"never trust a poet to tell the truth
because they lie to save their imaginations
from the inability of what is real
to bend itself to their words"
~Tony Brown
7/01/2008
For Shannon Leigh, 1987-2008
Dear Shannon,
I want to write you a poem.
A eulogy, really.
But I didn't know you.
I made plans to befriend you in Madison this summer.
I have a copy of your final chapbook.
It might even be signed, I don't remember.
I've told my friends that you died.
I keep thinking if I say it over and over again,
I might believe it.
The way I'm picturing it,
your tattoos started to glow
until they were so white-hot
your mother had to look away
so she wouldn't see the wings
bursting from your skin
like the breath she was praying for.
Journey on, sweet poet.
~Dane
I want to write you a poem.
A eulogy, really.
But I didn't know you.
I made plans to befriend you in Madison this summer.
I have a copy of your final chapbook.
It might even be signed, I don't remember.
I've told my friends that you died.
I keep thinking if I say it over and over again,
I might believe it.
The way I'm picturing it,
your tattoos started to glow
until they were so white-hot
your mother had to look away
so she wouldn't see the wings
bursting from your skin
like the breath she was praying for.
Journey on, sweet poet.
~Dane
6/25/2008
For my father...
...who keeps pestering me about the fact that I 'haven't written much' in the last few weeks. I found this on www.gotpoetry.com:
"Tomatoes have been taking a beating in the press lately, as they are pulled off supermarket shelves and dropped from restaurant menus because of the nationwide salmonella scare. All this talk of killer tomatoes gets the creative juices flowing, though. So we invite you to post here a tomato haiku (the three-lined Japanese poetry)...."
Cook's Tomato Haiku
eat them like apples,
with bits of salt on each bite,
to highlight the sweet
Farming For Profit
he hates tomatoes,
but grows them because they make
such lovely presents
The Obligatory One
sweet moist bites, juice on
chin, spilling seeds over skin
tomato/tongue dance
"Tomatoes have been taking a beating in the press lately, as they are pulled off supermarket shelves and dropped from restaurant menus because of the nationwide salmonella scare. All this talk of killer tomatoes gets the creative juices flowing, though. So we invite you to post here a tomato haiku (the three-lined Japanese poetry)...."
Cook's Tomato Haiku
eat them like apples,
with bits of salt on each bite,
to highlight the sweet
Farming For Profit
he hates tomatoes,
but grows them because they make
such lovely presents
The Obligatory One
sweet moist bites, juice on
chin, spilling seeds over skin
tomato/tongue dance
6/12/2008
Massachusetts 23, or An Article I Liked
Your Whiteness is Showing: An Open Letter to Certain White Women Who are Threatening to Withhold Support From Barack Obama in November
By Tim Wise
June 5, 2008
This is an open letter to those white women who, despite their proclamations of progressivism, and supposedly because of their commitment to feminism, are threatening to withhold support from Barack Obama in November. You know who you are.
I know that it's probably a bad time for this. Your disappointment at the electoral defeat of Senator Hillary Clinton is fresh, the sting is new, and the anger that animates many of you--who rightly point out that the media was often sexist in its treatment of the Senator--is raw, pure and justified.
That said, and despite the awkward timing, I need to ask you a few questions, and I hope you will take them in the spirit of solidarity with which they are genuinely intended. But before the questions, a statement if you don't mind, or indeed, even if (as I suspect), you will mind it quite a bit.
First, for those of you threatening to actually vote for John McCain and to oppose Senator Obama, or to stay home in November and thereby increase the likelihood of McCain winning and Obama losing (despite the fact that the latter's policy platform is virtually identical to Clinton's while the former's clearly is not), all the while claiming to be standing up for women...
For those threatening to vote for John McCain or to stay home and increase the odds of his winning (despite the fact that he once called his wife the c-word in public and is a staunch opponent of reproductive freedom and gender equity initiatives, such as comparable worth legislation), all the while claiming to be standing up for women...
For those threatening to vote for John McCain or to stay home and help ensure Barack Obama's defeat, as a way to protest what you call Obama's sexism (examples of which you seem to have difficulty coming up with), all the while claiming to be standing up for women...
Your whiteness is showing.
When I say your whiteness is showing this is what I mean: You claim that your opposition to Obama is an act of gender solidarity, in that women(and their male allies) need to stand up for women in the face of the sexist mistreatment of Clinton by the press. On this latter point--the one about the importance of standing up to the media for its often venal misogyny--you couldn't be more correct.
As the father of two young girls who will have to contend with the poison of patriarchy all their lives, or at least until such time as that system of oppression is eradicated, I will be the first to join the boycott of, or demonstration on, whatever media outlet you choose to make that point. But on the first part of the above equation--the part where you insist voting against Obama is about gender solidarity--you are, for lack of a better way to put it, completely full of crap. And what's worse is that at some level I suspect you know it. Voting against Senator Obama is not about gender solidarity. It is an act of white racial bonding, and it is grotesque.
If it were gender solidarity you sought, you would by definition join with your black and brown sisters come November, and do what you know good and well they are going to do, in overwhelming numbers, which is vote for Barack Obama. But no. You are threatening to vote not like other women--you know, the ones who aren't white like you and most of your friends--but rather, like white men! Needless to say it is high irony, bordering on the outright farcical, to believe that electorally bonding with white men, so as to elect McCain, is a rational strategy for promoting feminism and challenging patriarchy. You are not thinking and acting as women, but as white people. So here's the first question:
What the hell is that about?
And you wonder why women of color have, for so long, thought (by and large) that white so-called feminists were phony as hell? Sister please...
Your threats are not about standing up for women. They are only about standing up for the feelings of white women, and more to the point, the aspirations of one white woman. So don't kid yourself. If you wanted to make a statement about the importance of supporting a woman, you wouldn't need to vote for John McCain, or stay home, thereby producing the same likely result--a defeat for Obama. You could always have said you were going to go out and vote for Cynthia McKinney. After all, she is a woman, running with the Green Party, and she's progressive, and she's a feminist. But that isn't your threat is it? No. You're not threatening to vote for the woman, or even the feminist woman. Rather, you are threatening to vote for the white ma, and to reject not only the black man who you feel stole Clinton's birthright, but even the black woman in the race. And I wonder why? Could it be...?
See, I told you your whiteness was showing.
And now for a third question, and this is the biggie, so please take your time with it: How is it that you have managed to hold your nose all these years, just like a lot of us on the left, and vote for Democrats who we knew were horribly inadequate--Kerry, Gore, Clinton, Dukakis, right on down the uninspiring line--and yet, apparently can't bring yourself to vote for Barack Obama? A man who, for all of his shortcomings (and there are several, as with all candidates put up by either of the two major corporate parties) is surely more progressive than any of those just mentioned. And how are we to understand that refusal--this sudden line in the proverbial sand--other than as a racist slap at a black man? You will vote for white men year after year after year--and are threatening to vote for another one just to make a point--but can't bring yourself to vote for a black man, whose political views come much closer to your own, in all likelihood, than do the views of any of the white men you've supported before. How, other than as an act of racism, or perhaps as evidence of political insanity, is one to interpret such a thing?
See, black folks would have sucked it up, like they've had to do forever, and voted for Clinton had it come down to that. Indeed, they were on board the Hillary train early on, convinced that Obama had no chance to win and hoping for change, any change, from the reactionary agenda that has been so prevalent for so long in this culture. They would have supported the white woman--hell, for many black folks, before Obama showed his mettle they were downright excited to do so--but you won't support the black man. And yet you have the audacity to insist that it is you who are the most loyal constituency of the Democratic Party, and the one before whom Party leaders should bow down, and whose feet must be kissed?
Your whiteness is showing.
Look, I couldn't care less about the Party personally. I left the Democrats twenty years ago when they told me that my activism in the Central America solidarity and South African anti-apartheid movements made me a security risk, and that I wouldn't be able to get clearance to be in some parade with Governor Dukakis. Yeah, seriously. But for you to act as though you are the indispensable voters, the most important, the ones whose views should be pandered to, whose every whim should be the basis for Party policy, is not only absurd, it is also racist in that it, a) ignores and treats as irrelevant the much more loyal constituency of black folks, without whom no Democrat would have won anything in the past twenty years (and indeed the racial gap favoring the Democrats among blacks is about six times larger than the gender gap favoring them among white women, relative to white men); and b) demonstrates the mentality of entitlement and superiority that has been long ingrained in us as white folks--so that we believe we have the right to dictate the terms of political engagement, and to determine the outcome, and to get our way, simply because for so long we have done just that.
But that day is done, whether you like it or not, and you are now left with two, and only two choices, so consider them carefully: the first is to stand now in solidarity with your black brothers and sisters and welcome the new day, and help to push it in a truly progressive and feminist and antiracist direction, while the second is to team up with white men to try and block the new day from dawning. Feel free to choose the latter. But if you do, please don't insult your own intelligence, or ours, by insisting that you've done so as a radical political act.
By Tim Wise
June 5, 2008
This is an open letter to those white women who, despite their proclamations of progressivism, and supposedly because of their commitment to feminism, are threatening to withhold support from Barack Obama in November. You know who you are.
I know that it's probably a bad time for this. Your disappointment at the electoral defeat of Senator Hillary Clinton is fresh, the sting is new, and the anger that animates many of you--who rightly point out that the media was often sexist in its treatment of the Senator--is raw, pure and justified.
That said, and despite the awkward timing, I need to ask you a few questions, and I hope you will take them in the spirit of solidarity with which they are genuinely intended. But before the questions, a statement if you don't mind, or indeed, even if (as I suspect), you will mind it quite a bit.
First, for those of you threatening to actually vote for John McCain and to oppose Senator Obama, or to stay home in November and thereby increase the likelihood of McCain winning and Obama losing (despite the fact that the latter's policy platform is virtually identical to Clinton's while the former's clearly is not), all the while claiming to be standing up for women...
For those threatening to vote for John McCain or to stay home and increase the odds of his winning (despite the fact that he once called his wife the c-word in public and is a staunch opponent of reproductive freedom and gender equity initiatives, such as comparable worth legislation), all the while claiming to be standing up for women...
For those threatening to vote for John McCain or to stay home and help ensure Barack Obama's defeat, as a way to protest what you call Obama's sexism (examples of which you seem to have difficulty coming up with), all the while claiming to be standing up for women...
Your whiteness is showing.
When I say your whiteness is showing this is what I mean: You claim that your opposition to Obama is an act of gender solidarity, in that women(and their male allies) need to stand up for women in the face of the sexist mistreatment of Clinton by the press. On this latter point--the one about the importance of standing up to the media for its often venal misogyny--you couldn't be more correct.
As the father of two young girls who will have to contend with the poison of patriarchy all their lives, or at least until such time as that system of oppression is eradicated, I will be the first to join the boycott of, or demonstration on, whatever media outlet you choose to make that point. But on the first part of the above equation--the part where you insist voting against Obama is about gender solidarity--you are, for lack of a better way to put it, completely full of crap. And what's worse is that at some level I suspect you know it. Voting against Senator Obama is not about gender solidarity. It is an act of white racial bonding, and it is grotesque.
If it were gender solidarity you sought, you would by definition join with your black and brown sisters come November, and do what you know good and well they are going to do, in overwhelming numbers, which is vote for Barack Obama. But no. You are threatening to vote not like other women--you know, the ones who aren't white like you and most of your friends--but rather, like white men! Needless to say it is high irony, bordering on the outright farcical, to believe that electorally bonding with white men, so as to elect McCain, is a rational strategy for promoting feminism and challenging patriarchy. You are not thinking and acting as women, but as white people. So here's the first question:
What the hell is that about?
And you wonder why women of color have, for so long, thought (by and large) that white so-called feminists were phony as hell? Sister please...
Your threats are not about standing up for women. They are only about standing up for the feelings of white women, and more to the point, the aspirations of one white woman. So don't kid yourself. If you wanted to make a statement about the importance of supporting a woman, you wouldn't need to vote for John McCain, or stay home, thereby producing the same likely result--a defeat for Obama. You could always have said you were going to go out and vote for Cynthia McKinney. After all, she is a woman, running with the Green Party, and she's progressive, and she's a feminist. But that isn't your threat is it? No. You're not threatening to vote for the woman, or even the feminist woman. Rather, you are threatening to vote for the white ma, and to reject not only the black man who you feel stole Clinton's birthright, but even the black woman in the race. And I wonder why? Could it be...?
See, I told you your whiteness was showing.
And now for a third question, and this is the biggie, so please take your time with it: How is it that you have managed to hold your nose all these years, just like a lot of us on the left, and vote for Democrats who we knew were horribly inadequate--Kerry, Gore, Clinton, Dukakis, right on down the uninspiring line--and yet, apparently can't bring yourself to vote for Barack Obama? A man who, for all of his shortcomings (and there are several, as with all candidates put up by either of the two major corporate parties) is surely more progressive than any of those just mentioned. And how are we to understand that refusal--this sudden line in the proverbial sand--other than as a racist slap at a black man? You will vote for white men year after year after year--and are threatening to vote for another one just to make a point--but can't bring yourself to vote for a black man, whose political views come much closer to your own, in all likelihood, than do the views of any of the white men you've supported before. How, other than as an act of racism, or perhaps as evidence of political insanity, is one to interpret such a thing?
See, black folks would have sucked it up, like they've had to do forever, and voted for Clinton had it come down to that. Indeed, they were on board the Hillary train early on, convinced that Obama had no chance to win and hoping for change, any change, from the reactionary agenda that has been so prevalent for so long in this culture. They would have supported the white woman--hell, for many black folks, before Obama showed his mettle they were downright excited to do so--but you won't support the black man. And yet you have the audacity to insist that it is you who are the most loyal constituency of the Democratic Party, and the one before whom Party leaders should bow down, and whose feet must be kissed?
Your whiteness is showing.
Look, I couldn't care less about the Party personally. I left the Democrats twenty years ago when they told me that my activism in the Central America solidarity and South African anti-apartheid movements made me a security risk, and that I wouldn't be able to get clearance to be in some parade with Governor Dukakis. Yeah, seriously. But for you to act as though you are the indispensable voters, the most important, the ones whose views should be pandered to, whose every whim should be the basis for Party policy, is not only absurd, it is also racist in that it, a) ignores and treats as irrelevant the much more loyal constituency of black folks, without whom no Democrat would have won anything in the past twenty years (and indeed the racial gap favoring the Democrats among blacks is about six times larger than the gender gap favoring them among white women, relative to white men); and b) demonstrates the mentality of entitlement and superiority that has been long ingrained in us as white folks--so that we believe we have the right to dictate the terms of political engagement, and to determine the outcome, and to get our way, simply because for so long we have done just that.
But that day is done, whether you like it or not, and you are now left with two, and only two choices, so consider them carefully: the first is to stand now in solidarity with your black brothers and sisters and welcome the new day, and help to push it in a truly progressive and feminist and antiracist direction, while the second is to team up with white men to try and block the new day from dawning. Feel free to choose the latter. But if you do, please don't insult your own intelligence, or ours, by insisting that you've done so as a radical political act.
6/05/2008
Massachusetts 22, or A Poem About Things That Are Not Real
Letters From Home
my prophesy
Dear sweet bouquet boy,
As a child, I learned to recognize nightmares
so I could wake quickly.
The trick is to look for your feet. If you know the ground you stand on,
you are awake enough to escape.
I have been searching for the trick out of this one
like the off button on the TV remote,
but the landscape has changed, and I am stuck
in a daily lineup of exhausted newsmen.
They broadcast into the living room, uninvited,
announcing our inevitable win.
Habibi,
this time, the white faces
are not the enemy.
But we keep your picture
a soft-smiling target
rising from the gray-green collar.
Dear fear-maker,
the mailman gave up.
He adds each day’s envelopes to the pile
on the porch. The dog has begun fetching
it for us, a few pieces at a time.
She looks confused when your mother
When she sleeps, your mother makes a nest of the sheets
so I cannot touch her.
She never used to stay up past ten,
but some nights I find her awake
in your bedroom.
She is not a prayer woman.
She stands in the perfect squares
of window-cut light,
whispering letters to the mailman in the moon, negotiating their safe passage:
please,
find him on your next trip.
Dear middle child,
Your sister became the first ninth-grade girl
to be suspended for fighting in school.
The report said the other girl started it.
Dear bearer of my father’s name,
Your grandmother gave birth on three battlegrounds.
My sisters were born in
I arrived in
I never thought my children would grow up under that side of the sun,
toughen their feet on the sand without shoes,
never wanted them to know what it means to run
from anyone.
do the other soldiers know
you come from a family
where the men kiss
each other on both cheeks?
Dear traveler,
Tell me how sand feels under boot soles.
Take pictures of your footsteps before
the wind comes through. Send them to me
so I know you’ve arrived.
Maybe I’ll know where you are by the color of the ground.
If I recognize it, I promise
I’ll wake us both up.
6/01/2008
Massachusetts 21, or In Further Pursuit
When I was a sophomore in college, I decided I wanted to learn Yiddish. It seemed like a good idea at the time; my college was very close to the Yiddish Book Center, I had just come away from a summer of being a counselor at a Socialist/Yiddish summer camp, and after a year of study, I had become disenchanted with Hebrew. (This disenchantment was equally due to an awful Hebrew teacher and my growing friction with a Zionist upbringing. But that's another post.)
After months of planning, organizing, and coordinating schedules and priorities, the Yiddish Study Group collapsed. Nobody could agree on what exactly they wanted to learn - should we focus on history and culture, or grammar and syntax? Were we trying to become proficient Yiddish speakers, or good enough to read children's books? These disagreements, combined with the packed and varied schedules of the various members, led to the group's end.
But I've been listening to this song by the Wholesale Klezmer Band, called "Redt Yiddish" or "Speak Yiddish." It captures some of why I wanted to learn - and still want to learn - the disappearing mama loshen. Not to mention it's also hilarious.
When I was a sophomore in college, I decided I wanted to learn Yiddish. It seemed like a good idea at the time; my college was very close to the Yiddish Book Center, I had just come away from a summer of being a counselor at a Socialist/Yiddish summer camp, and after a year of study, I had become disenchanted with Hebrew. (This disenchantment was equally due to an awful Hebrew teacher and my growing friction with a Zionist upbringing. But that's another post.)
After months of planning, organizing, and coordinating schedules and priorities, the Yiddish Study Group collapsed. Nobody could agree on what exactly they wanted to learn - should we focus on history and culture, or grammar and syntax? Were we trying to become proficient Yiddish speakers, or good enough to read children's books? These disagreements, combined with the packed and varied schedules of the various members, led to the group's end.
But I've been listening to this song by the Wholesale Klezmer Band, called "Redt Yiddish" or "Speak Yiddish." It captures some of why I wanted to learn - and still want to learn - the disappearing mama loshen. Not to mention it's also hilarious.
Redt yidish
Words and music © 1993 Yosl Kurland
On "Yidn fun amol" by the Wholesale Klezmer Band
http://WholesaleKlezmer.com/records.html#yidn
In di amolike yorn, in elter zeydns tsayt,
Iz er geven a handler yung, tsvishn fremde layt.
Hobn gesheftlekhe soydes vos gehert tsu zayne skhoyres,
Hot im der balebos gegebn an eytse vos flegt yidn oyf dor-doyres:
Redt yidish, oy, redt yidish; di konkurentn hern.
Voltn zey geganvet undzere plener, veln mir ongezetst zikh vern.
Redt yidish, oy, redt yidish. Bahalt tif vos ir meynt.
Redt yidish, konkurentn zoln nisht farshteyn.
Un az me hot gehaltn pogromen, hobn gemuzt di yidn antloyfn,
Neyen rendlekh in di kleyder, a shifskartl tsu koyfn.
Ganvenen dem grenets in der shvartser nakht,
Bentshn goyml az zey zenen koym gevoren nitzl fun der shlakht.
Redt yidish, oy, redt yidish; kozakn hern tsu.
Voltn zey gevust az mir flien, zey lozn undz nisht keyn ru.
Redt yidish, oy, redt yidish. Bahalt tif vos ir meynt.
Redt yidish, kozakn zoln nisht farshteyn.
Un gekumen in Amerike, un Amerikaner vern,
Hobn zey gevolt dos loshn fun der alter heym oyskern.
Muz men lernen kinder redn english take fayn,
Bahalt fun zey dos loshn vos dermont di alte payn.
Nor redt yidish, oy, redt yidish; di kinder hern tsu.
Voltn zey gevust fun undzere tsores, hobn zey nisht keyn ru.
Redt yidish, oy, redt yidish. Bahalt tif ayer geveyn.
Redt yidish, di kinder zoln nisht farshteyn.
Nor az vaksn oyf di eyniklekh, Amerikanere yidn mit shtoltz un mut,
Un geyn in universitet, zikh tsu lernen zeyer gut,
To, vosere limudim viln zey forshn? Sara khidesh!
Vos iz amol geredt gevorn bay yidn, take yidish!
Redt yidish, oy, redt yidish; tate-mame hern tsu.
Voltn zey gevust fun undzere tsores, hobn zey nisht keyn ru.
Redt yidish, oy, redt yidish. Bahalt tif ayer geveyn.
Redt yidish, tate-mame zoln nisht farshteyn.
Un az me hot dervust fun di yidishe shraybers, hot men oyfgedekt a
hartzikn zikorn.
Zise oytsres fun der yidishkayt zenen umbahaltn gevorn.
To, lomir redn yidish, yidish zingen un yidish hern.
Lomir hitn azoy az yidish zol, kholile, nisht farshvunden vern.
Redt yidish, oy, redt yidish; tsi zayt ir voyle yidn?
Redt yidish, oy, redt yidish, oy- lomir zayn tsufridn.
Redt yidish, oy redt yidish, un nisht bay zikh aleyn;
Redt yidish, mir ale darfn farshteyn.
Speak Yiddish
Words and music © 1993 Yosl Kurland
Long ago, in great grandfather's time,
He worked for a merchant, among strangers.
When he had trade secrets to protect,
His boss gave him advice used by Jews for generations:
Speak Yiddish, oy, speak Yiddish; our competitors are listening.
If they were to steal our secrets, we would go bankrupt.
Speak Yiddish, oy, speak Yiddish; hide your thoughts.
Speak Yiddish so our competitors won't understand.
And when pogroms were held, the Jews needed to flee,
Sewing coins into their clothing to buy their steamship tickets.
They stole across the border in the darkest night,
Thanking G-d when they barely escaped from the slaughter.
Speak Yiddish, oy, speak Yiddish; Cossacks are listening.
If they knew that we were leaving, they would not let us escape.
Speak Yiddish, oy, speak Yiddish; hide your thoughts.
Speak Yiddish so the Cossacks won't understand.
And coming to America, becoming Americans,
They wanted to get rid of the language of their old home.
We must teach our children to speak very good English, and
Hide from them the language that reminds us of our suffering.
But speak Yiddish, oy, speak Yiddish; the children can hear.
If they knew our troubles, they would have no peace.
Speak Yiddish, oy, speak Yiddish; hide your tears.
Speak Yiddish so the children won't understand.
But when the grandchildren grow up, proud American Jews,
And they go to university to get an education,
Well, what subjects do you suppose they study? What a surprise!
The language that Jews once spoke, well, of all things, Yiddish!
Speak Yiddish, oy, speak Yiddish; our parents are listening.
If they knew our troubles, they would have no peace.
Speak Yiddish, oy, speak Yiddish; hide your tears.
Speak Yiddish so father and mother won't understand.
And when we have learned about the Yiddish writers, we uncover a sweet memory.
Treasures of Yiddishkayt have been rediscovered.
So let's speak Yiddish, sing Yiddish, and listen to Yiddish.
Let us assure that Yiddish, G-d forbid, does not disappear.
Speak Yiddish, oy, speak Yiddish- are you happy to be Jews?
Speak Yiddish, oy, speak Yiddish. Let's take pleasure in it.
Speak Yiddish, oy, speak Yiddish, and not only among ourselves;
Speak Yiddish, everyone should understand.
5/27/2008
Massachusetts 20, or In Which We Witness A Blathering of Insecurity
Let us ignore for the moment that the aforeposted trip is primarily about poetry, and getting to experience poetry scenes across the US. Instead, let us peruse past the bullshit, and get to the heart of what I'm really doing: running away, as fast and as far as I can.
By all logic, I shouldn't be doing the ridiculously ambitious trip I outlined in my last post. I should be using my freshly minted Bachelor's to pursue something noble, profitable, or at least something I'm interested in like being a youth advocate or writing poems. In fact, choosing to travel for two months solid is an absolutely terrifying venture that promises to be full of boredom, discomfort and little incidents I will probably later refer to as "learning experiences."
I do not travel well, as evidenced by my accounts of my time in Europe. I'm not quite a souffle, per say, but I'm at least a hot blueberry pie or basket of fresh strawberries, guaranteed to arrive moldy and grumpy. I do not look forward to traveling. I don't even like sightseeing. I like eating, and seeing people I know that I don't get to otherwise, and maybe experiencing a different climate than the one I'm used to. But a traveler, I am not.
But why does traveling around the country while searching for a place to live sound so much less scary than applying for real jobs?
And why do the casual words of one of my relatives keep echoing uncomfortably in my head? She said, "We are of the 'options' class - we can do these kinds of things!" She's right. I have enough money to be able to do this kind of trip without worrying about running out, and probably still enough to move to a new place at the end of it.
I think these two thoughts are inextricably linked. Part of the reason I've balked at applying for jobs (not job searching, mind you - I haven't stopped looking for jobs that sound good) is because I realized just how little experience I have with actually working . Sure, I've done internships and worked at summer camps. I can write, do research and run a meeting. But these are things I've mostly done for free, and the quality of my work hasn't been measured in such a way that seems provable.
Let me explain: in the summer of 2006, I did an internship at a queer youth center for which my college gave me a stipend. I have outstanding recommendation letters from both my supervisors. They say that I organized and edited a self-published magazine and threw a poetry slam, and helped the day-to-day operations of the center. Not bad, right? Except that the majority of the difficult legwork and red tape was not my job - it was my boss's job. I was the "unpaid" intern who was supposed to be learning, but also having fun.
I've never worked in a grocery store, never been a lifeguard, never poured coffee or painted houses or potted plants for a living. I have no particular skills like that, except cooking, and even that wasn't in a restaurant. How do I tell a restaurant, "Well, no, I've never worked in a restaurant, but I can cook a vegetarian kosher dinner for 80 college students as long as I have one other person to help?"
It's all this "unofficial" work, the internships and the volunteering and the community-based stipend-driven work. It feels like trying to convince someone you'd be a great preschool teacher because you have a toddler. The skill set could work, but there's some big pieces missing.
But I still have this option to run, to get on the road and see if a bus or a train or a plane can leave me a few miles ahead of all this. Maybe I can develop some skills en route to Denver. Or Minneapolis. Or, you know, wherever.
Let us ignore for the moment that the aforeposted trip is primarily about poetry, and getting to experience poetry scenes across the US. Instead, let us peruse past the bullshit, and get to the heart of what I'm really doing: running away, as fast and as far as I can.
By all logic, I shouldn't be doing the ridiculously ambitious trip I outlined in my last post. I should be using my freshly minted Bachelor's to pursue something noble, profitable, or at least something I'm interested in like being a youth advocate or writing poems. In fact, choosing to travel for two months solid is an absolutely terrifying venture that promises to be full of boredom, discomfort and little incidents I will probably later refer to as "learning experiences."
I do not travel well, as evidenced by my accounts of my time in Europe. I'm not quite a souffle, per say, but I'm at least a hot blueberry pie or basket of fresh strawberries, guaranteed to arrive moldy and grumpy. I do not look forward to traveling. I don't even like sightseeing. I like eating, and seeing people I know that I don't get to otherwise, and maybe experiencing a different climate than the one I'm used to. But a traveler, I am not.
But why does traveling around the country while searching for a place to live sound so much less scary than applying for real jobs?
And why do the casual words of one of my relatives keep echoing uncomfortably in my head? She said, "We are of the 'options' class - we can do these kinds of things!" She's right. I have enough money to be able to do this kind of trip without worrying about running out, and probably still enough to move to a new place at the end of it.
I think these two thoughts are inextricably linked. Part of the reason I've balked at applying for jobs (not job searching, mind you - I haven't stopped looking for jobs that sound good) is because I realized just how little experience I have with actually working . Sure, I've done internships and worked at summer camps. I can write, do research and run a meeting. But these are things I've mostly done for free, and the quality of my work hasn't been measured in such a way that seems provable.
Let me explain: in the summer of 2006, I did an internship at a queer youth center for which my college gave me a stipend. I have outstanding recommendation letters from both my supervisors. They say that I organized and edited a self-published magazine and threw a poetry slam, and helped the day-to-day operations of the center. Not bad, right? Except that the majority of the difficult legwork and red tape was not my job - it was my boss's job. I was the "unpaid" intern who was supposed to be learning, but also having fun.
I've never worked in a grocery store, never been a lifeguard, never poured coffee or painted houses or potted plants for a living. I have no particular skills like that, except cooking, and even that wasn't in a restaurant. How do I tell a restaurant, "Well, no, I've never worked in a restaurant, but I can cook a vegetarian kosher dinner for 80 college students as long as I have one other person to help?"
It's all this "unofficial" work, the internships and the volunteering and the community-based stipend-driven work. It feels like trying to convince someone you'd be a great preschool teacher because you have a toddler. The skill set could work, but there's some big pieces missing.
But I still have this option to run, to get on the road and see if a bus or a train or a plane can leave me a few miles ahead of all this. Maybe I can develop some skills en route to Denver. Or Minneapolis. Or, you know, wherever.
5/25/2008
Massachusetts 19, or On The Road Again...Soon
Here's the short version of events: I'm taking a trip around the continental US to determine where I should live for the next few years. I have a few major requirements for the place I want to live, including:
- I need a poetry (preferably slam) scene that will push my work in new and exciting directions.
- I need to be able to find a job/affordable apartment.
- There has to be winter. The snowier the better.
- There has to be good enough public transportation that I can get around with no car.
- Friends or family or both would be nice.
- Probably away from the east coast, at least for a little while.
Schedule:
Fly out to Chicago on 7/30
Bus to Madison on 8/3
Bus/drive to Minneapolis on 8/10 (Drive with Manning-Cornells?)
Train to Seattle 8/14-8/16
Bus to San Francisco 8/22-8/23
Bus to LA 8/26
Train to Tuscon 8/30
Bus to Denver 9/5?
Fly to Miami 9/12
Fly to Atlanta on 9/18
Fly to Newark/NY on 9/22 in time for Dodge Poetry Festival/Rosh Hashanah
Post-High-Holidays: make my back somehow to somewhere to start a life or something
If you have advice or knowledge of any of these places (particularly the italicized ones), please let me know via comments or email at dlhoratio@yahoo.com. Also, the blog will pick up rapidly once I'm traveling again.
Here's the short version of events: I'm taking a trip around the continental US to determine where I should live for the next few years. I have a few major requirements for the place I want to live, including:
- I need a poetry (preferably slam) scene that will push my work in new and exciting directions.
- I need to be able to find a job/affordable apartment.
- There has to be winter. The snowier the better.
- There has to be good enough public transportation that I can get around with no car.
- Friends or family or both would be nice.
- Probably away from the east coast, at least for a little while.
Schedule:
Fly out to Chicago on 7/30
Bus to Madison on 8/3
Bus/drive to Minneapolis on 8/10 (Drive with Manning-Cornells?)
Train to Seattle 8/14-8/16
Bus to San Francisco 8/22-8/23
Bus to LA 8/26
Train to Tuscon 8/30
Bus to Denver 9/5?
Fly to Miami 9/12
Fly to Atlanta on 9/18
Fly to Newark/NY on 9/22 in time for Dodge Poetry Festival/Rosh Hashanah
Post-High-Holidays: make my back somehow to somewhere to start a life or something
If you have advice or knowledge of any of these places (particularly the italicized ones), please let me know via comments or email at dlhoratio@yahoo.com. Also, the blog will pick up rapidly once I'm traveling again.
4/28/2008
Massachusetts 18, or, The Importance of Protest
Ryan Sorba
, an evangelist of anti-queer rhetoric is speaking at Smith tomorrow. The title of his talk: "The Born Gay Hoax." He has no website, so the link takes you to a google video of his talk. It's badly delivered hate speech, complete with out-of-context biblical references, repetition, faulty science and circular logic.
There's been a great divide among Smithies as to the appropriate response. There's been a huge movement to ignore it, and to let him preach to "an empty room." Perhaps not as strong has been the advocacy of a real protest. The debate has been interesting and thoughtful, but I believe that ignoring hate speech is one of the fastest ways to let it spread.
(Incidentally, every time there is a neo-Nazi rally somewhere in the US, the Anti-Defamation League, and many independent synagogues make statements to the same effect: don't fuel their fire by protesting. I believe this head-in-the-sand attitude made it possible for the Nazis to rise in Germany, the Communists to seize power in Eastern Europe, and George Bush to be elected president.)
I'll be there tomorrow, in Neilson Library at 7:00 to grab seats. I'll be in some kind of glittery, sparkly drag for confidence and giggles. I'm also participating in one of the many protest plans - at the first offensive thing I hear, I'm turning my chair around and sitting with my back to him for the rest of the talk.
Maybe this is more about personal satisfaction than political change, but I can't let my absence or my silence be interpreted as laziness or apathy. Therefore, the only thing to do is go, and let my presence speak for itself.
Ryan Sorba
, an evangelist of anti-queer rhetoric is speaking at Smith tomorrow. The title of his talk: "The Born Gay Hoax." He has no website, so the link takes you to a google video of his talk. It's badly delivered hate speech, complete with out-of-context biblical references, repetition, faulty science and circular logic.There's been a great divide among Smithies as to the appropriate response. There's been a huge movement to ignore it, and to let him preach to "an empty room." Perhaps not as strong has been the advocacy of a real protest. The debate has been interesting and thoughtful, but I believe that ignoring hate speech is one of the fastest ways to let it spread.
(Incidentally, every time there is a neo-Nazi rally somewhere in the US, the Anti-Defamation League, and many independent synagogues make statements to the same effect: don't fuel their fire by protesting. I believe this head-in-the-sand attitude made it possible for the Nazis to rise in Germany, the Communists to seize power in Eastern Europe, and George Bush to be elected president.)
I'll be there tomorrow, in Neilson Library at 7:00 to grab seats. I'll be in some kind of glittery, sparkly drag for confidence and giggles. I'm also participating in one of the many protest plans - at the first offensive thing I hear, I'm turning my chair around and sitting with my back to him for the rest of the talk.
Maybe this is more about personal satisfaction than political change, but I can't let my absence or my silence be interpreted as laziness or apathy. Therefore, the only thing to do is go, and let my presence speak for itself.
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