, after passing the second stream, a strong pelting rain began falling onto the forest canopy (of course, as is to be expected in a rainforest). The thick rain began making it more and more difficult to navigate the terrain. It's difficult to pin-point exactly where I lost the trail, but I did. As we began pushing through the thick terrain, we tried our best to locate any trail markings, but this was to no avail. The rain continued and soon we were lost.

We remained calm; nevertheless, I started yelling "HELP! …HELLOOO?! …HELP!" very loudly, in hopes other hikers (of which I knew there were none, since we were on one of the more difficult and less-traveled trails) might hear us. Thankfully, the rain stopped, but there was still rumbling storm clouds and lightning in the distance, indicating another approaching storm. At this point, I really wished I'd brought a map and compass to at least try to navigate our way out of this situation. Of course, I was expecting this to be a simple afternoon hike along a clearly-marked trail; but, it had turned-out to be an endurance test of absolute survival. Subsequently, I tell myself that for any future hike, I will ensure to bring the appropriate tools and navigation equipment (and to learn how to use them). Of course, retrospect is of no use to anyone when caught in the dangerous situation at hand. We would need to find our way out of this wilderness on our own.

My first instinct was to move up hill (which I later learned to be incorrect) to get a better look at the terrain. As we climbed our way up the steep incline, I began hearing the sound of cascades on the other side of the hill. I decide we should move toward this sound, thinking it must be connected to one of the three streams we passed on our way into the forest; however, once we reach the top of the hill, it quickly became clear, this was not one of the streams we passed! A wide torrent of rushing thundering water raced by below. On the other side of this ominous water, lay another mountain and valley. We were nowhere near the road or trailhead.

Looking-out over the wild landscape while feeling the growl in my stomach and ache in my tired legs, I become consumed by a strong sense of utter defeat. I don't know what direction we came from, nor which way to go to escape this uncomfortable situation.

We made our way along the hill, yelling "HEELLLLP!" over and over, with the empty hope someone might hear us below. No one does.

The terrain was steep and precarious. Large holes under thick roots sparked my imagination to wonder what sort of ominous creatures might live in these burrows? Could any of these animals soon become a threat to us once the sun sets? Of course, more threatening than the wildlife (of which I later learn was a non-issue, since there are no dangerous animals in Puerto Rico) is the surprisingly steep drop-offs and cliffs we continue to discover at every turn.

The sky grew darker and darkest. I continue telling Ena, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." as if I had intentionally led us astray in this wilderness. Of course, I suppose, in some way, I had; after all, there are other tourists content to stay in their cars and view the rainforest from the side of the road. But I suppose, we're made of a different metal and because we are, we're also the one's lost in the thick of it while the more sedate travelers were likely now having drinks by a pool.

We stop for the night. I push back thick branches and palm leaves to make a small clearing on the side of the steep hill we were now trapped on. There was a thin stump ahead of us, which we used to both toss a brightly-colored towel over (in the lame hope a passing plane might spot it from the sky) and to use as support so that we would not fall down either of the steep chasms below both sides of us. There was no way to tell how far the ledge dropped below the thick tree canopy. Obviously, the threat of plunging through these tree tops to a steep cliff below did not make for a comfortable night's sleep.

Throughout the night, we leaned against the side of the hill, supported by the thin stump, and listened to the many sounds of the rainforest. We talked and rambled about the possibility of being found by helicopter. I tried to imagine what it'd be like to be pulled-up from out of the jungle and to look back down at the steep cliff ahead of us from a rescue basket. We wondered if Bill and Laurie had yet called the park rangers, or if any ranger had reported our abandoned rental car still waiting for us at the trail head? Ena hoped we'd be back in time for ginger pancakes the next morning.

Of course, even if we had been reported missing, no one would be looking for us until the next morning. So, we told stories, sang songs, loudly, and tried to stay positive. Eventually, we became quiet and just listened to the coquis throughout the brush and watched bats dive and circle over the tree-line ahead. Ena fell asleep for a little while, but the spot was very uncomfortable, so we constantly had to move and adjust ourselves to prevent our muscles from cramping-up. While Ena dozed-off, I watched the moon make its way across the changing sky. Occasionally, I'd feel myself slipping-off to sleep, but a coqui would inevitably hop onto me to startle me awake.

Futilely, I tried to make a call with my soaked cell phone. Of course, even if it wasn't drenched, it wouldn't have worked here anyway. However, I felt a strong need to do something, anything, to get us out of this situation. But I was helpless and being powerless was the most frustrating thing about this predicament. Whether we liked it or not, we'd have to just sit and wait patiently until the sun rose. So, I'd wait and then wait some more.

Occasionally, I'd check the watch in my bag (at least that was still working) to see how much time had past. Remarkably, the evening went by faster than I thought it would. I wondered what my friends and family were doing while Ena and I sat trapped on the side of this mountain? I tried to imagine some of them in this situation and wondered how would they handle this dilemma? I was definitely relieved that Ena kept her cool. She did not panic at any point of our adventure. She is definitely 'a keeper'.

Eventually, the sky became very dark, reminding me of that line from "the Dark Knight", when Harvey Dent says, "The night is darkest just before the dawn." How true this statement seems at 5am lost in the jungle far from home. Within the hour, the sky became lighter. Birds began singing their morning songs and, eventually, the sun came up. At this point, we were both tired and frustrated. Ena explained how she wanted to "Stay here and wait until a helicopter came to save us."

Understandably, she was concerned that moving around more along the side of this hill and thick jungle could result in one of us eventually becoming hurt. Nevertheless, I convinced her that "There'll be no helicopter for weeks. Our best bet and only hope of getting out of here alive is to backtrack the way we came and try to find the trail again. So, let's roll!"

With that, we were on the move. I looked back for a moment at the small matted spot of brush and jungle we'd spent the past ten hours perched, and felt no need to ever return to this place again. As we moved back alongside the mountain, I made sure we kept a slow, steady, and careful pace across the dangerous terrain. Eventually, we made it back down to the bottom; however, not without many bumps, scrapes, and lacerations from the forests' many thorny vines and spiny trees. At the bottom of the hill, we decided to follow a stream, again, in hopes it would at some point cross the trail we were hiking along yesterday.

The banks of the stream bed were steep, full of holes (that are the habitat of large fresh water crabs), and thick with thorny branches; so we decided to just walk up the stream instead of along the difficult banks. At this point of our journey, we were no longer concerned with getting our sweaty clothes "dirty" nor our sneakers "wet" - they were both far beyond that now. We pushed through the rapids and climbed over wet rocks. As I pressed forward, I swung a stick ahead of me so as to clear the large spiderwebs hanging over the stream.

Unfortunately, the stream soon became narrow and turned into mud. I sighed and again felt hopeless. But, we tried another route and pushed-on over another hill. Unfortunately, as we reached the top, the brush became too thick and impassable. We walked back down and came to another stream, which we also followed in hopes it would eventually lead us to the trail, or, to one of the many paved roads throughout el Yunque. Again, we decided to walk through the stream since we were too exhausted to fight our way through the thick brush along the sides.

Finally, while walking through the second stream, I found an old rusted can of Coca Cola in the water; then, I saw a tire. Yes! Never have I been more pleased to see trash or pollution in the rainforest. I look back and tell Ena "We need to follow this stream. Likely, it will eventually lead to a road." So we kept following the stream until we got to a fork in the waterway. I scanned our two options ahead, one side was flat, but there was no indication of garbage, and the other, was really steep. But, on the steep side, I saw another tire. The difficult way was the direction we must go.

I began scaling the steep wet rocks. As I made my way up each ledge, I look back to ensure Ena was progressing along okay. The incline was steep, if one of us fell, we'd be seriously injured; nevertheless, there was only one way to go - up! Unfortunately, the shrinking stream became steeper and steeper; however, I saw more tires and discarded cans, so I knew we were getting close.

Above, I saw a car race by. "HEH!!! ...HELP!!!" The last one-hundred feet was super steep, slippery and muddy; fortunately, there was also a lot of weeds that had managed to take root along the now trickling stream. I grabbed bunches of these weeds to use like a rope as well as buried my fingers deep into the dirt for more support. After pulling and struggling my way up the incline, I eventually pulled myself -with what little strength I had left in my trembling arms- to the road above. Once at the top, I screamed out "YES!!!" And began jumping up and down; however, Ena was still trying to make her way up the difficult pass. She was twenty feet from the top, this was the steepest section. I tried to point-out the best way for her to go from above; fortunately, along the side of the stream, there were piles of dead bamboo, which Ena used to push her way closer to the top.

Fortunately, before Ena reached the pavement, a Park Ranger's truck came racing around the corner. I waved the truck down and the ranger stepped-out after turning on his flashing lights. He spoke "very little English", but could see Ena still struggling her way up the side of the cliff below. He reached into his truck for a retractable hook. I held his hand to make a chain as he extended the hook down to where Ena was for her to grasp onto. We pulled her up to the pavement.

"We did it!" We're so happy to see another human being and to be standing back on concrete! I give Ena a big hug and almost feel like I could cry.

The park Ranger drives us back to our rental car, which was still up the road about a mile and a half. He showed me a piece of paper with both our names on it, indicating Bill and Laurie had reported us missing several hours ago. We waited at the rental car for the ranger's chief, who spoke English. While we waited, he gave us granola bars and water, which we greedily consumed. Beside our car, was an old truck, which belonged to Bill's nephew. Bill had also sent his nephew into the rainforest to look for us. Eventually, the Chief arrived and made me sign some paperwork (apparently, so that I'd not sue the National Park Service) and gave us a bag of mangos. We then took a photo with the ranger who saved us and finally drove out of the rainforest - alive and well.

Before reaching the Rainforest Inn, I stopped at a small variety store to get some orange juice and more water. I realized while standing in line, that I must have smelt really bad and looked terrible since I had mud and dirt caked all over my sweaty scratched-up body. After paying for the liquids, I rushed out to the car and drank it all in one gulp. We were so relieved to be back to civilization. What a humbling and empowering experience to have!

When we got back to the Rainforest Inn, Bill and Laurie greeted us with relief. "We're so glad to see you guys!" Laurie said while hugging Ena, "I'm going to make you a big breakfast for after you get washed up."

We hobbled our way up to the room, pealed-off our soiled clothes and both took long painful showers. After we changed, we limped downstairs, where Laurie had prepared a delicious breakfast of eggs, vegetarian sausage, and the ginger pancakes Ena was concerned she'd miss. We wolfed all of this down, while I explained to Bill what had happened. He then went back into his office to get some maps of the rainforest that he rolled-out onto the table for us to get a better idea of where we got lost. Although our bodies hurt and we needed rest, it was clear, this would be an experience that would ultimately make us both stronger.

As Bill would so eloquently later write, "Heh, life is what it is and so is adventure travel!"

After breakfast, we went upstairs, dressed our wounds and took a much-needed nap.

* * *

After waking from a long nap, we read and I wrote a lengthy email to my closest friends and family explaining what had happened. We changed, and then drove to Don Pepe's for the dinner we had planned to have after our hike yesterday. The waitress sat us by the window, where across the street, we could see the large foreboding mountains and dark wilderness of el Yunque Rainforest. This time last night, we'd be settling-in for a long night. But tonight, "Itadakimasu!"

Needless to say, my Medalla, pork chops, and rice and beans never tasted so good! After dinner, we returned to the Rainforest Inn, to read and sleep some more. Outside our window, the sounds of the rainforest went on and on through the night. It's comforting to know the forest was still there outside while we slept heavily, inside

Nature is a strong and formidable force that should not be taken lightly. No one should ever arrogantly assume nature is something we can or will ever conquer. Make no mistake, nature always wins, we can only hope she will graciously allow us weak humans to survive on this planet for another day.

May Day

2010-05-02T14:30:00.002-04:00

solidaridad

Collateral Murder

2010-04-08T14:41:00.006-04:00

I've never served in the military. Perhaps those who have will hold a different opinion of this video shot from two Apache helicopters over Baghdad, Iraq in July, 2007? Of course, whether one has "served", or not, seems to be besides the point; after all, who could watch "Collateral Murder" - a classified clip that surfaced this week from the site WikiLeaks.org- and be able to then honestly defend the cowardly and mechanical slaughter of these unarmed men? This is not battle, this is extermination. The commanders who ordered and soldiers who gleefully initiated this slaughter are a disgrace to their country and should be disciplined by the Pentagon for their despicable actions.

We see a group of men gathered, talking - one is holding a camera (which is, presumably, mistaken for a weapon). In a few moments, the order is made: "Light 'em up!" A barrage of bullets rains-down on the group. As the survivors scatter for cover, the cameras, Apaches, and gun sights zoom-in on their victims to pick them off one-by-one. The clip is a cruel and unflinching reminder of the way war is fought in the 21st century - from a distance, with no apparent connection or regard to the very real lives lost, and it is (most frightening of all) entertaining. Ultimately, nearly a dozen civilians, including 2 Rueters news employees (Saeed Chmagh and Namir Noor-Eldeen), were killed, and two children were wounded.

Of course, some will ask - what happened before this footage? Why were American troops focused on these men at all? Certainly, there must have been a Reason! ...Or not, so often in war their never is reason. I guess I'm too busy asking questions like: why were these "disciplined soldiers" laughing like teenage boys? What was gained by this? Just "following orders" I suppose? Fuck your orders.

For the record, I do not support the occupation(s) of Iraq and Afghanistan. I believe the thousands of lives lost, billions spent to pay for these wars of Empire, and years soldiers have spent away from their families and friends have not been for our "best interests" or "security". In fact, I believe these wars are for Empire and thus, could -and should- be "fought" better through "soft power" or "non-violent" means. If President Obama wants to be remembered as a "peace President" than he should (as he says he will do) "end this war" and "bring all troops home" - now.

The "Collateral Murder" video is only one that was "leaked"; however, we've seen this same twisted behavior before in the images from Abu Ghraib. Likely, there are more videos out there waiting to surface. The chuckling soldier who says, "I think I just ran over a body! ...ha! ha!" reminds us of the smiling photos of American soldiers torturing Iraqi prisoners. Of course, the soldiers in these occupied territories are safe inside their "green zones" and, subsequently, disconnected and removed from the suffering around them. Thus, why should they feel any remorse? "Marines are killing machines! Damnit!" ...Right? Of course. But what kind of Real soldier can look at this behavior as any kind of a Real fight? In essence, war has, become a video game. The line between play and imperialism is, yet again, further blurred.

Who really knows what will result from this video? ...Likely, nothing.

I suppose if anything constructive can be gained from this, it is that journalism is not dead - it has changed. It is a lot tougher to get through to the "real story" or any kind of "truth". Of course, even when the story is opened-up, is anyone really listening? The credit for this story should go first to those who lost their lives to these cowards and then to the hackers who decrypted the security code, the creators of WikiLeaks.org, and whomever was brave enough to "leak" this tape. Their actions show us that information -no matter how well-protected- has the potential to become viral.

One only need to crack the code, expose the lie, and spread the truth.

"We don't quit. I don't quit." - Obama

2010-01-28T12:51:00.010-05:00

"I think people are dazzled by Obama's rhetoric, and that people ought to begin to understand that Obama is going to be a mediocre president--which means, in our time, a dangerous president--unless there is some national movement to push him in a better direction." - Howard Zinn (R.I.P.)

Yesterday, was an interesting and challenging day: Obama made his State of the Union speech to inspire his supporters, further aggrevate his detractors, and hopefully bring some people together. Howard Zinn (who I had the honor of meeting last year) died while swimming laps in a pool. Apple unveiled the iPad. I managed to work my ass off (as usual) for another long day at The New School.

No matter the President in power, I always look forward to watching the State of the Union Address and reading the responses from pundits the next day. It allows me to reflect on where we've come as a nation, where we're going, and what we think about our leaders. It's also always amusing to watch politics in action and observe the way the President must convince a divided governing body to agree on a common purpose. What I found most inspiring about the President's address was his theme of a shared responsibility and need for accountability. He made it clear, government either needs to start making change actually happen (instead of just talking about it) or government will lose all faith and trust from an increasingly cynical electorate. If this happens, if trust is lost, total revolution (likely through totalatarianism) becomes a very real possibility.

I was most impressed by the way President Obama gave his disaproval of the Supreme Court's recent decision to overturn a precedent that "will open the floodgates for special interests". Corporations will now have even greater ability to invest in the political candidates they support. ("iCandidate"). I'm glad to see Obama spend much of his speech discussing the economy and his plans for action (as opposed to scaring me about "the terrorists"). I'm pleased Obama asked the body to repeal the "don't ask, don't tell" rule that prevents gays from serving in the military. Finally, I hope his call to "make no mistake: This war is ending, and all of our troops are coming home." will come true. However, this seems too good to be true; especially, when he is simultanously pounding harder on those war drums for the Iranian regime to hear.

I want the President -who I still consider a genuine and well-intentioned politician- to be able to see his campaign promises come to fruition. Sure, I'm hopeful, and perhaps even out of a certain sense of desperation (as my good friend pointed out). Things are bad; however, I refuse to completely give-in to a cynicism I find corrosive and harmful to not only politics, but to our selves. Nevertheless, I believe in criticism and debate - a most essential aspect of a functioning democracy; however, so isn't progress. So let us begin our debate over these many issues, while also pushing our elected officials in a direction to make real change that will benefit people before corporations. (Admittedly, more difficult, now that the Supreme Court overturned that precedent.) Let us end these futile wars of empire and begin to renew our crumbling social and physical infrastructure.

This change will not be the President's decision alone (as many of his critics try to paint him out to be). The choices we make and attitudes we take will either help us resolve and confront the very real problems we face or make them worse. This will be our collective responsibility, the choice is ours.

* * * *

I'd like to take this opportunity to note; because of the real work that needs to get done in my own life, I'll be taking a break from this page for the Spring to volunteer teach a class on "America Now: Media and Writing" at the International Center in NY, focus on the many changes I need to confront here at (an increasingly busy) New School, work some extra shifts as Asst. House Mgr. at the 92nd Street Y (so as to pay off my debts to the IRS), complete my Certificate in Teaching English as a Second Language, and -hopefully- share some much-needed relaxing moments with the friends I respect and woman I adore.

Cheers to finding zen in '10!

Donating to Haiti

2010-01-15T13:03:00.003-05:00

This week, as we all know, Haiti experienced a devastating earthquake. Such tragedy and loss should cause us to first reflect on how fortunate we are to have such trivial things to worry about in our lives and second to remember how fragile and fleeting this life is.

I am glad to see that President Obama has moved swiftly and forcefully in sending much-needed aid to the people of Haiti.

Of course, I'm also angered to see religious dominionists using this tragedy to bolster their "utterly stupid" and insane beliefs. Not surprising, but more proof the world will be a better place when the Pat Robertson's of the world finally do "meet their master".

Anyway, I hope that when donating to any aid groups, one donates to UNICEF (as I did), the Red Cross, or Doctors Without Borders to assist the people of Haiti.

Or, even easier, txt "HAITI" to "90999" to automatically have $10 billed to your next phone bill.

"When Atheism Becomes Religion" by Chris Hedges

2009-12-25T14:15:00.003-05:00

(The Greek word "atheoi" αθεοι ("[those who are] without god") as it appears in the Epistle to the Ephesians 2:12, on the early 3rd-century Papyrus 46.)

"Religion is our finite, flawed and imperfect expression of the infinite." - Chris Hedges

I do not believe in god and resent fundamentalism. My "faith" is with the human will, I "believe" in art. Agreed, the human will has not always expressed the best, bravest, or kindest of human intentions, nor has art always been beautiful or thought provoking. Nevertheless, the human will (expressed through art) is how I give order and meaning to this uncertain frightening world. I suppose you could say - atheism is my religion.

As an atheists I've felt angry and frustrated by those pushing religion onto me or others. At my lowest, I'm insulting to Christianity, Islam, Judaism, and Buddhism. Unjustly, I've even cynically joked about wars to "wipe religion off the map." I'm not proud of my sarcasm; but, thankfully (like any atheist worth my will), I question such "sinful" thoughts and actions. In fact, a great way to reflect on such things is with a good book. Fortunately, Chris Hedges' "When Atheism Becomes Religion: America's New Fundamentalists" is a timely read for anyone of any or no faith. Hedges compellingly argues against all fundamentalisms. He has not only made me more confident in my own "religion" but has forced me to also honestly admit atheism could just as easily become as totalizing and fascists as any other conviction. Thus, we must remain vigilant against all theisms.

Sure, I wish to be done with religion and perhaps this resentment stems from my years in Christian boarding school? Or, maybe it's living through this violent post-9/11 decade? Whatever the case, I'm not alone in my belief humanity would be more tolerant and enlightened if not so foolishly guided by religious illusions. There is real power in religion and like Hedges I find myself "disgusted with the chauvinism, intolerance, anti-intellectualism and self-righteousness of religious fundamentalists." And also like Mr. Hedges, I "dislike the same people" as the new Atheists (i.e. Dawkins, Hitchens, and Harris). "But we do not dislike them for the same reasons."

Although I enjoy reading the new atheists Hedges criticizes in his book, I suppose I do so with the same reason I listen to George Carlin or Marilyn Manson. For me, all represent a much-needed middle finger at organized religion. However, unlike Carlin or Manson (entertainers), Harris and Hitchens' audience is academia, the cable news cycle, and print media; thus, the jingoism and fear in some of their writing and lectures could stir-up some frightening totalitarian possibilities. Sam Harris is the most extreme with Hitchens right behind him; both justify the war in the Middle East as "just" and in support of rationalism against an inhuman fundamentalism. Although I'm an atheist, like Harris and Hitchens, I do not support empirical aggressions in the Middle East.

Hedges is also critical of evolutionary biologist, Richard Dawkins. I'm very interested in Dawkins' writing, am glad he refuses to entertain discussions on "creationism", and am fascinated by his theories on memetics. Thus, when Hedges criticizes someone I really respect, I pay close attention. Hedges primary concern with Dawkins is with the way he describes science as utopian and capable of making great change; however, Hedges says this is unrealistic. He comments, many "are comforted by the thought that we progress morally as a species. We want things to get better. We want to believe we are moving forward. This hope is more reassuring than reality. [However,] all the signs in our current world point to a coming anarchy."

Hedges bleakly writes, "We drift toward disaster with the comforting thought that the god of science will intervene on our behalf. We prefer to think we are the culmination of a process, the result of centuries of human advancement, rather than creatures unable to escape from the irrevocable follies and blunders of human nature." Indeed, "We are bound by our animal natures…Volcanic emotions are buried like land mines within us…These hidden realms of visceral, irrational emotions drive us as powerfully, perhaps more powerfully, than the rational constructs we build around them. They shatter our meticulously constructed self, plunging us into the chaos of existence."

Hedges is a realist, so his writing doesn't comfort. Subsequently, his work will hopefully wake some from lazily explaining this complex world through a simple prism of "memes". Agreed, memetic theory can be helpful in explaining certain ideas and thoughts, but Hedges is correct, "The attempt to equate patterns of human society with the behavior of genes…is part of the cult of science. The genetic coding that permits the transfer of DNA-encoded units…is fairly precise. But this model fails to work for the transfer of cultural, social, ethical, and political behavior. Patterns of morality are easily reversed or erased, especially in ages of revolutionary fervor, war, anarchy, fear, social decline and despotism."

Hedges writes, "A desire for moral advancement has repeatedly corrupted religious and secular ideologies. We want to believe that human suffering and deprivation is meaningful, that it has a purpose and that our lives make sense. This yearning for telos creates imaginary narratives of moral and historical progress…It is a way to ward off the awful fact that things often do not get better, that they often get worse, and that the irrational urges of human nature will never be conquered."

What Hedges may share with religious fundamentalists is his "end time" descriptions, which are grim. Of course, Hedges has seen the human will at its worst in Yugoslavia and the Middle East as a war correspondent. Hedges, informed by his experience, writes "When we are desperately afraid, when chaos and disorder envelop life, when the world is reduced to a bitter struggle to get enough to eat and stay alive, the fragile 'civilized' veneer that coats our existence in times of prosperity, order and safety vanishes. The coherent, rational self disintegrates, we sink swiftly into the depravity the atheists see as the result of religious fanaticism. Few of us are immune."

Ultimately, Hedges concludes, "The labels we attach to ourselves are a way to tell stories about ourselves, to create coherent narratives. The danger we face does not come from religion. It comes from a growing intellectual bankruptcy that is one of the symptoms of a dying culture."

"Happy Holidays..."

…peace and cheers to finding zen in '10.

Religion in the Military

2009-12-23T21:57:00.002-05:00

Christopher Hitchen's recent column in Vanity Fair is a frightening look at how entrenched the Church is within the State. Hitchens asks...

"Is there a clique within the United States military that is seeking to use the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan as an opportunity to mount a new crusade and to Christianize the 'heathen'? And does this clique also attempt to impose its beliefs on young Americans in uniform, many of whom may even be Christian already? If the answer to either question is 'yes,' then we are directly financing the subversion of our own Constitution and inviting a 'holy war' where we will not be able to say that only the other side is dogmatic and fanatical."

Chris Hedges at The New School

2009-12-10T11:53:00.008-05:00

This past week, I had the honor of introducing veteran war correspondent, winner of the Pulitzer Prize, and writer, Chris Hedges, to The New School. Hedges spoke on his recent book "Empire of Illusion: the End of Literacy and the Triumph of Spectacle".

Hedges' lecture was a sobering and, admitedly, grim assessment of the current American empire. The premise of his book is that we are a culture in decline that only values illusion, which is seen in our addiction to psuedo-events, trivial gossip, and celebrity culture. As things get increasingly worse, people seek-out comfort in entertainment and/or religous extremism. The decline of a literate society makes understanding the complexities or potential solutions of this crisis nearly impossible.

To view the lecture click here.

Change?

2009-12-02T14:08:00.009-05:00

For the past year, I've defended President Obama's decisions and lack of initiative on various issues. Whether from the decision to bailout Wall Street bankers, his lack of support on LGBT rights, and his compromise to remove the "public option" on health care reform - President Obama continues to disappoint. I realize the job of the President is tough, but I voted for Obama with the hope that he would be a game changer; instead, he only continues to follow the same misguided policies of former Presidents. Of course, I firmly believe that despite the bad decisions he has made, our country is in a better place than it would have been had Senator McCain been elected. But how better? ...Not much. Thus, I'm more than disappointed by President Obama's decision to send an additional 30,000 American troops into Afghanistan.

There are far greater problems to confront than those based on the fear of terrorists. Agreed, Al-Qaeda -like all extremists- are a threat to peace, rationality, and understanding. I wish we could be done with all this ignorant backwards and mystical thinking that continues to foolishly define our human existence. God does not exist. Those who waste their short lives fighting, worshiping, or even thinking about "god" only continue to prevent humanity from honestly confronting the realistic problems and issues that remain detrimental to our collective survival. Unfortunately, Obama's plan will likely embolden the extremists (on all sides of the debate). Islamic extremists will have fresh fodder for more recruitment to Al-Qaeda and their Christian, Catholic, Jewish, and "new Atheist" counterparts will only further believe they’re killing of others is somehow justified.

If Obama really wants to change Afghanistan, he should focus specifically on building new infrastructure: education, schools, food, technology, etc. Give the people what they need, which is not more of the same bloodshed. For all the money wasted on militarism, why not invest in the country?

Obama is only sending in more destruction that will further our slide into oblivion. I am also personally surprised and frustrated that Obama did not listen to Vice President Joe Biden who argued for sending small groups of special operations forces, that would focus on the Al-Qaeda fighters instead of the 30,000 additional ground troops. Unfortunately change is nothing more than a cliche. Sure, the personality has changed, but the machinations of militarism, religion, and empire remain the same.

- - -

One week later, I read George Packer's column in The New Yorker. Packer writes,

"No Obama doctrine yet exists. What the President has is a sophisticated theology, an anti-utopian belief that human imperfection is inevitable but progress is possible if human beings remain self critical about what they can achieve. This is the philosophy of Reinhold Niebuhr, whom Obama has called 'one of my favorite philosophers."

The Pixies @ Hammerstein Ballroom NYC 11/23/09

2009-11-23T11:00:00.006-05:00

"Dancing The Manta Ray"
"Weird At My School"

"Bailey's Walk"

"Manta Ray"

"Debaser"

"Tame"

"Wave of Mutilation"

"I Bleed"

"Here Comes Your Man"

"Dead"

"Monkey Gone to Heaven"

"Mr. Grieves"

"Crackity Jones"

"La La Love You"

"No. 13 Baby"

"There Goes My Gun"

"Hey"

"Silver"

"Gouge Away"

encore1:

"Slow Wave of Mutilation (UK Surf)"

"Into the White"

encore 2

"Isla De Encanta"

some of "Vamos"

"Nimrod's Son"

"Where is My Mind"

"Gigantic"

A Deed of Trust

2009-11-18T16:10:00.004-05:00

By Nicholas Allanach

One hundred years ago, on November 15th, 1909, chocolate industrialist, Milton S. Hershey visited New York with his wife, Catherine, to sign a Deed of Trust, which would soon turn the 486-acre farm of Milton’s birth into the Hershey Industrial School for orphaned boys. Unable to have children of their own, Milton and Catherine decided to do something extraordinary - provide a place where impoverished children from broken homes could be housed, clothed, fed, and educated at no costs. 100 years later, Hershey’s chocolate empire continues to fit-the-bill for over 1,700 students from various backgrounds and plans to increase this number of students to 2,100 by 2013. Since its inception when those “first boys” arrived at “the Homestead” in 1910, the Milton Hershey School has graduated over 18,000 girls and boys.

I’m honored to have graduated from this unique institution. Unfortunately, back in 1997, I did not truly appreciate the efforts of my house parents, valuable lessons from my teachers, and –most importantly- sacrifice my father made when sending my younger brother and me to this strange place so far from our home in Maine. During the spring of my graduation, I was angry at the world and hadn’t properly dealt with the pain I had experienced as a boy. In fact, there were a few times I was very close to actually being “terminated” from the school for my behavior. Understandably, like many teenagers, I felt compelled to rebel for not having a "normal" adolescence and was perhaps "forced to grow-up too quickly." But now, I realize how fortunate I was to have graduated from “the Milt”.

Admittedly, as anyone who has spent time cleaning toilets at 6am or getting ready for church every Sunday morning can attest, life was not always perfect at Milton Hershey. In fact, there was and continues to be much about the institution I disagree with. Nevertheless, I realize it is imperative to adhere to the founding document that is The Hershey Deed of Trust so that the good things about Milton Hershey School forever remain true to their intent – to raise and educate children as functional members of society.

Of course, the things I disliked while there have likely grown worse, but nevertheless, although I disagree with the uniformed clothing policy, bigoted views against LGBT issues, and conservative religious leanings (many of the house parents, staff, and teachers are born again Christians) I’ve accepted the fact that these unsavory aspects of the school do not discredit the very real good Mr. and Mrs. Hershey’s mission creates anew everyday for the thousands of lives that may never have had the chance to grow and evolve.

It would be nice to see other philanthropic capitalists make the same commitment to “do good” and “treat others as we would like ourselves to be treated”, like Milton and Catherine Hershey did so long ago. But I will not hold my breath. Nevertheless, as a graduate of the school, I now realize the duty I have to this "Hershey legacy." Like him, I suppose I must make the world a better place than it was before I got here. I would not be where I am today if it wasn’t for Milton Hershey and I thank him for his deed. I’m also thankful for the discipline and work-ethic taught to me by my house parents. I am thankful for the amazing teachers and most importantly thankful my father encouraged me to “stick-it-out” and “make the best” of my time.

With over six billion dollars in assets from the chocolate company, the Milton Hershey School is one of the wealthiest schools in the world. Of course, such wealth would not have been possible if it had not have been for the philanthropic vision of Milton Hershey and his wife Catherine. It would also not be thriving, as the school continues to do today, if it was not for the diligence of the MHS Alumni Association and Board of Governors who ensure the Deed of Trust is never compromised.

The generosity of this institution is not to be taken lightly, if the Hersheys had given-in to greed (as capitalists so often do) instead of giving back, than the thousands of lives they affected by deciding to start their school would be dramatically different today. I’m inspired by their work and the fact that one good idea could proliferate so powerfully through history. Their deed is truly our inspiration.

Happy Birthday Milton S. Hershey School!

The Way Life Should Be?

2009-11-04T11:02:00.004-05:00

“All men are created equal. No matter how hard you try, you can never erase those words.” – Harvey Milk

As a native Mainer who fully supports equality and justice for all I was extremely saddened by the news this morning that my home state rejected the right for same-sex couples to marry. Of course my disappointment can never compare to the tremendous heartache and confusion the families whose lives and love are daily affected by the hurtful and hateful decision made by the majority of Maine voters yesterday. No words can console these feelings. My heart and thoughts go out to those affected by this vote.

My first reaction of sadness quickly turned to anger. I’m always so frustrated by the religious zealots, soccer moms, and back-wood rednecks whose bigoted vision of America is not one of equality and acceptance but instead guided by ignorance and fear. Despite my anger, I realize any struggle for freedom will not happen overnight and that resentment and rage will never help anyone on this tough journey toward a more evolved and enlightened society. That said, although we must not give-in to anger, no one should give up. The decision voters made in Maine is WRONG and history will one day show this as true.

Perhaps voters in Maine were afraid that “homosexuality would be taught in schools”? …So what? LGBT people constitute a rich part of our lives and culture. Homosexuality should not only be acknowledged but celebrated. By not acknowledging the truths of our world because they do not fit into our own purview of what is “normal” does not mean these things go away. Thus, we do a disservice to our children and our American future by not accepting the truth, which is that the love shared between people of the same sex is just as valuable and important as the love shared by heterosexuals. It is unfortunate Maine voters did not realize this truth.

Thus, the fight is never over. Admittedly, Maine’s unfortunate decision will have repercussions across the country. Politicians may begin seeing “the right to marry” as a “non-issue”. Perhaps President Obama will focus even less on LGBT rights? Accordingly, those who stand for equality must continue to press this issue and never compromise. “All men are created equal”, but it will obviously take longer for all people to be treated equal.

Until that day I remain...

In solidarity.

myNewSchool

2009-10-14T11:59:00.004-04:00

This year, The New School turns 90. Below is my thoughts on this anniversary.

“Within every cynic you’ll find a disappointed idealist.” – George Carlin

Life is full of clichés that define how we understand reality; ultimately, we decide which ones to accept or reject. Thus, as educated and “engaged global citizens” we must not only question clichés, but challenge those we perpetuate. I suppose, a strong cliché for me is “The system is broken.”

As an undergrad, this cliché resonated loudly in my mind. I wanted to “change the world for the better.” Although the system was “broken”, I truly believed socially conscious people could build better and more just systems. Accordingly, when I heard about The New School’s “progressive history” and founding mission “to create a place where global peace and justice were more than theoretical ideals”, I enthusiastically applied to the New School for Social Research and saved money for my move from Maine to Manhattan. But before leaving home, my friends of a “hippy”, “punk”, and “anarchist” persuasion justly asked how I planned on “changing the world by reading Hegel?” …Good question and I knew an answer wasn’t going to come easy. In fact, after years of wondering “what the hell was this all for?” I realize, they were correct – real change doesn’t come through old philosophical theories or from heady discussions about Robespierre at cocktail receptions. Sure, theory provides a foundation, but it is through practice and application that a broken system can be fixed.

My brief six years at The New School have been rewarding and challenging. I’ve made many friends and feel honored to work at an organization that educates and encourages open and free discourse. Along my academic journey, I’ve earned an MA in Liberal Studies, a Certificate in Screenwriting, and am currently earning a Certificate in Teaching English as a Second Language. Thus, I continue to move (perhaps like the New School itself) away from theory and toward practice. Whatever I do, I know I still want to “change the world for the better”, but I never want to become the aloof academic, who narcissistically believes I’m making the world a “better place” by only associating with those within the safe walls of an academic institution.

Admittedly, it’d be disingenuous to assert I’ve “changed the world for the better.” Or even that I believe The New School remains true to its history. Somewhere along the line that stretches back to the day I walked into 65 Fifth Avenue as an idealistic student, to where I sit now as an administrator behind a desk—I know, I lost something. Perhaps, I’ve become a cliché? Sure I’ve tossed aside the Hegel, but for what? …Fukuyama? This may not be “the end of history” for civilization or The New School, but sometimes it feels like it and it sucks to admit - the crooks won. The good guys lost.

Indeed, “the system’s broken”. But instead of sulking lets start solving as we continue to change as individuals and as a school. Accordingly, I still expect “myNewSchool” to be one of the few places left where any repairs to this broken system can occur.

Nine Inch Nails "wave goodbye" @ Terminal 5 - NYC 8/26/09

2009-08-26T11:15:00.001-04:00

1. "Pinion"
2. "Somewhat Damaged"
3. "Wish"
4. "Last"
5. "Sin"
6. "March Of The Pigs"
7. "Something I Can Never Have"
8. "Piggy (Nothing Can Stop Me Now)"
9. "Metal"
10. "Terrible Lie"
11. "Head Down"
12. "Burn"
13. "Gave Up"
14. "La Mer"
15. "The Frail"
16. "The Wretched"
17. "Non-Entity"
18. "Gone, Still"
19. "Lights In The Sky"
20. "The Downward Spiral"
21. "1,000,000"
22. "Survivalism"
23. "The Good Soldier"
24. "Dead Souls"
25. "Hurt"

Encore
26. "Suck"
27. "Down In It"
28. "The Hand That Feeds"
29. "Head Like A Hole"
30. "Reptile" with Peter Murphy
31. "Strange Kind Of Love" with Peter Murphy
32. "Bela Lugosi's Dead" with Peter Murphy
33. "Final Solution" with Peter Murphy

Harvest

2009-08-04T19:06:00.009-04:00

Summer concludes early this August with school starting on the 31st. But I'm not bitter. The waning hours of this sweltering season are optimistic and exciting. The seeds sown this summer while settling-in to our new Astoria apartment, promise a wealthy crop of fresh projects and new responsibilities this fall. It’s unfortunate I won’t also be raking-in more money to do these projects, but honestly, I -as few can say - have no right to bitch. Life’s good. And if I can manage to maintain myself on this present trajectory, perhaps it can be even better?

As always, the summer past quick but there were welcome moments to reflect and relax. No doubt, I'm a lucky man: I live with an amazing girlfriend (and her two dogs), was just promoted at work (without a raise, but more responsibility and a new office), and have a comfortable new apartment.

Despite all this, two paradoxical feelings are still pumping through my being. One is guilt: I know others are not having such a good life and there must be some kind of karmic retribution to be paid for all the great things happening to me but not others. Or not, maybe this is my karmic pay off? After all, the last four years haven’t exactly been the easiest. Nevertheless, I still can’t help but feel like a common capitalists crook. Admittedly, I’m not the recipient of any ‘bailouts’, but I am privileged and am just following orders with the rest of the mindless mass. Sure, I’ve worked hard for what I’ve achieved, but I’m, still a slave to the wage and would like to be a part of building a better world than this. Nevertheless, whether I like it or not, capitalism is the name of the game and if I can’t beat it, I damn well just better enjoy it. Besides, everyone else is, so why shouldn’t I? Accordingly, feelings of guilt are wasted emotions and quickly replaced with an evil envy and greed. An insatiable urge for MORE consumes me and I see the same desperate anxiety in the panicked eyes of others. This is who we are. All of us are balancing on a knife’s edge, between oblivion and abundance. At any moment we could either help or harm the other members of our human tribe. And what makes us decide one way or the other? …Survivalism.

While away from work this summer, my days were spent in my study/studio painting, reading, writing, or just dumb daydreaming out a large window at plush trees and a green backyard while blasting music. Other times, I was in the kitchen, cooking food and eating it alongside family and friends. I walk the dogs around the block in the morning, jog along the river under the Triborough Bridge in the afternoon, and watch films over drinks at night. Some friends have jokingly renamed me: I was "Nicky Danger" but am now "Nicky Domestic". So be it. Puking nights and hung-over mornings are over-rated.

The "power of the pack" is essential to survival. Perhaps it's true, family (however, one defines the word) “comes first.” This summer, the Allanach tribe grew by one, with the birth of my beautiful niece, McKenzie. It was also nice to have her older brother and my nephew, Ethan, spend some time with the boys and me at “Camp Astoria”. My father, from Vancouver, also stayed for a week to tour the city and meet some of our friends. Of course, my guests were welcome distractions while Ena was away visiting Osaka in July. And when she finally returned, it was like I fell in love with her all over again.

I’m content. But wonder, now that I’m happy, can I maintain my air of “Danger” without destruction? And at what costs… am I still real? Or, have I just become another illusion sustaining this empire? I certainly still feel real and I know I have a need for adventure. But now, there’s no longer a need to desperately prove, or push the limits of my existence through the failed ways I’ve been so accustomed. Maybe I’m actually breaking out of the illusion for this first time? Instead of being so hell-bent on off-setting my ego through controlled substances or self-destructive experiences, I’ve decided it’s “high” time to stabilize my life. Live my dream and “Just do it.” After all, the best way to prepare for more ambitious future adventures is with a stronger body and clearer mind.

Easier said than done. Enjoy the rest of the summer…

Nine Inch Nails @ Jones Beach 6/7/09

2009-06-07T11:21:00.002-04:00

Somewhat Damaged

Terrible Lie

Heresy

March of the Pigs

The Frail

Metal (Gary Numan cover)

I'm Afraid Of Americans (David Bowie cover)

The Becoming

Burn

Gave Up

The Fragile

I Do Not Want This

The Downward Spiral

Wish

Survivalism

Echoplex

The Hand That Feeds

Head Like A Hole

Encore:

Hurt

adios el barrio!

2009-05-20T16:38:00.004-04:00

For the past five years, I’ve called el barrio (a.k.a. Spanish Harlem or East Harlem) home. But now, I’m moving out. Goodbye Claudio’s Barber Shop! Farewell el barrio Juice Bar! Adios Ricardo’s! Yes, this weekend, I will cross the Triborough Bridge to begin a new chapter of my life in Astoria, Queens. I’m sure this will not be my last time in el barrio (I have too many friends here to ever do that), but something about this move has got me reflecting on the old neighborhood: it’s history, it’s present, future, and how this place schooled me into the person I am today.

I shared my first apartment in el barrio with my ex-wife on the corner of East 115th Street and First Avenue. On the day I moved in, I was welcomed to the neighborhood by a circle of elderly Italian women sitting on the sidewalk (which, I soon discovered was how they spent every day). The oldest women in the group had resided in the apartment above mine her entire life. After welcoming me to the neighborhood, she asked if I "was Italian?" Of which I replied: “Nope. American.” This confused her; however, she then expressed how relieved she was that I was "at least white and not a nigger."

Her racism was ignorant, but not surprising; after all, throughout the sixties and seventies, el barrio was (as it is today) going through considerable change. Back then, the neighborhood was not “Spanish Harlem” it was “Italian Harlem”. And as the ethnic makeup of the neighborhood changed, competing gangs vied for control of their “territory”. At one point, Second Avenue was a dividing line between Italian immigrants to the East and Puerto Rican immigrants to the West. Things got even more complicated once the Italians began hiring Puerto Ricans and African Americans to run their drugs while they reaped the profit.

Like every neighborhood in New York, el barrio has an interesting and often violent history. Part of this history is rooted in organized crime or the Cosa Nostra. The first Crime Family to gain dominance of East Harlem was the Morello Crime Family, which later morphed into one of New York’s “5 families” - the Genovese Crime Family. As a big fan of mafia movies, I was so excited to see an old Genovese “social club” still in operation across the street from my apartment on East 115th Street. Everyday, I’d look out my window and watch the old timers run numbers, hand out loans, or just soak-up the sun while smoking cigars. Of course, the most organized activity I ever saw come out of that little brown social club with the green awning was surrounding the preparation and celebration of the annual Giglio feast. Each year, Italians from all over the tri-state convene in the old neighborhood to celebrate their ethnic heritage. Sadly, this last of the “social clubs” has become like many other relics in el barrio – boarded-up and vacant.

Throughout the summer, Puerto Ricans, Mexicans, Cubans, and Domincans also host street festivals and parades. In fact, it is not uncommon to stumble across a large stage set-up on the street for outdoor music performances. The largest of these festivals is undoubtedly the Puerto Rican Day Parade. Most Puerto Ricans migrated to New York during the 1930’s to settle in el barrio and the South Bronx; over the years they have become the largest population in the neighborhood. In my opinion, Nuyoricans are the cultural and artistic lifeblood of this ethnic enclave. In fact, the Nuyorican stronghold, Camaradas, became one of my favorite haunts in el barrio. Camaradas opened one month after I moved into the neighborhood and although much has changed since then, I will always look back fondly on those late nights (that often turned into early mornings) rambling politics, drinking beers, and dancing (badly on my part) to salsa music.

After living in any place for a period of time, one begins to acquire experiences and memories; accordingly, every corner of el barrio has a story for me. While walking up First Avenue from East 114th Street, my mind wanders back to the runs I took along the East River and cooled-down in Thomas Jefferson Park. I think back to the few years I spent on East 115th Street and to the many friends I made in Camaradas. Of course, there were many more debaucheries that took place at Orbit as well. The corner of East 116th and First Avenue would be where my heart was shattered by one girl and then healed by the embrace of another. And up the Avenue a little more would be the place I was mugged. This city makes me into who I am with every punch and kiss.

I only lived in el barrio for five years. But during that short time I made many friends and watched as the neighborhood changed. As I reach the small apartment I lived in for the past two years at 346 East 120th Street, I look West to new condos going-up and wonder how long el barrio will remain “el barrio” and not “Spa Ha” or the “Upper East Side”? How long will the corner boys be able to scare away the Starbucks?

El barrio made me into a stronger person. But it has also contributed to some of my bad habits. Although I will miss the old neighborhood, I am excited to start this next stage of my personal evolution in Astoria.

Howard Zinn

2009-05-15T11:27:00.004-04:00

This week, Howard Zinn was at The 92nd Street Y to promote his new book "A Young People's History of the United States". The event was part of the People's Voices series which seeks to educate and inspire new generations working for social justice. Zinn was also joined by Avery Brooks, Staceyann Chin, Tim Robbins, and others.

It was an honor to not only listen to but to actually meet Mr. Zinn. His "People's History of the United States" is one of my favorite books, which recounts the story of The United States through the voices of those who are usually ignored or overlooked by more traditional history books. America has (and unfortunately continues to be) a very violent nation and unfortunately, many have difficulty acknowledging this unsavory past. American History, for many students, is often taught as a sterilized story that avoids much of the violence and injustice that built-up the current empire.

Anyone, who labels Howard Zinn "un-American" for his research would be mislabeling a man I believe to be one of the greatest and proudest American citizens. Howard Zinn grew up in the Jewish slums of Brooklyn New York, where his parents worked as factory workers. Later, Zinn would work in the Brooklyn shipyards where he was also a labor organizer. Zinn's opposition to war would result from his service in World War II, where Zinn conducted bombing missions over Europe.

Zinn's understanding of America is of a work in progress, a nation defining and redefining itself through time. President Obama seems to also understand this philosophy, during his campaign, Obama said "The strength of America is that America can change." Zinn's "People's History..." clearly shows this change in action; however, it is unfortunate Mr. Obama himself seems to be backtracking on many of his initial campaign promises of implementing this change and is instead continuing to bolster the same failed policies of the past. Zinn himself recently wrote about his hope for the People to change Mr. Obama's mindset.

Zinn's article is another one of many that does not seek to destroy the President, but to instead remind him (and those who seek social justice) that there are other alternatives to the failed ideas of capitalism and war. As our American history rolls-on, it is up to us to continue putting pressure on those in power. Otherwise, we're merely committing and are accomplices to the same crimes that have plagued America for so long. Fredrick Douglas said it best, "If there is no struggle, there is no progress."

That said, I've always tried to clearly define what side of history I'm on. Thus, despite my support for Obama, it is --like America-- something I hope and want to improve but often realize I have little to no control over what decisions he and/or "my country" makes. Nevertheless, I'm someone who wants a decent society that is not guided by ignorance. I continue to dream and hope for a better world. A world without injustice, without war, and evolved and enlightened enough to imagine new possibilities.

History will show us who wins.

* * * *

In other news, I was published in the new Indy Kids Radical Coloring Book - "Coloring Outside the Lines". So, order a copy today and help make another year of Indy Kids a success! Peace.

100 Days and "Moving forward"

2009-04-28T14:19:00.015-04:00

Last week, Naomi Klein's column in The Nation starts, "All is not well in Obamafanland." She then introduces her "Lexicon of Dissapoinment" by stating its a "good thing...a growing number of Obama enthusiasts are starting to entertain the possibility that their man is not, in fact, going to save the world if we all just hope really hard." Agreed. It's going to take a lot more than hope to save the world - its going to take creativity, innovation, patience, cooperation, and communication from the top-down to the ground-up.

Thus, Obamafans must not only take their man to task, but must also begin implementing change in their own lives. Admittedly, it's tough to volunteer to paint a school or grow a community garden when you're unemployed. Thus, it should be the responsibility of the new Administration (working with big business) to create lasting jobs in green industries. Obviously, things are not going to immediately get better, we must make sacrifice now and develop new machinations to outlast this and future generations to come.

Although I consider myself an Obama supporter, I don't believe I've ever been intoxicated by any illusions that Obama would -gasp- be any different than any other politician. He is just as much a gangster as anyone else, but like all gangsters he must support and put the interests of "the family" first. Thus, my only "hope" has and continues to be that Barack Obama be a great and influential leader who has the interests of "the family" (our global family) in mind.

I never believed Barack Obama would be perfect. However, I do believe he has proven himself to be a great President over these first 100 Days and I count myself as someone who continues to support his efforts. There will be many recaps of the past 100 Days throughout the media, so the below is my take (and how I've decided to waste this Wednesday morning) on President Obama's progress report - thus far.

On his first day in office, President Obama issued an Executive Order reversing the "Global Gag Rule" implemented by former President Bush, which prevented federal funding to foreign establishments that allow abortions. President Obama also announced on his first day, the closing of Guantanamo Bay Detention camp, which was also a reversal of the former Administration's policies.

President Obama then requested the passage of the State Children's Health Insurance Program (SCHIP), which will provide health care coverage for children whose family's do not make enough to pay for insurance but make a large enough income to not meet Medicaid requirements. Way to look out for the "middle class" (which your critics say you have apparently overlooked).

President Obama signed into law a $787 billion dollar Stimulus Package. Now, this "Stimulus Package" is something I've been relectant to even comment on. After all, I (like many "average" Americans) know very little about economics. However, I know enough to know it seems to have come down to the same evil greed heads ripping poor people off like always. The bankers and investment banks guided by laisez faire Neoliberalism have for the past 20 years, acted as if they could sell-off the planet and all it's valuable/limited resources (including human capital) as if they would never have to pay anything back. Now, with the current global economic downturn (alongside the surmounting environmental crisis) it has become all the rage to talk accountability. Thus, even though things are going bad (and could likely get worse), it is at least sobering to hear Obama enforcing a more frugal economic stance that is intended to better hold investors and company heads accountable for their actions.

Of course a large part of the Economic Stimulus Package is intended to create jobs through federally funded development projects. Personally, I have not seen any of these projects and I have also not seen a lot of news reports highlighting these "new jobs" or "green projects"; however, there is a really great homepage that does at least provide news, graphs, and a way to see how these funds are being spent. This is another thing I like about the Obama Presidency - transparency. Obama has now made it the norm for government to use technology to keep the public updated on its progress. Whether or not this homepage and all that it says is bullshit, is up to us to see with our own eyes, ears, and wallets.

I'm also impressed by the way Obama continues to speak about the problems with the environment. His promotion of green jobs and projects is a step in the right direction; nevertheless, I believe more needs to be done and fast. It will take more than speeches to stop the ocean levels from rising - it will take massive sacrifice, something Obama has not initiated. Likely, because he too foolishly believes other problems are more pressing. Big mistake.

I'm also glad President Obama has suggested holding Bush Administration officials accountable for their torture memos. After all, if "The United States does not torture", than anyone who initiated or approved such "enhanced interrogation techniques" should be put on trial and punished for treason. I understand Obama would like to "move forward", but he cannot do so properly until those who committed crimes in the past are dealt with properly.

Regarding National Defense, Obama has called for the reduction and elimination of nuclear proliferation; however, he also said that the total elimination of atomic bombs "may not happen in my lifetime". I read this statement as a clever cop-out; after all, if this won't happen in his lifetime, than that means Obama intends for America (and its allies) to keep its weapons while preventing others from gaining access to them. I would like Obama to be more forceful on abolishing all nuclear weapons.

In other good news, the Defense Department has been instructed to eliminate its big budget and useless defense contracts. However, I would (like all hippie liberal peaceniks) prefer to see more cut from the defense budget and given to schools instead. I'm also in support of the reduction and withdrawal of combat troops from Iraq. After all, I never supported the Iraq war and hope that "moving forward" the government will recognize it is our responsibility to rebuild the sovereign nation of Iraq it, subsequently, helped destroy (i.e. "liberate").

Of course, Obama has ordered a "redeployment" of troops to Afghanistan. I do not support any escalation of troops in Afghanistan, but hope that Obama's intent is to engage enemy extremists through special operations units instead of massive amounts of wasteful ground troops. For now, to be continued... After all, lets be honest, the United States wants to see Osama Bin Laden's head on a stick.

Finally, I'm inspired by the Obama model of "direct Presidential diplomacy" with world leaders in action. Those who've criticized Obama for meeting with Hugo Chavez, Castro, etc. are foolish detractors who unfortunately suffer from a USA superiority complex. We are all citizens of this planet, it is nice to see our President understands this as well. The best way to avoid any escalation of violence is through dialogue, when dialogue breaks down, all is lost.

Phew! Well, the above rant from this liberal, elitist, New Yorker may be a rather unlettered, misinformed, vague ramble; however, I believe it shows that within the last 100 Days, Obama has done much and we should feel empowered to know our President is not only "moving forward", but confronting the many problems that have gone ignored for so long. Admittedly, there are many things I neglected to talk about in this screed: Iran, Palestine/Israel, Stem Cell research (which I'm glad to see approved), etc. etc. Thus, Obama has many issues to juggle at once; fortunately, he has done so, thus far, without pissing me off.

Keep up the good work Mr. President - the world is watching.

(Note: I admit, I've fallen for the propaganda and bought into brand Obama. Just like I'm excited about my Mac, so I am for "Our President". Chris Hedges is a smarter man than me, which is why he writes for a living and I only continue to placate the systems of power I subsequently profit from. Nevertheless, "I got my fist/I got my plan/I got survivalism.")

Forget 4/20/1999

2009-04-21T17:51:00.009-04:00

Happy 420!

Hopefully everyone, spent their day in an enhanced/altered state? I know I did. When I finally got home, I smoked a bowl and decided to dig into my spring cleaning. However, while sorting through my old boxes of art, writing, photographs and news clippings, I came across a paper from 4/21/1999, which made me remember - 4/20 isn't just "marijuana day" (especially in America). 4/20 is also significant since it was on 4/20/1999 that Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold killed 12, wounded 23 others, and finally turned their guns on themselves in what would become known as the Columbine High School massacre.

Admittedly, the remembrance of that day had already been force-fed into my perview all afternoon while perusing the headlines and news sites. In fact, all of this "remembering" made me a little annoyed by the way we continue to find some sort of strange satisfaction with tragic incidents. Long story short: there are so many atrocities throughout history, what events we choose to "remember" or "never forget" say much about what kind of historical narrative we continue to create.

For American pot smokers, "420" is already a pretty hard day to celebrate
properly (unlike our more liberal friends to the north). It's bad enough we're not allowed to smoke in public or to even admit we smoke weed to others. (I've obviously opted otherwise). On top of all this, it's a real DRAG we have to also put down our pipes, blunts, and bongs for some silly "moment of silence". After all, if we're to define Eric and Dylan as "terrorists", than why remember them at all? Why further celebratize and glorify these killers? After all, isn't that what they wanted?

I propose we forget 4/20/1999 and return this glorious day back to it's rightful roots - smoking up! In fact, maybe if Eric and Dylan had taken up glass blowing, they never would have built all those bombs? Eric and Dylan should have smoked weed (maybe weed wasn't as easy to get a hold of as guns)? If they had, they would have been great cartoonists or shockrockers; instead they'll always be little angry white punks - shame.

For the faithful and morbid souls who opt to continue wallowing in Eric and Dylan's bloodshed, I wish you the best as you continue to vicariously "feed on tragedy".

The New School - Occupied!

2009-04-17T10:26:00.008-04:00

Last Friday, 19 students broke into one of The New School's buildings and occupied the space for several hours. Outside, news vans, police helicopters, and an army of NYPD police gathered. Earlier that morning, New School President, Bob Kerrey called the NYPD and requested the students be removed from the building and that "we still remember 9/11 around here." By the end of the ordeal, 22 people were arrested and a rather incriminating tape made it online showing obvious NYPD brutality against students.

This is the second time students occupied 65 5th Avenue. The first time was back in December when students were demanding the same thing they're demanding now - the resignation of President Bob Kerrey and Vice President James Murtha. President Kerrey came to The New School nine years ago and has from day-one stood in direct odds with this institution's founding principles of progressive and leftist politics. His comments equating the student protesters to 9/11 terrorists is only one such example of his out-of-touch leadership. A bloody history of murdering civilians in Vietnam is another. However, the primary reason students want change at The New School (andCUNY and NYU) isn't just to change the narcissistic decision makers in power, but to change the corporatization of academia itself.

It should be noted that the building students occupied has been at the center of Univerisity contention for the past year. It was initially shutdown so as to begin construction of a new "signature building"; unfortunately, construction of this new building has been delayed (likely, because of the current global economic downturn) but not before the Administration had decided to move faculty offices, student study spaces, the library, and classrooms to scattered (less comfortable) locations around the original building's vicinity. Thus, 65 Fifth Avenue has become a symbol of the Kerrey Administration's preference to put ambitous capitalists' goals before more pragmatic academic needs. There are even rumors floating around campus that the new "signature building" will have the same amount of space as the original and that much of the ground floors will be used for retail stores and condos.

As someone who is both an alumnus of The New School and now works here as an administrator, I feel at odds with this situation. I understand the complicated decisions that must go into running an institution the size of The New School (and obviously, those decisions aren't always going to make everyone happy); however, another part of me is extremely frustrated by the heavy administrative overhead and wasteful excess I see around me everyday. I believe more resources should be directed to the students than to the administration. After all, higher education is far too expensive; thus, students are correct in demanding to know where their money is going.

Universities should be more transparent with their budgets. Academia is a unique place where students are taught to become active, educated, and democratic citizens. Thus, a higher education should not be designated for the elite alone. There are certainly larger issues these students are bringing-up, I think now is a good time to hear such issues out and discuss them as we begin charting-out our academic futures.

Keep on....

"The Dead Weather"

2009-04-15T15:52:00.005-04:00

Last night, The Dead Weather played their first public show to a sold out Bowery Ballroom. Alison Mosshart (The Kills), Jack White (The White Stripes), Dean Fertita (Queens of the Stone Age) and Jack Lawrence (The Raconteurs) came together to not only create one of the most anticipated acts of the year, but sounded REALLY FUCKING GOOD! My good friend Kristi would even go so far as to call them "the resurrection of rock and roll!" I'm not sure I'd go so far as that (of course, I've never believed rock was dead) but I would go so far as to call last night's concert - historic.

The Dead Weather's set was amazing. Their combination of groovy keyboard riffs, grungy affected vocals, and sick guitar/bass riffs were enough to get any rock and roller or jaded hipster to bang their head and dance.

For most of the short set, White stayed on drums singing back-up, which was smart; especially since he was sharing the stage with the super sleek and savage Mosshart. I'm a big fan of The Kills and continue to be amazed by Mosshart's intensity and evolving charismatic stage presence. When her hair is not covering her face, her eyes stare glaringly into the crowd. With one leg propped-up on an amp and the other gripping her microphone, there's no doubt Mosshart is aware of her appeal. She also doesn't shy away from her badass rockstar fashion. While security shined flashlights onto fans smoking in the crowd, Mosshart billowed clouds of smoke from stage in clear disregard of New York smoking laws.

At one point, White came out from behind the drums to play guitar and share the microphone with Mosshart. The audience was mesmerized by their harmonic, defiant, and sexy performance. The Dead Weather's first concert was music history in the making, not only because of the talent assembled on stage, but because their set was obviously so formidable there' s no place for this band to go but up. I wish I could find the words to properly describe the feeling of hearing their sound for the first time, but leave that to the experts at Rolling Stone. For now, I eagerly await their first album, Horehound, to hit my Ipod June 9th so that I can continue to rock and write on.

Praise the Word!

2009-04-08T14:50:00.007-04:00

In an attempt to block this horrible case of writer's block, I MUST write for an hour every day. After all, I have no excuse for doing anything less, if I can somehow schedule Emailing, texting, and jerking-off
into my valuable time, then certainly I can program these rusty old wings to write more. So, write on!

My first step in curing my lazy lack of creation is to utilize my email as a sort of back-and-forth conversation with myself. ...Why not? I mean, I type ad-nasum with so many others all day, everyday, so, I should at least give a little back to my brain. Second step, break my daydreaming sessions and frozen moments of information paralysis. Instead of over-analyzing and thinking-through every utterance I must seize the moment and act. I need to write my OWN story, instead of enabling the stories of Others. I also must stop spending so much time overthinking that last sentence or word choice and trust my instincts. WORK SMARTER! NOT HARDER! Lastly, I decide to briefly "bullet-point" the thoughts I acquire through my travels instead of over-thinking these ideas and seeing each as a mammoth project, I should approach these little "notes to myself" as nothing more than that so that the real projects in life don't get bogged-down by little scattered tid-bits of accumulated mindless musings. Just spit the damn thoughts out! Stop getting so backed-up in bullshit! For instance, these thoughts go onto pieces of scrap paper, pile-up, then I toss them out. Thus, I've been treating my own thoughts like trash. No more. I can still toss the scraps away, but at least I will now make sure to keep the real beef. Now, before thowing these thoughts out I will toss/post them onto this steaming technological trash heap - the internet. I will, like La Guardia, "Make my way through these damn piles!"

My thoughts are NOT trash. They may be nonsense, gibberish musings, but no more trash than the countless others uttering thoughts onto this same collective digital Mainframe. So let us build Babel! Art is Resistance.

- My friend Rosey recently advised me to "Black Out". Not blackout as in a power failure or get so drunk you "blackout", but "Black Out", i.e "Man Up", "Step Up", "Move on Up", "Get Uppity". It was nice to be reminded of this so bluntly. I need to stop "Crying over spilt milk." Time is spilt milk.
I have grey hair. Move it. No more hesitation. I must make my own art,
before others totally manipulate it for me.

- This past weekend, while grinding my way through yet another smarmy
performance of Lyrics and Lyricists at the 92/Y, I read an article about George Carlin. In the article, he advises a young comic to "keep writing, always." Duh! Carlin also showed this comic how he organized "thousands of idea files." Smart. As if that wasn't enough motivation to get to it... Last night, while working an event with Carol Liefer and Jerry Seinfeld, Leifer reflected on Seinfeld's ability to "always write for at least an hour everyday. While everyone else was just fucking off."

Reading back over the above lines, I realize my writing is not crisp. It is
tough and gnarled, filled with savage structural errors. Should I post? ...
Damn right I should. Don't hesitate - get past this zero hour, fill the blank page. I must make this a habit. One hour a day - no excuses. My writing will get better. I can regain my focus. Failure is my own fault. This confessional rant is my immolation and salvation.

Praise the Word!

2009-01-20T13:40:00.003-05:00

"We come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn-out dogmas that for far too long have strangled our politics."

"What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them -- that the stale political arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply."

- Barack Obama, 44th President of the United States

Na Na Na Na - Na Na Na Na - Heh! Heh! Heh! - Goodbye!

2009-01-15T21:27:00.015-05:00

Outgoing President Bush bid farewell to the Nation last night. Those who tuned-in to watch W's smirking, awkward cold grin and folksiness for one last time, saw the concluding episode of a Presidency that had become a very bad sitcom long-overdue for cancellation. In some way, it was (like these past eight years) painful to watch Bush desperately try to assure us America was "better" and "safer" from his tenure in office. Especially, since his face was unable to conceal the many lies and obvious pain buried underneath.

Bush said nothing new to the American people last night. But, why would he? After all, there's no good way to justify incompetence and outright villiany. Instead, Bush painted himself out to be the lone cowboy. The outsider. An unpopular heroic father-figure, who always knew better than his foolishly misguided children about the big "difficult" decisions of the world. But the only person Bush was still trying to fool was himself. We gave up on him long ago.

Admitedly, Bush opted-out of using his signature arrogance and swagger that had so characterized previous speeches. In fact, at one point, Bush even looked like he was going to break-down and cry. And who would blame him? After all, he fucked-up - big time. Maybe a part of him realized rhetoric will never erase his ruinous record? Sure, the decisions he made were "difficult", but perhaps they could have been a lot easier if guided by logic and reason instead of stupid fear and stubborn blind faith?

W's closing remarks stuck to the theme of his presidency - 9/11. Bush said,"This evening, my thoughts return to the first night I addressed you from this house, September 11, 2001. ...As the years passed, most Americans were able to return to life much as it had been before 9/11. But I never did." ...No. ...No, he didn't. In fact, the biggest criticism I have of the Bush presidency is the way it fetishized 9/11 for it's own imperial gains and never tried to heal the nation's wounds. Bush instead used 9/11 every chance he could as if he was pouring lemon juice on a wound. The attacks were a tragedy, but Bush also still pretends "America did nothing to seek or deserve this conflict." ...Wrong. American foreign policy has created many enemies and Bush's decisions have likely only created more.

The propaganda Bush fed to Americans over the past eight years tried to paint America as some "innocent" bystander who has always only been here to help. Such rhetoric works for feeble minds too weak and/or scared to admit they're not perfect. But, to be fair, this attitude is only a coping mechanism; after all, a heroic explanation to account for the death of the many who served in the armed forces or who died on 9/11 is easier to process than to admit and associate such deaths with the same greedy gangsterism that has defined American foreign policy since its inception. Ultimately, isn't this the real function of propaganda? To make us believe something we know is false?

I admit, some sick part of me will miss Bush. Sure, he was a crook, bumbling fool, war crimminal, croney, and hypocrite; however, he (as Richard Nixon was for the late Dr. Thompson) - never let me down. I always knew he would fuck things up and he did. But I won't miss him that much; after all, I would rather be surprised by a President who could actually make things better than to suffer through one I know never will.

So, farewell Mr. President, looks like we "misunderestimated" you after all. Let us now hope History will tell your story and truly give it the justice it deserves!

“No time in ‘09”

2009-01-02T14:16:00.005-05:00

By Nicholas Allanach

“If you wait too long for the perfect moment, the perfect moment will pass you by.”

There's no time to waste musing on all that might have been or all that may be – there’s only now. I recognize my only option for greater personal evolution is to work harder, be totally honest, and continue to trust my instincts are correct. 2008 flew by with an even greater intensity than the year before that; thus, I anticipate 2009 to be an even faster flash in human history and, if I still hold any hope of being heard in this great cacophony of creation, I damn well better stop all this lecherous intoxication and get to it!

"The Great '08" was indeed magnificent; admittedly, everything that happened over the past twelve months (and those that now slip into the New Year) are not perfect. Of course, who really has the time to stop, reassess, or evaluate these events that have and continue to unfold (particularly when not being paid to do so)? Accordingly, I’m animated by a frantic almost euphoric energy that tries to idealistically outpace the frustrating limitations of this body, time, and bank account. Last month, I turned 30 and, admittedly, I've spent many wasted hours, since then (and perhaps even a little bit before), staring dumb at a blank computer screen biting my nails, lost in some "mid-life" musings on dumb decisions, wasted adventures, and dreams unfulfilled.

Despite battling being broke, and working two jobs in this machine of a city to survive—my life’s adventure is far from over and I still consider myself “wealthy”. Besides, being hungry for success is the best motivation one can have to really focus on this life’s work. Regardless, I’d be a hopeless, stubborn, and overly-idealistic fool if I were to pretend this life has not already passed certain irreversible phases and moments that can not be changed. But I shall waste no time on regrets, these things made me who I am, and I must not forget - no two journeys are ever the same.

So where are we at the close of this great year? Well, as I write, an “unseasonably warm” weather front rolls through New York. Next week, Wall Street will re-open from the holiday break after a year that proved the limitation and failures of the Capitalist system. As I ate my breakfast, I read the news to see hopes for peace in Gaza are currently being shot to hell by Israeli air strikes that will likely escalate into a land war. I then read about a man who dressed-up as Santa Claus and shot-up a holiday party before setting the house on fire. Basically, nothing has really changed in this crazy, weird, war-filled world; but we still keep our eyes on the future in hopes of a better day; accordingly, this year was not all bad; however, the optimism of an Obama Administration taking-over Washington next month will confront many problems that will not be resolved by one man alone - it will take us all to solve these issues. Again, here we are, balancing on a knife’s-edge, between a sustainable future for all humanity or a bleak, violent, and scary one.

As far as things in my own life are concerned, I’m only worried about not having any money and not getting enough done during the limited free time I have. I do not need to worry about my home (even if it is a small one bedroom in East Harlem). I do not worry about a job, (despite recent developments at The New School, my position still seems to be pretty secure). And –most importantly—I’m fortunate for a host of loving friends and family who I would now like to thank separately for all they have done for me this past year…

Nate and Chrissy: Congrats to you both on the new house and much love and light for your healthy and brilliant new summer arrival! Thank you both for all the summer BBQs, bonfires, and boat trips. Dad and Ben: Even though we didn’t get to see each other this past year, I look forward to my upcoming North West adventure. It will be nice to see the Vancouver gang again! Thanks for listening Dad and being the best advisor/friend a young man could ever have. Ethan: Keep up the good fight little nephew, the road ahead is tough and fast, but there are many people who love you very much. Mom: For enduring and doing your best with what you got. I know life is tough, but I hope happiness is not so distant for you in this New Year. Denise: Thanks again for the late night rambles, lady advice, and slamming food – if it wasn’t for you, this artist would have truly starved long ago. Kristi: This may have not been the “Great ‘08”, but we’re still here, and the future is as only as free as we make it. Thanks for bailing me out when I was about to drown and for always encouraging people to be the best they can be. Jesse: Even though the war criminal is still in power; hopefully, we’ll be able to actually start getting done some real projects in ’09 to make more ripples in this already stormy sea. Nadir: It’s been a year of struggle and change. Despite this, you remain a right honorable gentleman, even with your penchant to be “a common opportunist”. Mark: Good luck teaching in Iraq, I look forward to reading about your adventures when you find the time to write about them, and to see you stateside this summer. Dan: Congrats on your recently published article and despite all the heat you faced from those who wanted to make you what you’re not this year – “don’t take any guff from those swine!” Rachael: Thanks for making the Mon. – Fri. routine as tolerable as two hippies can. Sorry for being a grouch when I am, but as the late George Carlin said,“Scratch the surface of any cynic and you’ll find a disappointed idealist.” Indeed, and at least the flag of the double-thumbed freak fist still hangs proud over West 12th Street! Jeff: Who knows what ’09 will throw at you? At least you’ve proven yourself capable of rolling with the punches and knowing when to hit back. Fuck conforming to what others want to make of you - make yourself! E.E. Cummings once said: “To be nobody-but-yourself – in a world which is doing its best, night, and day to make you somebody else –means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.” Julia: for the laughs, V-man pizza, and keeping it real under the Big Top - Ha! Ha! Jim: For the long distance creative inspiration and possibility of future Baltimore artistic organizing! Aman: Great to make a new friend this past year that truly understands, appreciates, and worships the awesomeness of Batman and Nine Inch Nails as much as me. Sung: Congrats on your graduation from The French Culinary Institute – good luck in the restaurant business! Nancy: Thanks for the opportunity to work at the 92nd Street Y, for being a friend, and proving it is possible to juggle many interests at once. Rigo and Tom: for being great friends that often feel more like family. To my Maine peeps (and to those on the West Coast too): you were all in my heart and mind this past year and although we didn’t get to meet-up, I hope some day, when I’m rich enough to own my own island, we will have a raucous reunion once again! Ian: Thanks for coming down to the city “you hate” this summer - at least I know you love it enough to eat fried chicken in Harlem before dancing with punks at a Mindless Self Indulgence show. Matt: Nice rambling and partying with you at the close of the year, good luck in Paris, and keep it Johnny Mac! Ena: thank you for being so amazing and for lighting up my dark night with your brilliant Starshine! I look forward to our New Year and hope that whatever adventures we share together, our “friendship” will only continue to evolve and grow in simple happiness.

No time in ’09 gang – so, let’s get to it!

"Good" (with Viggo Mortensen)- Film Review

2008-12-11T16:31:00.006-05:00

By Nicholas Allanach

When attempting to understand the atrocities of Nazi Germany, it’s easy to blame the political thugs and propagandists of Nazism; unfortunately, such an understanding is not only limited because it overlooks the “little Eichmanns” but also fails to acknowledge the many “good” people who benefitted from the upbeat and positive aspects of National Socialism. The mind prefers to comprehend difficult subjects as clearly divided into “good” vs. “evil” binaries; however, this is rarely the case in reality. Accordingly (like any historical period), nineteen thirties Germany was made-up of average “good” people who may have not supported the Reich, but nevertheless, benefitted from the opportunity and wealth associated with this prevailing power structure.

“Good” (directed by Vicente Amorim and starring Viggo Mortensen) opens December 31st to ask - “Anything that makes people happy can't be bad can it?”

To answer this, “Good” follows the journey of a well-mannered literary professor John Halder (Mortensen), who selflessly and devotedly takes care of his neurotic wife, children, and senile mother. Exploring his personal circumstances, Halder writes a novel about compassionate euthanasia. At first, Halder is resistant to “join the party”, but after Halder’s novel is enlisted by the Nazis to be used as propaganda, he joins and soon becomes a very successful wealthy man. Meanwhile, Halder begins to entertain an affair with one of his students, who asks - “Wouldn’t it be nice to remove all these old dusty books from your shelf and have a fresh start?”

Indeed, Halder gets his “fresh start”: he leaves his wife, sends the kids off to “camp”, hires a caretaker for his mother and shacks-up with his blonde-haired, blue-eyed, Aryan bombshell. But at what costs comes this “fresh start”? Although things are going “good” for Halder, he cannot evade the bad reality that is the increasing persecution of his longtime Jewish friend and psychologist. Halder tries to defend his decision to join the Reich to his friend as along the lines of “one must become a part of power to change power”. Ultimately, Hadler realizes he cannot change anything and that power has already defined who is “bad” and who is “good”.

What I found most compelling about Amorim’s “Good” was this subject of power defining who is “good” and who is “bad”, despite their actions, and what the individual can or cannot do to change it. The elite are often guilty of ignoring their involvement with the same violent and evil system of power they subsequently benefit from. The old adage - “will you bite the hand that feeds you?” comes to mind. Because of its subject, I don’t believe “Good” will do well at the box-office, nor among the critics. After all, it doesn’t take much for us to see that the same blind opportunism embraced by Halder as a Nazi can be comparable to the same blood-stained benefits many Americans benefit from on a daily basis. Just because we don’t see the blood of the slaughterhouse, doesn’t mean it doesn’t occur, but it makes it easier for us to eat the meat.

Some viewers might think “Good” is an awkward movie because it doesn’t let the audience off the hook, which I believe works in favor of the overall narrative. True, there is no catharsis - Halder is a part of the same system he once rejected, but now embraces because it is to his benefit. We leave the theatre still wanting him to reject Nazism or to turn into a total monster so he can be rejected; but there is neither. Thus, Hadler gives the appearance of being a “good” person, but, because his “goodness” is a part of a larger evil he can never be truly “good”. Accordingly, anyone who benefits from larger systems of power should also be able to relate to this story (I know I did) and will hopefully take-away from it an understanding that we’re all part of these systems and that our only hope of changing them (for the “good” of all) is by acknowledging our own involvement with these structures and admiting - the benefits we reap are often stained in other’s blood.

No one is "Good". There are choices that make us who we are.

The NEXT Four Years

2008-11-12T12:41:00.004-05:00

By Nicholas Allanach

“Obama!” I yelled between claps, “Wooooz!”, and “Awww Yeaz!” I felt like some die-hard sport’s fan, celebrating the win of a team whose victory had truly been - a long time coming.

While walking through New York’s Canyon of Commercialism this past Election Night, I thought about “teams” and what “games” they play. The team I celebrated with in Midtown was just as loud and enthusiastic as the one I later pounded drums with while howling in the streets of East Harlem. However, I tried to push away the comfortable illusion we were all in this together and that all teams were celebrating tonight. No, despite the giddiness of the crowds and love within the hugs and claps from friends, I knew such sentiments were not shared by all and that the President-elect (as well as those who voted for him) had a lot of work ahead to bring any significant “change” to Washington.

Obama brought-up a lot of good points in Chicago’s Grant Park the other night, but the one that resonated the loudest with me was that – “the true genius of America is that America can change. Our union can be perfected. What we've already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.” …Nice. But now that the campaign is done, what will this “change” be and how will our union “be perfected”? After all, one team’s idea of “what we…must achieve tomorrow” will not be the same as others. In fact, some teams will flat-out reject another’s idea of “perfection”. Does this mean one team is more correct than another? ...Definitely, especially if they have the interests of the total human population and planet in mind - but only time can tell for sure.

I realize there’s currently an environment of cynicism and distrust of government, and rightfully so. After all, much of the emotional catharsis witnessed on election night is much because of people feeling a sense of relief that these past eight years are now behind us. Unfortunately, all of the problems that administration created will not go away come January 20th. One of the first concerns of the new administration (arguably caused and left over from the current) will be the economic “crisis” and, of course, there will be opposing teams vying to define how this issue should be resolved.

This past weekend, I got into the middle of a heated debate between one player for the capitalist’s team (i.e. “Obama rules!”) vs. a player for the communist’s team (i.e. “Obama's fake!”) regarding Obama’s recent vote in the Senate to “bailout” failing Wall Street investment banks. The Communist believed government should let the failing firms bottom-out so as to illustrate the failures of laisez-faire capitalism. Whereas the Capitalist, believed a bailout is necessary to bolster investor confidence and prevent any further damage to an already vulnerable economy. I support Obama, but count myself as one who supports him would like to to think "change" is coming to Washington, and it will be a change that finally curbs the capitalist's highly destructive greed. Unfettered Friedmanite capitalism, operates under the foolish assumption it can continue to exploit and consume human and natural resources as if there will not be any reprecussions - this is suicide. We must curb our greedy appetites.

Of course, I’m not surprised by Obama’s vote for the bailout; after all, he plays on the team of the capitalists and has a history with investment banks. Accordingly, it may have been political suicide for Obama to vote no. Unlike my more idealistic friends, I suppose I can imagine the limitations placed on anyone in his position of power. I do not pretend to be privy on much of the esoteric rhetoric of the economy; which is why I hope we will begin to not only deconstruct it but redefine it.

Sure, like many ignorant Americans, I “hope” our elected officials make prudent decisions for us all. I realize this is naïve. A diet of “hope” will not satiate the challenges we face. For now, "hope" is all we got.

What I find exciting about such debates, and the current political climate, is that these discussions are happening. It's refreshing to hear discourse emboldened by strong ideas. I am relieved to see the potential for a pragmatic discourse, energized by a new President, concerned with solving more problems in Washington, instead of creating more.

Obama’s campaign stirred-up a lot of emotions and passions; accordingly, such an environment can be exciting, but also dangerous. Debate is how we establish greater and more evolved understandings. Obama’s election talk of “change” was intentionally left open-ended. "Yes We Can!" can mean anything and also makes the speaker feel good. The electorate can project their own ideas of "change" onto a much broader campaign. Now that this campaign is over, there'll inevitably be a lot of disappointed people. But heh, are we really so naize to think this new opportunity to change history is going to be easy?

I voted for Obama and, like many, am extremely inspired by the idea and possibility of beneficial and peaceful “change” coming to Washington. Nevertheless, I will still try to be as critical of this administration as I would any other.

A former professor used to say, “politics is like sex: either jump in bed with who you want, or jerk-off!” An admittedly crude way to suggest - “pick a side”. I suppose I'm in bed with Obama. Does this mean I do not have criticisms of my partner’s performance? Or that I will blindly support any and all decisions this new administration makes? No. That’s not how my team plays the game.

Although I’m excited, inspired, and relieved by the upcoming Obama presidency, I realize he's just as involved in the larger machinery as any other politician. But I look forward now to the future with less fear, (which is more than I can say for the future I might have had had this election gone to the McCain/Palin ticket). I’m also looking forward to the debates, because I realize this discourse is essential to a true democratic society and integral to our evolving consciousness of this world and the role we play in it.

I welcome the evolution of not only our nation’s identity, but my own as it is challenged and redefined with each new day and new debate.

2008-09-05T00:03:00.001-04:00

American voters will make a choice in November, they will either pick the same xenophobic, environmentally destructive, religiously guided policies of the Republican Party, or, they will vote “Change” and vote Obama/Biden ’08.

“Country First”? What a foolish and ridiculous way to approach a global economy.

I’m not alone and trust others out there, like me, hope the intelligent people of this “free” nation will not be fooled by the same nationalistic war-mongering policies of the Republican Party. I trust we will stop fighting and begin creating real solutions to our many complex global problems.

The Republicans have insulted and raped our best values and principles for eight long years, we cannot allow them any more. When will we understand we do not need to “fight” for anything? Fighting is so ignorant and harmful. When will we evolve? When will we learn war gets us nowhere but a “dank dirty cell”?

The Republican campaign for the presidency wants more war and further racist aggressions on the people and lands of this planet. If America wants these principles to define us, then we will vote McCain/Palin ‘08. If America wants to optimistically and realistically affect the future for the better, it will vote Obama/Biden ‘08

McCain claims he wants a “lasting peace.” I trust his sincerity, and am well aware of his history, but I don’t believe he can ever achieve peace through his hunger for more war. His administration will only make this world more violent, impoverished, and extreme so that the Republican Party may continue consolidating its power through Disaster Capitalism. The only way to achieve peace is by acknowledging our problems do not come from outside our borders – they come from within – from our anger, ignorance, and fear.

America cannot continue its path of isolation. The world has changed. We must accept we are not all guided by “one God.” We’re guided by many (or in the case of this writer – none at all). These many many voices share one similarity –we’re all human and all rely on one fragile planet.

America must listen and work with the world so that we can start solving our problems together fast – before it’s too late.

Get out the vote! Obama/Biden ‘08!

I am the Great Destroyer

2008-08-25T14:54:00.002-04:00

By Nicholas Allanach

A virus takes hold and fills us with bitterness, anxiety, and doubt. The first symptom is boredom, then our inspiration goes, and finally – depression. Of course, an inundation of war, poverty, and irritating bureaucratic procedures is enough to squash any spirit into submission - or not. “I am the great destroyer” and the only way to liberate myself from this horribly bland reality is to CREATE! CREATE! CREATE!

We come into this world curious and inspired. Beautiful children full of energy and potential, the future is open to infinite possibilities. Everything fascinates. But eventually, life wears us down. Our smiles become snarls. Sparkling eyes turn into scowls. What once amused becomes mundane. We stop laughing as much as we used to. We avoid risks and opt for hesitation. Keep busy and find comfort in the routine.

I would like to say I’ve not succumbed to such poisonous thought patterns, but I have. Sometimes, I find relief from the symptoms of this sickness through a cynical sense of humor, speckled with sighs of exasperation. I try to stay optimistic, but this reality has a way of perpetuating pessimism – so I run with it.

This week, I was promoted to “Assistant Director of Academic Affairs” at The New School; subsequently, I’m now more entrenched in this administrative office environment. But I suppose this isn’t all bad? In fact, it’s pretty damn good. After all, I have health insurance, retirement and –most importantly— work in a setting that encourages creativity, learning, and thinking. Nevertheless, success can become a habitual addiction that slowly eats away at one’s creativity and future ambitions. I will continue to ensure my view of success is not defined by how much money I make, but through how much time I can spend being creative and actually living an adventurous life, which admittedly (and unfortunately) requires money to do. What a dilemma!

Accordingly, this weekend, I had a conversation with my girlfriend about accepting that we are all “paradoxes”. Subsequently, I am a paradox. In one moment, I want to escape from the limitations and requirements of this American/capitalist existence; whereas in the other, I want to “enjoy my symptom” and enjoy all of the really cool stuff this materialist lifestyle manufactures off the blood of the earth. I suppose The Faint said it best, “Every time I move I’m in another dimension”; thus, we’re constantly growing and changing ("forever growing centipedes") and thus always wrestling with the conflicting aspects of our individual and collective experience.

I suppose some things remain consistent about my perspective. Despite my paradoxical nature, I accept uncertainty. I value love, creativity, and happiness. I do not believe in chance or coincidence. I do not believe in God. I believe humans are innately “good” and that it is the systems of power and ideology that turn us into cruel, ruthless, and sorry sacks of shit. Accordingly, since we are humans who are innately “good” it is our responsibility to become more conscious, and more evolved, so that the systems of power we create are used for beneficial purposes not destructive.

Wilhelm Reich was right, we need to regain our childlike nature.

To be cont…

“Blah! Blah! Blah! Ramble on! All talk no solutions.” – the cynic

FOCUS

2008-07-23T16:32:00.001-04:00

It’s been difficult to focus on any serious projects this summer. In fact, the only thing I’ve been able to do (and do successfully) is have a good time. “All I want to do is get off” sang the Dandy Warhols, and why not? After all, we’ve been calling this “the best summer ever” or, “B.S.E.”, for short. So it’s natural to want to have fun and forget about projects and plans. Nevertheless, as I approach this final week of July, I look back on a calendar of scrawls and scribbles –plans made, plans cancelled, new plans scheduled—and I cannot help but feel frustrated by the expensive cost of all this activity –my focus. Deadlines are gone. So many distractions so little time. I guess once you start getting real serious about actually living life, you find no time for introspective reassessments of your actions –oh well, leave that work to the biographers.

Time to focus. No sense in updating this page. For now, there's nothing to say that hasn't been said better before by others.

-N

Enjoying Our Symptom

2008-07-05T18:14:00.013-04:00

By Nicholas Allanach

“Scratch the surface of any cynic and you’ll find a disappointed idealist.”
– George Carlin

As our train sped back to Penn Station, Ena and I listened to Kayne West on my Ipod, and watched as fireworks burst in the sky over Long Island’s suburban landscape. We had spent the afternoon at my brother’s taking part in the proverbial customs of any backyard 4th of July barbeque: burgers, beer, splashing in the pool, and tossing a football over green grass. It was a good day to be with family and friends, eating copious amounts of food, and being an American.

Although I’m certainly critical of “our American way of life” - I am what I am and cannot ignore the system of power that created and creates me. I acknowledge my privilege, limitations, and perhaps, still idealistically believe this two-hundred and thirty-two year old experiment has not failed and can (like any human organization) be improved upon. Or maybe that’s not true? For although I believe my idealism is not unfound, since it is inspired by the experiences and conversations I’ve had with the people in this country, I still think my idealism is a cop-out. Although I’ve always been angered by injustice, I have also simultaneously supported the same system of production that causes these crimes.

I am both a fatalist and an idealist. I try to be always honest, yet cannot shake my very vocal cynicism. I suppose I am, like America, diseased. But instead of getting all bent-out-of-shape about my sickness I’ve decided to –as Slavoj Zizek prescribes –“Love your symptom.”

Like my country; I’m in debt, unhealthy, and pushing away any and all rationale suggestions to slow down, take it easy, or behave. My disease wants new shoes, fast cars, and beautiful people. There are not enough drugs, alcohol, or non-renewable energy resources for this insatiable appetite to consume. This disease will get what it wants, even if it must infect everything to get it. One can see the infected, because they smile as they kill and make lots of money doing it.

Other countries, such as our neighbors to the north, are beginning to clearly see the symptoms of our sickness. Although I do not know the cure, I can see the disease, and hope we shake it before it shakes us. We can become an America that is weird and wonderful in its idealism, creatively expressive, and concerned with pursuing happiness instead of a restless greedy and maniacal hate. But that is all up to us, assuming the infection hasn’t already infected our will.

Well, just some thoughts I’m having on this post Independence Day. The month has been fast, far more than the last. In fact, as I was jumping and jostling around in a sweaty crowd at last month’s Mindless Self Indulgence concert with my good friend, Ian, from Maine, I couldn’t help but think this frenetic energy just keeps building and will not slow down. Good.

Well, that’s enough rambling with the net for now, wanted to ensure I made at least one report this month. Now, time to get to some of these other projects before the next distraction; or, maybe I’ll go check out a movie?

Enjoying the symptom.
Self-creation through destruction.

nuestro noche en viejo San Juan

2008-06-02T13:06:00.003-04:00

by Nicholas Allanach

I wake from a much-needed nap and squint at sunlight beaming-in through the plane window. Six thousand feet below, a light-blue ocean laps-up against a bright shore. In the distance, low hanging clouds dump sheets of rain onto the plush island of Puerto Rico. As our plane descends over palms, thin roads, and small houses with rusted roofs; a two-year-old girl hanging over the seat in front of me screams and then giggles, sending a mouthful of soggy cookie crumbs out onto my face. I laugh and smile at her youthful mischief as La laguna San Juan, covered by a long bridge lined with Puerto Rican and American flags flying side-by-side, appears on the right side of the plane, to the left, the towering white hotels and large cruise ships of San Juan.
By the time Fail and I get off the plane to collect our luggage, all I want is to check-in to the hotel, shower, change clothes and, hopefully, (assuming there’s enough time) eat food alongside some cold drinks. After all, we hadn’t showered since yesterday and our dark colored thick clothing was an uncomfortable contrast to the light shades of the local’s loose fitting la ropa. Unfortunately, it’d be sometime before we’d be able to change inside any air-conditioning. For now, we’d have to sweat-it-out in this thick humidity while waiting for the rental company’s shuttle.
“Where the fuck is the shuttle?” I gripe to Fail. “The other companies have sent five already. These bastards at Enterprise should buy more buses!”
“Call them. See what’s taking so long.” Fail suggests.
My impatience was mostly from exhaustion. We’d been out the entire night before celebrating Jesse’s graduation with our colleagues, Rachel and Jeff, from the University, where we'd spent most of the unseasonably cool, rainy and windy Brooklyn night warm inside the crowded and energetic Black Betty’s Bar. After many hours of drinking and dancing, we settle our tab and have a final night cap at another place across the street. After a round, our conversation sputters down to a few final laughs. We say farewell to our friends and crash at Fail’s friend’s place for a brief nap before catching our morning flight.
“No answer, just a recording with too many options.” I say hanging-up the phone.
Despite my impatience and crankiness from hunger, I find it easy to push my frustration aside; of course, this would be pretty difficult not to do, since I was standing at the start of a seven-day vacation. I had a whole week to spend away from my full-time job, my part time job, and the monotony of my keyboard confined routine. I breathe in the air and take solace in the fact I’m somewhere other than New York.
The beginning of an adventure in any new place can be disorientating (especially, hung-over). But I was confident I’d be able to regain my balance and adapt to these new surroundings once changed into fresh clothes and after eating some food. Of course a large part of this adaptation required tossing aside any impatience and accepting that things here moved at a different pace. Eventually, the shuttle arrives.
On our drive to the company lot, we stand in the aisle of the crowded bus as it bounces and swerves its way onto an express ramp and highway. Suddenly, I feel my cell phone rumble in my pocket. It’s a text from mi cuento de hadas. “What time do you arrive?”
I respond, “Aqui ahora.” And that “I’ll call once checked-in to the hotel.”

As soon as I pull the full-size white rental car out of the lot and onto the highway, I turn on the radio and hit scan. Channels blast-out a welcome assortment of Raggaeton, Salsa, and Hip-Hop. I drive fast while Fail navigates (a partnership that would sustain throughout our trip’s entirety) to Isla Verde.
We drop the car off with the valet parking attendant and then check-in to the borderline “boutique”, slash, Miami trash San Juan Water Beach Club, located right on a beach filled with locals and tourists sunbathing, swimming, and drinking under umbrellas. We drag our luggage through the garishly blue-hued lobby and onto an elevator that feels more like a fish tank (complete with transparent glass ceiling and wall with built-in fountain). The eighth floor hallway is also blue. We enter our room and the same garish tone welcomes us again, along with a radio blasting Reggaeton. A pair of 3D glasses on the bed -strange. The interior designers of this establishment were obviously on cocaine when dreaming-up such sterile postmodern surroundings. I chuckle then change the synthetic lighting by opening-up the curtains to reveal the sun and busy waterfront of Isla Verde.

I strip out of the sweaty clothes I’d been wearing since starting my night of revelry in Brooklyn. I claim the shower first, then put on a fresh pair of kakis, a light button-up shirt, a pair of white Kenneth Cole’s and top it all off with my new vacation hat. My outfit makes me feel like a drug cartel or some character from a Humphrey Bogart flick.
While Fail showers, I call mi cuento de hadas, who talks with me through her translator. She’s nervous to meet; perhaps because she thinks it’s strange I’m here with three other girls who only speak English? Maybe she’s bored with our long distance game? Or is it something more? Whatever the case, I want to see her and eventually assure her we’ll be able to communicate fine (as we have back in el barrio). She agrees to meet me later that night.
I ecstatically jump up-and-down in the room. I realize I should be cautious about such exuberance, but it’s difficult to curb such emotions.
Fail and I retrieve the car from the valet. Unfortunately, there’s no time to grab a proper bite since we must race back to the airport to retrieve our friends, Donna and Kristi, who arrive on a later flight from JFK. We do manage to choke down some fast food while waiting outside the baggage claim. Once our friends arrive, we return to the hotel so they can freshen-up and we can finally head down to a bar on the beach to eat and toast the start of what was already shaping-up to be a tremendous vacation.

Later that night, I sit at the wet bar on the Water Beach Club’s roof, eating sushi, sipping mojitos, and enjoying the warm breeze that rolls-in off the ocean. The moon grows full in the sky above. I feel like a gangster and must honestly ask myself – how did I get so lucky?
Eventually, mi cuento de hadas calls from downstairs. I take the elevator down to meet her across the street, where she sits in her car. As she rolls down her window, my heart leaps in my chest. What is it about her that so inspires me? I’m not sure, and likely never will. We drop her car off with the valet and then return to the roof. I’m so happy she’s here. It’s nice to feel excited about someone. For a while, I do a good job of speaking Spanish, but my limited vocabulary doesn’t allow me to get to the deeper and heavier conversations I want. Unfortunately, I can’t form the words, so we smoke cigarettes while looking-out onto the ocean. Despite how glad I am to be beside her, I’m still frustrated by the unavoidable and awkward distance between us. Is it just our language or something more? For now, I don’t dwell; instead, I just enjoy her presence.
After a few more rounds, Fail puts my hefty wet bar bill on our room tab. I give a quick smile and farewell to the ultra-hot little black dress wearing waitress and head downstairs to Bianca’s car. We drive through heavy traffic to Old San Juan where the Friday night revelry is just gearing-up.
The thin cobble-stoned streets are alive with energy. Cars blasting music move slow past packed clubs, bars, and chic restaurants. Puerto Rican women wear tight-fitting brightly colored summer dresses with open-toed high-heeled shoes. Men stand inside doorways smoking cigarettes. As Bianca leads us through the streets, I hear everyone speaking Spanish. I wish I had had more time and discipline this past year to focus on Spanish so I could understand what was being said. Of course, I wasn’t missing much; after all, the conversation of these late-night revelers was likely similar to the subject matter of conversations the world over. Nevertheless, I wanted to know more so as to speak this language (her language) fluently. All is a work in progress I suppose.
Bianca leads us up a thin cobble-stoned alley full of people smoking and drinking outside three thumping clubs. We go into one where a band plays salsa on stage as people dance and gyrate on a wooden floor. I press my way through the moving crowd to the bar and buy us a round of Medalla. After a few songs and a beer, Bianca and I step outside to buy a pack of smokes from a small walk-up bar across the street. Inside this “bar” (which is about the size of two minivans) stands a raucous crowd of Puerto Ricans taking shots, listening to loud Reggeaton and smoking. This “bar” is aggressive and gets right to the point. One bartender rapidly pours drinks into plastic cups (so as to be consumed on the street). Occasionally, he stops to take a shot with his clientele. After he pours a drink, he tosses the bottles and beer cans down into a corner already overflowing with broken glass and aluminum. Then, he immediately serves-up the next round.
After we get our cigarettes, we step outside to smoke. I stumble through some brief questions, then Bianca’s phone rings; it’s her friend Luis, who walks up the alley toward us. Luis is a stylish, gay, Puerto Rican filmmaker who speaks both English and Spanish. He shakes my hand and follows Bianca and me into the club where Fail sits listening to music while sipping beer. Now that Luis is here, Bianca talks with him in Spanish, while Fail and I talk in English. After a bit, Bianca starts talking to Fail and Luis, in turn, asks me if “I need anything while I’m here?” I inform him there are some supplies I’ll need for my journey to Isla de Culebra and the El Yunque Rainforest. I tell him that it’d be nice to get them by tonight. He tells me he knows where we can go to get what I’m after and then tells Bianca our plans to score in la perla.
I don’t realize it yet, but la perla is –what Hunter S. Thompson would describe in his The Rum Diary as “a slum so foul it appears on maps of San Juan as a blank spot.” Although much had changed in San Juan since Thompson was here in the late fifties, much had also stayed the same –la perla was one such consistency.
Bianca becomes worried when hearing about my plans to go with Luis, which I think is nice; after all, it not only feels good to be excited about someone, but it’s good to know someone gives a damn about my well-being. Rightfully, Bianca was concerned that this gringo would get pegged a NARC inside a part of town intentionally kept out of tourism brochures. I assure her I’ll be fine and that I will see her soon.
With that, Luis and I leave the bar and walk to la perla. On our way he begins to give me the rundown of “let me do the talking.” I agree. As we approach calle de Norzagaray, we're approached by two men on scooters. They ask us questions in Spanish and then in English. They want to know who I am and how I know Luis.
“Soy Americano.” I state the obvious. “Estoy el vacaciones. El es mi amigo, yo le conoce.” I can’t tell if it’s my terrible Spanish or if they just think I’m a cop, but they give me a strange look.
“Come on, let’s go.” Luis says ignoring the guys on the bikes who let us pass.
I follow my new friend across the street. Although it’s dark, I can hear the ocean on the other side of the large wall that surrounds the old part of the city. The path we’re on begins to slant downward toward a tunnel. On the other side I see colored lights, shadowy figures, and can hear loud thumping music.
When we come-out on the other side, ten young men quickly approach us with open briefcases full of an assortment of drugs. Luis speaks with them and comes away with what we need. I’m amazed by the directness of the purchase and only wish a neighborhood in New York was designated for such activity as it is here. Instead of the immediate accessibility of San Juan, New York filters its drugs through fleets of bike messengers, “corner boys”, and gypsy cabs. All play a pointless game of cat and mouse to get their product to the customer. Of course, when looking at the dramatic difference in the cost of the product in San Juan when compared to the same purchase in New York, one begins to see the “point” of the game – profit.
Luis and I grab some cans of Medalla and take a seat in a small square in the center of the slum decorated with graffiti, murals, and stickers. Groups of people sit around on cement blocks smoking blunts, snorting cocaine, and drinking. Prostitutes stroll the street for johns. I feel like I’m in some scene from the movie “City of God” and wonder how many people here are armed? Luis and I begin to make conversation with the locals. While talking with a few Puerto Ricans, I try to imagine what some of the prudish and high-strung people back in the states would think about such a depraved scene.
Sure, la perla is about escape, addiction, and drugs. And admittedly, the shit-stained walls and overflowing toilet of the “bathroom” in the alley totally illustrates the wretched aspects of this empty lifestyle; but nevertheless, I found something endearing about la perla. I suppose the reason this place was so intriguing to me was because it was still seedy, sketchy, and real. Tourists spend millions every year to vacation in fake sterile and secure spots – Disney, cruises, Las Vegas. But, as The Kills say “I’m tired of cheap and cheerful.” I admit, I wanted the real grit and I found it in one of the few places left in the world where one could still keep it real.
As Luis and I walk back to the bars and clubs of Old San Juan, a few men guarding the other side of the district ask us “Where ya' all going so soon?”
“Ir vea mi cuento de hadas.” I reply. After all, one must have their priorities, even when on vacation.

Hard Knock Life?

2008-05-01T11:33:00.004-04:00

By Nicholas Allanach

“There’s a thin line between heaven and here.” – Bubbles (The Wire)

One hour earlier, I was drinking pitchers of beer and eating raw fish with some friends in the East Village. Now, I was face down on the sidewalk in el barrio, pathetically trying to block strong kicks from three pairs of Nike sneakers. “Motherfucker!” was all I could scream-up at the three teenagers who had decided my stupid grin couldn’t talk its way out of this with smart-ass comments or “yo-man-settle-down” pleas. Any attempt at communication had already failed. Their minds were made-up when they targeted me walking down First Avenue between 117th and 116th Street. They were going to get my money, whether I wanted to give it to them or not.

I suppose the tables had turned? Now, these young bucks had all the power and I was the wretch pummeled by their kicks. Sure, I’ve never attacked anyone and I had certainly never seen these boys in my life. But, in one-way or another – I deserved this beat down.

Likely, my assailants had lived in the neighborhood their whole lives; I’ve only lived here five. Perhaps they were pissed at their crappy schools? Maybe their out-of-work parents beat the fuck out of them? Maybe they were tired of applying for jobs at Wendy’s? Who knows? I didn’t have much time to get to know them since it all happened so fast and aggressively. But I did know this beat-down had something to do with me. But what?

Perhaps, everything; after all, I could not jump out of my fortunate (now targeted) skin. I popped into this world a white boy and it’s how I’ll go out of it. Why shy and lie away from the very real power and privilege of this pigmentation? There’s no such thing as a “white man’s burden” in America. (Unless one considers it a burden to be privileged?) I admit it –I’m the bad guy. My face represents all those new condos sprouting-up in East Harlem as gentrification seeps its way into a neighborhood of predominantly poor people of color.

It only took a couple minutes to unfold. But the pain and ache of the experience lingered all week. It was difficult to focus on work, hard to eat, and I found myself feeling something I’ve always disciplined myself to reject – fear. Fortunately, my friends and family helped heal my bruises with barbeque ribs, cool margaritas, and much-needed love.

Four days later, I stood at the back of the Kauffman Concert Hall of the 92nd Street Y monitoring an audience of rich, white, Republicans (who had actually chosen to suffer through a reading of Laura and Jenna Bush’s new children’s book - “Read all about it”.) Fortunately one of the “ushers gone wild” (UGW) was trying to make me laugh by pinching my ass through the reading, while the other UGW smiled and leaned against my shoulder. But I couldn’t smile. I was still sore from the beat-down and irritated to be stuck standing inside this swarm of Secret Service agents.

As the first lady and her daughter prattled-on about “eating fancy dinners in New Orleans” and the “great public school programs available in New York”, I couldn’t help but think back to the young men who kicked me in the face and snatched my cash. I knew the attack was nothing personal. In fact, if they would have approached me differently, we’d likely have been sipping Hennessy and smoking blunts. Perhaps one day we will? But for now, I had to accept the fact this attack was directed at my privilege. They knew I had money on me - clothes, sneakers, Ipod, and arrogant gate. Admittedly, this doesn’t mean I should resent the many hours I’ve spent working and studying to get what I have; but, I shouldn’t overlook the very real benefits I’ve taken for granted to get here.

Walking through my neighborhood now, I resist the urge to profile everyone around me a potential attacker. Some of my friends and associates have suggested I purchase mace or some other weapon. But I still trust people and can only hope that they can trust me – otherwise this whole fucking ship is sunk.

I only hope those who attacked me recognize there are far more successful ways to “play the game.” The world I’ve come from is one of privilege. Never once should I forget – I’m lucky. (So lucky, that one week later, a woman from el barrio actually found my stolen wallet and returned it to my favorite watering hole.) Despite my challenges in life, I can never compare them to growing-up in someone else’s hood. Despite my struggle, it’s nothing like what many face every day they continue to be silenced by unfair economics, poor fiscal planning, and racist ideologies.

No hate’n 08! …Lest we forget?

Sure, I’m part of the game – we all are. But how we play determines who the winners and losers are. Sure, every game is also tainted with a little luck. Thus, I feel pretty lucky that my loss was only a quick beat down and $35 in the hole. Others lose much more.

I can only wish my attackers won’t lose more by misdirecting their anger and hope they instead focus this energy at the game; instead, of being played by it.

Ω
WE AIN’T BORN TYPICAL: This month New World goes “on vacation” starting tonight at The Kills in Webster Hall, the celebration continues the next night at Jay-Z and Mary-J’s sold out show in the Garden. The after party will continue on at my first NYC art showing in el barrio’s resurrected thedramaloft.
After this spring of little sleep and long hours in front of this screen and on my feet trucking up and down this island. It will feel very nice to kick off my kicks and feel some warm sand and sunshine while “centering” myself in Puerto Rico.
Peace.

God Damn America...

2008-03-21T14:22:00.002-04:00

By Nicholas Allanach

I woke up one day this week to the BBC telling me “the U.S. is not only in a recession, but that it’s not going away and will likely get worse.” As I brushed my teeth, I heard a report about Tibetan monks clashing with Chinese shock troops in Lhasa. Later, while on the 5 train, commuters flipped through newspapers full of stories about Governor Spitzer’s unfortunate resignation because of hiring a prostitute; others, read about a large crane that fell crashing-down from a construction site on East 51st Street; subsequently, crushing a building and killing 4 people. Meanwhile, I sat reading an article in The Nation connecting the current US recession with the amount of capital being wasted on the ruinous occupation of Iraq; unfortunately, I couldn’t get through a paragraph because I kept being interrupted by a woman with a severe case of Tourette’s sitting beside me.
“Tick…tick…You know what I could do to that baby you stupid bitch? ….That’s right, yeah you don’t want to hear about that, do you? NO…You already know….What?! I’ll fucking kill you!” She went on-and-on like this as the train slowly lurched its way through the tunnel (there was a lot of “train traffic” today because of the Saint Patrick’s Day Parade); occasionally, she would stop and then start-in again singing a rather amusing and butchered rendition of the Star Spangled Banner.
When I find myself trapped in such situations, I usually reach for my I-Pod and sooth my inner growling savage beast of irritation with a little Jay-Z; but this morning, I decided to sit, listen, and observe the reactions of those on the train. Predictably, everyone ignored the blabbering woman. As I sat and thought about cranes falling on buildings, politicians resigning, and a five-year war that showed no signs of slowing down, I felt the urge to give my own schizophrenic sermon. After all, there is something very sobering about insanity. Why not belt-out our inner frustrations to a world that so often panders to the stifled hypocrisy of polite social graces? I grow tired of being, as Emerson warned, “Timid and apologetic.” Thus, I shout-out my below rant “to the rooftops of the world” and anyone still reading.

First, regarding the “rooftop of the world”, or, more specifically, Tibet – it is deplorable, but not shocking, that a peaceful group of people must rise up against their brutal oppressors and that their pleas for help have not been met and thus, must use violent means to be heard. Unfortunately, the Chinese government, which continues its cultural genocide of the Tibetan people, will not be stopped, and is far more powerful than the unarmed monks and families with no military training that have for so many years watched their culture be erased by Chinese influence. It would be nice to think that Nancy Pelosi or Condoleezza Rice’s call for “restraint” would abate the Chinese aggressors, but they’re requests will not be granted. As I write this, the Chinese government has ordered a news blackout and demands all “protesters” throughout the Tibetan territories “turn themselves in” or face “greater punishment.” According to the BBC, Tibetans are currently being rounded-up and placed into overcrowded prisons. The only way to stop this brutal regime is if the governments of the West ceases trade on all Chinese imports/exports – not going to happen. So, say goodbye Tibet and enjoy the Olympics as your holy city of Lhasa continues to be turned into a resort. Maybe one day, Western tourists will be able to experience your culture through a theme park ride.

Now, the Eliot Spitzer “scandal”; okay, as someone who voted for Spitzer, I admit I’m a bit biased about the whole thing. Moreover, as someone who does not believe a politician’s sex life should play any role in determining how we vote or treat public officials (especially when such acts are consensual), again, I’m biased. Ultimately, what I find most interesting though about this whole ordeal is that it illustrates how a man who fought so aggressively to monitor bank accounts and busting-up prostitution rings would also harbor the same desires he once so vehemently rejected as "criminal". Also interesting, is the fact that the same monitoring procedures he implemented were ironically the cause of his downfall. Finally, Spitzer pissed-off a lot of powerful people; thus, it was only a matter of time before this gangster got “whacked” by the same gangsters he crossed and ultimately created.

What also (as Peter Griffin from "Family Guy” says) “grinds my gears” is the pathetic smearing campaign of Barack Obama in connection to his Pastor Rev. Jeremiah Wright’s “inflammatory anti-American” comments. First, I think it’s completely ridiculous for anyone to ask Obama to take-back the comments of another man from three years ago. True, Obama knows and is, likely, very close to Rev. Wright; but he is not responsible for an other's comments – only his own (which have been candid concerning this matter). Of course, when looking at the comments themselves, I don't see what the big fuss is about. In fact, this column may –for once- actually agrees with a Reverend. He’s right, “God damn America for treating our citizens as less than human.” I also don’t think it’s such a stretch to blame America for 9/11 since it is what he said it is, “The chickens coming home to roost.” In fact, I’m so annoyed with anyone who still believes the United States is some perfect never-do-wrong Superman, when, in fact, we are (like the Chinese government) an aggressive, brutal, and extremely powerful empire that exerts its influence at gun point.

America is my home. I am an American and despite my country’s crimes –proud of what my country could be. But I also loathe that so many in my country are unable to recognize we’re not always the good guy. In fact, more often than not, the United States is the bad guy! What I love about my country and what I hate about it is a rant I’ll reserve for another day; for now, I’d like to close on the debacle in Iraq.

Five years ago, the United States began its occupation. Back then, I marched in the streets in opposition to the Administration's decision that I still feel was not only a terrible mistake, but one the United States will continue to pay for in human lives and capital. This year, the American people have a choice to make – who will be our next President? I sincerely believe the best way to begin repairing the damages caused by the Bush administration is to elect Barack Obama. I also urge anyone who has their doubts to please read Obama's five-year plan for Iraq before cynically renouncing his plans for change.

Okay, I feel a little better now that I let that all out. Back to the grind.