the empty stage: April 2003

Nehmt mich mit! Nehmt mich mit!
Ich steige schon dreihundert Jahr,
Und kann den Gipfel nicht erreichen
Ich wäre gern bei meinesgleichen.

Es trägt der Besen, trägt der Stock
Die Gabel trägt, es trägt der Bock
Wer heute sich nicht heben kann
Ist ewig ein verlorner Mann.

"Es schweigt der Wind, es flieht der Stern,
Der trübe Mond verbirgt sich gern.
Im Sausen sprüht das Zauberchor
Viel tausend Feuerfunken hervor."

"Seid freundlich, nur um meinetwillen;
Die Müh ist klein, der Spaß ist groß.
Ich höre was von Instrumenten tönen!
Verflucht Geschnarr! Man muß sich dran gewohnen.
Komm mit! Komm mit! Es kann nicht anders sein,
Ich tret heran und führe dich herein,
Und ich verbinde dich aufs neue.
Was sagst du, Freund? das ist kein kleiner Raum.
Da sieh nur hin! du siehst das Ende kaum.
Ein Hundert Feuer brennen in der Reihe
Man tanzt, man schwatzt, man kocht, man trinkt, man liebt
Nun sage mir, wo es was Bessers gibt?..."

what a surreal weekend.

Erika sent me a few photos which Eli very kindly scanned for me today- I'll try to get them up soon.

in the meantime:
yer host, age 2 (I think):

yesterday morning I saw three bright green wild parrots racing through the palm trees on the embarcadero, a sea lion doing flips in the bay, a hummingbird scoping bugs by the Ferry Building, and a seagull swallowing a whole fish. all before 10.
it's like the discovery channel every day here in San Frangogo.

Shaming the GOP
Dean's Statement on Senator Santorum's offensive remarks.

easter in the park (I love San Francisco)

What You Pawn I Will Redeem, a short story by Sherman Alexie (who has the best url ever).
I've only read a few of his other stories, but they're amazing and powerful and beautifully, beautifully written.

and in other news:
Bechtel wins contract prize
"Firm with close links to White House given $680m deal to rebuild electrical, water and sewage systems"

all together now

San Francisco, open your golden gate
Don't let a stranger wait outside your door
San Francisco, here is your wandering one
Saying I'll wander no more

Other places only make me love you best
Tell me you're the heart of all the golden west
San Francisco, welcome me home again
I'm coming home to go roaming no more.

it's 6:50 am, and I just watched the sun rise over the bay by the Ferry Building.
Today is the 97th anniversary of the 1906 earthquake. Every year at Lotta's Fountain there's a commemoration service at 5 am, and Eli and I hauled our bleary-eyed selves over there (with the help of a very nice, bleary-eyed cab driver), just in time to miss most of whatever Gavin Newsom had to say.
At 5:12 there was a moment of silence, followed by all the fire engine and police sirens going off for a solid minute. Someone sang "San Francisco" very nicely, and was followed by someone singing it with a kazoo, which was much better. (god, I love this city.) Then the crowd sang it. I always get choked up when I hear it.
There were 10 or 12 survivors of the quake, ranging in age from 103 (born 12/25/00) to 96 (the 96 year old was conceived in a tent the night after the quake. she counts!), and they were fabulous and all had great things to say. The best one was perhaps 8th to get the mike, and she said, "I can't hear very well! what do you want me to do?" but then she told a fabulous story of watching the smoke and the fire with her father, who kept saying, "what a spectacle! what a spectacle!" She was three and a half years old. Willie was pretty unbearable, trying to be witty in between each person speaking, and not really managing it. Alex Fagan (Acting Police Chief) got some hisses. We had a bloody mary, provided by the St. Francis Hook and Ladder Society for a small donation, and hung around watching the antique cars and fire engines get ready to go up to Dolores Park to repaint the Golden Fire Hydrant- the one that saved the Mission.
it's a beautiful day.

Peeps, Smoking & Alcohol
some more people who have waaay too much free time

Tim Robbins:
"The journalists in this country can battle back at those who would rewrite our Constitution in Patriot Act II, or "Patriot, The Sequel," as we would call it in Hollywood. We are counting on you to star in that movie. Journalists can insist that they not be used as publicists by this administration. The next White House correspondent to be called on by Ari Fleischer should defer their question to the back of the room, to the banished journalist du jour."

Oliver and Hugo, tucked in.
I'd like to be home in my basket today. it's gray and gloomy outside. the Giants lost in the rain last night.
I slept for 9 hours last night (on a weeknight! it's unheard of.) and I'm still blinking away, trying to keep my eyes open. it's 8:30 and feels like 6:00.
the cloud formations outside are beautiful in the struggling light, and even the ships on the bay look sleepy. only the horny pidgeons and hungry seagulls are their usual perky selves.

sorry

"It Is Not All of Us"

from Fool's Paradise, a lovely site by Magdalen Powers (who has the best name, and the nicest manners, ever.)
"all fights deserved"

Leah Garchik:
The Art of Commiseration/ Why 'The Pianist' might not be the best film to bring up at a party

-is war America's way of teaching itself geography?
test your geography with this very nifty learning tool.

-most excellent anti-war posters are here.
my favorite: Help Yourself to a Piping Hot Cup of Shut-Your-Face!"

-apparently I was the last person in the US to see this:
the Poetry of Donald Rumsfeld.
quite entertaining, really.

-and don't forget to buy a Hammer of Justice at the Flagstore.

many thanks to Eileen for the links!

pure texas armadillo, sun dried and road tenderized.
from the oh-so-frightening Potted Meat Museum.

tomorrow is my sister Erika's birthday, only in Kyrgyzstan it's already the 10th... so I called her up, now that she finally has a new host family with a phone! it was 6:15 pm here, 7:15 am there, and she was getting ready to go teach for the day. we had a terrible connection, and got cut off before we were done, but I've already figured out that it's inevitable that we get cut off after 10 or 20 minutes, so I think we got the important stuff out of the way at the beginning. I tried calling back about 8 times, but got a weird signal.
She has a short wave radio now, so she can listen to the BBC and not feel quite so isolated. not that current events are exactly cheering... and her new host family is wonderful, at least comparatively speaking. I'm so relieved and thrilled for her. the bi-weekly baths, the language barrier, the isolation from friends and family is all bad enough, but when you add in a host family that's not hospitable, kind or helpful, I can only imagine how much harder that made it all.
Erika, if you get to read this- you're a rock star. I love you.

Foreign Fingers
"If you find yourself on foreign soil, it's always best to know how to properly enrage your host with a native insult."

Here's a good example:
"Margaret Thatcher mistakenly makes a palm-back v sign to English voters after an election gain. It's not the first time a politician told voters to piss off, but just not so elegantly."

the Onion:
137 More Oil Wells Liberated For Democracy!

today I got on bart to go home from work as usual- I was exhausted, and my head was full of protests and wooden bullets and images of war.
there were two women in my car- one holding a little boom box playing Marvin Gaye's What's Going On, and the other handing out the printed out lyrics. people were reading and listening and engaging in interesting dialogues. it was fabulous. I love this city.