Body-Technology Interfaces

Sooner or later, they're gonna fight: A Little Uppity Urban Paranoia

Whatever happens after November 4th (That's Election Day. Don't be fooled, people.), they'd better keep those crazy Red Dawn MFers away from me. Do whatever it takes--give them better video games, throw them slabs of red meat, round them up and send them to yoga camp--I don't care. I just want to be able to visit my friends in the country and enjoy nature's splendor without worrying about a gang of Jimmy Choo wearing Rambinas running my CarShare rental off the road with a bunch of tricked out 4 wheelers. I just want to keep buying locally grown produce from the farmers market free from fear of biting into a whoopie pie and coming away with a mouth full of pongee stick.

"What are ya gonna, do, sue me?" That's right. Just keep saying that to yourselves, Wolverines.
My Ivy League degree, spotty attendance of Episcopalian Church services, and tendency to pronounce words correctly might lull some into a false sense of martial superiority, but be warned. My heart pumps lawyer's blood, but it also pumps farmer's blood and laborer's blood and hunter's blood. My people are no strangers to the land. And we like dogs, real dogs, big drooling retrievers and mean rabbit hounds. I can handle myself outside of Philly. I know how to swim. I know how to dress in layers. I know how to make my own sweaters. If push comes to shove, I would rather die than give some loony wing nut the satisfaction of crushing my rights, and I'll take some loonies with me. I'm not afraid of weapons. They'll have to pry my bamboo knitting needles from my cold, dead hands.

If any freebird thinks I'm the coddled product of the welfare state and affirmative action, they're welcome to to try me. While watching DVD's of Chapelle's Show, I've been working on my core strength. I plan to distract menfolk with my big purdy legs before crushing them under my comfortable shoes. So bring it on, Jed, if you dare.

I Failed the Poverty Quiz

Even though I made it through a few tummy-rumbling days during my 20s, I bombed this poverty quiz. If I ever hit financial rock bottom, I wouldn't survive. It would be back to my parents' house by bus for me. I flunked the poverty test, but I'll never fail like common people.

Awesome Hawk

Yesterday evening while I was leaving the office for the day, I spotted a red-tailed hawk pinning down fresh prey. I tried to take some snapshots of it as it took off with its kill. Thanks, hawk, for keeping the rodents in check. I hope your dinner wasn't too toxic. It was probably healthier than what I ate last night.

Another Slice of Life from Mike Leigh

On Saturday, I saw the new Mike Leigh movie Happy-Go-Lucky. It was another one of his slice of life movies. As in his other plot-free films, the success of Happy-Go-Lucky hinges on the fantastic actors. It's so refreshing when performances remind me of actual people I know, instead of characters in other movies.

Poppy, played by Sally Hawkins, is an effervescent quirky young woman living in the big city (This movie makes me sad I've never been to London.), but she is no Amelie. Unlike other plucky and eccentric female characters we meet in art house films, Poppy is more than some nerd's dream girl. She represents the real optimist's struggle to inject humor and compassion into life, in spite of the clenched fists that surround her.

We Have Nothing to Prove

We who live in big cities have nothing to prove to you. We who have brown skin have nothing to prove to you. We who are not fundamentalist Christians have nothing to prove to you. We who seek economic fairness have nothing to prove to you.

It's you who seek to divide our country and incite violence at a time of crisis that need to prove that you are pro America.

No Substitute

I'm fed up with substitutes for face-to-face human interaction.

Last night, MJP and I sparred a bit about communications multitasking. I was cool with him watching television while we were on the phone as long as we were watching the same program, however I busted his chops for looking at a website. The whole discussion deteriorated into semantics, but anyway the situation would have been much better if we were actually together.

I post to the blog, but I feel disappointed if I don't receive comments. I upload photos to my flickr page, then I feel let down by the low number of views. I know that Facebook is no substitute for actual social contact, yet I am constantly looking at it. I need to stop wasting energy and attention on these so-called social utilities and work on seeing real live people more often.

(This post was accidentally removed for a few hours. Sorry about the confusion.)

Almost Part of History

On Saturday, MJP and I tried to see Obama during his swing through Philly. Since we weren't V.I.Ps and we didn't get to the West Philadelphia venue before 6 freakin' a.m., we had no chance of getting a decent view of the senator. But, since Philly people will be Philly people, we did get to see some pretty interesting characters. A LaRouche supporter handing out pamphlets. Independent t-shirt salesmen. My favorite was a guy wearing an oil barrel and a McCain mask.

At first, most everyone was civil, but as noon approached, the unruly vibe grew. The atmosphere wasn't nearly as mellow as the spirit of the gathering outside the Constitution Center during the primary. Maybe the event should have been held someplace like Franklin Field, where everybody could probably get a seat. Maybe they could have had more cops throughout the crowd. Since I had volunteered to hand out stickers and sign up volunteers, I had a clipboard so people kept coming up to me and asking me questions, such as "Could you turn those speakers up a little louder?" Shortly before Obama was scheduled to speak, some barricades were being breached, reminding one guy of being at a "real" soccer match (by real, I guess he meant European). Since MJP was male, tall, and was standing next to me and my clipboard, other volunteers were starting to ask him to help with crowd control. At that point, we slipped out through a crack in the crowd to get some pizza and beer.

Scary Loo Loos and their Bad Plots

Sometimes I get scared by reports about the loo loos in this land and their twisted notions about the Manchurian candidate and such.

If you ever saw the movie The Manchurian Candidate (the original with Frank Sinatra), you'll recall that foreign spies plotted to plant one of their own in the White House. Hollywood screenwriters back then had a better sense of plot than today's loo loos. The filmmakers knew that if you want to take over this country by subterfuge, you don't do it using some brown guy whose father is obviously foreign. Why do it the hard way? If you're a sneak, be sneaky. Use connected and wealthy families with an Anglo or Celtic surnames. Use U.S. veterans as pawns, because who would suspect our own military heroes? Use a woman who embodies motherhood to incite violence. Immediately label anyone who suspected your motives as un-American.

Any of that sound familiar? I don't mean to be conspiracy nut myself. I'm just saying. . .

In Which I Stop Living a Lie

It seems I have time to futz around on facebook and check huffingtonpost.com every 30 seconds or so in while I'm in the office, but I don't have time to write a full fledged blog post.

Well, no more lying to myself. If I'm going to procrastinate, let me procrastinate productively with a post to Ashyknees' Time Killer. If I can't kill time on a blog called Time Killer, than perhaps life has no meaning.

So, here's what I've been doing in real life. Last Saturday, I journeyed to Bethesda, MD for the Small Press Expo. It was about time that I went to a comic book convention. Thanks to my dalliance with MJP, it finally happened. Yeah, there were a lot of pictures of squids, pin-up chicks, and characters with impossibly huge eyes, but they were so well done. At first, I was buying stuff left and right, playing the great art patroness, but then I ran out of cash. Below are links to some stuff that I wanted to buy, but couldn't. Maybe you'll buy some of this stuff.

www.benwalkerart.com
Aya and a bunch of other cool books from Drawn and Quarterly

After the show, I met up with an old college roommate who lives in MD. Before a tasty Thai dinner, we stopped in Tugooh, the best toy story I've ever seen. If you're in the DC area and need a fancy-ass wooden toy, you must go to Tugooh.

The Kid enjoyed staying in a hotel. She was especially fond of the ice machine in the hallway.

On Sunday, MJP took me and The Kid to the DC Mall for some culture. On the Mall, I learned that the Kid is powerfully drawn to fountains. The new ocean hall at the National Museum of Natural History is spectacular. This was my second visit to NMNH in which a pre-schooler in my party had a meltdown, so perhaps the museum is too spectacular. We also hit the National Museum of the American Indian, where I took advice from a staff member at and ordered the buffalo shank in the museum cafe. It was very satisfying. I've been obsessed with shank ever since. We caught the last day of a special Jim Henson exhibit, then it was time to head back home.

Well, back to work. Never mind, it's time to go home! I guess I'll take the work home with me.

Go On, Gwen

For fear of a potential train wreck, I considered avoiding tonight's debate, but I might have to watch if only to send some kind of support vibes to Gwen Ifill.

Apparently, some people aren't satisfied to have a VP candidate who "don't know much about history." They want everyone involved in the process, including debate moderators, to be clueless, too. Because having a clue (that is being a real journalist who has done enough research on today's political climate to fill a book) equals bias.

I say go on with your professional, bad self, Gwen.