Sunday, February 04, 2024

I Suppose I'll Be Heading to a Place of Medicine Plastic Containers, But for Now I'm Still Taking Precautions in the Palm of My Hands

I have been doing vitamins for Men over 50, as well as high blood pressure medicines and cholesterol pills as prescribed by my doctor. It was just yesterday, I realized, that the vitamin supplement is called Silver, which I told Kathy Silver is in her honor, because she's better therapy for the soul than any pill, but I take a dose of her every day.

I'm thankful to my English colleagues, Emily and Nels who also reside in Stratford, for treating me to a celebratory dinner at Cibus, where I had a latin-infused steak and egg concoction with rice, avocado, and plantains. It was, like the company, truly delicious. 

The day was rather calm...a walk along the water with Kathy, who I adore, some college basketball, and a good book on the couch. It is my mission to enjoy the every day happiness that presents itself. 

It's nice to take advantage of the weekend for weekend's sake...finding the little joys that come my ways as I head forward in the months of Aquarians and work towards my 52 year. 

I went to bed with just 20 pages of the book left to read, but I couldn't keep my eyes open. I will drink this coffee, post this blog, and begin my Sunday with a book completed. 

Here's to a day of rest...only hoping for the best. 

Saturday, February 04, 2006

blingbling


blingbling
Originally uploaded by bripc.
Well, it's not often I blog, but tonight because my colleague took this "phat" photograph of me, I've decided it is a good time to jot a few notes. Besides, I'm watching college basketball and trying to get my mind off of grading papers. I feel like tapping on the ol' ibook keyboard instead of checking resources of ten page papers and MLA documentation.

I just got done reading Little Green Footballs and the latest on Muhammed cartoons which have upset the Islamic nations. I imagine they'd be more upset by the humor that isn't in print about their barbaric ways (ie: things Charlie says), but shoot, if I acknowledge this, I would have banners of me and my golden glimmer burned(see photo) (by the way, the jacket is not mine, nor is the gold bag. Both are items worn by students one day this week that I borrowed and donned for an impromptu improvisation of B-Dawg the hip hop educator).

The nightly news was all about Iran's nuclear potential and Islam's anti-Dane angst.

As a result, I'm sort of in a place where Victor David Hanson makes too much sense. I also know enough about history, now, to realize that the end product of these current shenanigans will not be privvy to my generation's knowledge while my short life is upon the ol' globe. I guess I'm feeling Tom Bombardillish (is that the right spelling?) from LORD OF THE RINGS and not really interested in the everyday warring of men, because I'm starting to see how ideology far transcends the immediacy of now, and beyond even that, the more important matter is that it is 2006, and only now are we wondering about this additonal planet out there in our solar system that may or may not be the size of Pluto -- I mean, what the bigger picture of all this is is incomprehensible, but I can say that the mere fact that I'm able to post this online, tonight, is tribute to the fact we monkeys sure are advancing....yucca yucca yucca.

For me, now, it is not about people I know, have known, or might know, but more about ideological concepts that are necessary to transcend into the future. I mean, look at this photograph of me. It's absolutely ridiculous because a) it's gold and b) I'm a teacher and c) it's gold and d) I'm wearing it and e) it's gold and f) I am an everyday man who took it from his student, etc. The correct answer, of course, is g) I'm American and this is an American shot and I love that it exists, and I know it exists just because the miracle of history has brought this moment to its fruition. I have not seen such a photograph, recently, in Iran, North Korea nor Palestine. Instead, I see darkness, sadness, fear and much hatred (tsk tsk....weren't they around during WWII?).

Yes, I'm spoiled in that I have the ability to laugh and be foolish and to have free ideas and clever creativity and time to pursue all the above, even with the ridiculous schedule I keep while watching Saturday night college hoops..

So, tonight, I'm sort of sad for terrorists, and hateful towards anti-western individuals (even the ones on our own soil) because they aren't schooled (even if they are schooled) from the ideologies nor concepts that western history has fought for and allowed to occur. No, tonight, I've graded papers by asian- americans, african - americans, girl -americans, rich - americans, poor - americans, challenged - americans, depressed -americans, clueless - americans and brilliant -americans who ALL had the opportunity and freedom to pursue a subject they wished to learn about and I'm wondering, well, knowing, why this possibility doesn't exist for all mankind.

And my final thinking on this? It's easy. The democratic, free thinking, individualistic nation that I belong too will not be able to rest until all cultures on this globe are united with the thought that the pursuit of individual happiness for all classes, both sexes (in betweens included) and all races is the universal norm.

Until then, there will be conflict and a rather sad irony that most "liberal" Americans will fail to see as long as they're too "American" to realize how difficult the rest of the world is.

Bling Bling. That's my saturday night thing. And Mr. Whitman, I too sing.... but

I'm outta here.

peace.

Friday, September 23, 2005

a letter to Sharon Olds


olds
Originally uploaded by bripc.
Dear Sharon Olds,

I’ve been teaching and reading your poetry since I was an undergraduate at the State University of New York at Binghamton. Only glanced upon in an anthology of famous Americans, I noticed your style and thought now this is a writer...a poet. Soon after, I came across a poem in the New Yorker which I ripped out. It may be the very first poem I actually tore from the passion of words: I needed it in one of my journals. I remember that poem was about a daughter at an airport and was dedicated, I believe, to your father.

I’m writing today because I’ve read online, in several places, the letter you wrote Laura Bush. Blessed are the opportunities for all of us, as Americans, to make such choices. We have political opportunities in which we can rally forces, motivate masses and initiate anger. Every American, educated or not, has the chance to make their place in this world and from their education and drive, should make a stand with how they feel. I’m pleased that you could tap into the miracle of words to share your concerns.

In your biographies across America, it is written you were raised under San Franciscan Calvinists, and schooled at brilliant educational facilities such as Standford and Columbia Unviersity. Currently, you’re teaching at New York State University, and your love of the written word has brought you accolades and accomplishments I’m proud of. Your interaction with some of America’s brightest and best, not to mention, economically comfortable, has allowed your mind to springboard into territories I can only imagine. You are an American, and you’ve tapped into your opportunities to live a successful life in poetry, thought, story and fiction. It is a talent and I’m still in awe.

I do wonder, however, if you could name an Iraqi woman who has had the same opportunities as you. In your letter to Laura Bush, you noted you lack the ability to support the American involvement in Iraq and the current political administration. I’m curious about your justification. It seems to me that in America, a great writer such as yourself has been allowed to tap into a great educational experience to do amazing things for the world and the writer in me wonders why we don’t read more about the Iraqi woman’s experience. Perhaps it’s because of the life described in “Reading Lolita in Tehran,” -- which is about Iran and not Iraq -- where women are kept in veils and not educated. Or maybe it is because there’s censorship that doesn’t allow for freedom of speech nor female voice. I don’t know. I’m an amateur in my thinking, but I thought perhaps you had an answer.

It sort of seems to me that this great woman who I admire as a writer is, indeed, putting herself in a camp very similar to the one she criticizes. I don’t like war. I’m a middle child, in fact, who likes to iron out all the wrinkles before me. Yet, from history I’ve seen that war has always brought with it the literary traditions of the world. It takes a culture who has won to have the power to write its story. In America, the poetry displayed at the Holocaust museum, and the phenomenal diaspora of immigrant writing that has flourished in our liberal, democratic nation has taught me amazing things about oppression elsewhere: poverty, hardship and what it looks like to live in a world without education and under strict, oppressive rule. Currently, I work with fifteen Sudanese refugees as they try to make their way in our country: gaining an education, working two to three jobs and sending money to their loved ones who live in fear of another Islamic jihad. So, I guess what I’m wondering is how can you be an advocate for the written word, but remain in the esoteric circle of accomplished American writers by denying the truth that the written word is a privilege? You have a phenomenal education which allowed you much opportunity in this world and knowing how the academic game is played, how much of your true soul and thinking have you had to sell in order to get to a point where you can’t accept a national recognition to speak for our country because you don’t want democratic values brought to other lands? Why do you want educated, middle class, caucasion woman of American to be succestul with words, bu fight so hard against allowing this opportunity to find its way into third world countries and nations of oppression?

The fact that you are a phenomenal writer is evident by all the work I’ve ever read. I admire you and think, “wow, this is what a creative mind and a great imagination can accomplish.” I have trouble, however, with the disconnect to see beyond your world to the benefits our American Democracy can have elsewhere. I have yet to find a story where one walks up, knocks on a door, and brings about social change out of kindness and love. As sick, disgusting and repulsive as it is, war and physical conflict are the only things that have worked upon on pig-like humanity. I’m trying to draw a parallel to World War II and think how a writer, like you, could possibly stand up for not helping the fight against Nazis. It doesn’t make sense to me and with the knowledge that has transcended that period of time, how one would ever work to stop that evil. Yet, you’re doing this, proudly and for much fame.

I don’t get it.

Bryan

Sunday, September 18, 2005

Fievel


Fievel
Originally uploaded by bripc.
Mus Musculus Ridiculous
Alice Stevenson who is genetically engineered for useless information and obsessive compulsive disorder has educated me once more. Mice Infected With Bubonic Plague Missing, she writes me, “NEWARK, N.J. (AP) - Three mice infected with the bacteria responsible for bubonic plague apparently disappeared from a laboratory about two weeks ago, and authorities launched a search though health experts said there was scant public risk (http://www.phri.org ). Alice wanted me to know that the mice who have infested my home this summer were part of her vindictive plot to see me ruined. Biologically, I’m already ruined, however, because I have over productive fat cells that crave McDonald’s Value Meals, supersized, so her vendetta to destroy me through plague is a futile attempt; Even if I do get plagued bubonically, I still will have the strabismus in my eye which wanders from Broadway to Clarksville. Still, I’m a genetic mutant, then, but now under the mutiny of Kingdom: Animalia, Phylum: Chordata, Class: Mammalia, Order: Rodentia, Family: Muridae, Subfamily: Murinae, Genus: Mus and species: M. musculus, and in other words, the binomial name, M. musculus, common field mice, have invaded my home.
The first sighting of these Mickey Mice occurred over the summer while I was hunting moose, bear and deer with rubber bands in a land mass known as Vermont -- home to Animalia Hippies who don’t shave, don’t bathe and believe the 1960s still exists. Before departing for my summer studies, I left a bag of Tortilla Chips (corn, partially hydrogenated soybean oil and salt) unopened in a cabinet of my southern Indiana home (genus: Hoosier). While away, the vermin found my hidden house key and let themselves in. They were here when I returned, but they are, indeed, unwanted house guests.
I’m a lover of life really -- even feel mosquitos have a role in this world -- but I don’t like to kill animals. I tend to save even house spiders from death by putting them on a leash and letting them outside. “Be and let be” is my motto, and the one time I accidentally crunched a ground squirrel with my Toyota Tercel in high school caused me weeks of insomnia where I was sure a revenge of nut eaters would attack me while bathing in the shower. That would hurt. Another time, same year, I happened to fall victim to a bizarre tunnel incident where I was driving innocently in a dark tunnel (had my lights on because I’m not nocturnal) when a flock of Canadian Geese flew into my windshield. Bizarre yes, but true. Well, sort of -- it wasn’t my car, but I was a passenger in the back seat. Then there was the time my mom hit a dog who was chasing a deer. It was a traumatic experience, really. Watching my mom go door to door for someone to identify the hound was something I’ll never forget(and something I hang over her head when she tries to lay a guilt trip on me).
Yes, I have mice and even though they were cute at first, they’ve become a wee bit too abundant. When I came home from school the other day, I teach, there was a field party in my living room. Several mice have been seen playing volleyball with a balloon and diving off my furniture into a bowl of Kibbles and Bits. Everyone must eat, true, but the fact that they created a jacuzzi out of my toilet and a roller rink in my kitchen, perturbed me and I knew I had to do something. The mice ran instinctively when I entered any room, but the fact they made my dog cry was the last straw. My 150 lb. dog did not like the fact that mice were eating her Kibbles and Bits and even though I told her, Juliette, you’re much bigger than they are, she still wouldn’t fight them. Instead, she whimpered and I felt dirty. I had this internal wisdom that they’d become a sci fi horror film and nibble on me in my sleep. The time came for me to buy camouflage pants...in order to adapt to my environment...and peg them off, one by one. I did.
I went to Home Depot. Actually, I went to Feeders Supply, first, who had a $79 mouse trap which I avoided because I’m cheap. Home Depot had a variety of items in which I could catch and kill mice, including DCON Cheese which I decided to buy for $4.99 plus tax. As I was walking to the checkout line I had flashbacks of how my grandmother would never kill a mouse, but instead would decorate their holes in her house with satin curtains and ribbons so they felt welcome and loved. I pride myself after my grandmother’s philosophy, and felt bad for opting for musculus murder. I read the package of another item which guaranteed to catch mice by adhesive strips, but I have heard that mice will gnaw off their little, cute feet in order to free themselves and that at times, others will come and chew them out, as well, which results in a bloody mess of hemoglobin goo cake. I don’t like hemoglobin goo cake.
As I walked to the check out, an elderly lady heading towards years of incontinence and other aging problems, called me over to her line, the return line, to check me out. “Looks like ya’ got rodents,” she said, scanning the item across the beeper, “I hope this poison works for ya.” She also told me she didn’t like to kill animals and asked me if I had a cat. I sad no and she said to get one...or a rat terrier, both of which will chomp a chunk out of the mouse and then leave pieces of it by your feet for approval. I told her I’d rather not have such gifts, and she began to educate me on the other humane ways to keep mice out of a home:

*old fashion traps -- they snap the skull of the little mouse and at times, reported, they remain alive even though they are missing half their brain. these cases, she said, it is best to take them outside and run over the half-minded minnie with a truck tire. It puts them out of their misery.

*hammers -- this is a dirty way to rid mice, and she said, “it ruins your bathtub unless you wash it out with bleach.

*DCON -- which I’m attempting and

*the bucket approach. Now, this is a clever way to rid mice and even though the genius of it has me intrigued, I haven’t found the time to experiment.
Betsy Blevin(I got her name because I have a thing for geriatrics) advised me to locate one of those Budweiser cans laying around the house -- not in my house....American ale, please!...and she directed to drill a hole through it to run a wire which could be attached at two sides of a water bucket. In the bucket should be a half foot of water and to get a ramp, I needed to find wood that would lean against the apparatus. The next step was to spread peanut butter around the balancing can and then leave it. The mice, Betsy said, would run up the wood, onto the wire and towards the Jiffy goods. He/She then would lick the Peter Pan ecstasy with great frivolity before losing its balance and falling into the pit of H20. The mouse woulf then drown, which she reported was beautiful to watch. If I had the means, too, it is good to put acid in the water to quicken its death.

She never mentioned boa constrictors, cottonmouths nor hawks as an approach which would also solve my problem quite nicely, and I left, thanking my friendly Home Depot employee and drove home to slice my DCON cheese and place it in areas I knew mice could be found.
Here’s the clever thing about mice. They may be quick and flexible, running away in glimpses making you think that you hallucinated them and that they are not real, but they are defecating demons. I have come to the conclusion that mice perpetually poop and leave little rat turds with every step they take...step/poop/step/poop/step/poop, etc. This, above everything else, is probably the main reason I opted to destroy these creatures instead of finding the humane way to go. Everyone poops, I know, and the Encyclopedia of Ca-Ca, which I have visited upon occasion, shows me there’s beauty in feces of the world. Even so, mouse crap does not make Bryan a happy man, especially when it looks like the chocolate sprinkles I enjoy thoroughly on my cupcakes.
It has been four days since I’ve seen a mouse in my house and I have seen the chewed evidence of the REAL-KILL DCON Cheese. The ingredients are supposed to sit in their stomach until they drink water and then activates a death much like those greek writers enjoyed. Apparently, the Bromethian .01% and other ingredients - 99.99% work, and I’ve only used two .5 ounce baits. I’ve not tried to ingest a chunk myself even if the package came with several precautionary statements including a 1-800 number for accidental swallowing (this would be an interesting event, I’m sure --- 1-800-897-8524. I imagine that when you call, you must yell, “I accidentally ate mouse poison. It looked like a green Oreo cookie and I couldn’t help myself. I love cookies so much, I couldn’t resist, etc.). Also, the box notes dead rodents should be taken away by helicopter and to assure that further infestation does not occur, it recommends the purchase of much tupperware to store Tortilla Chips and Dog Food so that the temptation for more mice and their arrival ceases. If one happens to be close by to a doctor, too, there’s a note which advises, “This mouse killer is not an anticoagulant type of rodenticide. If ingested, limit absorption by either emesis or gastric lavage. Sublethal symptoms, if present, would be the result of cerebral edema and should be treated accordingly through administration of an osmotic diuretic and corticosteroid.” I am glad to know that.
If luck is at my side, I will not die from the bubonic plague sent to me via Alice Stevenson, nor will I become a part of some psychotic food web designed by my imagination where a fleet of musculus morons meander onto my bed and chew me from my earlobes down. Instead, I will die from a more interesting fate such as an elephant enema which knocked off a zoo keeper in Germany or a bowling ball doomed by gravity to land on my head, as happened to my cousin’s roommate in college. Life, itself, is a mysterious thing and perhaps it is the human role to alter our environment as best we can, so we can live a good life. I know this to be true: air conditioning, MTV, leaf blowers and nail clippers are evidence that it is survival of the fittest. My home is still my castle, and for now, I prefer it to be minus mus musculus. Call me a savage beast and super glue my nostrils shut, but know that I will sleep better without the pitter patter of paws breakdancing on my linoleum floors at 3 a.m..
This piece is dedicated to Fieval:


- B. R. Crandall

Sunday, September 04, 2005

forward thinking

this is a poem I wrote amidst Bread Loafers, educated people from
ivy leagues and the schools of thought that come from them: I wrote
this as an intrinsic response to being educated but being outside the
box of what is normally accepted as intellectual thought:

going forth, child-like

this facade of myself,
this song of going forth, child-like,
in desire upon desire upon desire
of remaining curious and intrinsically alive --
i believe i love i create i survive
to undertake all roads diverging in the woods.

should/would/could i
continue waking with summer morning frivolity
every time a sun brings yellow to this wet-green grass?

in a mirror, once again, this ass of insecure egomania
at a point where he wants to explode -
move beyond the restrictions -
implode the predictability of what he’s supposed to be/do/say/think.

who/what/when/where/why,
sigh,
whowhatwhenwherewhy,
try,
who...what...when...where...why

i fly higher and higher
feeling lower and lower
within end-credits, indexes & lost, last pages.

see ---
this rages
inside the inner child, middlebury,
and the older i get, the more wild i become
in this forth-going, going forth
bookmark of river, mountain, pine trees & words.

i am of mice, men, whitman & perhaps, you -
if you’ll tell me your stories one day -
always in search for the new way of reading novel lives.

Saturday, September 03, 2005

The Katrina Wake Up Call

http://www.ivyjoy.com/fables/threepigs.html

KATRINA_REFUGEES0
Originally uploaded by bripc.
Kakuma refugee camp in Kenya has been offering refuge a lot longer than the week-long struggle New Orleans and the rest of America has contended with the last week of August, 2005.

2005. Where are we in the paradigm shift?

America is wealthy -- so wealthy we've risen to super power status and are the primary care-giver and father figure (mother figure) for the rest of the world. When destruction comes, America is called. When the world is policed, America is blamed. There's a book, Mom I HATE YOU, Can You Drive Me To The Mall? or something like that. Charlie says the world is full of adolescent thinking. He is right.

What has unraveled in America is the peeling back that yes, indeed, there's a bit of third world struggle existing in our cities and on our soil. It took Mother Nature to expose this. It isn't the revealing of hard working immigrant poverty making its way in the land of opportunity, but the exposure of populations with a different sense of civic responsibility, immobility and enabled victimization. One storm has, and will continue to have, created intellectual tsunamis amongst all political parties, socio-economic backgrounds and "races".

Like teenagers, we will all be pointing our fingers: Blame Blame Blame.

In the book KING MAGICIAN WARRIOR LOVER, the writers make a statement which asks people to think beyond the archetypes and wonders how much we are ruled by "boy" mentality over "man" thinking. A boy doesn't go all the way with his thinking and actions, but instead performs out of immaturity. The man makes rational decisions and is able to see the world from a mature perspective.

Those who point fingers are children -- rather, teenagers caught in the Holden Caufield school of brats.

Greek tragedy teaches "A happy human, Ha" and expects "the horror! the horror!" as what human life is.

America the free does the opposite. Here, the roads are paved with gold, and we are able to fool ourselves that life is more content than what tragedy brings to the table.

Our tables are wet.

Yet, I think there's much to be learned. There is not another culture, an entity, with the aim America has. The wealth that is dispersed amongst the many is a historical phenomenon which in all actuality gave birth to a soup bowl such as New Orleans, and a coast line similar to that of the Gulf Coast. There you have evidence of our prosperity along the beauty of coastal living, but you also have the truth that beyond the prosperity exists all who are involved to keep that prosperity comfortable. Comfort takes work at many levels.

Katrina washed away the facade. It is true that some had the capacity to leave and others did not, and it is in the simple question of why "some" didn't leave that the disparities of American culture are most obvious.

A rapper on NBC blames Bush as does a military mom whose battle is equally childish. Both fingerpointers are applauded for beginning the search for what is really going on, but both are guilty for boy/girl thinking in a time where all Americans need to think like men and women.

Tragedy exposes truth and the raw core from which every being exists. Those who blame show their true nature and that is they are not strong enough to handle the maturity necessary to sustain the direction America has always been heading. America, whether politically left or right in thought, has always been heading towards the good. They spiral towards making opportunity for the many -- the cultural and racial many -- unlike other parts of the world. The bigger picture is more telling than this recent New Orleans snap shot.

When the wolf comes to blow down the houses of the pigs, shouldn't the pigs be responsible for the actions they took before the wolf came? After all, opportunities prevail on American soil and the only chains which bind us in this cave are the ones we place on ourselves. If I recall the three little pigs correctly, only one pig had the foresight to understand the damage a wolf can create.

Wolves exist as culture, nature, personality or behavior and no one can be blamed for not preparing through EDUCATION, FORESIGHT, HARD WORK, COMPASSION and DEDICATION, traits necessary to protect one self from the wraths that inevitably come.

Wraths comes and will continue to come, and when they come after me....you....us, there's no room to blame anyone but ourselves if we aren't prepared for the "truth" that shit happens and at times, it is beyond shitty.

Katrina can be blamed, but I'm a strong believer that everything is for a reason and what doesn't kill us will make us stronger. She has caused all of us to freeze in our place and witness the horror life can provoke at the snap of a finger.

We have refugees seeking refuge for what some are saying is the first time in America and absolutely despicable.

Yet, refugee camps and day to day horror is a cultural norm in some cultures (ie: Kakuma). Africa has never been able to put up the facade, nor to hide from the truth that we are mortals who will never be able to understand the ways of all the GODS. What makes us respond differently to tragedy in America, is that we live in a society that actually promotes the mask that we can hide from it.

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
creeps in this petty pace from day to day
to the last syllable of recorded time
and all our yesterdays have lighted truth
the way to dusty death.
out out, brief candle.
life is but a walking shadow,
a poor player who struts and frets his hour
upon the stage and then is heard no more.
It is a tale told by an idiot,
full of sound and fury,
signifying nothing.

Yet, it can signify everything if we remember
we're all struggling with this humanity thing together.

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

Vermont Summer Home


Vermont Summer Home
Originally uploaded by bripc.
I'm in Denmark, but already thinking about the hills of Vermont and the hiking trails. My goal was to be away from Kentucky and write, but I'm stuck in intellectual foo foo fee classes where creativity is stifled by the false art of academic discussion and intellectual masturbation. But this is my kitchen and lakes are nearby. I can live with this, the view of trees and forest, the possibility of a moose in my back yard, and heading to Breadloaf to say I've experienced it. You're all welcome to visit as I will have extra rooms and would enjoy the company.

Saturday, May 21, 2005

Final Thoughts, 2005

Well, Smart Alice, I finished the final accrostic for 2005. You can link to it if you want. Bryan, the cheese. It's to the right under links, "umwellyeah".

Monday, May 09, 2005

retro thoughts on why I voted as I did in '04

my final grasp at understanding the nature of this world before voting, Nov. 2, 2004.

please accept my apologies for not capitalizing nor editing to the best of my ability, but i�ve procrastinated writing this piece for many months now. today, however, an election day in America, i got up with three things in mind: to vote, to go for a run, and to grade exccessively in order to be half way decent as a teacher.

i began with my run, which was accompanied by a steady pace of race all morning and which i tried to use as an excuse for not exercising. still, i know i was born with genetics that work against me and although i�m still five pounds overweight for my age and height, my battle to stay fit is a routine that causes me shame when i pass it up. so i ran in the rain. ironically, too, i wore old sneakers which for some reason were missing the souls and cushion. i didn�t realize this until i was three miles out, but i continued in the rain, without comfort and in my overweight routine. this could be read as a sisyphus phenomenon or a typical bryan experience, but it is what happened. i�m happy to admit that i ran wonderfully despite the obstacles. i write this, too, with the knowledge that i don�t give up, i try hard and no, things aren�t easy. i am very much human.

ah. but on my run my brain was racing a million synapses a minute. i was trying to put into place everything i�ve learned, experienced, discussed and felt over my thirty two years of life and more importantly, what this meant for the 2004 election. registered a democratic since i turned 18, fighting for liberal causes for as long as i can remember, and voraciously reading academic texts since i�ve learned they existed, i�ve been at struggle with how my heart really feels is right for our world at this time in history. i�ve been thinking a lot about how others felt during world war one and world war two, vietnam, the civil war, the revolutionary war, etc. when they were ethically asked to support or not support actions being taken at that time and whether any of the actions were right or wrong. my conclusion was that in terms of history, individual opinion is not as important as the events which occur in themselves. so, i�ve been trying to predict how textbooks will handle our current period and i realize, it might depend on numerous factors.

i�m going to lay out events and thoughts i�ve had throughout the last months and then i�m going to go vote. this is how i operate, and even though i didn�t list this as an objective today, i wouldn�t be able to move on if i didn�t do this:

september 11, 2001: this doesn�t need justification but it is an event which happened and it became a catalyst that would create paradigm shifts within the world and amongst individuals. mine was shifted on that day, and all i could keep saying was �brilliant�. I couldn�t describe the effect that the towers had on me except for brilliant. see. i saw it as a slap against america�s face because economic structures were destroyed and symbolically, i thought this was good. capitalism was bad. america needed to wake up. america was not everywhere else. we should be ashamed at our wealth, etc. that was my first reaction, but then it was my nature to pursue my thinking more.

september 11, 2001 also opened a door which i�ve walked through and will never be able to return back to go in agan. the day it happened, i was one of a few teachers who didn�t not create a spectacle out of it for my students. instead, i went on with the work i had planned, and awaited a few weeks before addressing it. why? i wanted to read and learn more. i wanted to understand why this happened before i opened my mouth to direct the thinking of my students.

my search has had me wrestle with my intrinsic quest for truth and good, and as a result, it has catapulted me out of the circle of friends that i used to be in total agreement with.

someone hates america and what it stands for: democracy and free thought. they hate it so much that they want us dead, burn our flags and teach their children that hate is okay and their God justified their choice to destory us. although i�d like to divorce capitalism from democracy, i realize that it is capitalism: wealth and prosperity which keeps people free and allows a majority the emancipation they deserve. although socialism and communism have intrigued me, i know that pigs feel �everyone is equal, but some are more equal than others�. i�ve delved back into sociology texts and the study of human behavior and recognize, some people are good. some people are bad. a majority are in between the two, and anyone who refuses to see the capacity of evil in all of their neighbors is rather stupid. (i suppose though, in �some� neighborhoods and flights, it is easier to forget that there are others that aren�t like themselves ... in fact, it may be the �themselves� that are the scariest threat)

these last two years, i�ve learned that i used to love to hear no evil, see no evil and say no evil. because i was a good man, i surrounded myself with good people who, for the most part, heard no evil (well, to a point), saw no evil (only a little in their neighborhoods, but they were safe) and said no evil (because, to be politically correct was best --- feelings aren�t to be hurt, etc). 9/11 shook me up. there was no running from evil.

i recognized too that the man i am today is a result of hardships, struggle, hurt feelings, keeping my eyes open and aiming, still, for goodness, which makes me unique. when one is always trying to see everyone else feel safe, happy, understood and with a feeling of security, it is ENABLING. If a mother bird does not teach its fledgling the world �outside a nest� it is not keeping baby bird�s interest in mind. It is setting that young bird up for failure, because mother birds can not protect its offspring once it leaves her nest.

i like my world good. yet, because i surround myself with goodness, does not mean that bad no longer exists elsewhere.

teaching

i have learned more from teaching than all my years of classroom experience. i can honestly say that i think the majority of kids i�ve taught in the last eight years are really good kids. even so, these really good kids, like myself, have had the capacity for doing bad. hello? we�re human!

as a result, too, i�ve learned the art of �drawing lines�. this is acceptable, and this is unacceptable.

a good example of this is simply by doing what is expected. i give assignments and if the kids do them, they pass. if they do not, they will not pass. over the years, i�ve seen brilliant kids with incredible iq�s fail because they didn�t do the work expected. doing work and what is expected is a norm i like to uphold in my classroom, and it is the best lesson i can teach.

the opposite of this is allowing kids to get by, talk back, lie, cheat and manipulate me in order for them to pass. kids do the strangest things when they are wrong in their actions including talking back, lying, cheating and manipulating me. i am a very approachable teacher and i DO allow for kids to spill their guts with excuses, tell me their side of any story, and line up their family�s history all in the name of �reasons� why they don�t complete the work. I also work overtime in helping them to outdo these obstacles. YET, the line is drawn and there is no excuse. They still fail when they don�t get the work done when it is expected.

perhaps this is too militant and harsh, but i go back to the three monkeys who dislike seeing, hearing and speaking evil. i�m trying to figure out a time in my life when things have been easy for me. they became easy, i suppose, when i played the game, began making money and had the ability to make educated choices for myself. but that�s a lie. it�s still not easy, yet i�d rather be where i am now than when i was working several jobs, going to school full time, and still making ends meet.

we need structure. we need limits. we need reasons for these limits and structure. boundaries are good and there is such a thing as TOO MUCH freedom (yes, Nietsche, I know you say only in chaos is everyone free, but Nietsche, only in chaos is everyone scared to death twenty four hours a day)

michael moore and hollywood (speaking of chaos and too much freedom)

In 2003, a lot of buzz was had about �Bowling for Columbine�. I liked �Roger and Me� and remember how much in agreement I was as a college kid when I came across that film. So, renting Bowling for Columbine I watched it. I was appalled!!!

The night I viewed it I realized that something had happened to me from my undergraduate days through my eight years as a teacher. If he was my student and he was to submit that film as a project grade(even an outline for an essay), i would fail him. why? although I agreed with some of his thesis, he had speculation, wild accusation and no empathy with how he threaded the movie together. (he uses people which is very sick) the flashiness of his ideas and pastiche work of clever editing also tried desperately to get me to follow him, but all my years of education and learning brought me to one conclusion. this man was an idiot. more than that, he was sick idiot. how could he piece together that film which made fun of so many american people and the democracy i value, all in the name of him being a democratic guru?

i began to research him. i knew little. i wanted to know who was supporting his work and why. i also wanted to know his audience because as a portfolio teacher of writing, i have learned that knowing the audience is the surest way to produce a particular style of writing. you have to know what they want in order to get what you want.

michael moore, it was obvious to me, wanted to make americans paranoid (which his audiences already were -- very much like anyone who gets really into ghost stories or ufo abduction tales..they want to believe it so much that they don�t rationalize very well), all at the same time he wanted to make himself rich. the man is EVERYTHING he criticizes: manipulative, greedy, gluttonous, hypocritical, capitalistic, opinionated, righteous, esoteric and angry.

he reminded me of the joke, �what�s the difference between a democrat and a republican?� -- the way it is spelled. well, he was spelling c-a-p-i-t-a-l-i-s-t p-i-g, and, even if I disagree with him 100%, all power to him. in a democracy, everyone can get what he or she wants and this is wonderful. it is okay that he is doing this. what scared me is that so many people were (and remain) behind what he is saying as truth (old students of mine email me about how their professors are showing this film in their classrooms as great documentaries!!!!) this brings me question �who were their teachers?�. �how did they get by without learning to think?�

then i started to realize another thing. hollywood is the norm of education. we validate all our thinking and ideas through �movies� we�ve seen and honestly, i have grown tired of the american phenomenon of educated people who spend their free time: a) going to a movie, b) going to dinner and then c) analyzing the film. why? it seems to me that adulthood is not living life for many of our free thinking society, but watching others live life on screen so that we can continue the academic game of deconstructing art: its aesthetics, meaning and purpose.

This is okay, and this is good. only in america.

HOWEVER, this is a privilege.

Hollywood is currently spending 60 million dollars per film and usually making double that in profit. Over a 100 films are made each year and it is the norm for americans to utilize these films as what is real and normal. okay, fine.

this year, too, hollywood is sending out Utopic speakers to preach the gospel of being an American....as if their undying talent of memorizing lines, wearing makeup and spewing out two hours of American luxury is difficult. Sure, they�re lucky to have made it (like lottery winners) but why are they so grandiose in teaching Americans what is best. They�re actors. They perform for a living. AND THEY MAKE A TON OF MONEY. (maybe this is why i feel �Team America� controversial and campy, was brilliant. Good for those two and their sense of humor)

All this is okay, but are we thankful?

sudanese lost boys

reading the story of sudanese lost boys intrigued me and for four years i�ve worked as a mentor to refugees in louisville. i�ve been with them through the struggle of getting jobs, paying back the government who sponsored their flights, learning to drive and juggle responsibilities: payments, etc. i�ve been with them as their homelands have sought money, and i was with them after one was shot by an american for simply being the wrong person at the wrong time.

what has this taught me? to be thankful. to see that although america is not perfect, it is better than most places. i realize that i need to shut up and work harder. there�s much to be done. where they come from �being shot at� was normal. even being raped by other men was a reality of their childhood. in america, they have hope. perhaps that is what we, america, are....hope that there�s a better life out there.

women

my views are liberal. i am for the equality of men, women, children, etc. i believe in the democracy full-heartedly and when i spent six years reading feminist literature, african american literature, asian american literature, the classics, etc. i loved it all. to me, diversity and diverse thinking was the greatest way to help me learn who I was: and I AM a white male (subjected to all that comes with that, including the �power� i�ve never really had nor �wanted�) who has tried to understand the world of others and continue to do so today.

when i began teaching, i instantly created a unit where i split boys up from girls and we could discuss a discourse without the hassle of opposite sexes to �influence� the thinking. i believe it worked, and i often showed videos from oprah of �women in the middle east� who had acid thrown on their faces for turning down male advances, but also �women who�ve had clitorectomies�. Why? Because I wanted them to see that it�s not easy being a woman and the traditional roles, that still base our society, are more severe in other parts of the world.

In 2003, i had an exchange student from Pakistan who was scared to death of American education, but soon fit into it and was successful. She was muslim, very bright, had much personality and grew more than most students in one year. I asked her when she was getting ready to leave what is the one thing she learned in America that she loved and the one thing that she hated. She said, �I love that in America, women are seen as equal. I will ask my father why this is as soon as I get home. The one thing I hate is that I have to return home and I�m afraid that no one will listen to me because I�m a girl�. Her answer was chiseled into my mind.

Recently, I read Reading Lolita In Tehran which is about Western Literature, woman of Iran, extreme traditions, and the illegal nature of women and men reading what they choose to read. What I gained from that is that democracy allows for choice and choice is a good thing, but more rare in the world than I thought.

education
throughout my undergraduate days, i also was learning something else. i was working class and had working class values. i did well, too, and it wasn�t until i entered the �real world� that i began to see how abnormal my �viewpoint� of education was, in that i came from a working class family and earned a degree. for the most part, those in school with me were from middle class backgrounds with college educated parents and norms. this i aspired to. yet, for many americans now, they are �born on third base, thinking they hit a triple�. they don�t do the extra work it�ll take to steal home.

i am now alfred doolittle, however. i feel i�ve been gentrified and it is difficult to explain myself and this situation to others. i have learned the art of professional speaking and know the games of moving myself forward in the world. for this i�m lucky, too.

but, i�ve also learned that only 23% of the U.S. has a college education. That means 77% do not.
Only 1% of the world has an education (and even owns a computer) and that means 99% do not..

My point, the majority of the world is not like me and definitely not like us. They are something else and I have to remember this as i make decisions with this election.

my grandfather
my grandfather was in the pacific in world war ii. i never talked to him about this experience but did put together a book of his photos when he died. years later, when i was teaching the holocaust i began to think more of his gallant effort. i regretted he was not alive to share with me more. he was a soldier, something i have never been.

saving private ryan
for four years a colleague of mine showed the movie �saving private ryan� and i would use that time to grade, file and get other things done. i never watched it, yet she and the kids would talk about it all the time. i admit, i did not watch the film because it was violent and i abstain from movies which are violent because i�d rather ignore the possibilites out there. finally, though, i made the time to sit and really watch the film. although it was fictionalized by spielberg, and pretty graphic in parts, it was based on historical truth. suddenly, and i don�t know why -- actually i do -- i began reading as much as i could about this war. there was an epiphany within me. I was being spoiled, ignorant and completely dumb for ignoring the things I didn�t want to admit occur.

in college, i�ve come to realize, too, other than the Odyssey and The Aneid, we did not read much about war. we also didn�t get much history to coincide with our textual reads. i know it is my fault that i didn�t know history and in recent years, i�ve been trying to catch up via scaffolding historical texts, dates and ideologies that have occurred since the greeks. i�ve actually remained in love with learning this, but i must admit, my world view has changed immensely.

whereas i used to read books and analyze them with other lit majors, intellectually masturbating my mind, it was a privileged phenomenon. what good did this do for the world? yes, thinking is good, but what good is thinking among the people who think just like me? better yet, what good is thinking around the converted people who think like me -- 77% percent of America, obviously does not, and maybe I went into teaching to find out..

my point, however, is that although war is horrendous, sick and evil, it is what brought AMERICA to be what it is today. In terms of Western society, we are what we are because of wars. I said it, but why did I choose to ignore it? Was it because I was a wimp? Was it because I was better than it? Was it because I�m a peaceful man so I wanted others around me to be peaceful? Probably yes, but there was a huge change that occurred to me in my late twenties. Those before me died so I�d have my freedom to ask such questions.

sadam hussein
when america first went into iraq, the second time, i had flashbacks to the protests of my undergraduate days. i do not believe in war and was against this. yet, this second time around i realize i do believe in war, even if I still hate it. war brings destruction and death. but, war also brings freedom and hope for others. (if i listened only to people like me, bambi would be trampled by godzilla for sure)

i read all about sadam hussein and his sons when much was written about them. they were pleasant fellows, weren�t they? they were just and very un-Hitler like. i would have liked to have a beer with them and discuss movies sometime. i would have liked to take them out for a good Vietnamese dinner and talk about Fahrenheit 911 (which, by the way, does not have the acceptance of Ray Bradbury, even, and Trey Parker and Matt Stone did NOT do the �South Park� like cartoon, which was one of the better parts of Bowling for Columbine....that would be Moore being evil, again).

Is it wrong to, perhaps, bring freedom to an oppressed society? Do we belong there?

eek. I don�t really know, but I do know that September 11th was an invitation very much like Pearl Harbor. I do know that Sadam is gone, as are his sons, and no, Osama Bin Laden is still at large.

I can�t help but think, though, that what we�re doing under George Bush�s leadership is right and just. America is disliked because we allow women to vote....we allow people to choose....we�ve separated church from state....we are rich among the many ... we have toys, luxuries and MOVIE THEATERS....we allow for choice, and educate the many. We have to remember this.

final thought
I think this is why I support George W. Bush. I think, historically, he will go down as an asshole who had the guts to draw lines in the world. He is the �mother fucker� texan who is standing up for America, and fighting John Kerry, Michael Moore, Alec Baldwin, Al Qaida, the Taliban, Chechnyan rebels and Osama Bin Laden, who are all arguing the same point about America and the Western world. They all seem to have a similar thesis, even if they approach their styles differently.

Hmmm. and I�m a democrat. I believe in democracy and rights, etc. However, I believe in these rights for every human in every country in every world. The way I see it, America is lucky to have what we have, and the decisions we make right now will show the world how we feel. If we don�t draw lines at this moment in history, we may not always have the rights in the future to draw such lines (the Iranian Parliament voting to uphold their Nuclear Weapons while chanting �No more America� as shown on CNN, North Korea, dead school children, both democrats and republicans beating up one another over an opinion....most disturbing to me are the shots of young liberal college students punching WWII veterans for supporting Bush�s actions in Iraq).

I think America needs to recognize how fragile our time is. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, most indeed. But, Aristotle said, �every civilization bears the seed of its own destruction�. I can�t help but think that this bizarre alignment of Michael Moore, John Kerry, Osama Bin Laden�s declaration against America, etc, seems to be a seed which might destroy
America from within and without. This is haunting to me.

It seems to me that my liberal friends and allies have now become the hateful, spiteful, scared-to-death warriors that they�ve criticized for a long time. In my mailbox throughout this political season I�ve seen many campaigns against our current president: almost lethal in their accusations, etc. I investigated the truth behind their claims and they were exaggerated to promote their own party�s political power. Not good. Not good at all.

I�ve also watched the news and read the papers.

The following sums it up. On Saturday, October 30th, when Osama Bin Laden released his new tape, the Courier Journal did not let it make front page news. In fact, it was on page ten. Instead, they promoted Kerry, reported a movie review, and seemed to have lost all critical thinking and reporting skills (this is the same week Yarmuth in his anti-Courier, liberal paper spent $20,000 of his own money to get Bush out of office --- he can�t even recognize that he, too, a golfer and east end, lucky human being of Louisville Kentucky, is despised for having the luxury to spend such a phenomenal amount of money to promote an opinion!!!).

Writers tend to be liberal because they�re educated, and education is liberally biased....but, there�s even more to learn. Bush has been labeled an �idiot� because he was born rich and speaks idiotically. Well, world, I�m an idiot too and often my grammar is corrected. I have a college education for what that�s worth. YET, I know there is a right and a wrong in the world. I think everyone knows this. I think, though, they�re afraid to admit it.

I love Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. They, too, draw lines through characters, coalitions, and a discussion of good and bad.

Voldemort is back, America. Saruman�s eye is lit and blazing. As much as I hate to admit it, the two of them are living in parts of the world who have not had a renaissance, enlightenment, nor been privy to the coincidences of wars and civilization which has been the building block of the west.

I have a choice now, today, on election day. I can believe the monsters are back and fight against it: Harry Potter and Gandalf, or I can believe my president is a liar, a moron, and a sneak, like Professor Umbridge, the Orcs and America�s liberal left (the middle east�s extreme islamic right).

I will vote for George W. Bush and perhaps one day, I will regret it. I know, however, deep in my mind, body and soul, it is the right decision for a better world, tomorrow.

B.R.Crandall

Thursday, May 05, 2005

north vs. south Korea


north vs. south Korea
Originally uploaded by bripc.
star light
star bright
first hope i see tonite
in the fright of
once upon darkness.

energy is bliss

and progress the kiss
of western civilization.

ah, what a northern revelation

of our modern times.

Sunday, May 01, 2005

Born in the U.S.A., too


www.brucespringsteen.net:news:
Originally uploaded by bripc.
it takes the ability to sit down and place one's self into the spectrum of history to understand how history is unfolding itself, presently. bruce springsteen is incredible -- yet he fails to see how his talents could only be celebrated and applauded in a nation such as the one for which he seems to feel shame -- at least currently. instead recognizing luck and privilege that he was an ironic ant amongst the masses -- able to create music for the masses -- he fails to see the big picture of the opportunity america has allowed him. i'd ask him, if he was to chat with alice, who his favorite iraqi musicians are. i'd want to join him in a conversation about the evolution of song in islamic culture because i'd be interested in how he'd address the fact that america's music industry is where it is, but industries of music in the rest of the world-- middle east? -- might not exist. why? if he could answer this, or at least contemplate this, i'd look forward to the, perhaps, art he could then create. he is a genius. nebraska is one of my favorite albums, too. he created that out of a murdering frenzy -- boredom. imagine what he could make from the heavier thinking of this question: why is it you can make music that has meaning and people buy it? why is it we're not buying taliban tunes?

Sunday, April 24, 2005

professor trelawney


professor trelawney
Originally uploaded by bripc.
I'm transitioning my thinking: This summer, Book Six comes out and there is hope for the world, once more. I found this on line at http://www.hp-lexicon.org/essays/essay-sybylls.html

Essays
Sibylls, Pythia, and Prophecies
by Clint Hagen

N.B.: Dates for this essay are based on the timeline in the Lexicon. Notes on sources from outside the canon are at the end.

Sibyll Trelawney is named after an ancient prophetess from classical mythology - or, more accurately, she is named after a whole group of prophetesses from classical mythology. The name Sibyll was applied in the ancient world to many women who were inspired by the god Apollo with the gift of prophecy. The only notable exception was Pythia, the priestess of Apollo at Delphi.

The classic mistake made by heroes in regards to prophecies is that the person to whom it is delivered misinterprets its meaning, either because of pride or lack of information. Oedipus, for instance, is told that he will marry his mother and murder his father; and so he leaves Corinth for good, not knowing that the king and queen of Corinth are his adoptive parents, and winds up fulfilling the prophecy in Thebes, his true birthplace. Croesus was told that if he attacked the Persians a great kingdom would be destroyed. He attacked, not expecting that it would his own kingdom that would be destroyed. More often than not, the prophecy is not properly understood until it has been fulfilled.

A good example of this is Prof. Trelawney's second real prediction:
"The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight . . . the servant will break free and set out to join his master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than he ever was" (PA 524).



In this case, the recipient of the prophecy, Harry, does not understand what any of the prophecy means until afterwards. Although Harry never says so, it seems reasonable that Harry would have thought that the servant, "chained these twelve years," referred to Sirius Black. He certainly could not have known that the prophecy meant Peter Pettigrew.

Prof. Trelawney's first real prediction was delivered to Albus Dumbledore on a cold, wet night sometime before July in 1980:
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power that Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives" (OP 841).



But Dumbledore was not the only one to hear it; someone - who is not named - took the message back to Voldemort. Voldemort then acts in an attempt to keep the prophecy from coming true, as Oedipus and others did before him; but if the ancient Greek tragedies have taught us anything, it's that you can't escape fate. He ends up fulfilling part of the prophecy unwittingly: "The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal."

Voldemort, of course, does not so much misinterpret the prophecy as not hear all of it (OP 843). It may well be that Voldemort intended to kill both Harry and Neville, the only other boy born "to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies" (OP 841). Perhaps Dumbledore is right to think that Voldemort chose the boy more like Voldemort himself - although it seems unlikely that Voldemort would have left such an important matter to chance.

The main question, then, might be this: is there any possibility that Dumbledore - the one who received the first prophecy - might have misinterpreted it? That is to say, could Neville Longbottom be the boy of the prophecy? In one sense, Neville also is marked - not by a physical scar, but by the continual pain of having parents who are alive but insane. His pain is no less real than Harry's; and while Voldemort was not directly responsible for the Longbottom's insanity, he is responsible. Four Death Eaters (Rudolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange, Rudolphus' brother Rabastan, and Barty Crouch, Jr.) committed the crime because they were his followers (GF 594-596, OP 114). Is Neville, too, marked by the Dark Lord?

This is probably not what Rowling intends. The evidence that Harry will have to face Voldemort one on one in a final battle has been mounting since SS. In fact, in every instance that Harry has come face-to-face with Voldemort (including Tom Riddle), he's had to do it alone. In SS, Ron and Hermione help him through the tasks guarding the Stone; but in the end, Harry faces Quirrell alone. In CS, Hermione figures out that a basilisk is loose, and Ron goes with Harry (along with Prof. Lockhart) part way into the chamber, but Harry faces Riddle and the monster alone. In GF, Harry has help from many people as he faces the tasks of the Tri-Wizard Tournament - Moody (or, more accurately, Barty Crouch, Jr.), Hagrid, Dobby, and others. Cedric even accompanies Harry to the Little Hangleton graveyard; but he is killed, and Harry must face Voldemort alone.

It seems likely that, in the end - although he will have help from many friends - Harry will face Voldemort alone. In this, the story has followed the hero cycle as outlined by Joseph Campbell. While the hero may have companions to help him or her along the way, the "last trick" must be done by the hero himself.

The end of OP is a little different, though. It seems certain that Harry would have died had Dumbledore not arrived to defend him. Perhaps this happens simply because Harry is not yet ready to face Voldemort alone. Nevertheless: is it possible that someone will come to Harry's aid in the final battle - as his mother's love did in his first encounter with Voldemort or as Fawkes did in the Chamber of Secrets? Could that person be Neville? He is, after all, starting to show some talent in Defense Against the Dark Arts (OP 454, 553) and he has a strong motive for wanting Voldemort permanently vanquished.

One major difference between Prof. Trelawney's prophecies and those of the ancient Sibylls and the Pythia is that no one seems to get real prophecy from Prof. Trelawney by asking for it. To receive a prophecy from the ancient Sibylls or the Pythia, heroes traveled hundreds and even thousands of miles and asked the prophetess a question. Prof. Trelawney does not seem able to predict on demand, as becomes clear when Dolores Umbridge requires one during her inspection (OP 314-315).

Prof. Trelawney's first real prophecy has another interesting line: "Neither [the Dark Lord nor the one who will vanquish him] can live while the other survives." It would seem that, as of the end of OP, both of them live - unless Voldemort does not truly live at all in some dark sense. If the classical Sibylls and the Pythia are any example, it will do Harry no good to try and avoid the prophecy. But then, the future is difficult to predict.

Thunder


bilde
Originally uploaded by bripc.
Forty individuals were found on fourth street protesting the use of military planes during Louisville's Thunder Over Louisville, Kentucky Derby kickoff. They were opposed by four protest protesters and one man with his motorcycle.

There was a point in my life where I could easily have protested thunder, because of its environmental impact on the Ohio River. My first few years in Louisville, I'd see the masses heading to the waterfront and I'd refuse to attend myself, all in the name of righteousness.

Then I went. Now I go.

The sheer number of people enjoying the largest fireworks display in the world is a breath taking, overwhelming experience. Better yet, go with a child and see the awe in their eyes. Perhaps this is what protestors wish to steal away. They don't want others to enjoy the luxuries our culture has produced --- perhaps they feel guilty.

Should the all white, middle class Quakers and peace activists and protestors be more aware of their guilt? Do they feel guilty, too, and is this why they picket the enjoyment of others? Have they not recognized that their place in history, with their personal property, Volvos, BMWs, etc, secluded comfort zones of east end homes, international dining halls of middle class entertainment, and weekend rituals of catering to the ballet, theaters, operas and other high brow forms of entertainment, are purely the coincidence that the United States of America has fought for to bring such privilege? Are they afraid to recognize that the very thing they detest: abrasiveness, masculinity, power, might and strength, is secretly what they desire most (note their rage)?

I'm proud they have the right to stand up for their beliefs. I suppose my chagrin comes from the fact that I haven't a clue what they are thinking. I don't understand them. I try to, but then I find myself with a brewing hatred that I don't want to have. I don't want to recognize that there are people out there in the name of "good" who are actually the brand of spoiled people who disgust me.

But that's the truth of where I am, post Thunder. My family didn't come this year to see the firework diplays and impressive airplanes. This year, I had to experience through my own eyes -- ones that used to protest such an event.

I can't help but think that we should be thankful that the bombs bursting in air, and the roaring of jets, are in celebration of the democratic miracle of America. They are evidence of the ironic comfort we are allowed (and which others obviously envy and crave).

As I read of those forty protesting the horrors of America, I turn on CNN and see a report of the southern border's immigrant crisis. Apparently America stands for some sort of bliss that others want. Perhaps in some variation of osmosis, we can replace the willing to work hard labor of such immigrants, with the whining brats of comfort who pick up banners to scorn the very heart of what has made America successful. Perhaps not.

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

Herbie Stolen from misfit Island near Iraq


Herbie
Originally uploaded by bripc.
Taliban Tooth Faeries fled the scene of an American encampment today near Bagdad, apparently with officer Herbie X. Misfit as hostage. Several muslim men wearing dental guards and roach clipped bibs were reported to have run in fast, nabbing the young soldier while flossing his teeth. Several American soldiers tried to stop the armed militants, but were numbed with novocaine, collapsing immediately towards drooling fits. For more information, check out local news programs or consult your local dentist.

al-aqsa-kids-01


al-aqsa-kids-01
Originally uploaded by bripc.
when i was a child, i had a wiffleball set. we'd play baseball in the driveway, and sometimes, when feeling extremely barbaric, we'd sword fight with our yellow plastic weapons of mass destruction. It was harmless, yet innate fun.

sometimes i wonder about this. i wonder about the toys of other worlds and how children are raised.

i wonder if playing 'ball' as adults is the reason we are in iraq -- to bring our toys to them. i hope some day iraqi children can play wiffleball on the streets. i hope i see this day.

Monday, January 31, 2005

thing one thing two


alice:bry
Originally uploaded by bripc.
here we are

welcome

alice called. she said something about needing a blog. she found this site and the rest is history. history. history. we thought we'd post thoughts on the way things are unraveling these days and work from there. for a short time, anyway, it will justify a brief moment upon the stage. we are idiots, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.