The Bright Lights of Kelly Khuri

Here's a great quote from today's New York Times: “This so-called climate science is just ridiculous. I think it’s all cyclical. Carbon regulation, cap and trade, it’s all just a money-control avenue. Some people say I’m extreme, but they said the John Birch Society was extreme, too.” That's Kelly Khuri, a Tea Party activist. I love the "but they said the John Birch Society was extreme, too." Hmm, I wonder what Kelly considers extreme? One of the founding members of the John Birch society was Revilo P. Oliver, who went on to become associated with white supremacist and holocaust denial groups. John Birch founder Robert Welch famously denounced Eisenhower as "a dedicated agent of the communist conspiracy." Kelly, you are brilliant! (That's Robert Welch in the photo.)

Yasir Afifi

The case of Yasir Afifi should alarm us all: the FBI secretly attached a GPS device to this young man's car so they could track his movements. Afifi is a 20 year old computer salesman and college student. (There are many news articles about this story, just google it.) A Federal court had already ruled that the use of GPS tracking devices (without the suspect's consent) does not require a court order as long as the tracking (for now, it seems these cases involve automobiles) is happening on public property. It seems to me, however, that the physical act of placing the tracking device on one's private property is, in itself, a gross violation of privacy. How is it that the police can go messing around with one's car without a court's permission?

In this case Afifi found out he was being surveillanced when the guy changing his oil noticed an odd wire, which led to the gps device. They posted images online asking for help in identifying the strange object. Then the FBI shows up at Afifi's door two days later asking for their spying equipment back. And you're going to give it back? No way! If something is attached to your car, it's now yours!

Columbus Day

The blog has been dormant for a while and during this time I have wondered about its continuity. I have decided to continue because I enjoy writing, but I am still pondering some changes in format and focus. In any case, the frequent review of my most recent past is a useful exercise for me. October is perhaps an especially busy month. We have Semana Poética coming up, the new issue of SiRENa coming out, Alma getting ready to leave for Niger, a new ballet... And speaking of new, today I am scheduled to go pick up our new kitten. This should be fun! Fun was the party we had Saturday night for Alma. The weather was perfect, the food was good and plentiful, and the presence of family and friends like a warm, live giving embrace.

Today is Columbus Day, although the holiday was celebrated yesterday. But it sure is an odd holiday. Nothing to mark the event in Carlisle. Nothing at Dickinson. Strange. In Venezuela the holiday's orientation has been flipped: it's now the Day of Indigenous Resistance. Interesting.

How Much Health Care?

The most recent New York Review of Books includes a long, interesting reveiw/article on US health care. I've yet to finish reading it, but the central argument is that oversupply of services is a major contributor to our spiraling, out of control costs. Doctors have many incentives to order tests and procedures. Financial compensation and fear of liability are major factors in this dynamic. I had my own experience with the system just last week when, quite unexpectedly, I suffered a major reactivation of a long dormant companion: ulcerative colitis. Very mild symptoms, which had been lingering for a few weeks, and which in the past have disappeared on their own, typically in a matter of a few days, suddenly worsened dramatically and I ended up in the E.R., overcome by pain and dehydration. I'm a lucky beneficiary of modern medicine: a simple I.V. feed, spiced with some good narcotic, had me somewhat hydrated and almost pain free in fairly short order. Appropriately, the first call I got that morning, lying in triage, was from my doctor's office, to remind me that I had an 8:30 am appointment. I explained that I was tied to an I.V. at the hospital just up the street and wouldn't be able to make it. Not a problem: Dr. So and So is at the hospital making his rounds and he'll stop by to check on you. But the E.R. doctor got to me first and he ordered a CAT scan. When I got back from that my doctor found me and we were going over my situation. I asked him about the CAT scan, and he confirmed my doubts when he admitted he wouldn't have ordered it since what we really needed done was a colonoscopy, which was performed a short time later at the doctor's office. Waste? Who knows? I can't blame the E.R. doctor, but maybe if someone had told him my doctor was in the hospital they could have consulted briefly. But the hospital has it's routnes. I'm sure this happens everyday all over the country: hey, we've got this really expensive machine, so keep it in use, keep that billing office busy! (At least my doctor got me discharged and could perform this second procedure at significantly less cost than the hospital.) I'm getting great care and I'm extremely grateful: I kind of tail spun into very poor condition and, thankfully, got the help I needed very fast and with fantastic results: those evil pharmaceutical giants do have some good products! But how expensive is too expensive? How are we going to pay for it?

I question myself about posting comments related to private aspects of my life, but in this case I decided to go ahead. It's interesting to see the health care in action, and I'm fascinated by the speedy coming and going of symptoms and pain management. And the same old thing: someday in the future when I'm wondering when it was I had that really bad week I can look it up and I'll find it here.

Falling Acorns

On Friday after- noon Asun and I were walking to the car when Asun got hit by a hard falling acorn. Ouch. It's that time of year. Yesterday we were hiking along the Appalachian Trail and I was feeling deeply affected by the season's warnings: life ends. warm to cold, green to brown, moist to dry. What to do? How to respond? Acorns were falling to my left, to my right. Then, kaplut, one fell right in front of me. Damn, am I being spoken to? And then, right on cue, Waldo stumbled badly. As he regained his balance he looked up at me, as if acknowledging, yes, I'm getting old, I'm reading your mind. But it was a sunny morning, too, and we just kept on hiking. The darkness wasn't real. I'd like to be ready for that darkness. Maybe it will help if I think of myself as an acorn. I'll get recycled.

And apropos my thoughts, here is the beginning of today's poem from VerseDaily, "Teleology," by Rebecca Foust:

In the seed lies all that it can ever be,
shoot, plant, flower, fruit and

in the end again, the seed.
In the acorn, the entire tree.

Tone

Yesterday in my poetry seminar we were discussing how poems communicate tone. Initially I noted that there was some confusion about what tone is, so I asked them to forget about poetry and just think about language and communication in general. That helped recenter the discussion. Perceiving tone in non-vocal contexts can be tricky. (After all, tone is a musical term and its etymology is related to the stretching of a string.) In any case, I suggested they consider email and text messaging, modes of communication which are notoriously bad for clarity of tone. (Was that message supposed to be ironic? What does that mean?, etc.) Later yesterday I received an email from a student that conveyed, I trust unintentionally, the wrong tone. And this morning I read an article in the Times about a major mess up at the Met that very probably could have been avoided had it not been for a very poor use of email. Instead of getting on the telephone, Met director Peter Gelb sent German director Peter Stein, an email that made a sensitive situation much, much worse. (Gelb certainly had a right to be irritated, but by exposing his impatience and irritation in an email he forced an outcome that he wanted to avoid.) Read the article here.

So watch your tone. Sing. (I may yet get my nerve up and take some voice lessons--wouldn't it be great to be able to sing?)

Philip Roth's Focus

Right now I'm listening to Tina Brown interview Philip Roth (at the Open Culture website) and Roth just made an interesting comment that I've heard very similar variations of from a number of novelists: "I write my way into knowledge of the story." I find that to be a fascinating notion. He starts with a line, that's it. He's not recording a preexisting story; the story develops as it is created. It seems that life is like that. What knowledge do I have of my story? Is it mine? Sometimes the finiteness of the narrative proves unsettling, but a part of my brain tells me it really shouldn't: an infinite narrative would be terrifying. But what I really want is to be properly focused on the right now. Properly? What does that mean? I feel that I have, sometimes, an intuitive sense of what it means to be properly focused, but at this present moment articulateness is escaping me. (And I fear that sometimes the nature of our present age, so given to divide our attention, has sucked me in in ways that I do not like at all. Certain kinds of reading and work are the best antidote.

The Bat in the Kitchen

Yes, this morning, very early, I was greeted by a bat when I got to the kitchen. No, not a baseball bat, the flying kind. Kind of startled me. But what really pissed me off was that the little bugger had the temerity to make its presence known before I had even had a chance to make coffee. That's not cricket! I was made to feel rather anxious by this state of affairs, and then Waldo complicated matters by coming downstairs and plopping down in the middle of the dining room and acting thoroughly unperturbed at being buzzed by the bat. So I'm trying to get Waldo to move, but he just doesn't see what the fuss is about, and at the same time I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to make coffee while not turning my back on our uninvited guest. Perhaps stupidly, I did pay attention to it, and as a consequence I paid a price: standing at the entrance to the dining room, the thing came right at me, really right towards my face. I backed up and, having yet to receive an injection of caffeine, stumbled and... well, nothing really happened, but this was not a bright moment for my dignity, so it's a good thing it was just me and Waldo. I opened the door to the garden and after a couple of minutes the bat got itself out. I think. Unfortunately, after I opened the door I went looking for a tennis racket. When I got back the pest was gone, so can I be sure it left? Maybe it's hiding inside a ceramic vase or in some other small, dark corner. (Asun did discover the vase trick some years ago while doing some cleaning: a mummified bat!)

Well, now I've had some coffee and feel much, much better. Bat: now there's a Germanic etymology for you. I don't understand how you got from this idea of "to strike" to this flying rat. Because people tend to strike at them? (I don't think so.) In any case, it's nothing like the latinate murciélago that you have in Spanish: "blind rat." Now that's a descriptive word!

Where Is the Noise Coming From?

It's a good news bad news kind of morning. The bad news is I did not sleep well, probably attributable to excessive caffeine consumption yesterday. The good news is I get to really enjoy the early morning quiet that is especially attractive in the hour just before dawn. It's a calm, starry night in Carlisle. But what's with the annoying humming sound? Something, somewhere is causing this humming. It's coming from the exterior but I can't identify the source. I'm pretty sure I've heard this humming in the past. Once the daytime noise starts you can't detect it, so who knows if it's always there or not. Background noise. And rather annoying. Get me back to the woods... In fact, I was thinking on my last hike: wouldn't it be nice to just walk, walk, walk... I've never been on a real long distance walk and it's something I'd very much like to experience.
Sunday was the Feast of the Assumption! Without a doubt one of the most beautiful days of the year!!!

So now it's on to day two of the Willoughby Fellows technology workshop. It will be a busy day.

Finally: your homework is to go see the film City Island. Very funny. Don't miss it.

Deep In the Woods

For the second Saturday in a row Waldo and I had a splendid hike. We never really achieved a Zen state, but our time on the trail was much enjoyed. It was a cool, overcast morning, great for hiking. We did the Scenic Vista trail out at King's Gap and I had a few curious moments in which memories of previous hikes on this same trail were brought to the forefront of my mind with tremendous vividness. It was a good feeling. About half way through the hike I had a brief moment when it seemed that we were far, far away from any kind of distraction. Beautiful! We were there, deep in the woods, wrapped in a deep green silence. It is a wonderful place to be and I'm sure this is the central treasure that leads me back to the woods again and again. It is very quiet, the light is soft. Many shades of green. It is a gentle, inviting environment, but quite alive. There is nothing spectacular for the senses to behold, there is nothing to do, no call to action. Just being, perhaps in a moment of deistic acceptance.