Fog

And tonight we live in heavy fog.

















Rumor says, the fog is to blame for that incessant ship's horn in the harbor.

Hitchcock's hiccups

I don't have much time to write this week, but my friend Dana shared this and I couldn't resist posting it.



(all together now, "Thaaaank you Danaaaa")

2080

(yes, my OCD is kicking in)



I can't sleep when I think about the times we're living in
I can't sleep when I think about the future I was born into
Outsiders dressed up like Sunday morning
With no Berlin wall what the hell you gonna do

It's a new year, I'm glad to be here
It's a fresh spring, so let's sing
In 2080 I'll surely be dead
So don't look ahead, ever look ahead
It's a new year, I'm glad to be here
It's a fresh spring, so let's sing
And the moon shines bright on the water tonight
So we won't drown in the summer sound

If you find me I'll be sitting by the water fountain
Picket signs, letdowns, meltdown on Monday morning
But it's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright
It's alright
Cause in no time, they'll be gone, I guess I'll still be standing here

It's a new year...

Yeah, yeah, we can all grab at the chance to be handsome farmers
Yeah you can have twenty-one sons and be blood when they marry my daughters
And the pain that we left at the station will stay in a jar behind us
We can pickle the pain into blue ribbon winners at county contests

...

Arrrggghhhh!

It's been three days now and I'm still boiling inside. Every time I think about it, my skin dries up and my little stomach releases...well, stomach juice of course. "What on God's name are you blathering about?" Well, I'll tell you what I'm blathering about.

I missed the Yeasayer concert last Thursday...

...because I had to write a term paper. Arrrghhh. At the moment I thought it was the right choice, the responsible one (considering my final countdown). But then, at midnight that same night, I got a 5 day extension. Arrrghhh!

Anyway, the symptoms of my post-ImissedYeasayer stress disorder have only increased because now I can't stop listening to their music. AND, almost every music review that I've read compares them to David Byrne! So double arrrgggggh. (I'm tempted to call it "divine punishment")

So please join me in my frustration by pressing play and realizing what you also missed:





And yes, we should all listen to Rodrigo more often.

As a result, as a result, as a result.

As a result of being in the library for six hours, I found this utterly amusing:

Everything That Happens Will Happen Today

I'm proud to share that today I pulled a "fan from hell." Well, kind of. I didn't wait for hours in the rain outside a backstage door, nor did I buy a coffee and doughnut for a limo driver just to extract the hotel info of a visiting rockstar. But I did set a couple of alarms, one at 9.00am, another at 9.45, to remind me about the 10am pre-sale of tickets for the David Byrne & Brian Eno Tour!! (the venue for Vancouver will be the Queen Elizabeth Theatre, which should give you an idea of the importance of this renewed collaboration)

And for your hearing pleasure, the entire album:

We the Patriots

I'm writing a term paper addressing the issue of representation of women's bodies by feminist artists. My research today led me to a piece by Barbara Kruger that I had never seen before: "Untitled" (Questions). The artist appropriates the image of the American flag and fills it with questions about authority and power. In this sense, the image invites the viewer to contest the idea of patriotism and forces a critical (feminist) look at American values.



By questioning the values that this flag represents, Kruger's image made me think of all the American flags that today wave freely atop military bases in Afghanistan, Iraq, Guantanamo, etc. It made me think about the freedom and justice embedded in the stars and stripes, and how these waving stars and stripes must look ridiculous when juxtaposed to the nighttime stars and scars of occupied lands. (And who better to explain this hypocrisy of American values than Don Mitchell in his famous "You Who Are The Bureaucrats of Empire, Remember Who We Are.")

This also reminded me of the recent US election. It made me think not only about the enormous patriotic pride generated by Obama's victory, but also about the wave of false patriotism that the McCain-Palin camp unleashed when they rhetorically divided the country into "real America" and "_____ America." Two visions of patriotism, one inclusive, one divisive. (Is any of them desirable?)

p.s. in a few days, Mexico celebrates the anniversary of the Mexican Revolution, a struggle that generated much of the imagery that has been used and reused as symbols of Mexican national pride. I wonder if this celebration is not just recycled patriotism and protocol but still means anything at all. (an interesting viewpoint with Andrés)

Mouriño

Confieso que cuando me enteré del avionazo del pasado 4 de noviembre, sentí ansiedad. La idea de un atentado contra el segundo hombre más importante en el gobierno de mi país me agarró por sorpresa. Afortunadamente cuento con un escepticismo brutal que no me dejó preocuparme demasiado hasta no saber más detalles sobre el terrible suceso. Las teorías de conspiración transforman todo, hasta un estornudo, en una sospechosa coincidencia.

Ahora que la SCT publicó los contenidos de las cajas negras, mi ansiedad va en picada. Hoy siento una terrible tristeza. Saber que tantas personas murieron por algo tan banal como una turbulencia de ala me parece una verdadera tragedia. En el caso de Juan Camilo Mouriño, no sé si sea peor o mejor que su muerte haya sido por un sencillo y evitable error humano, que por un preciso y premediato ataque de los narcos. Pero lo que sí sé es que cuando se trata de la muerte, no importan los peores y los mejores. Importa nada más la muerte, que es total.

The Final Countdown!

After 7 long years of playing the character of a student at various universities and institutions of higher education, I have finally entered the final phase of my bachelor's degree. In exactly two weeks, I will attend my last ever undergraduate lecture and my university experience will come to an abrupt stop. For those of you who know me and understand what this process has meant, you will agree when I say that I never thought I'd see the day...

But before embarking on a long "what does it all mean?" post (which, I assure you, will eventually come), I have to prepare for the most excruciating couple of weeks of my time at UBC: I have to write 4 term papers (>3000 words each), give one presentation, conduct one interview, and battle through the last Econ problem set. If all goes well and I'm alive and breathing when this is over, I promise I'll at least make some t-shirts with the legend "I survived the bachelor's degree" (which you will be able to purchase here). Anyway, wish me luck, or the least amount of all-nighters!

Proposition 8

The title should be "The Death of Hope". But that would be too dramatic. Too defeatist. It would imply a belief in the unrelenting tyranny of the majority. Instead, I'd like to believe that Tuesday's disappointment was simply a temporary setback; just a minor glitch in a matrix that is constantly being rewritten...perfected.

I'm talking about California's newly approved Proposition 8, which reinstates the ban on same sex marriage in that state. This past summer, California became the second state (after Massachusetts) to approve same sex marriage in the United States, raising hopes amongst civil rights advocates that the move might spread to other states.

Unfortunately, discrimination met with opportunism this Tuesday, and bigotry had its way. With Obama's victory, the evening was supposed to end on a joyful note. Hope and Change were supposed to be the day's loudest songs. But this reverse move towards inequality in California was hardly the kind of Change that was floating in the air on election night....it is contrary to the Hope in a better and more equal future that millions of voices had in mind when their voices echoed "Yes we can!"

Man in the Mirror

Now that "President is the new Black" and we're all buzzed about Change, I think it is appropriate to remember the wise words of a former black man:

"If you wanna make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and then make a change." M. Jackson


(thank you Alex Munro for showing me the way)

p.s. I would suggest you start by trying to eat consciously. And consume no bottled water. And becoming involved...in whatever it is that you care about.

"Llévela, llévela"

En honor a todos los compañeros que ayer portaron la playera de Obama,

Los diez mandamientos del buen asistente de concierto:

1. no escucharás el último disco de la banda durante el embotellamiento en el Viaducto rumbo al concierto.
2. no entrarás al concierto cantando el último sencillo de la banda.
3. no caerás en la trampa de ponerte a discutir datos de la banda en voz alta antes de entrar (se vuelve una dolorosa prueba de tu capacidad para retener los datos de su entrada en Wikipedia)
4. evitarás comprar la playera del concierto para usarla durante el concierto.
5. bajo ningún motivo o circunstancia usarás la playera de los Ramones (que por supuesto, nunca viene al caso y sólo confunde)
6. durante el concierto, tratarás a toda costa de no delatar que sólo fuiste para escuchar las dos rolas que ponen en el radio (ej. no mostrarás una emoción desproporcional hacia sólo un par de canciones)
7. no saldrás a la calle coreando en voz alta la rola que más te gustó. Ya la oimos todos. Y por algo pagamos para oir la versión original.
8. no llevarás puesta la playera del concierto a tu escuela/trabajo el dia siguiente. Traerla puesta abajo de la camisa de vestir no te exime. (se vuelve pecado mortal si además fue la que usaste el dia del concierto)
9. antes de dormir, cortarás la pulserita de acceso especial que te pusieron al entrar.
10. la taza de café del concierto se quedará guardada en tu casa por lo menos una semana.

Me confieso grave pecador. Por mi culpa, por mi culpa...

Albarn Thursday again

Obamania

A los fans de Obama que hoy salieron orgullosos a pasearse por las calles:

Traer puesta la playera de Obama es casi como ir a la universidad con la playera del concierto del dia anterior. Es como llegar a la oficina con la taza de U2, o como dejarse puesta la pulserita de acceso a la zona platino del Foro Sol. Es como traer el disfraz del América el dia posterior al clásico.

Pero igual se siente re bonito leer "Change" en tantas personas. Salud!

p.d. mención honorífica al compañero que está sentado junto a mi y maneja el combo playera-cachucha. Un aplauzo.

Visual premonition?

It's 2 pm on this historic election Tuesday and I came across an image in the NY Times that caught my attention. To me, it correctly depicts the attitudes of both candidates during the last stretch of this race:













McCain looks worried, insecure. He has an awkward, forced smile. His hands make him look uncomfortable with himself. It is the image of a man that is almost embarassed, that doesn't want his picture taken today. His eyes have an air of avoidance. He reminds me of the "He's a Muslim" incident, and of the fear rhetoric of this past week. His face here and his attitude in the last stretch of the electoral race reflect the feelings of a man that is unsure of achieving victory.

Obama is standing confident, strong. His pose indicates that he wants this picture taken because he feels comfortable today. His right arm is held high, proudly showing a card, his left is resting calmly on his side. It feels as if he's thinking, "the polls are on my side so I'll have nothing to explain tonight." He is making strong eye-contact, but is not smiling...he retains an air of urgency, expressing the seriousness of today's voting. This attitude reminds me of his last speeches, where he appeared self-assured about the merits of the campaign, but still reminded his listeners that the race was not over.

The way the diptych is constructed drives me towards Obama. Not only do we read from left to right in the languages that I speak, but McCain's eyes push me outside the picture to the left, whereas Obama's bring me into the picture, to the center third of the image, where the important subject is his confident hand.

My point? That this image speaks a thousand words, mostly unfavorable to McCain. I hope this is a premonition of tonight's results.