Megrims and Motions

What does it Mean?

2007-05-28T02:47:00.001-04:00

After years of thinking like an Anthropologist, training and reading about different cultures across the globe, I have come to realize that I have a favorite anthropological anecdote.

Generically redacted: When the anthropologist asks the African villager why he accused his neighbor of sorcery against him, since it was not atypical for elephants to run through the town and stomp on gardens? The villager responded that while elephants may run through and trample all the time, sorcery is involved, not because they destroyed town gardens, but because they destroyed his garden.

I get the textual, sub-textual, and post-textual (or, the significance ascribe to the tale after it was reported) meanings. But thinking about this anecdote leaves me sad and maudlin – a feeling that is augmented by my late night listening of the Magnetic Fields, as if the world were a Busby Berkeley routine that may have been scripted by Vonnegut and colored by the famous Armenian artist Rabo Karabekian.

None of this make any sense… Fuggit!

Coming Correct Don "Juan" Imus

2007-04-16T15:42:00.000-04:00

Apologists for Don Imus tried to spread the heat by comparing his rants to Snoop Dogg's and other Gansta Rapper's ryhmes. But the boy from Long Beach did not like this. Here is what Snoop had to say about the matter:

"Rappers are not talking about no collegiate basketball girls who have made it to the next level in education and sports. We're talking about ho's that's in the 'hood that ain't doing shit, that's trying to get a nigga for his money. These are two separate things. First of all, we ain't no old-ass white men that sit up on MSNBC. I will not let them muthafuckas say we in the same league as him."

Word!

Things we do to be pretty...

2007-02-21T14:39:00.000-05:00

(or simply have teeth in 15 years)

I had my second bicuspids on my maxilla pulled yesterday. It took me 30 years to get those suckers; 30 minutes to pull them out. I knew what the obstacles for a healthy bite were going to be, but actually having bloody, gapping holes where once there were (ecru-colored) teeth is a reality check. I have the best dentist and everything went smoothly. In addition to a painless procedure, i have no swelling, no pain afterwards, and clotting is going well.

I guess that in the long run I'll have the benefits of straight teeth. But what are these benefits? I already made it through high school without too much agony. I am already cocky with high self-esteem, I date an incredible woman, and my career is entirely in my hands.

Maybe part of me just needs to know, as my blogmate Rex told me, what it is people go through to be/feel/appear beautiful. In this case, all this fuss is an anthropology of teenager transformation. From what I have read online, braces in this country have become a common place experience for many 12 and 13 year olds, regardless of their actual orthodontic needs.

Whether this whole procedure makes me more beautiful, I don’t really care or know at this point, I just know it's a bitch to have invasive orthodontics at 31 (or any age).

What I am listening to:

2007-02-13T14:43:00.000-05:00

"True I'd give my right arm
To keep you safe from harm
And, true, for you I'd move to Ecuador

And I'd keep a little farm
Chop wood to keep you warm
But I don't really love you anymore

I don't have to love you now
If I don't wish to
I won't see you anyhow
If that's an issue

Because I am a gentleman
Think of me as just your fan
Who remembers every dress you wore-

Just the bad comedian
Your new boyfriend's better than-
'Cause I don't really love you anymore

There'll be some day when your eyes
Do not enthrall me
I'll be numb, I realize you'll never call me

'Cause I've read your horoscope
And now I've given up all hope
So I don't really love you anymore

'Cause I've read your horoscope
And now I've given up all hope
So I don't really love you anymore"

I Don't Really Love You Anymore, by the Magnetic Fields

Some people need the right constellation to be in love; some people need the right constellation to realize that they are no longer in love. What about being in touch with one's emotions and knowing one or the other. It is in ourselves my dear Brutuses.

Hail for Halo

2007-02-13T09:51:00.000-05:00

It has happened, I am a Beta Tester for Halo 3. Can't wait to see the upgrades. This makes having braces a little easier. :)

Brace Face

2007-02-13T09:32:00.000-05:00

After 31 years of looking beautiful, I am about to start a 3 year program that will render me even more handsome. (Hold on to your knickers ladies, I am about to go up to "eleven"). Yesterday my orthodontist affixed braces to my upper teeth. Hopefully, this will correct my jutting overbite and return my teeth to where they belong -- above, not in front, of my lower incisors.

It is an odd thing to share more than one thing with teenagers. Besides kicking their collective ass on Halo 2 Multiplayer, now we all share the same metal smile. The ortho assistant fastened grey rubbers around each bracket. It seems that for my face, this color is the most discreet one; this is because my beard and hair also have lots of grey. Grey hair, grey beard, grey teeth... No I'm not that boring, I promise!

Copenhagen; Point Break II

2007-02-08T09:47:00.001-05:00

Jokes and Funnies

2007-02-02T13:39:00.000-05:00

Taking a piss at a local bar, i looked up and to the right over the urinal.

There I read this: "What are you looking up here for?, cuz the Joke is in your hand!"

Very Funny

Then I look down and to the left.

There I read this: " As Wichita falls, so falls Wichita Falls"

Very Witty

Image above: Mooninite Scare in Boston

Very Very Funny

Fooling us on the Sly

2007-01-29T13:10:00.000-05:00

Don't ask me why, but I am addicted to 80s Sylvester Stallone movies. It all started with casual channel surfing three weeks ago. As I lazied my way from TBS to SciFi, I came across Rambo II on AMC. Instantly enthralled by the explosive action of a bow-wielding Vietnam vet who is busy rescuing American POWs out of Vietnam, I forgot about my 6 o'clock appointment with Stargate Atlantis. I have seen the movie many times, but it's been 10 years or so since my last viewing.

Since then, I have come across a few other Stallone movies on TV. The worst (i.e. best) of the bunch is Cobra. Here Sly plays the laconic Det. Cobretti, a tough and unshaved sort-of man who is willing to act ruthlessly and roughly with the worst of L.A.'s thuggary. Cobra, short for Cobretti, single handedly defeats a militia group who is bent on bringing about a revolution through their own brand of terror tactics, namely a murder spree on the streets of L.A (maybe not what Marx had in mind). But when the militia group's leader is spotted doing murder by a passerby, the anonymity of the entire organization is threatened by this witness's potential testimony to the police. The militia group tries to kill the witness; Cobra defend the witness and defeats the militia. Fini.

There is no surprise that the witness is a supermodel who, like Cobra, happens to be single and to Cobra's delight "a little crazy". The attraction between the two is instantaneous. The surprise in the whole movie is the tightness of Cobra's jeans and how he is able to perform the necessary acrobatics to defend the supermodel and defeat the militia group. The jeans are as tight as a second skin, and despite the absence of room for even an oxygen molecule, Cobra manages to carry his gun tucked in the front of his jeans. Every time Cobra shoots off his pistol, he never worries about an overheated barrel as he "holsters" the weapon in the waist of his pants. He never burns his abdomen, and never complains about the hot zipper effect that you could expect from a hot barrel touching the copper-teeth and pull lever on pants. Heat should go all the way down leaving a long linear burn in the down-there area. No worries for Cobra though.

(According to my friend Snotboy he most likely enjoyed it. After killing bad guys, and making the sweetness with the supermodel, he probably ejected a Klingon growl and put his gun away. Who knows what things people do to remind themselves of being alive)

Some shit is just too unbelievable. What is worse is that I sit and watch it.

Sun is Shinning... Does it Haunt Me?

2007-01-26T05:55:00.000-05:00

Sun is Shinning
The weather is sweet.
Makes me want to move
My dancing feet

To the rescue...
(Bob Marley, Kaya)

For the second time this week I am up before sunrise. My alarm clock? Big Ol' dissertation pressure. The oddest part of this stress train is the confusing dreams my subconscious makes me witness while I sleep. (Some weird stuff)

A waking weirdness, however, is the article about the guy who decided that the best way to keep his burning house from being completely destroyed was to add his own fire to the raging blaze. He went on to tell the newspaper that upon remembering advice from his high school debate team coach, he thought it was best to fight 'fire' with 'fire'. (Some weird stuff)

Some cool weirdness, the Gothic Archies theme song album for the A Series of Unfortunate Events audio books. (Check it [pic above], its some weird stuff)

What an Idiocracy! Another Rambo?

2007-01-18T11:16:00.000-05:00

I recently saw Mike Judge's ‘06 movie Idiocracy. I was aware of the movie because of a review on the G4 channel program Attack of the Show (this should reveal what a nerd I am) that told how the movie was distributed in only a few theaters. Supposedly, the movie was too controversial for the production company to own up to, and they decided to let it have a quick and quit death instead.

The movie stars Luke Wilson as a clerk in the US military who participates in a 1 year deep freeze experiment, but, because of military mismanagement, ends up sleeping for 500 years. (The plot loosely follows Futurama) Luke's character wakes up in a future dystopia where humanity has evolved into a species of idiots. The evolutionary thinking behind this plot is that intelligence is an inheritable trait, and that for centuries more intelligent families focused on their professions and personal achievements over having babies. Eventually, human intelligence as a trait is no longer passed on. (Here the plot distantly echos themes and points in Vonnegut’s Galapagos) At this point, Luke’s character arrives on the scene and has to survive in this future world, and eventually rescue it from its own damnation.

The movie turned out to be a disappointment. Somehow, all these classic and campy sci-fi themes did not combine well under Mike Judge’s vision. He had a funny and great cast, his production budget allowed for decent animation and stage sets, and he was tapping into well known and tried true anchors of sci-fi lore. However, the movie plot came off as hackneyed for anyone who has seen Mike Judge’s Beavis and Butthead; and for those who haven’t, the comedy was essentially dull, and any political and social commentary that may have been embedded in the script was lost between the fart and ass jokes. I can see why the studio might have hesitated to sponsor this movie. I don’t think this is a case of (D. Pugh’s) the Man trying to keep indie art down.

But I still give this movie a 3 out of 5 stars and recommend it for viewing. Here is how I evaluate movies. I like lost causes and I can count at least 3 of these in Idiocracy. Following this line of thinking, I can’t wait (honestly) until ’08 when Rambo IV: Pearl of the Cobra will be released. As a primer, here is a professional reviewer’s summary of the plot:

"I can only imagine Rambo sneaking into Burma to free Christian missionaries who are being held by militants. And as the invincible one-man army looks into the eyes of the ordinary folks from Oklahoma and South Carolina who are risking their lives for the Gospel, he is swept up by their commitment. Oh, wait. I'm Not Kidding.”

How many lost causes can you find in this plot summary? I count at least 4, that equals at least 4 stars on Que-ni’s movie review scale.

One for the Money

2006-12-28T21:58:00.000-05:00

"Mini Karts" (Please read in Spanish)

2006-12-26T19:53:00.000-05:00

Wow, just did twenty minutes on high speed mini Go-Karts. I like speed.

The thing about these little vehicles is that they don't tip over. The low center of gravity, and the wide wheel base enables the driver to take high-speed turns. In order to get better grip, you even have to push the gas even more in the sharpest turns.

Reminds me of a few stages of my life, where going quicker was the only way to hold on.

One of the funnest things I have done in a long time. Were going again tomorrow.

Advice from my Family for celebrating Christmas in Colombia

2006-12-26T10:47:00.000-05:00

On my second day in Chia, my hometown located 15 minutes north of Bogota (Colombian capital), I looked over at a white Rodeo pathfinder and saw a twenty-something holding a AR-15 assault rifle with an extended magazine for good measure. The occupants of the SUV were not military; they were most likely concerned citizens, ex-paramilitaries, or “traquetas” (the local term for narcotrafficants who live in this area of the country). Take your pick, either way automatic and semi-automatic speed shooters have become illegal here, and to boot, the young man wielding this apparatus still had the last eruptions of adolescent acne on his face.

It seems that my family in Colombia has advice for me during my visit here: Be careful and don’t be stupid. As far as advice, it seems that it only carries weight when it is forged in experience. My family’s advice, is it from experience?

(Ahh, now I remember what it is like to live in Colombia: my first street fight, my first broken nose, my first experience as a victim of assault, and of course, my first experience taking a gun to school…)

(Musical Interlude)

All the things I knew I didn't know and didn't want to know
That you told me just to tell me later that you'd told me so
Come flooding back to me now, come on come flooding back to me now.

All the things you said you'd never say and you said anyway
The things we did and didn't do, the things we did and didn't do
Come flooding back to me now.

(Stephen Merrit, The Magnetic Fields- The things we did and didn’t do)

A week before my arrival, my cousin and his wife and kids – who recently moved to Chia – were assaulted in their house by would-be thieves. On their fist attempt, my cousin whipped out his hard hitting 45 caliber and popped a couple of shots into the air. The thieves, who have been identified as motorcycle riding horde, are said to increase their thievery around Christmas time.

“It’s to be expected, it’s Christmas season and they know that people have lots of nice things in their houses” my brother explains.

Unfortunately a couple days later the horde returned during the daytime. My cousin was at work, and it was up to his wife to defend the house and the kids. When she saw the thieves jump the perimeter wall and attempt to rush her doorway, she slammed the door shut and barricaded herself and kids in the house. This was enough to thwart the thieves and motivate her to take things into her own hands. She just bought a 12-gauge, pump action shot gun for good measure.

This woeful ordeal is unfair, since my cousin and his family had moved out of Bogota to get away from violence and theft. You see, one day when they lived in an exclusive apartment building in the city they heard an odd knock at their front door. When my cousin, who was home with his two kids, opened the door, a gang of thieves gently escorted him into a closet and locked him inside. His kids were tied up and put in another room. The events that happened next were spectacular. The gang reached into their black bag of tricks and pulled out their sledge hammers. The goal was to rob my cousin’s neighbor. Supposedly, the neighbor was a rich pawn shop owner who kept a substantial amount of loot in his house. For the next 6 hours, the thieves broke down the cement and cinderblock wall that separated the apartments and emptied out the pawn shop owner’s apartment. During this time, my cousin’s wife arrived and she was also kindly escorted to the closet to keep my cousin company. Once the pilfered the neighbor’s house, the robbers took everything in my cousin apartment as well, all for good measure.

As far as the neighborhood goes, things have become a little tougher. Chia no longer has to suffer little town envy from Bogota, since Chia has recently been granted its own “Calle del Cartucho” (“Magazine Street”). Although Chia’s Calle is not as large as Bogota’s, it is still a place where locals can dump the bodies of the murdered, secure kidnap victims, and participate in the sell and exchange of illegal artifacts and substances. Lo, development and modernity have arrived to this small town, thank goodness for Urbanism. We live in the nice part of town however, 2 kilometers from the Calle.

About one kilometer from the house is a newly installed half-way house for paramilitary troops. Once these troops were pardoned by the current administration, the government developed a network of subsidized housing projects that were supposed to help these veteran extremists fighters transition into civil society. Unfortunately, there is little employment for these guys. I have heard that sometimes locals give these guys small contracts for short term employment. But for some reason, violence and murder rates have been noted to increase during these spurts of employment.

But not all is grey. A couple of month ago Chia attempted to clean out their streets and expunge violence from its township. A neighboring town, Tabio, is currently doing the same thing Chia did to rid itself of street criminals. The cleansing goes like this. For about a month, the city posts announcements around town announcing a general cleaning of the streets. All thieves are warned to get off the streets and to stop their criminal activities. Given that Chia and Tabio are small towns, the cops already know many of the criminals. For example, my brother and sister each had a run in with the well know Nine-fingered Thief. Once the warning month is up, all unreformed thieves disappear from the streets and are never seen or heard from again. Last time Chia got rid of a total of 17 of the hardest street thugs. The Nine-fingered thief was one of these.

I guess that I will be careful, and for good measure, watch where I go and what I say.

We can all learn from a Foley folly

2006-11-08T09:24:00.000-05:00

I tend to avoid talking politics or religion with my grandmother. She is a 92 year old Latina who has retired to Florida. She is a relentless supporter of Bush and the Pope, sometimes in that order, sometimes as if they were the same person.

Yesterday we spoke over the phone to make fun of the other person’s candidates, assure each other that we were each voting, and to figure out a way to encourage my younger sister to begin to vote. Nana and I both agree with the democratic process, and have always respected our opposite views as long as we each vote. And while we both espouse a non-partisan intervention towards my sister’s political upbringing, my sister tells me that grandma does seem to repeatedly suggest that she should vote like her, not like her liberal grandson. But this is only suggestion.

I gave my grandmother my own suggestion yesterday:

(snickering) “Nana, don’t vote for Foley again, you don’t know what you might get”

“There is nothing wrong with Foley, he is not as bad as they make him out to be. It is okay to be Gay.”

Me silent. Me thinking, if Foley's actions and her undying support for the Republican party can box her into a position where she has to consider homosexuality as acceptable, then some good is coming from all this.

“Nana, the Foley issue is not about him being Gay. It is about him taking advantage of underage teenage pages whom he harassed, and may have had sex with. If this is the case, it is about power abuse.”

“Ahhh, I am sure that those 16 year old boys knew more about sex than he did. They probably fooled that old man to no end.”

She might be 92, but two things remain true. She, like any good republican will assess and accept their lost battles and then tell everyone to get on with it. This, of course, only applies when they are in the spot light, not when they are aiming it.

Either way, the votes are in and change is afoot.

Love ya Nana. See ya in the House and God and the Pope willing, in the Senate as well.

Tummy Trouble

2006-11-01T11:19:00.000-05:00

Last night was Halloween.

Scrappy and I went to a dinner party. The food was excellent and the conversation was funny and pleasant.

We made it home at 10:30 or so. Could not sleep afterwards. Eating so late affected Scrappy and my restfulness.

I feel old.

Do we need a Partial Milk Abortion?

2006-10-11T13:47:00.000-04:00

I went to buy milk last night and found out that it now comes in many grades. I saw skim, half, one, one and a half, two, three, and whole milk.

Is something wrong here? As far as I am concerned, I like Napoleon’s attitude:

"Are you drinking one percent cuz you think your fat, or something?"

"Cuz you could drink whole if you wanted to, you know."

What are our taboos and ideas that could validate a market ploy such as this one towards so many types of milk, bacterial soaps, tee shirt colors, mini socks, ankle socks, tube socks and knee highs? More importantly, with so many types of milk, Qui Bono? Perhaps this petty preocupation with milk subtypes, and the hyperbolic prolifertation of consumer choices for products should be slowed down if not reduced substantially.

A Halo for Sinners?

2006-10-03T15:37:00.000-04:00

A transcontinental visit by my good friends SnotBoy and Yeti gave me the perfect excuse to slack off and play. Snotboy and Yeti are in the process of moving from the West coast to the East coast for the pursuit of their happiness and job security. Yeti received an incredible appointment in a top-secret gub’ment institution, so they will be moving to Marry-land.

Congratus to the Brutus of Yetus! You deserve the job and all its trappings. You ARE a giant amongst us. Big Love

Since they used to live in my current town; since Yeti’s sister lives here as well; since they have many friends here; since it is a good rest-point in the cross-country drive; and since they made tracks out of California only a couple of days ago, Yeti flew to the Capitol to be oriented and trained, while Snotboy remained in this lovely town with all their stuff. Presumably, once Yeti has a place, he’ll fly back to pick up Snotboy and their gear and continue their Cannon Ball Run to their new home in Marryland.

With Yeti off, Snotboy and Chops (a local mutual friend) came over and joined me in pushing buttons and toggles on the X-box controllers for a couple of hours. It was a blast; we drank lots of beer, ate lots of pizza, and tormented Snotboy all night for his lack of proficiency in Halo and Halo II.

Nights like that used to be routine in my life, and back then I could endure them with greater aplomb and indifference. Today, in the year I want to finish my dissertation there is something that pulls at the back of my mind. Am I once again tormented by the perpetual feeling of guilt that is indelible characteristic of most Graduate School careers? It’s a sort of background echo that makes one feel like a sinner of sorts. And for me, hanging with the bros (talk about echo: “Bros before Hoes” spoke Rex Bikini) never amounts to outrageous acts vandalism or abuse, all of our combined behavior never amounts to more than a peccadillo. So why the day-after-guilty-of-indulgence feeling?

Conclusion: Me thinks that the Guilt is back and thus I am ready to finish with my doctorate.

" I'll have a "roman á clef", ranch dressing on the side please"

2006-09-15T13:27:00.000-04:00

When asked: "How do you want to see the World?"

Me: "As accurately as possible, then skewed 5 degrees to the left"

The key for me is to develop an ability to distort my world and tastes. The point of developing my mind with all this graduate school stuff, is that I would like to be able to purposely fold and twist my frames of interpretation so that squares may become round, and so that circles could snap into squares-- if just for a short period of time.

It seems that genuine appreciation of the world can come from mapping, and then redrawing the constraints of our own apperceptions.

While re-reading Slaughter-House 5 or A Children's Crusade, a Duty-Dance with Death, I was reminded why KVjr is a master writer. He places Billy Pilgrim (protagonist) into a free 4 dimensional existence (i.e. three dimensions of space and one for time) that intersects with our own world's free 3 dimensional existence. As such, Billy Pilgrim is fully human, but also possess a new frame of reference (i.e. knowledge) that makes him more than human. This altered existence gives Billy Pilgrim the ability to be across time in both directions (i.e. future and past) during any particular present. Billy now approaches and considers his life with new information, the future (and past) as he's already lived it. Billy's character is now empowered to liberate his life since he now possesses an accurate perception of the things he will do and be from birth to death-- since he is aware of all his life events all the time. But paradoxically, Billy's price for this is his loss of free will-- since he is aware of all his life events all the time.

As a characterization of a certain type of subject in History, KVjr uses Billy's paradoxical existence to drive home the point that the outcomes of world events may be beyond our control, even if we possessed the knowledge of what was going to happen. Certain terrible human events, such as 'the two times the human species tried to exterminate itself in the 20th century' appear inevitable to KVjr. It is almost as if we could not help ourselves; our natural instincts, no matter how sublimated by Modern Discoveries and Victorian Manners, are still about petty preoccupations and violence. However, keep in mind that KVjr does not attempt to argue that humanity is nothing more than a culturally mediated expression of natural drives and impulses. Rather, KVjr argues the opposite. For him, Billy's character actually transcends the limits of being human through knowledge, but he is unable to use this knowledge for anything other than to be a human who succumbs to the world events (read History) that surround him. That is, Billy as a character living a free 4 dimensional experience is reduced to live within a free 3 dimensional context. When he attempts to explain himself as a free 4 dimensional entity, he inevitably fails and is regarded as deranged and detached from the world (which he is). His knowledge of time provides him with little to nothing with regard to changing the world.

But this is always the case for KVjr, Knowledge is always a double-edged sword.

To this point, the Modern period's search for Truth and Technology made WWII an even deadlier and bloodier engagement between the various human groups who dressed in different colored uniforms. KVjr seems to regard the atrocities of WWII as something worse than ever before because of our increased knowledge. Science and technology, conventionally regarded as the pinnacle of human intellectual achievement proved to be human species' greatest nemeses. As KVjr might say, about 60 years ago, we humans beings on Earth were about to be hoist by our own petard.

For me, Billy Pilgrim gets halfway to where I want to be: while he sees his world clearly, he cannot twist it 5 degrees to the left.

Billy is self-aware but always fails to use this self-awareness to other purposes than to project himself as a crazy man. In contrast to his principal character in the book, KVjr, does seem to have achieved a level of self-awareness and control that allows him to see the world accurately as well as twist it. He does this through his use of sardonic humor and fictional story lines that seem to flip commonly held assumptions on their head. KVjr takes the familiar and commonplace and uses it to argue points in extraordinarily and non-common ways. His point that the first and second great wars of the last century are attempts of our own species to exterminate itself is an example of how he sees clearly these events, but interprets them just slightly differently than most people would.

Another example can be found in his book Galapagos. Here, he argues that the large size of the human brain is a mal-adaptive trait in the human species. Not only does the brain provide humans with the cognitive tools to develop destructive technologies, thus the means of orchestrating our own extinction, but that on a daily basis our oversized brains confound our existence in the world since we are able to beguile ourselves with cultural beliefs and behaviors that make us do really silly and often stupid things (e.g. like worry if we can wear a brown belt with black shoes, develop nuclear weaponry, or even worse, come to believe that Dubbya is a competent and legitimate world leader). According to KVjr, our too-large brains make humans the only species on the planet that has added mental obstacles to the already challenging impediments towards survival that Mother Nature provides as She attempts to limit reproductive success of all species.

So, while I don’t want to follow Billy Pilgrim, I do want to follow KVjr’s toward a more acute sense of awareness and control. My blog is a small window where I am able to practice all of this. None of the events I write about are entirely accurate; they are filtered and refocused so that my everyday experiences seem a little more humorous and absurd.

As such, my foot was not a tore-up as the picture suggests, and my grandfather is not Larry Budd Melman, but simply, to my eye, someone who looks like this talk show celebrity.

As such, my blog is less a diary, and more a roman á clef of my own experiences. But an alternate version of my life where I order its meanings and events to my satisfaction, and when so desired, picks ways of dressing it in order to portray any flavor of life.

Making Head(a)way

2006-09-09T11:55:00.000-04:00

Not with my dissertation.

I went dancing last night after eating chicken wings at Bee Dubbs. My friends and I wanted to down as many half off Long Islands before eleven. (Yes, I did loose my head a little because of the alcohol) At eleven twenty eight, with an electronica version of Bon Jovi's 'Livin on a Prayer' thumping in the club, I tumbled head first down the stairs and twisted my ankle.

I guess I'll go and try to tape this up... and believe it or not, it feels worse than it looks.

Development via technological thrusts?

2006-09-05T16:56:00.000-04:00

From the fanny pack to the ass wagon, new technology for a better America.

I think that inventions of this kind spell our end. Once we, as a society have time to come up with this type of equipment then we have too much time on our hands. Maybe it was made to use while shopping in the mall?

Back Handed Insult

2006-09-03T21:28:00.000-04:00

I love this one:

"Despite what everyone says, you're pretty cool."

Or the Classic:

"You? Naw... You're not not cute"

Back from the land of ancient Mummies

2006-09-03T11:39:00.000-04:00

I finally figured out my user name and password. I had been trying for about 2 weeks until it finally came to me this morning. I think that the awesome Karaoke last night jarred my head in the correct way so that my memory would come back.

I am finally back from Peru and ready to digitally carve my thoughts into this cyber-space record for all people -- who have nothing better to do -- to read.

I think my first entry will have to be about dopplegangers and twins, since Scrappy's identical twin in town this weekend. Funky seeing two of her.

And Rex Bikini, I am with you on the ranking, although:

1) I love Rock and Roll

2) Living on a Prayer

3) On bended Knee

BIG FUN last night!!!

My pink Ipod told Me:

2006-05-30T09:07:00.000-04:00

Ipod: "I am hoist by my own petard" as I clipped it on my belt.

Me: "I know, we all are"

Too Late For My Own Good

2006-05-04T19:21:00.000-04:00

In 1979, my grandparents, parents, brother and I moved from Connecticut to California. This move happened so long ago that I am the only one that does not remember the trip. This is odd, since I was already 4 years old.

According to my father, 4 years of age is old enough to be responsible for remembering my own life. Thanks for the advice!

Knowing the events of my early childhood is entirely the discretion of others. But I like fact that I remember less of my childhood. In therapy, others are going to have to spend a lot more money to cover those extra years. Instead I’ll use the extra scratch to travel the Atacama desert and drink Chilean wine.

Looking back, this lapse in childhood development seems congruent with my personality. At many points, I delay my transitions into the next stages of life as long as possible. I am 30 years old and still a student; I let loose in my pants up until my 20s (alcohol induced); did not learn to cook until graduate school; balanced my check book for the first time in 05; my father and mother left the house before I did (I was 23 when I locked that door); not remembering anything before the age of 6 seems rather likely.

My family tells me that I can’t delay real life for too much longer, I need to grow up. Thanks for the advice!

The thing about this trip across the country is that I regret having no memory. According to my family source, my grandfather showed his character and it proved to be extraordinary. I only learned this about him later in life.

The plan was to drive across country in two cars. My grandfather and father would each steer a truck, and with the help of CVs they would form a family convoy. My father’s handle was ‘Moondog’; my grandfather’s I do not know – I’ll have to ask him before he dies. We’ll call gramps ‘Pop’

Pop decided to drive through Memphis to stop at his brother’s house. His brother was a well-to-do southern man. Not only had he inherited substantial wealth from his father, but his wife, so I am to understand, was worth millions as well.

As Moondog and Pop pulled up to my to the Uncle/Brother’s house, we were greeted coldly. My grandfather was told that even though we were all family, it was best if my mother, brother and I not enter the main house. Being from Colombia (on my mother’s side) we had all inherited skin and hair that was too dark, and that these features would contrast with the rest of the house decor. We were advised to sleep in the shed. Thanks for the advice!

My grandfather was furious at this treatment. We all packed up and rushed off to a motel. For years Pop and his brother did not speak. I never knew the source of Pop’s sibling tension but it seems that this incident is one main component to the family’s squabbles.

Luckily for me I do not have to worry about some of these. I cannot remember them.

Side note: I was not until my late teenage years that I felt the poison of racial prejudice. It seems that my active participation as a minority did not happen (to my knowledge) until late in my life.

But then again, I always go through those important transitions well after I am supposed to.

Confession

2006-04-22T16:59:00.000-04:00

My name is Que Ni and I'm a big dorkus. I like to smell my own feet and I'm afraid of tacos. Blah Blah Blah, My name is Que Ni

Reverse Causality by no other Means

2006-04-21T13:45:00.000-04:00

"Granet tells the story of a certain duke of the Chou period of whom it was said that he failed to conquer China because at his death human beings were sacrificed to his ghost." (Salhins 2000: 517).

I was once accused of being myself. This happened during one of my previous break-ups. I learned back then that certain people believe that if they become friends with a couple, that upon the breaking of the pair, he/she must choose between the has-been partners. I believe that this has to do with the readiness of some to internalize anything at hand. This even includes the acrimonious exchange of two adults who are leaving the safe town of Coupledom and are about to jump of the love cliff to end it all.

Needless to say, more often the friends I make when I am dating someone choose the other person. I don't begrudge their choice; I just resent their attempts to reprimand me for doing exactly what I choose to do. I have even heard the I-knew-all-along-that-it-would-end-like-this statement. (I say: "O RLY?)

I am about to move into an apartment with my current girlfriend. If someone out there is prescient about this and is learned in the ways of Chou-period sages, how about letting me know how it is going to end. But if you don't have this ability, then I guess that I will have to make my own outcomes from front-to-back, from now-to-then.

I guess this strips me of the privilege of delaying the responsibility of my choices until I become a ghost. Otherwise, future sages could say that during his lifetime the girlfriends who left him, and the fact that friends he made as a couple always chose the other person was a function of the poor attendance at his funeral.

Do I have a 3rd eye or something?

2006-04-20T19:06:00.000-04:00

As I was engaged in conversation with colleagues recently, I was reminded of how discomforting it can be for others when one occupies what appear as contradictory categories. I grew up blue collar, but spend most of my time in a predominately white-collar social/academic environment. My family, we have been homeless, jailed, on welfare, in gangs, thieves, confidence artists, and, to boot, we fart in inappropriate places. But somehow, I am finishing my PhD at a prestigious University.

Ironically, this discomfort that others feel has been especially true within the shiny chambers of Anthropology -- where the blue die in the white collars normally runs out of the fabric once fieldwork becomes sweaty and labor-intensive. While anthropology is a study of the people, it is generally not made by the people or for the people. The point is that many anthropologists are walking contradictions and should be the last to take offense at my own contradictions.

Many anthropologists would argue that the purported goals of their projects (e.g. to improve our knowledge of others to make this a better world) and their sympathies (not empathies) for “their” disenfranchised subjects are genuine and objectively true. All the while these world-turners produce texts and analyses that are never going enter mainstream knowledge or foment political change. For the most part, anthropology is a selfish endeavor that satisfies a general human curiosity about ones neighbor, but does little else.

My favorite anthropologist once said that to put things anthropologically was to make great things from small ones. Although this critique is about methodology, it partially explains Anthropology’s inherently limited power for changing anything. Despite our grand theory frames, we study small things and so we change small things.

Perhaps what is perplexing is that many anthropologists, despite years of unsuccessfully changing anything, still hold on to the dream that one day, one day change will come.

I hope to change this notion. But then again, my training allows me only to make small observations about what I think of as a great problem-- and nothing else.

Which one, aM I CRaZy or LoCO?

2006-04-17T19:39:00.000-04:00

Street Cred:
Its like everything else, most of what makes us famous -- or infamous -- is seldom our own creation.

I am thinking of Rex bikini's recent review of Punk music:
It may be that the best punk music happens when groups are not even trying but that the public is 'a' hongry' for something to keep them distracted. Once these bands try to make good punk, then they wont be able to. (I would like to point out that this conundrum also applies to Indie Rock and Secrets. For Indie, if you know the tunes, then they can no longer be Indie. For Secrets, if you have it, you can't share it; if you share it, you don't have it.)

Our reputation is a canard:
It just develops because other people push it into being. It spreads by its own impetus jumping from mouth to mouth until we forget that the content contained in the comment is perhaps not true.
Or, it may be that our reputation is nothing but each of us quacking, quacking, quacking like an awkward duck.

Either way, canards I says, canards!!!

Easy Way Out

2006-04-11T19:07:00.000-04:00

Can't think of much to say.

I will just post the smarter words of a smarter writer.

"Caution, caution, caution: to prevent electric shock

do not, do not, do not, remove cover.
No user-serviceable parts inside.

Refer servicing to qualified
service personnel"

Let this be the epitaph for my heart

Cupid put too much poison in the dart.
This is the epitaph for my heart

because it's gone, gone, gone
and life goes on and on anon

and death goes on, world without end
and you're not my friend

Who will mourn the passing of my heart
Will its little droppings climb the pop chart

Who'll take its ashes and,
singing, fling

them from the top of the Brill Building

And life goes on, and dawn, and dawn

and death goes on, world without end

and you're not my friend

(Again) The Magnetic Fields

Aw Schucks and Awe!

2006-04-10T14:09:00.000-04:00

Funny Far Side: the cool alien posse just arrived in town, and they just missed an opportunity to 'set their charm on stun'.

(The only way out of all this is to laugh it away)

"Set your Charm on Stun"

2006-04-09T23:55:00.000-04:00

"You think that I just don't understand,
Ampersand after Ampersand" (Steven Merritt, The Magnetic Fields)

It has been a while since I posted, and so, and so, and so.

I was going to make a blog entry last week, and then I got overwhelmed with a conference paper that was due over the weekend.

It is easy to come up with excuses. I think that if I deserve a PhD in anything, it should be in how to whip up an excuse on cue. Often, these are even handed to me by others:

"You look really tired, have you gotten any rest lately? Don't work too hard!"

"Say, that is good advice" and then I concluded, "I AM going to take it easy".

The formula for "great" social science is the correct and plausible use of "& then, & then, & then" This is to establish, what we call in the biz, a causation-relationship between two seemingly related occurrences -- however, post hoc ergo propter hoc.

As I said before, I was going to make a blog entry last week, and then I got overwhelmed with a conference paper that was due over the weekend.

Happy B-Day Gramps!!!

2006-03-30T10:00:00.000-05:00

Today the old(er) man is seventy-seventeen years old. Good for him.

His humor is always penetrating. Here, for example, he convinced this Jehova's Witness that it was better to laugh at the coming darkness of the afterlife, rather than live in fear of it. Always, Always, he has been able to use his humor for GOOD and GOD.

I am NOT a Wig! You ARE!

2006-03-29T16:30:00.000-05:00

It seems that not washing my hair for two days leaves it with a coarseness and volume that resembles a wig. While having coffee with Scrappy, an ol’ acquaintance surprised me from behind as he tried to give me a "hair-do".

What really surprised me was not that someone decided to grab me in public, but that this specific person was doing it. It had been a long time since we had seen each other, and the (welcomed) distance that had grown between us had been set through a natural course of events; it was an equilibrium distance.

For me, friends can be like planetoids that revolve around a central sun (I thank Meta-square-d for this meta-4 ). We are all the celestial centers of our universe, but as we enter into other peoples' universes we are transformed into the revolving planetoids for their suns. We are all both, no one is exempt.

The planetary physics: for these planetoids to become fertile with life, they have to have their own unique set of characteristics and float within an acceptable range from the center. That way the proper amount of solar energy for that uniquely configured planet will foment life.

Too much distance and the proto-planet will freeze. Too close and the proto-planet with burn

When the ol' acquaintance rang his fingers through my hair, he was acting Venus-like when he should have been more Uranus-like. He stepped in a couple of orbits too close.

The end result, he told me that my hair looked and felt plastic, like a Wig; I thought in response that his friendliness looked and felt plastic, like a Wig.

Huh?

2006-03-27T12:13:00.000-05:00

BTW: When I give you some corn, this would be the proper response. My hat is tipped to two in my crew, Meta square-d and Scrappy, who never leave me hanging.

Whadda MadeMe Laf

2006-03-27T11:41:00.000-05:00

One of the funniest SNL skits I have seen was one with W. Farrell as a Ka-ra-te instructor. After a soft and cushy warm-up, he attempts to punch through and break a board. The sound of his knuckle hitting the wood was right on. The rest of the skit is him screaming "What kinda wood is that? Huh? What kinda wood is that?".

I can think of quite a few people who seem to always ask that question, as if the type of wood could be blamed for thier inability to "break" on thru.

hOWLing Humor

2006-03-27T11:19:00.000-05:00

The core of my funny comes from a healthy dose of corn. Every opportunity I get, I try to imitate and quote this owl.

Back from Death

2006-03-27T10:44:00.000-05:00

This recent push to add some content to my blog is coming from an online friend. Thanks Rex-bikini for reminding me that 2 type is 2B.

2005-06-02T20:57:00.000-04:00

Sleepy Eyes, a family tradition

What the Who-Heck, a Pulled Back?

2005-06-02T17:28:00.000-04:00

Entering into the dusk of my 20s I have finally gone through one of the phenomenal events that ungracefully makes you realize that old age is here.

I spent this last weekend moving out of my apartment into a cozy little house that K. sublet to me for the summer. Under the pretense of getting an advance degree, I had accumulated a huge quantity of books that had to be moved with an 'infinity' of car trips. The last box of books ( I think that it is always like that) was the heaviest. Without setting down the box, I decided I could open the double doors to the office building with one leg, while I balanced my (aging) self and 30 lbs books. Lo! I tore one of those nameless and hidden back muscles that you only become aware of through extreme soreness or bitter pain.

The pain was two-fold, of course. Not only did I quickly fall to the ground as I hurt, I came to realize that the my 'perfect chiseled Greek statue-like physique' was all veneer with no sturdy structure. Old age comes in spasms and jolts of pain, as if to remind us the path ahead will only get rougher and more perilous.