Ashyknees' Time Killer

The author is willing, but her punctuation is weak.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

A Few Thoughts on Distance Sympathy

After my last post, I spent a bit of time wondering why I was moved to blog about Owen Wilson, but not about these suicidal farmers in India that I learned about on NewsHour.

As I watched the report on farmer suicides, I was rather clinical. My thoughts ran toward framing the problem and assessing whether there was anything I could do about it, or anything that leaders could do. I also wondered are these farmers mentally ill? Did their situation drive them to a kind of clinical depression, or were they reacting normally to a horrible situation?

The farmers spoke for themselves in interviews and I could see their expressions of despair. Some of their faces even reminded me of my relatives. Yet something kept me from being personally upset. Maybe it was the angle of the report--farmers are miserable, perhaps because of international cotton prices driven down by subsidized farms outside India. It seemed like the appropriate response to the report was to think, not to feel. But feeling is what drives people to action. I felt connected to some dude because he'd made me laugh in some movies, so when I found out he was troubled, I spoke out about it in public. My connection to the farmers seemed so abstract that I didn't feel the need to do anything about it.

Still, I don't see any reason for guilt over feeling more or less for one celebrity or than I do for a large community of people that I've only heard about once. I don't criticize people for feeling sorry for fighting dogs when other creatures, human and nonhuman, are suffering. Many factors make it easier to cry at a silly commercial than it is to cry about news of real problems, or to cheer at a baseball game but remain silent at the news of a child being born-- for all that crying and cheering are worth. I don't pretend that emotional reactions should be based on rational or moral principles. What concerns me is the basis for my actions.

Mama Ass and I used to talk about how the capacity for suffering is like a vacuum in that a small amount of suffering can fill that space just as easily as a large amount of suffering. Maybe the capacity for sympathy and understanding is the same way.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Get Well and Be Strong

I want to send a wish for strength and health to Owen Wilson. He entertains me and therefore has my respect. He's suffering from an illness and therefore has my sympathy.

Celebrity haters be damned.

Monday, August 27, 2007

Qui est tu, pasherlo?

Dear pasherlo,

With all due respect, who the hell are you?

Friday, August 17, 2007

Too Cheap to Buy, too Chicken to Download for Free

I have the sorriest music collection of anyone I know. I've been this way for years. It's enough to make me question my capacity to appreciate music. How can I have conversations with the cool kids? Oh the shame.

Shopping for music overwhelms me and I'm a scaird of downloading free music. Sometimes I like XPN, but sometimes it makes me sleepy. So I'm asking you, dear readers, to recommend your favorite online radio stations.

I think I might like the Shins.

Thank you for your support.

Monday, August 13, 2007

3 Boroughs, 2 Days, 1 play, and a Naked Guy

(no spelling is used in this post)

Quiqui played host during my weekend trip to New York City. First, it was up to the Bronx to score tickets to Shakespeare in the Park and relax with Qui's people (Hellastopheles cracked me up with her leprachaun impersonation) and enjoy some cable tv. Qui donned an airy indigo tunic, some stylish dark jeans, and a pair sexy black sandals. I took off my dorky white socks. Now we were ready for a night out in Manhattan.

Next, Qui picked up her sister and cousin, then we took a scenic drive down the Henry Hudson Parkway. The trees, the cyclists and the sparkling waters of the river were nearly eclipsed by the naked man hunched down just over the concrete barracade. None of Qui's peoples nor Qui (who was driving) saw him, but he was there.

We ate dinner at some Mexican place and I got tipsy off a tall margarita. This lubricated an earlier debate about toy lanterns, cougars and briuns. Fortunately, the booze wore off before the play started. The production of Midsummer Night's Dream was good, of course. After the show, we met up with Ten Feet and her cleavage for coffee, deserts and cheeseburgers.

On Sunday Qui fed me a tasty breakfast and showed me her collection of lotions. Then, after I made some overly ambitious plans to meet up with her later for a concert that evening, we parted for the weekend.

I had plans to see an infant and her parents and give them a hat. So I took a bazillion trains from the Bronx to Brooklyn. I never know when to trust my hunches. Something inside said "Forget the normal route and its 2 transfers, especially since it's the weekend and the non Manhattan lines are probably f'ed up. Just take one train and get out and walk the rest of the way." But did I listen to that hunch? Nooo. How bad did it get? I'll just say the G train was involved and leave it at that.

Anyway, after about 3 hours underground, I finally saw the baby and her new parents and unloaded the hat. As far as I can tell from the 15 minutes I actually spent with her, she's an awesome child. She was kind of sleeping and trying to figure out how her face works. For a moment, she looked like her dad.

I watched some more cable tv with the daddy and we talked about being grown ups and how people really do change. After this much needed rest and reassurance that humans aren't necessarily screwed up forever, it was time to leave this new nuclear family unit to their normal doings.

I walked around the edge of Prospect Park, bought a couple of chicken patties at Christies (still on Flatbush Ave.), and made my way back to the fabulous Port Authority Bus Terminal to await the motorcoach that would take me back to Philly.

Thursday, August 09, 2007

Bad Case, Good Process

Jury duty is over. Even though the plaintif's case was as flimsy as a kleenex, the decision process still stressed me out. I'm still gathering my thoughts.

Thursday, August 02, 2007

Me, the Jury?

I must appear at the Court of Common Pleas tomorrow and see if my number comes up. This is the 3rd time in my nearly seven years of living in this town that I've been called for jury duty. I guess that's what I get for voting.