I Will Live By My Own Policies

The Emperor's New Clothes
by Sinead O'Connor (1990)

It seems like years since you held the baby
While I wrecked the bedroom
You said it was dangerous after Sunday
And I knew you loved me
He thinks I just became famous
And that's what messed me up
But he's wrong
How could I possibly know what I want
When I was only twenty - one?
And there's millions of people
To offer advice and say how I should be
But they're twisted
And they will never be any influence on me
But you will always be
You will always be
If I treated you mean
I really didn't mean to
But you know how it is
And how a pregnancy can change you
I see plenty of clothes that I like
But I won't go anywhere nice for a while
All I want to do is just sit here
And write it all down and rest for a while
I can't bear to be in another city
One where you are not
I would return to nothing without you
If I'm your girlfriend or not
Maybe I was mean
But I really don't think so
You asked if I'm scared
And I said so
Everyone can see what's going on
They laugh `cause they know they're untouchable
Not because what I said was wrong
Whatever it may bring
I will live by my own policies
I will sleep with a clear conscience
I will sleep in peace
Maybe it sounds mean
But I really don't think so
You asked for the truth and I told you
Through their own words
They will be exposed
They've got a severe case of
The emperor's new clothes
The emperor's new clothes
The emperor's new clothes
___________________________________

Everyone deserves the right to make his or her own mistakes, dontcha think?
Or as Mr. Springsteen says,

Well if I had one wish in this god forsaken world, kids
It'd be that your mistakes would be your own
Yea your sins would be your own...

It's Been a Long Time Coming, indeed...

Things I Like Vol. 23

Ten People/Places/Things That Rock My World:

1) Johnny Thunders, just 'cause
2) Ryan Adams - Live at the Ryman Auditorium, 11-20-04--be very quiet, genius at work
3) The Orpheum, Boston MA--proof that we once knew something about architecture in this country
4) Entourage - smart comedy from the mind of Mark Wahlberg--who knew?
5) Dunkin' Donuts - great late night coffee and sponsor of Little Steven's Underground Garage
6) Italian wedding soup, preferably homemade
7) Goodbye, Columbus - Philip Roth
8) Cafe La Ruche, Georgetown, Washington DC
9) Jandara, Washington DC - Thai food rocks
10) Union Station, Washington DC - see number 3 above

Hero of the Week: Not sure I have one, everyone is pretty much disgusting me at present

Villain of the Week: Sen. Bill Frist (R-TN) - there are no words for how much I despise this man

SPECIAL SHOUT-OUTS TO "MY JESSES," WHO HAVE COME THROUGH FOR ME IN THE PAST WEEK IN WAYS I NEVER EXPECTED AND CAN NEVER HOPE TO REPAY. YOU BOTH ROCK.

It's Not Enough

NOTE: The following is not meant in any way, shape or form to endorse substance abuse as a means to solving anything. Altering one's mind temporarily, however, is heartily encouraged.
---L

Did you ever feel like what the world gave you was not enough? That no matter how hard you tried, how you struggled and tried to accept the hand you were dealt, the gifts that you have been given, that it was never going to be good enough for you?

Johnny Thunders did. Take a gander at L.A.M.F., the great Heartbreakers album, track number five. Johnny just got it, he understood. Here was a guy who was handed athletic prowess and never pursued it, handed good looks and destroyed them, handed musical talent and pissed it away. He wanted something more, something that was just down the road, around the corner, out of reach. And sadly, he could never quite get there, even clean and sober.

Johnny was not the only one to feel this way. Check out Steve Earle's "I Ain't Ever Satisfied." Coming from someone with his intellectual and musical gifts, with his big heart, that's saying something. Check out "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" by U2. Ditto on Bono. Both of these men have restless spirits, have sensitive natures and questioning minds, and they can't take the way things are. So both of them continue to wrestle with their inner demons, often turning to mind-altering substances to numb the pain. They are engaged in a lifelong inner struggle, and sometimes the demons win. And we don't question this struggle, we welcome it, because out of this struggle comes great art.

So why do people constantly tell us that we should accept what the world hands us no questions asked? That we should be happy with what we have, with the way things are? That we should not try to make the world a better place, shouldn't try to make of things what we can instead of letting events and people shape us? That we should just settle? That if we are "good," that somehow we will get our share in life, that good things will come to us. That we should not be angry at the way things are, that we not should "push the envelope" when we can--should not question and challenge, should go quietly into that good night.

I, for one, am not willing to accept the status quo. For that I have been called hostile, angry, difficult, bitter, an entire host of pejoratives. But I will not compromise, I will not change. Because like Johnny, like Steve, like Bono, I will most likely never be completely at peace. Nor is that really where I want to be. I want to be challenged, I want to be provoked, I want to be stimulated, I want to be alive. Because it can all be taken away from you in a heartbeat.

"I would rather have thirty minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special."
-----Shelby Eatenton in Steel Magnolias

Say what you will about the source, the idea rocks. And for believing it I will never apologize.

I Can't Get No...

MUSIC
1) Marah - "Why Independent Record Stores Fail"
2) X - "Fourth of July"
3) Bruce Springsteen - "Loose Ends"
4) James Carr - "Dark End of the Street"
5) Smokey Robinson & the Miracles - "You Really Got a Hold on Me"
6) Ryan Adams - "Come Pick Me Up"
7) Lone Justice - "Ways to be Wicked"
8) Lucinda Williams - "Metal Firecracker"
9) Patti Smith - "Because the Night"
10) Prince - "When Doves Cry"
11) Jimi Hendrix - "Love or Confusion"
12) Jesse Malin - "Bad Friday"
13) Southside Johnny & the Asbury Jukes - "Long Distance"
14) Aretha Franklin - "I Never Loved a Man"
15) BoDeans - "Say You Will"
16) Dwight Yoakam - "Ain't That Lonely Yet"
17) Elvis Costello - "Alison"
18) Rolling Stones - "Dead Flowers"

BOOKS
1) Edith Wharton - The Age of Innocence
2) F. Scott Fitzgerald - The Great Gatsby
3) Emily Bronte - Wuthering Heights
4) Charles Frazier - Cold Mountain
5) Michael Ondaatje - The English Patient
6) Thomas Hardy - Tess of the D'Urbervilles
7) William Styron - Sophie's Choice

FILMS
1) Casablanca
2) Doctor Zhivago
3) Now, Voyager
4) The Age of Innocence
5) Gone With the Wind
6) Midnight Cowboy
7) Annie Hall

Between Obsession and Madness

Some people are just wired differently. We experience the world in a different way— need different things out of it, want different things from it. For example, some people— in fact, most people, can get up every morning at the same time, work at the same job at the same desk with the same people for years, and seemingly not be bothered by this routine. They don’t need or want more, don’t ask for much except for everything to remain at the same even keel.

The rest of us need—no crave—not just variety, but randomness. We welcome the unusual, the unforeseen, the dramatic. We are bored by the ordinary so we seek the extraordinary, often not realizing we are walking the thin line between normalcy and obsession. We often work at the same Monday through Friday jobs as the rest of the working world but see them as no more than a means to an end. We crave the tension, the drama, the singleness of focus that comes with being so devoted to a cause, a sports team, a band, a TV show or film that we will disrupt our entire lives to get closer to it. And we are not annoyed by the necessity of such disruption—in fact, we welcome it, almost seek it, and often fall into deep depression when it’s gone. We don’t know what to do with ourselves without the excitement, the stimulation, and yes, even sometimes the chaos.

Is this behavior something we should concern ourselves with? I believe that the answer is different for every person. Are you still able to discharge your responsibilities as an adult? Are you harming anyone else? Are you harming yourself? Are you running away from something, running to something? Are you dealing with the issues in your life, or are you avoiding dealing with them? It is impossible to get inside someone else’s head to answer these questions—hell, it is hard enough to get inside our own heads and figure these things out. And it most certainly is not fair to judge what others go through on a daily basis, what they need and want from the world to get through life. Yet, there are (as there most certainly ought to be) times when it is right and proper to inject oneself into a particular situation, to intervene on the behalf of someone else. But we must be very careful when doing so and examine our own motivations for intervening. Is it possible we are guilty of the same behaviors of which we accuse others? Will the other person be helped by our intervention or are we just assuaging our own guilt?

Ultimately, each person must assume responsibility for his or her own actions, and only that person can decide if and when it is time to make a change. Many times, though a behavior pattern may seem odd or unusual, it is in fact not harmful--in fact, it may be the only thing that that allows that person to get through the day. It is very easy to sit on the outside of someone else's life and judge, but most times there is very little we can or should do. Some people fall off the edge of addiction, obsession and chaos into madness and self-destruction, and there is, quite simply, nothing to be done.

And this descent into the vortex is a truly frightening thing to watch. Frightening for the rest of us who also live on the edge—because we are not so sure we are very far from following that path ourselves. And that is a truly terrifying prospect.

All They Want is Everything

I have watched with growing consternation the behavior of my fellow music fans as regards the objects of their obsession, musicians. It seem to me that the complex artist/fan relationship has, paradoxically, become increasingly dysfunctional as the world has become more “connected” through cell phones, the Internet, etc. The easier it is to monitor what an artist is doing, the more control people seem to think they have over that person. The more license they seem to think they have to intrude upon that person‘s life in any way shape or form they see fit. To pass judgment not just on the artist’s creative decisions, but on his/her life decisions.

It has always been difficult to be in the public eye, especially when one is shy and retiring to begin with. Some artists handle it more easily than others. Some attempt to be as “normal” as possible, appearing in public often, letting fans approach. Others lead very private existences, barely emerging from their cocoons except to appear onstage. This was once a part of the pact artists had with their fans, and no one ever questioned it. However, with the increasing dominance of the entertainment industrial complex here in the U.S. (America’s only true export), there is now a correspondingly insatiable, nonstop demand for informational details about musicians and their lives. Encouraged by the ever-intrusive media, fans have grown increasingly demanding of personal details and, paradoxically, less receptive to being challenged by what truly is their business: the creative output of the artist. In 2005, the artist must create exactly what the fans want when they want it and live his or her life in accordance with the fans’ wishes, or there will be hell to pay.

Now I have no problem with fans criticizing a musician’s artistic choices—that is a natural part of the relationship, and every fan is entitled to his/her opinion. Where I really have a problem is with the fan who feels entitled to dictate to the artist how to conduct his/her personal life: how/when/where to create, whether or not to buy that house, get that nose job, whether or not to marry whomever he/she chooses. The right to tell the artist whether or not he or she is entitled to use the stage—the artist’s stage—as a platform with which to communicate his/her personal or political beliefs. It is as though the right to speak out in the very setting in which he or she is most comfortable is somehow denied to the artist precisely because he or she is an artist. It is as though the fan owns the artist, as though the artist ought to function as a person’s own private jukebox or trained monkey, or better yet, a puppet on a string that each fan has the right to manipulate in whatever fashion suits his/her fancy. Film aficionados may recall the Martin Scorsese classic that deals with this complex, fascinating subject, The King of Comedy--an eerily prescient tale about a couple of obsessed fans who stalk and kidnap the object of their mania in a misguided effort to force him to capitulate to their increasingly intrusive and bizarre requests. At the time the film was released, it seemed almost cartoonish. Now it just seems, well, like real life.

And that’s too bad, because this level of fandom, now accepted as “normal,” is a real hindrance to artistic creativity. The artist, who exists only to create, to express the complex feelings that buzz inside the brain because he/she must do so or go mad, must now fend off constant, ever more intrusive barrages from “fans.” Must receive unrelenting criticism, must constantly justify his or her entitlement to the same beliefs, personal opinions, and personal life as anyone else—as though because someone is an artist, he or she is no longer a person deserving of rights as a human being—that he or she belongs to us, the fans wholly and completely. The fact that we, as fans, have been graced with this person’s gifts—art that somehow makes a harsh, sometimes unlivable world seem infinitely less so--seems to mean nothing anymore. The artist must have artistic output only when, where and how the fans dictate. Must not speak his mind onstage or off. Must dress a certain way, think a certain way, be a certain way. And woe betide the poor soul who puts up an argument.

This is, of course, an impossible situation, one that, as the creative sort myself, I find increasingly difficult to stomach. Where will it all end? Will we all have our own personal holograms of the artists we admire, our own Sims characters that we can order around? What’s great about art is that it confronts, forces people to think about and see things in new ways. I do not subscribe to the belief that I ought to be able to dictate what someone else’s art ought to be, what it should say, how, when or where it should exist. Once it is out in the world, it is now mine to interpret for myself, and to incorporate into my life as I see fit. I remember when that used to be enough.

Things I Like Vol. 22

Ten People/Places/Things That Rock My World:

1) "Reason to Believe" - Rod Stewart
2) Matchless, Brooklyn NY - where the cool kids hang out
3) the Washington Nationals - exceeding all expectations
4) the Washington Wizards - ditto
5) "Time Has Told Me" - Marah cover version
6) To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee - proof that Americans do create art
7) Ludwig von Beethoven - Sonata No.8 In C Minor, Op.13 ('Pathetique')
8) Cafe Ole, Asbury Park NJ
9) Gram Parsons
10) the Order Sons of Italy in America - telling the truth about the Italian American heritage

Hero of the Week: Sen. Harry Reid (D-NV), who has led his party ably through a quagmire of moral issues with great dignity and passion

Villain of the Week: (tie) Sen. Bill Frist (R-TN), for threatening to throw the Senate into chaos to enforce the president's agenda, and Sen. George Voinovich (R-OH), who spoke out strongly against U.N. ambassador candidate John Bolton and then refused to vote him down in committee

This Must All End

From the Washington Post today:

Marines Who Survived Ambush Are Killed, Wounded in Blast

By Ellen Knickmeyer
Washington Post Foreign Service

"HABAN, Iraq, May 11 -- The explosion enveloped the armored vehicle in flames, sending orange balls of fire bubbling above the trees along the Euphrates River near the Syrian border.

Among the four Marines killed and 10 wounded when an explosive device erupted under their Amtrac on Wednesday were the last battle-ready members of a squad that four days earlier had battled foreign fighters holed up in a house in the town of Ubaydi. In that fight, two squad members were killed and five were wounded.

In 96 hours of fighting and ambushes in far western Iraq, the squad had ceased to be.

Lima Company drew Marine reservists from across Ohio into the conflict in Iraq. Some were still too young to be bothered much by shaving, or even stubble."

___________________________________

Two years after "Mission Accomplished," five months after the "elections," a U.S. Marine squad was, quite literally, wiped out in Iraq. What in God's name is going on here? And why are we doing absolutely nothing to stop it?

A Good Man is Hard to Find

This was played last night in St. Paul, MN. It speaks for itself.
--L

A Good Man is Hard to Find
by Bruce Springsteen

It's cloudy out in Pittsburgh
It's raining in Saigon
Snow's fallin' all across the Michigan line
Well she sits by the lights of the Christmas tree
With the radio softly on
Thinkin' how a good man is so hard to find

Well once she had a fella
Once she was somebody's girl
And she gave all she had that one last time
Now there's a little girl asleep in the back room
She's gonna have to tell about the meanness in this world
And how a good man is so hard to find

Well there's pictures on the table by her bed
Him in his dress greens and her in her wedding white
She remembers how the world was the day he left
And now how that world is dead
And a good man is so hard to find

She got no time now for Casanovas
Yeah those days are gone
She don't want that anymore, she's made up her mind
Just somebody told her
As the nights get on
When a good man is so hard to find

Well she shuts off the TV
And without a word
Into bed she climbs
Well she thinks how it was all so wasted
And how expendable their dreams all were
When a good man was so hard to find
Well it's cloudy out in Pittsburgh


Copyright © Bruce Springsteen (ASCAP)

Exhausted

I am so tired.

I am tired of fighting the world that tells me I am not quite good enough.
I am tired of fighting my looks, which tell me I am entitled to certain things I never ask for and don’t really want.
I am tired of fighting my intelligence, which tells me I am smart enough to handle certain things but am denied those things because that’s the way things are in this man’s world.
I am tired of denying my true self to keep other people from being threatened by me.
I am tired of suppressing my feelings and my beliefs so others will be more comfortable.

I am tired of a world that tells me the most important thing for an adult to do is to raise a child and then denies me the tools and means to do so. And then tells me I am useless if I am not a mother.

I am tired of being told I have too much experience, too little, too much education, not enough. I am tired of being told I am not the right person for the job.

I am tired of being told I am too opinionated, too aggressive, too pushy, too loud, too generous, too open, too giving. Too pretty, too smart, too sensitive.

I am tired but I will not apologize because I have been through way too much to get here and I’m not about to stop now. There are plenty of reasons to give up but that would be too easy.

So I guess I will continue to slog along, doing the best I can every day. And there is no guarantee that any of these things will change. In fact, it is entirely likely that I will continue to run into these issues every day for the rest of my life. And I suppose I can be ok with that.

But I am just so tired of fighting, tired of the battles inside my head, tired of dealing with it alone. Because that’s what happens to smart women who threaten the status quo—we are the ones who are marginalized and cast aside.

We are almost always alone, and it is exhausting.

Love & Hope & Sex & Dreams

What do you do when everything you care about turns to shit, when people betray you and you feel like there is nothing left? You go back to the things that helped you when you were a kid—in this case, the music.

So tonight I am listening to “Can’t Hardly Wait” and the connection is immediate and needs no explanation. The demons in Westerberg’s head drive him to push people away; music is the only thing he knows. So he goes out on the road because he is an artist and a performer and that is what he does. And it is paradoxically the most lonely and most accepting place he has ever known. People who, like him, live for the music are in front of him every night and they understand. They don’t want anything from him except for him to get up and play those songs and take them to another place for a while.
So he goes there with them, and he forgets the chaos inside his own head for a while. But then he gets on the tour bus, and the roads all look the same, and the lights flash by, and he has never been more alone.

I go on the road a lot following bands around—it is part of what I do as a writer. And a lot of it is for business reasons, granted. It is about schmoozing, making contacts, after show parties with the band.

But I would be lying to myself if I said it was purely for business reasons that I am ready, willing and able to pick up and fly, drive or crawl at a moment’s notice if there is a band I want to see. For me, it is also admittedly about running from the demons in your mind, about getting that fix once again that for an hour or two takes you away from whatever ails you. Sometimes what ails you is fixable, sometimes not. But you have to work on it and recognize it and deal with it, and I am, despite all appearances, trying my damndest. Because it is far too easy to just run around on the road with those cute boys with guitars and not deal. That is indeed a large part of why the job of being a musician is so attractive—someone else is always there to pick up the pieces.

In Paul’s case, he fights the demons every day, but he is still here, and he is still the Talented Mr. Westerberg. It may not come out as often, maybe he lets the hard work of songwriting and performing slide more than he used to—but there he is out there working it out, and we are out there with him and waiting for the magic which, while rarer than it used to be, still happens on occasion.

As for me, well, I continue to work on my multitude of issues, but I will also keep on listening to the music and following wherever it takes me. And I will not apologize for it. Because the only person who knows what I need, what is going on inside my head is me, and only I can judge what is right and proper to do. So the music will continue to take me on that mystery ride, and I am happy to follow. I hope someday that someone will be able to join me there, but it is entirely possible that that is not the case. I have been and will continue to deal with that, too.

For now I, like Paul, am high and lonesome, holding on to the white lines on the highway by just a thread. Until that song comes on the radio…

“Lights that flash in the evenin’/through a hole in the drape
I’ll be home when I’m sleepin’/I can’t hardly wait.”

Things I Like Vol. 21

Ten People/Places/Things That Rock My World:

1) Great Falls, the mighty Potomac in full effect
2) "Moneytalks" - AC/DC
3) Cold Roses - Ryan Adams & the Cardinals
4) the Center for American Progress - making intellectualism fun again
5) Sister Helen Prejean
6) Patti Smith, high priestess of cool
7) the Melrose Diner, Philadelphia PA
8) Johnny Depp
9) viewing the Philadelphia skyline from the Walt Whitman Bridge
10) Bebe Neuwirth

SPECIAL PROPS TO THE ALLTIME MASTER OF ALL THAT IS FABULOUS: DAVID JOHANSEN

Hero of the Week: Jimmy Carter - sometimes what you do after the White House is more important

Villain of the Week: Peter Angelos - AGAIN -- for denying the citizens of Washington a chance to see/hear their brand new MLB franchise in action so he can inflict his sorry excuse for a team on us instead

Great Day in DC

Sometimes living in the Nation’s Capital doesn’t suck after all—in fact, sometimes it’s pretty damn cool. Like today, on a sunny, windswept afternoon when I drove my car down to Capitol Hill, parked beneath the shadow of the dome, and walked over to Senate Park for a rally against Social Security privatization.

It was truly heartening to see that despite all sorts of construction and other impediments, despite roadblocks and tight security, out of town visitors were all over the Hill to see democracy in action for themselves. I walked across the west front of the Capitol grounds, entered the park and sat down on a set of bleachers next to an older looking woman dressed in sun hat and t-shirt, who, as it turned out, was also from DC, and was there because she had recently qualified for Social Security and felt strongly about the issue. Surrounding me was a group of female AFSCME retirees—some of them old enough to be my grandmother, I’m sure—who had traveled to DC to take part.

Despite being comprised of a variety of organizations, the rally was well-organized—union people know how to do that—and loud. A staffer from the group in charge of the rally handed me a sign and some bottled water expressly ordered for the event (it had anti-privatization slogans on the label—they don’t miss a trick getting the message out, do they?) Things were running late, as they are wont to do in DC, but about ten minutes later the first group of speakers arrived and, one-by-one, took the pedestal to address the crowd. Having grown up here and having attended many of this type of event, I knew what to expect—a lot of slogans for the media (which was there in numbers, both print and broadcast), a lot of catch phrases and rah rah. Truth be told, if it were just these folks speaking, I might have considered staying at home. But a large group of House and Senate Dems was scheduled to appear, so I stuck around past the scheduled ending time to see the grand finale. (Hey, you don’t get opportunities like this one that often, even when you live here.)

And it was pretty damn grand indeed, even by Washington pomp and circumstance, everything-is-a-photo-op standards. Instead of walking the group of elected officials up to the stage from the side, the rally organizers walked them through the assembled crowd and right past the bleachers where I was seated. I know most people will not understand this, but to many here in the Nation’s Capital, politics is a spectator sport, and these people are its first-teamers. I live here, and I seem them all the time, so it’s very easy to get jaded. But even I was stunned to see the parade of familiar faces that walked so close by me, stopping to shake hands as they walked. Despite the obviously choreographed nature of the proceedings, it was nonetheless awe-inspiring to see the leaders of our democracy walking among “the people,” especially given increased security concerns here in DC. Sen.s Patrick Leahy and Paul Sarbanes, Rep.s Charles Rangel and Barney Frank, all familiar names and faces, heroes to many. There was Hillary, shaking hands, smiling at the dozens of women calling out her name. And before I knew it, there was Sen. Ted Kennedy with his lion’s mane of stunning silver hair, his ruddy complexion glowing as he reached out to greet people.

[Note: My parents both voted for Jack in ‘60 and worked for Bobby’s ill-fated 1968 presidential campaign. I myself worked on Ted’s campaign in 1980, so what follows should come as no surprise to anyone: When Sen. Kennedy walked by, I couldn’t help myself. I reached out and I shook his hand. And I’m not sorry.]

The rally was spirited and lively—Rep. Rangel got by far the most crowd response with his uniquely New Yawk speech and demeanor—but all to soon (hectic schedules being what they are), the busy politicos filed off to walk back across the Hill to their respective offices (after first signing a pledge to protect Social Security to the strains of Tom Petty’s ubiquitous rallying cry “I Won’t Back Down”). Parading in ones and twos, stopping to greet well-wishers and constituents, they walked purposefully back across the sun-dappled lawn toward the Capitol dome. Joining beside them, I was both thrilled and awestruck to finally have the opportunity to shake hands with the great Rep. John Lewis of Georgia, a truly larger than life figure who, despite my being a lifelong DC resident, I had previously seen only in history books. This is the guy from the documentary footage, the guy who truly put his body (and his life) on the line that day in Alabama, the guy who got his head bashed in on the Edmund Pettus Bridge. The guy who spoke at the March on Washington, one of the founding members of the Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee, truly one of the great figures of the modern civil rights movement. It’s not often living history walks right in front of you, and you have to seize these chances when you can. I approached him and mustered something to say—what do you say to one of your heroes?—and shook his hand. He very graciously smiled, responded, and with great dignity went on his way. That right there, I thought, is all that is uniquely American, truly what makes this country great: That figures such as this are still here, and are still, after all we have been through, so accessible, is nothing short of a miracle for which we should all thank our lucky stars every day.

As mind-blowing as this all was to me, even this was all fairly normal, and fairly typical by Washington standards. Typical, that is, until I became aware of a flurry of activity to my right as I continued to walk across the Hill beside the parade of politicians. It was Sen. Barack Obama.

Those of you who do not know who he is yet, I have two words for you—you will. This man is a rock star. People ran out calling his name, chasing after him just to touch him. As I parted ways with the main procession and stood on a corner to cross the street, I encountered a group of kids from the Close Up organization, a group that brings school kids to Washington to witness “democracy in action.” Well they got that and then some when Sen. Obama suddenly appeared in their path. There was a group of about ten kids, probably eighth grade or so, of mixed ethnicity and gender. I have lived here all my life, and I have never—repeat—never seen kids react to a politician like they did to this man. They stood there on the corner in open-mouthed awe, daring each other to step forward and greet the freshman senator from Illinois. Finally, one girl bravely ran up to get his autograph, (which she did) and then ran back to the group screaming like she had just met Elvis (work with me here, no one gets this reaction in today’s music world, at least not that I have seen). I mean, this girl was jumping up and down with a look of crazed adoration I have seen only in footage of Beatles concerts.

Jaded person that I am, this sight truly brought tears to my eyes. Yeah, I am a political junkie and probably place way too much value on these things, and yeah, I have lived here and seen it all, but I honestly thought that the next generation of Americans just didn’t care about anything, that “the kids” were disinterested and disengaged, and that things were in a very bad way as a result. I truly held out little hope that the kind of selfless passion for public service and activism that I had witnessed as a child of the ‘60s would ever return. In fact, I had pretty much given up on the idea that the “youngsters” could be convinced to care passionately about much of anything beyond the latest cell phone accessory. To see them care enough to come to Washington, and to know who these people were by sight, and then to see them recognize them as real heroes–role models even—was positively stunning to me. I really have believed for a long time that one of the biggest problems facing this country is that children today don’t look to public service as a career choice anymore, that they all aspire to be basketball players or musicians, to make lots of money and participate in the greed and conspicuous consumption that have all too sadly become the norm. Today, however, I am happy to report that I have been convinced otherwise. There is indeed hope for America’s future—at least there is as long as there are kids who genuinely care as much as these kids clearly did about the persons who, as duly elected representatives of The People, speak for them.


It’s not every day you get to see history, get to shake hands with one of your heroes, get to have your (ever-waning) faith in humanity and in the future of the Great Experiment that is the American Republic restored. Many days, living here in Washington really is everything it is cracked up to be—a depressing treadmill of sycophancy and dysfunction. And as Washingtonians, we have grown quite accustomed to hearing about how other cities are bigger, better, or just more "real." But on bright sunny, star-crossed days like today, living here in the Nation’s Capital “doesn’t suck” at all—on days like today, it just out and out rocks. (Take that, New York City.)

Oh, and watch out for this Obama fellow, I hear he’s going places.

Things I Like Vol. 20

Ten People/Places/Things That Rock My World:

1) the Paramount Theater, Asbury Park NJ
2) "Tougher Than the Rest" - live solo piano version - Bruce Springsteen
3) sunrise over the Manhattan skyline
4) Cerphe Colwell, one of the coolest DJ's ever
5) "FDR - A Presidency Revealed" - History Channel documentary
6) Julia Ward Howe
7) Walter Cronkite
8) The Great Unraveling - Paul Krugman
9) "Why Independent Record Stores Fail" - Marah
10) Prince

Hero of the Week (tie): Eleanor and Franklin D. Roosevelt, two great minds who saved America from disaster

Villain of the Week (tie): Rep. Tom DeLay (R-TX) and Sen. Bill Frist (R-TN), for showing America the depths to which politics can sink when personal agendas are allowed to prevail over the rule of law.

On Mother's Day

I have tried for years to get to the root of why the Mother’s Day holiday bothers me so much. Part of it is certainly the Hallmark card forced emotion/guilt of the day—you MUST buy you mom flowers or you are a BAD child. (No mention, of course, of what you are supposed to do if your mother is deceased, or the details of how such forced rituals might affect people who have lost their mothers). Wonder how much money the greeting card, flower, and restaurant industries make on this.

Then there’s the whole notion that we must somehow celebrate the fact that a certain segment of our female population has chosen to procreate. I’m sorry, but I don’t see why someone else’s reproductive choices are more culturally “worthy” than mine. After all, wasn’t one of the goals of the Women’s Movement to gain reproductive autonomy? And at the rate we are using the worlds’ resources, it seems downright selfish for all American women (citizens of a country that consumes a disproportionate amount of the worlds’ resources to begin with) to have children. Further, just because a significant majority of American women can physically have a child, does that make these women “mothers” in the true sense of the word? Does it make them somehow more “special” or “”valuable” to our society? Why should we reward women who have children with this “Hallmark holiday” while we ignore the other women (such as myself) who, for health, sanity or a million other very valid and personal reasons have chosen not to become mothers--to say nothing of the thousands of women who desperately want to become mothers but have fertility issues. What are we supposed to do, and how are we supposed to feel? Remaining childless is every bit as valid a life choice (and certainly more earth-friendly), than is having a child. Why don’t childless women get a “day”? (And of course, we won’t even get into the cultural and economic issues surrounding motherhood and working women—the hypocrisy of a culture that celebrates “motherhood” while failing to provide equal pay, childcare, etc. for working mothers.) America is no longer the huge, untamed wilderness in need of populating that it was when prolific childbearing was the norm. Isn’t it about time our cultural values caught up?

Alas, does any of us really know what Mother’s Day is and why it is celebrated? If you don’t, don’t feel bad, it’s not like they teach this kind of information in grade school. I myself was only made aware of the historical origins of Mother’s Day in the weeks before the Million Mom March here in the Nation’s Capital a few years back. Ironically, it is really supposed to be an active, not passive holiday, a day for action and reflection, not mindless consumerism. The national Mother’s Day holiday is, in part, the direct result of the horrific carnage of the Civil War—a day envisioned by poet Julia Ward Howe (of “Battle Hymn of the Republic” fame) in 1870 as a means to galvanize women across the globe to rise up and proclaim their opposition to war as a political tool, to find common ground as a gender across international borders and to inspire political leaders to consider non-violent public policy alternatives, leaving war as an instrument of last resort. It was, in other words, a significant attempt to organize women on a global scale in order to achieve specific political goals. So it seems that rather than a somewhat generic excuse for guilt-associated gift giving, the Mother’s Day holiday is truly a milestone of the international Women’s Movement. Of course, Howe’s idea didn’t catch on right away, but by 1914, the entire nation was enthusiastically celebrating Mother’s Day (needless to say, the history of how the holiday shed its idealistic origins is a discussion for another time).


However one feels personally about the ongoing American military engagement in Iraq and Afghanistan (and god knows there are many good reasons to be disturbed), isn’t it about time we gave some thought to the sacrifices American mothers, fathers, sons and daughters continue to make every day so that we can spend the first Sunday in May contributing our hard-earned dollars to the greeting card/flower/restaurant industrial complex? This Mother’s Day, instead of contemplating which restaurant has the best dessert tray, how about taking some time to think about how we can assist our friends in the armed services who continue to sacrifice so much for us. About how these conflicts in the Middle East are being conducted, what this says about America as a society, and about what has happened to the core American values that we once held dear. Beats thinking about the bland salad bar at Ruby Tuesday, I think.

___________________________

Want some alternatives to “traditional” Mother’s Day activities? Visit Code Pink’s site for a list of great ways to spend the day promoting peace and economic justice (mother—child bonding opportunities abound)!

Things I Like Vol. 19

Ten People/Places/Things That Rock My World:

1) Turbotax
2) "All I'm Thinkin' About" - Bruce Springsteen
3) Apple iTunes
4) the Washington Nationals - baseball is back in DC!
5) Tambourine - Tift Merritt
6) "Let it Ride" - Ryan Adams
7) "Adam & Dave's Bloodline" - unreleased demos by some Squad boyz
8) IOTA Club and Cafe, Arlington VA
9) Woody Allen: A Biography by Eric Lax
10) Glamour magazine, 'cause sometimes mindless entertainment is fun

Hero of the Week: Johnnie Johnson, the sideman who invented rock'n'roll piano - R.I.P.

Villain of the Week: DC Mayor Anthony Williams, milking the return of baseball while ignoring the rampant, ongoing dysfunction in the Nation's Capital

Things I Like Vol. 18

Ten People/Places/Things That Rock My World:

1) Elsie's Sub Shop, Red Bank NJ
2) "Jesus Was an Only Son" - Bruce Springsteen
3) Paul Westerberg, my future husband
4) The Randi Rhodes Show on Air America Radio
5) high speed wireless Internet access
6) diet Coke with lime
7) cold Corona with lime
8) soccer, the beautiful game
9) daylight savings time
10) Bruce Springsteen

Hero of the Week: Maureen Dowd of the New York Times, whose graceful wit makes you laugh instead of tearing your hair out

Villain of the Week: Peter Angelos, who has managed to keep the local MLB team's games off of local TV so he can force-feed us his Baltimore franchise instead

The Marage, Philly, 3/26/05

The Marage, Philly, 3/26/05
Originally uploaded by MrBadExample.

Dave Bielanko in full effect. Need we say more?

Bad Wednesday

Isolation is a terrible thing. Whether it is self-imposed or not, it has the effect of negating a part of your humanity. This is why it’s such an effective punishment and oft-used torture tactic—the human mind can and does convince itself of almost anything.

There are many places in which one can feel alone—a penthouse tower, looking down on the masses from above, a tiny, poorly lit tenement that reeks of garbage and humanity. But why is it that for many of us, the worst kind of loneliness occurs when one is surrounded by other people?

The worst part is that people seem to notice that something’s wrong, and want to help. But the more they try to help, the more one tries to explain, the worse it gets. Smile, they say, come join us. But the isolation is a shroud that hangs over you, a hood that protects you from having to function in the world outside your own head. You want to try to explain, but you can’t because you don’t know how to verbalize the chaos inside.

And so you stand there in crowded, noisy rooms and smile on cue, but you don’t really feel it. Feeling trapped inside your own head does strange things to people – makes them want to lash out at others not to ease their pain, but to feel something, anything. Some people go through their whole lives feeling this way, living and dying alone. Others take up arms against their fellow man, usually turning their weapons upon themselves as well.

Isolation does funny things to people. Some handle it better than others; some can’t handle it at all. It seems as we increase our population of the earth, we are becoming increasingly isolated from one another, each participating in our communities via computer keyboards and cellular telephone connections. Whether or not we have sought it, we have created our own solitary confinement cells from which we are seldom forced to emerge. And so we are drawn into virtual communities where we can hide behind walls and create false identities for ourselves, hiding the darkest recesses of our minds and our souls behind a façade, or worse, exposing these recesses without showing our faces.

It is an odd world we have created, an odd world we live in. Sometimes the loneliest place is a crowded room.

Things I Like Vol. 17

Ten People/Places/Things, etc. That Rock My World

1) Devils & Dust album cover shot by Anton Corbijn
2) The New York Dolls, now and forever
3) Denzel Washington
4) "Dude Looks Like a Lady" - Aerosmith
5) EZ-Pass
6) the cherry blossoms, Washington DC
7) myspace.com
8) the Hip-O Select label
9) Steven Van Zandt
10) This Divided State, film by Steven Greenstreet

Hero of the Week: Robert Reich, one of the smartest, most humane people to have served in public office

Villain of the Week: Rep. Tom DeLay (R-TX), for inserting his own personal morality crisis into the tragedy that is the Schiavo case