Been so long since my last post that I almost forgot my login/passord.

Glad to remember.

I spent the past five days in El Salvador. My wife's cousin got married last Saturday. Nos disfrutamos La Misa y La Fiesta, and chilled aggressively.

I spent a lot of time there reading; W. Somerset Maugham's the man, as far as short stories are concerned.

I read a collection of his titled Cakes and Ale. The copy I read was apparently a gift from my mother-in-law to her sister(s), as it bore her inscription from 1968.

Nothing like good literature passed on lovingly. Word is bond.

Late at night, I'm most apt to write. Last night was no exception. I dug out my trusty copy of "The Pocket Muse: Ideas & Inspiration for Writing".

Here's a draft. In the next version, I'll replace the "we" and "ourselves" at the end with something more introspective. That said, I give you...

something about silence

“Write about a noise or a silence that won’t go away”
- Monica Wood

innumerable voices clog my
mind with histories buried alive

I cannot sleep through graveyard
cries, the desperate clawing clamor.

remembrance pricks my
conscience, pries open eyelids

crusted shut with slumber.
swabs clean ears plugged with

cotton promises that God will
deliver us from His evil Creation;

humankind. stuck on this planet
in the stillness of a universe too vast

to comprehend, stuck in consciousness
too minute to comprehend a universe

greater than our God. I, human,
being in this silence, hum a church tune

or invoke the Elder Words scribes
and griots gift generations.

still peace comes to me as it
comes to all in the moment

of accepting, quietly, the inevitable
loneliness we drown out with words

and song, or escape through ritual
myth and legend. we abhor the

smallness of life, elaborately gate
ourselves from real community

until silent stillness compels us
to hum a different tune

post-election haikus
1
my country, full of
liberal, open-minded
voters, will wake up.
2
i feel winter's chill
now, the moon's glow dims toward
horizon-rimed dawn.

3
ohio, buckeye
state. blackeye state. "bull-(connor)!"
...kerry conceded?

4
geographic'ly
a sea of red bound by blue;*
truth book-ending lies

*peep the Nov. 7th post-- and Pascal's analysis

A verse comes to me from somewhere...
"I got so much trouble/**
on my mind-- refuse to lose!/
Here's your ticket/
hear the drummer get wicked"
(Publice Enemy)

**cross-reference: Brother Marley

What can I say?

Thank God it's Friday.

In my post-election traumatic disorder, I'm re-ordering my Self along lines that have bolstered my spirits in the past, hence:

K'Alyn and Dub Ell.

Good-feeling music that you can smile and think to. Real artists.

Yes, I check the Drudge Report headlines...

This one's a gem-- "The Daily Mirror: A large pic of Bush with this caption: “How can 59,054,087 be so dumb!” "

I didn't see the pic despite my best attempts, but I imagine it looks like this.

Setting aside cynicism for a minute at this late hour...

The American people are not dumb. We have created an incredible space for human progress. Unfortunately, like every other system humans create, ours is vulnerable to demagogues who exploit our fears.

I am confident that hope outlives fear, that arrogant power ultimately yields to justice. So, it is for us, the hopeful and justice-loving people, to organize. And once we get power, we must meet the needs of our times with more complexity, maturity, and love* than these (4-syllable curse word)s.

*Too poetic? I hope not. I believe in the "Power of Love", like Luther.
At the same time, I ain't mad at Chuck D: "What we got to say?/ Power to the People!/ No delay/ Make everybody see/ In order to/ fight the powers that be" (from PE's "Fight the Power").

James Baldwin

The text from this card, part of a series by Robert Shetterly, reads:
"People who shut their eyes to reality simply invite their own destruction, and anyone who insists on remaining in a state of innocence long after that innocence is dead turns himself into a monster."

My brother-in-law gits bizzy. Skills enough to make your ear tingle.

Fresh from the Red Bull Music Academy in Rome, he's got a new single, "That's Life".

(P.S., Don't sleep on "In and Out").


who PJ be

Who'd 've thought Eminem would throw a political analysis into the mix?

Check out this article, which includes links to his video for "Mosh."

And don't forget our friends at GNN, who put up their own article on the-- sorry, I'm just buggin' to see this video. For real. I was a teenager when I first got the politico-hiphop bug via KRS-ONE and Public Enemy. It's hard to swallow the fact of Eminem making an overt political statement through music. Even harder to digest the fact that "Mosh" is #1 on MTV's "TRL". Somewhere, Bob Dylan's rewinding a reel-to-reel copy of his song about the time's changing.

(If the above links don't work, go to Launch. Then choose a "videos" search for "Eminem" and pick the "Mosh" result).

You make the call: did Bush wear a wire? If yes, his performance in the first debate is even more disturbing.

the fat man swimmeth

A nice poem alongside this picture might take your eyes off the mid-section. But I figure if I have to lug it around, the least you can do is look at it.

Feel my girth.

About those tree trunks in the background... they're coconut trees. This kid climbed up a ladder, chopped down the coconuts with a machete, chopped open the coconuts, and poured us pitchers of fresh "agua de coco"-- which blends quite nicely with some *in.

Fresh agua de coco with *in-- on a sunny day, by the pool, 50 yards from the Pacific Ocean, swinging in the hammock-- is dope enough to make agnostics believe.

a haiku about
agua de coco might look
just like this picture.

Ashlee Simpson on SNL
I know this is trivial, but there's only so much a sane mind can absorb.

First, she blamed the band.
Now, this...

Puh-leez!!

This excuse is too perfect: (a) she's got a medical condition, so be sympathetic, or you're an un-feeling jerk; and (b) because of the malady, she couldn't sing-- but she went onstage anyway: what a trooper!

It's sad to think of all the talented people who never get a break. Really sad.

El lago de Coatepeque - El Salvador

In August 2004, my wife and I spent a week in El Salvador with her family. One day, her father's folks rented a "microbus" and took me on an 8-hour tour of old ruins, different cities and towns, and (as you might have surmised) to this lake formed in the crater of an inactive volcano.

As the microbus arrived, we were greeted by a local musician. He, along with my wife's aunts and uncles and cousins, regaled us non-singers with an impromptu little concert. Dope.

who i be

Haven't yet figured out how to put the pic next to my profile-- a blatant robbery of Kai's style-- so hold tight. I'll figure it out sooner or later.

After viewing the video, I feel compelled to make you feel as disgusted as I do:
watch the short Votergate documentary.

The promo script: "Set aside the 15 minutes you'll need to watch this compelling documentary about electronic voting machines. Using interviews and demos with hackers and computer scientists, Votergate presents a picture of the myriad ways machines could change the election outcome. And if you have the choice, make sure to choose a paper ballot on Nov. 2."

I'm not gonna hype the film. My only commentary is what I said to my wife after viewing it: "Two words-- paper ballot. That's all I'm sayin'."

Word is bond.

My man Kai keeps talking about how I should update the blog template to allow for comments and RSS-stuff. Well, that presupposes I (a) have a blog strategy that (b) would benefit from said changes.

As it stands, I don't update the blog enough. Extra functionality won't change things until I change, eh? The watchwords: commitment to content. Is this a start?

I give you my brother-in-law, DJ Eurok. He's just returned from the Red Bull Music Academy in Rome, Italy. I'm digggin' the new tracks he put down while slipped into the boot.

Word, for now.

Listening to the second Presidential debate, I have to say this:

it's all I can do not to throw my TV out of the window whenever George Bush speaks.

On why he won't allow generic drugs to be imported from Canada:

"I wanna make sure they cure ya and don't kill ya!"

Thanks, George-y.

"what's at stake"

lies spun about economic indicators
won't pay off your medical bills
or decrease corporate welfare.

despite boundless optimism,
lost jobs don't replace themselves.
'cause election day is nigh

we need to get real, people.
it's not the war on terror: it's your
government that's the issue.

can it protect your freedom
with the Patriot Act? can
it save you by cultivating fear?

little time between work and
picking up the kids to read
the newspaper or voter's guide

but the clock ticks and tocks
toward a reckoning we visit on
the world ignorantly, so stop

look and listen closely, breathe
deeply, and remember the God you
worship created all the universe

not just your piddling country.
don't reduce God to the borders
of your fear-stifled imagination.

It's a start people... At least I'm writing again...

"the home front"

sans beard and turban you might
miss him, American terrorist, extremist

(sometimes Veteran) draped in flags
of good ol' days and good ol' boys

bent on bombing past and present
into a future no God promised

Ode to Bill Cosby...

Published on Thursday, July 8, 2004 by the New York Times
The New Cosby Kids
by Barbara Ehrenreich

It was such a dog-bites-man story that I almost skipped right by: Billionaire Bashes Poor Blacks. The only thing that gave this particular story a little piquancy is that the billionaire doing the bashing is black himself. Bill Cosby has been attacking the poor of his race, and especially the youthful poor, for a range of sins, including using bad words, "stealing poundcake," "giggling" and failing to give their children normal names like "Bill." "The lower-economic people," Cosby announced, "are not holding up their end in this deal."

They let me down, too, sometimes — like that girl at Wendy's who gave me sweet iced tea when I had clearly specified unsweetened. She looked a little tired, but, as Cos might point out: How hard can it be to hold a job, go to high school and care for younger siblings in all your spare moments while your parents are at work?

But it's just so 1985 to beat up on the black poor. During the buildup to welfare "reform" in 1996, the comfortable denizens of think spas like the Heritage Foundation routinely excoriated poor black women for being lazy, promiscuous, government-dependent baby machines, not to mention overweight (that poundcake again). As for poor black youth, they were targeted in the 90's as a generation of "superpredators," gang-bangers and thugs.

It's time to start picking on a more up-to-date pariah group for the 21st century, and I'd like to nominate the elderly whites. Filial restraint has so far kept the would-be Social Security privatizers on the right from going after them, but the grounds for doing so are clear. For one thing, there's a startling new wave of "grandpa bandits" terrorizing rural banks. And occasionally some old duffer works himself into a frenzy listening to Cole Porter tunes and drives straight into a crowd of younger folks.

The law-abiding old whites are no prize either. Overwhelmingly, they choose indolence over employment — lounging on park benches, playing canasta — when we all know there are plenty of people-greeter jobs out there. Since it's government money that allows them to live in this degenerate state, we can expect the Heritage Foundation to reveal any day now that some seniors are cashing in their Social Security checks for vodka and Viagra. Just as welfare was said to "cause poverty," the experts may soon announce that Medicare causes baldness and that Social Security is a risk factor for osteoporosis: the correlations are undeniable.

And the menace posed by the elderly can only get worse, as ever more of them sink into debt. What's eating up their nest eggs? In many cases, drugs. How long before the streets are ruled by geezer gangs mugging us to support their insulin and beta-blocker habits?

All right, before the AARP issues a fatwa against me, could we please acknowledge that the demonization of welfare recipients wasn't based on reality either? Contrary to the stereotype, welfare moms in 1996 averaged two children per family, not six, and in surveys always expressed a desire to work, should child care become available. Incidentally, only a minority of them were African-American.

As for the black youth who so exercise Cosby, their pregnancy rates aren't "soaring," as he reportedly claimed; in fact, they're lower than they've been in decades. Ditto with crime rates. And if Cosby's worried about poor grammar and so forth, why isn't he ranting about the Bush 2005 budget, which would end a slew of programs for dropout prevention, recreation and school counseling?

Or, if he's looking for tantrum fodder, what about the fact that a black baby has a 40 percent chance of being born into poverty? You can blame adults for their poverty — if you're mean-spirited enough — but you cannot blame babies, and that's, in effect, what we're talking about here.

As the sociologist Michael Males, who monitors youth-bashing outbreaks, told me: "Younger black America today is struggling admirably against massive disinvestments in schools, terrible unemployment, harsh policing and degrading prejudices, and they're succeeding amazingly well. They deserve respect, not grown-up tantrums."

But it must be fun to beat up on people too young and too poor to fight back, or the elderly rich wouldn't do it. Cranky old rich people: now there's a demographic group that qualifies as a genuine Menace 2 Society.

Pablo Neruda (July 12, 1904-September 23, 1973)

I met Pablo Neruda in 1996 at a bookstore in Palo Alto, California. While perusing the poetry section, I skimmed a copy of his "Selected Odes", which I later bought as a birthday present for myself.

It is now 2004, and I have twice given away that book. An editorial in the New York Times reminds me that I need to get a third copy.

Happy (upcoming) Centennial, Pablo!