A bit of candor from the gentleman from Delaware

I'm often not sure what to make of Joe Biden -- like most Senators, he can come off as part blowhard, part opportunist, part guy you wouldn't trust your kids or pets with. But he's smart, and often pulls no punches when it comes to the current administration. Politicians are rarely seen in a bad mood, or having anything approaching the tempers of every day citizens. Simply put, they don't swear. Which is why I was once again laughing out loud on the train as I read a New Yorker article on Dems' attempts to reclaim some of the national defense credability for so long ceded to the other side:

By the mid-nineties, Biden had become more absorbed by foreign affairs, and he was deeply affected by the cruelty he saw on visits to Bosnia during the war there. He became a missionary in the cause of armed humanitarian intervention in Bosnia and, later, in Kosovo. I
came back to the Republicans and laid out the death camps in Kosovo, the rape camps in Bosnia, I laid it out in stark relief," he told me. "These guys, "the Republicans, said, 'It's not our business.' What is so transformational in the last four years is that these assholes who
wouldn't give President Clinton the authority to use force have now become', he said, moral interventionists. "Give me a fucking break."

--

Tell us what you really think, Senator. Now if only people talked like that on Meet the Press, I'd watch it more often...

today's van gogh's birthday

and i know i've put this on here before, but it's how i really came to find him fascinating. annie dillard wrote a 'found' poem drawn from his letters to his brother, theo. he was a fantastic painter, would've made a fine writer, and goes on my list of people to have dinner with. after all that coffee and bread, i think i'd buy the poor guy a steak.

I Am Trying to Get at Something Utterly Heartbroken

I.

At the end of the road is a small cottage,
And over it all the blue sky.
I am trying to get at something utterly heartbroken.

The flying birds, the smoking chimneys,
And that figure loitering below in the yard-
If we do not learn from this, then from what shall we learn?

The miners go home in the white snow at twilight.
These people are quite black. Their houses are small.
The time for making dark studies is short.

A patch of brown heath through which a white
Path leads, and sky just delicately tinged,
Yet somewhat passionately brushed.
We who try our best to live, why do we not live more?

II.

The branches of poplars and willows rigid like wire
It may be true that there is no God here,
But there must be one not far off.

A studio with a cradle, a baby's high chair.
Those colors which have no name
Are the real foundation of everything.

What I want is more beautiful huts far away on the heath.
If we are tired, isn't it then because
We have already walked a long way?

The cart with the white horse brings
A wounded man home from the mines.
Bistre and bitumen, well applied,
Make the colouring ripe and mellow and generous.

III.

A ploughed field with clods of violet earth;
Over all a yellow sky with a yellow sun.
So there is every moment something that moves one intensely.

A bluish-grey line of trees with a few roofs.
I simply could not restrain myself or keep
My hands off it or allow myself to rest.

A mother with her child, in the shadow
Of a large tree against the dune.
To say how many green-greys there are is impossible.

I love so much, so very much, the effect
Of yellow leaves against green trunks.
This is not a thing that I have sought,
But it has come across my path and I have seized it.

- very, very true.

might makes light, i mean right.

actually, it rarely does.

i saw a very interesting video piece recently by an artist from
sarejevo named nebojsa seric shoba that in gives both a haunting and
ominous take on our place in this world today, both how we see
ourselves and how others see us. give the video time to load if you
can, or better yet, go see it at P.S. 1.

It's called "Let There Be Light" and the link's screwy, so go here instead:

http://www.scca.ba/artistfiles/soba/ok/planeta.mov

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at home on a grey weekend of easter and my father's birthday, pennsylvania is here, as ever. a short stay, but memorable because of an increasingly engaging nephew -- equal parts adorable and trouble brewing.

i watch him and am reminded of recent declarations that i'll look a bit more for what's bright in life. i'm finding it in brooklyn, and finding it here at a dinner table i grew up at, watching jasper make the difficult, but simple decision between mashed potatoes [duh] and applesauce.

he manages both, and as i watch him weilding a tiny silver fork with mickey mouse on the end of it, i'm reminded of two things: that there are simple joys in life, and that years ago, that was actually my fork. so much abides.

gapingvoid: brooklyn

indeed.

written in 1991, makes more than a little sense now

In Those Years

In those years, people will say, we lost track
of the meaning of we, of you
we found ourselves
reduced to I
and the whole thing became
silly, ironic, terrible:
we were trying to live a personal life
and yes, that was the only life
we could bear witness to

But the great dark birds of history screamed and plunged
into our personal weather
They were headed somewhere else but their beaks and pinions drove
along the shore, through the rags of fog
where we stood, saying I.

-- Adrienne Rich

The New York Times > Opinion > Op-Ed Columnist: George W. to George W.: "a policy of humanity "

Tom Friedman has an excellent column in today's NYT. Read it if you have time. Here's a sampling:

You have to stop and think about this: We killed 26 of our prisoners of war. In 18 cases, people have been recommended for prosecution or action by their supervising agencies, and eight other cases are still under investigation. That is simply appalling. Only one of the deaths occurred at the Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq, reported Jehl and Schmitt - "showing how broadly the most violent abuses extended beyond those prison walls and contradicting early impressions that the wrongdoing was confined to a handful of members of the military police on the prison's night shift."

tower of babble

the new yorker just did an interesting profile on rem koolhaas, someone i find to be very interesting to read about, if somewhat frightening to look at.

i'm lucky enough to have one architect friend with whom i'd occasionally try to talk as though i knew something beyond the names santiago piano, raphael calatrava, and caesar foster. sadly, he's in another city these days, but i often miss those conversations, elementary as they were.

anyway, the piece talks about how koolhaas' Office for Metropolitan Architecture is as much an idea workshop as it is a building workshop, and how there's a rigor to the thinking there -- perhaps to a fault, if you find him gimmicky or pompus -- that jumps out at people visiting the firm. the reason i'm writing at all right now is because of this bit of the article, written by daniel zalewski, which had me laughing out loud on the train:

Nothing is approved at OMA just because it looks cool. A defense of its function, or its conceptual appeal, must be made....To survive this proces, OMA architects must be verbally as well as visually destrous. Koolhaas become impatient when a colleague's languag is wan or imprecise--"I really dislike the word 'interesting,'" he told me. When an associate cannot give a clear explanation for a design decision, Koolhaas chides him by saying, "You are not fully exploiting my intelligence."

Story of my life, Rem. He goes on my short list of people I'd like to have dinner with sometime.

here's a building or two

and now for the poems that make john mad

a buck, a beer, or a burger to the person who can help me understand this one....creeley's amazing, but i'm a bit lost.

She Went to Stay

Trying to chop mother down is like
hunting deer inside Russia
with phalangists for hat-pins.
I couldn't.
-Robert Creeley

i think i get it, but i'm not sure. where's my favorite old proffesor
billy joe harris when you need him? kansas, but that's beside the
point.

As close to TRON as i'm likely to get.

Wow. Someone appears to have chosen a strange name for their knockoff Tetris game.

says one happy customer:

Bernd: If you like Tetris games then get this. This is the best Tetris game that I've ever played on the Amiga. The graphics are great and the music is very good and most importantly, the gameplay is superb. Very good.

You hear that? Superb.

Karl Lagerfeld made me want to throw my sandwich away.

Seeing this man on the street does not do wonders for one's appetite.

Kirstie Alley, take note.

why scientists should never recant

Solar Death Ray. Yep. This is easily the coolest thing I've seen in a very long time. Now if only I had the slightest inclination to build it.

From the designer:

The Solar Death Ray is made of 112 mirrors mounted on a platform 4 feet wide and 6 feet tall. Each mirror is a square roughly 3.5 inches on edge. All these mirrors focus the sun to a single spot 5 feet, 6 inches from the mirror platform. A wooden fork extends from the mirror base to the area near the focus and serves as a mounting point for Solar Death Ray targets.

Yes, targets....

In high school, I took conceptual physics, and in college, I took the history of mathematics in western civilization. This is what enterprising English majors would do to avoid getting their hands dirty with proofs and numbers and chemicals and all that nonsense. The Solar Death Ray, it would seem, presents a strong argument for an attitude change on my part.

Plus, you can melt a rubber duck.

it's monday, and i got nothing

though things are remarkably good right now. wanting to at least find something to put up, i was reminded of this quote by Diane Arbus that ends Michael Kimmelman's review of her show at the Met. Sad life and a sad woman at times, but she hits on something here that's beautiful:

''The world is a Noah's ark on the sea of eternity containing all the endless pairs of things, irreconcilable and inseparable,'' Arbus said in a letter to a friend. ''And heat will always long for cold and the back for the front and smiles for tears and mutt for jeff and no for yes with the most unutterable nostalgia there is.''

I should write about nostalgia sometime. One of the harder things to pull down but we all somehow get it. You, too.

putting our best face forward, take 3:

Karen Hughes?! She's like John Bolton and Paul Wolfowitz with a uterus...who's next?

from Slate -- "As part of his plan to improve America's image in the Muslim world, President Bush has appointed his longtime adviser, Karen Hughes, as the undersecretary of state for public diplomacy. Condoleezza Rice, announcing the choice on Monday, said, "We must do more to confront the hateful propaganda, dispel dangerous myths, and get out the truth."

This is insane.

amaztype

amaztype wow, this is cool. www.boingboing.net is full of such things....

nice little interview with a nice little band

the coastal drag is a fine bunch of kids. you should go see them sometime.

as the United States continues to embrace its "fuck the world" policy...

Bush Reportedly to Recommend Wolfowitz for World Bank Post

By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
Published: March 16, 2005

WASHINGTON -- President Bush will recommend that Defense Deputy Secretary Paul Wolfowitz take over as head of the World Bank, a senior administration official said Wednesday.
Wolfowitz has been Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld's top deputy and a lightning rod for criticism over the U.S. invasion of Iraq and other defense policies. "

because that's a really smart idea...

Excellent NYT article

No Need to Stew: A Few Tips to Cope With Life's Annoyances

By IAN URBINA

When Seth Shepsle goes to Starbucks, he orders a "medium" because "grande" - as the coffee company calls the size, the one between big and small - annoys him.

Meg Daniel presses zero whenever she hears a computerized operator on the telephone so that she can talk to a real person. "Just because they want a computer to handle me doesn't mean I have to play along," she said.

When subscription cards fall from magazines Andrew Kirk is reading, he stacks them in a pile at the corner of his desk. At the end of each month, he puts them in the mail but leaves them blank so that the advertiser is forced to pay the business reply postage without gaining a new subscriber.

I like these people, and make a habit of doing 2 of these 3 things myself. the mail's next. read the whole article.

by request

john for some reason will not read poetry on his own, but is willing
to let me be tell him what to look at. so be it. this woman, jorie
graham, is unbelievable.

The Way Things Work

is by admitting
or opening away.
This is the simplest form
of current: Blue
moving through blue;
blue through purple;
the objects of desire
opening upon themselves
without us; the objects of faith.
The way things work
is by solution,
resistance lessened or
increased and taken
advantage of.
The way things work
is that we finally believe
they are there,
common and able
o illustrate themselves.
Wheel, kinetic flow,
rising and falling water,
ingots, levers and keys,
I believe in you,
cylinder lock, pully,
lifting tackle and
crane lift your small head--
I believe in you--
your head is the horizon to
my hand. I believe
forever in the hooks.
The way things work
is that eventually
something catches.

no longer strangers, talking to strangers

(i had one of these campbell's soup things as a kid. i need to get another one for reasons mentioned below)

last night i found myself in a cab with the girl i did not initially call back, but now had made a habit of calling. we shared one of those rare and extremely entertaining experiences of getting a kick ass cab driver who is super talkative, and clearly equal parts brilliant and insane.

we shook hands by the time we were done, introductions all around:

tim? hussein.
hussein? tim.
hussein? abby.
abby? hussein.

and it's kind of strange that we did that, because we spent nearly the whole ride -- and 5 minutes pulled over in brooklyn heights w/ the meter off -- talking about mugging and getting robbed. when after 5 years in New York, i found myself involved in the most poorly executed attempt ever to jump a guy in a suit with his arms full, it occurred to me that maybe i was about due. once in five years?! seems reasonable, almost. understandably, others have not shared this viewpoint.

in the cab last night, though, i knew hussein and i could be pals. in our new friend's words, having your money taken by threat of force is simply "just another transaction," and one to which someone should almost gleefully submit. "next time," he tells me, "tell him to have a nice day! Is just transaction, no worry!"after which, abby asks, if perhaps he had ever been --- "yes, of course, several times," he replies cheerily, before the question's even out. we asked him to list them, and he was happy to oblige. both in his cab and out - once for $60 or so bucks, once for less than a dollar....a total of 4 or so times.

he then turns into a rhetorical powerhouse, and suggests that people get money taken from them all the time -- from people they know. why don't we have a problem with that, he asks? his kids and nephews and everyone around him, always asking for his money, taking his money. it is a small point, but he has made one.

from Pakistan, hussein's lived in New York for 15 or so years. hope to run into him again, i think to myself. wait a minute -- 15 years?! 4 times?! getting out of the cab, abby and i do the math and it checks out. if anything, i've gotten off a bit easy so far.

interesting advice

"Every individual ought to know at least one poet from cover to cover;
if not as a guide through the world, than as a yardstick for the
language." -- Joseph Brodsky

The same could be said, in a different way, naturally, of
photographers, or painters, or bacon.

Today was a Sunday unlike any I’ve had in a long time, for more reasons than I can set down here. Before I let it turn into Monday, I had to revisit a line in a book I’d read years ago, have underlined for many other people, and found looped in my head on a walk from Brooklyn Heights tonight:

“I started a new life, not purposely, but because I had a chance to begin anew and did not refuse to do so.” – van Gogh

It’s easier to remember and type than it is to do, but everywhere I turn, there are reminders of why it wouldn’t be a bad idea.

sometimes it's hard to separate just acts from their opposite

this seems like the former, and not at all fair.

this week

many things happened.

i want to write about getting mugged, but haven't had time to make it as funny and serious as i'd like. there was also a dinner at the ritz and a girl who gave me shit for taking her number and not using it. i think that may change.

more soon on all fronts. also, martha's out of prison -- time to dust off that joke again.

gawker helps martha catch up -- and me remember

While You Were Serving: A Primer for Martha Stewart : Gawker

very informative.

my favorite: Julia Roberts birthed her litter

best editorial headline in awhile.

Fatties on the Football Field

Sometimes you gotta love the Times.

The National Football League can scoff all it wants, but it seems clear that too many players are severely obese. If they're not smart enough to pursue healthier lifestyles, the league should monitor and protect the well-being of its present and former players lest they suffer weight-related ailments.