Welcome to The New World.

News last night/this morning about suicide bombers in Iraq who rammed an explosive-laden van into a mostly-full mosque, detonating the explosives, made me wonder -- what kind of religion inspires its members to kill fellow believers? What if Protestants, Catholics and Episocpalians decided to venture forth with flame-throwers and ignite one another? That most assuredly would dampen the Christmas spirit...and make holiday mall shopping that much more arduous.

On a serious note, I'm not sure if distressing is sufficient in describing how convoluted and, in a word (or two) -- fucked-up -- the Muslim world really is. Based on my reading and observation over the course of the "War In Iraq" and over the past 15 or so years, it's become increasingly apparent to me how cloudy the status of Islam really is from country to country and village to village. There are seemingly more iterations of Islam, even from neighboring villages, then there are sub-dialects of Spanish from block to block in Washington Heights. I'm a little unclear how the most fervent followers (of Islam, not Spanish) can find it appropriate -- not to mention, acceptable under the teachings of the religion -- to kill other members of the same system of belief. Imagine the aforementioned example of Catholics, Protestants and Episcopalians duking it out in the streets, eviscerating and goring one another with broadswords, handguns, switch-blades and flame-throwers. Or imagine if Jews battled one another on the streets of New York -- the conservatives standing on their front stoops, the chassids swinging talmud tomes and the reform wearing Christmas sweaters to avoid conflict ;-) It seems ridiculous, of course -- and it is. But there were times when religious beliefs inspired war.

Go back to ancient Greece and Rome, or even more recently during the Crusades, and the countless invasions, attacks and defenses of the largest expanses of land down to the tiniest of burgs. Even violence predicated on supposedly intellectual pursuits -- ie self-determination -- found their roots in religious hatred and the word of God. The Battle of Hastings, in 1066, was mired in a duality of intellectualism and religious fervor. So why should these days, in present-day Baghdad, be much different?

Good question...and the good answer is -- because nearly one thousand years has passed since The Battle of Hastings; one thousand years of civilization, growth, technology, human evolution, Cabbage Patch kids and destruction and disease. Judging by the news of the day (or the last three daily topics of "discussion" on The Jerry Springer Show), humans don't need to creative in order to find ways to be cruel, disgusting and awful to their fellow man. This doesn't merely address the relationships we establish with neighbors and the random people we encounter in our daily lives; this also quite adequately applies to how countries deal with each other (diplomacy, or geopolitique), how leaders rule their respective nations, and how sub-leaders and groups treat each other within the confines of the nation-state.

To wit, it's fairly clear that the evolution of man has somehow escaped us within that mystical, meandering world known as The Middle East. Aside from Israel's modernization of the region, that world is more akin to Hammurabi's code than it is for modern law. Female suffrage, amputation of limbs as punishment for crimes and suicide statements as religious expression don't scream out 2004 AD to me; perhaps 2004 BC. Modern opinions compare the modern "Palestinian Struggle" to the Inquisition or the Romans allowing the Hebrews to either convert or take their own lives by leaping from Masada. There are similarities, of course...but this comparison has as much merit as would a Bible-Belter proclaiming homosexuals should be smote because they are violationg the letter of God's word. Biblical times and before are a different era; today we live in a time of parking tickets, CNN and franchise discount outlets. God's will appears in its own way, in my opinion, but I fail to make the connection between needing an insurance company or an attorney for a simple traffic accident and a suicide bomber attacking members of a different sect of his or her own faith.

I can barely comprehend Palestinians blowing themselves up on schoolbuses to kill Israelis -- but killing one another solely inspires further confusion and demonstrates, finally, that that religion -- which supposedly preaches peace and good will towards other members of said religion -- has been so warped, corrupted and twisted -- a la Jerry Falwell (or Osama Bin Laden, take your pick) -- that the "religion" aspect of it has all but vanished. And if it's no longer a religion but simply a self-constructed, rigid form of controlling and manipulating mass belief, then we should call it what it is -- a cult -- and continue to excise it from the mass humana.

The above statement is far from endorsing a "genetic cleansing" and it's certainly anything but an indictment of Islam as a faith, a religion or a form of belief. However, it seems to me that these confrontations and conflicts are far from biblical, despite a small number of "believers" who wish to depict them as such. And the world community, with its suit-and-tie diplomacy and attempt at normalcy, is as far removed from the situation as are the object(s) of its efforts to reign in peoples who have celebrated killing their neighbors for thousands of years. Whether his intention was to do so or not, George Dubya Bush's removal of the Band-Aid that was Saddam Hussein has revealed a far worse, and far more pernicious, view of religious fanaticsm than he (and many) thought possible. If nothing else, the entropy and the chaos within that region will not simply confine itself to that region, and with the advent of nuclear -- nee, portable nuclear weapons -- that region's discord will one day have significant impact on the rest of the world. But as a former professor of mine once opined, after he began his stay as a UN Delegate for a nation in the region, "when you provide modern technological weapons to more effectively kill people on a mass scale with peoples whose sensibilities are anchored in the Dark Ages and before, you've got the worst of both worlds combined in quite an effective, volatile package."

No his mind is not for rent
To any god or government
Always hopeful, yet discontent
He knows changes aren't permanent
But change is.

Rush, Tom Sawyer
Moving Pictures, 1981

Welcome to the New World, yet again.

Welcome to The Twilight Zone

This morning was fairly typical, with some fairly notable exceptions...hence the title of this entry...

I woke up and went to the gym, and almost fell on my way ONTO the treadmill because the cable for my headphones dropped off my sweatshirt and very nearly got stuck between the treadmill post and the belt thereon. Joy.

I finish on the treadmill and I make my way to the climber, and I must have (unbeknownst to me) stepped on some liquid because as I slid my right foot into the first chamber to get started, I slipped a little and very nearly wound up doing a back-flip worthy of Ozzie Smith, except I wasn't wearing a Cardinals uniform and doubt I would have landed in a pretty (or healthy) fashion.

I get back to my apartment to a ringing phone and, rushing to grab it I knock over a glass that was empty but is very fragile. Didn't break, thankQverymooch. And subsequently, after I get off the phone (with my friend Ron, who might be in town next weekend) I almost do a dive over the ottoman which is conveniently placed right behind me, ie out of view but right in the way.

Later...I go to a building inspection at 87th and Lex and go into the boiler room at the property to be inspected by an HPD inspector (if all this sounds Greek, never mind, just keep reading) and he trips and bangs his head against a follow-pipe (at least that's what he called it -- although he might have used another word, but I couldn't -- and wasn't about to try to -- verify).

We wrap the inspection -- finally -- and I get on a bus towards the office. A woman steps onto the bus wearing a purple cape/poncho thing (they're all over the place in NYC, San Fran and everywhere in between, I'd imagine) and just one quick glance in her direction I know she thinks she's hot shit. She's got that "NYC gait" -- ie without saying a word you know she thinks her shit doesn't stink and that the bus is very much beneath her.

She manages to sit in the seat in front of mine, and while I am ensconced with the magical sounds of Audioslave I watch this woman -- in her late 50's/early 60's begin primping her hair like a show-poodle in the main ring at Madison Square Garden (the dog-show, not boxing).

I go back to my audio-only world and don't notice that this dimwit takes out a bottle of hairspray and begins doing her hair -- on a semi-packed bus -- in midtown. As I feel it hitting the side of my head, I was so incredulous I actually exclaimed -- out loud -- "WHAT THE FUCK!!!" She sort-of turns around as I realize I've just belted out verbiage that's not quite PG-rated. She looks at me and I ask "What the hell is wrong with you?" She realizes she screwed up and mumbles "I'm sorry, I didn't quite see you there." Now I can understand how a guy, 5'8 and about 210, just blends in with an NYC bus seat (stark royal blue), but I can't understand how people on a bus could be THAT inconsiderate. And I got a wee bit involved. "Excuse me, ma'am, what the hell are you doing?" She sort of looked away. "Didn't see me? There are other people on this bus other than you and your hair." She turned around, didn't move an inch, and got off the bus ASAFP at the next stop. I was plenty non-thrilled, but it's not so much angry but more incredulous that someone could be so self-absorbed that they would feel comfortable spraying hair-spray in a tight space. Picture a packed elevator of 15 people and a woman whipping out a can of Paul Mitchell and sprootzing in the middle thereof. Imbecile.

So....I finally recede back to audio-world and arrive at the office...and as I step into an elevator, I am going through my briefcase to make sure I have my keys when one of the building maintenance men come into the elevator. I don't quite look up because I'm preoccupied but I hear him half-whisper "Fuck." Knowing my morning's glory, I respond with "I hear you, man, it's been that kind of morning." He says "Well I just hit my head on a pipe and it really hurts," and I look up instinctively to see the guy with a pencil-thin line of blood from the front of his scalp, above his forehead, running down to the tip of his nose (and dripping onto his jacket).

"Holy shit, are you okay?" was my MENSA-quality first question. "That looks bad..."
He laughed and told me he has cut himself worse shaving, to which I kind of laughed and said "Well, it looks better on pro wrestling, anyway." And I almost banged my head against the wall of the elevator when I forgot and remembered, just then, that he has a severe limp and he probably won't be doing much wrestling anytime soon...lol...he actually laughs, though, in response -- it didn't occur to him that I was trying to make fun, which of course I wasn't, but neither here nor there, I'm glad he's not the sensitive, go-sob-in-the-corner type. Didn't want to ruin the guy's weekend on top of him smacking his head open on a pipe. Workman's comp, anyone?

So here I am, perched in front of the PC as I wait for a client to fax me a bevy of papers that I will need to ingest over the weekend, which will be spent in the office as well. It would be just fine except the three bulbs in the light fixture in the ceiling of my office decided to blow out -- at once -- and I'd call maintenance except I'm concerned that my bloodied elevator pal might swing by and exhibit his well-hidden displeasure at my wrestling comment. And later I'm due to get a haircut but I'm thinking of cancelling in case I run into the mad hair-spray bus-rider wearing a purple poncho.

Sometimes it just doesn't pay to get out of bed, especially if there's someone in that bed with you who makes that concept even more appealing :-)

Rod Serling, whereever you are, give it a rest 'til Monday ;-)

The Sad State of News

These days of high-tech news delivery -- grandmothers with blackberry units and cell-phones, bluetooth headsets connecting us to the worldwide network of information, and tying us into everything from stock prices to what color underwear a teacher is wearing on a particular day, seems to be of varied, and disputable, efficacy.

However, I happened upon ESPN's homepage (www.espn.com), a daily activity for me, and was shocked -- sort of -- that there were two news items that were actually newsworthy, so to speak. The first story was that Ricky Williams, the running back who retired from the Miami Dolphins and the NFL a month before the season began rather than stop smoking marijuana, was no longer pursuing a return to the NFL; and the second story was that Jason Giambi, the New York Yankee first baseman, had admitted -- not merely been suspected of -- taking steroids.

Now despite the fact that we are in an insular, cushy world of Starbucks, juice boxes and cell phones, we are in war-time these days, folks...so the fact that these two items are newsworthy is simultaneously disheartening and disquieting. The dubious value of these two stories aside, they are both newsworthy -- and yet they're both meaningless dribble that, in five years, will be meaningless. So I took a look back at the news over the past week and, for the most part, the main stories involve Tom Brokaw leaving NBC's nightly news telecast and Dan Rather announcing his imminent departure from the requisite position for CBS. So the newsmakers themselves are news, too. Like anyone gives a shit about that Canuck, Peter Jennings.

The other news that was legitimately sad and unfortunate was the plane crash that claimed the life of Dick Ebersol's 14-year-old son. The word sad -- or tragic, unfortunate, or awful, or horrible -- is definitely appropriate here...but what is not is that this seems to be at the top of the list.

Does anyone herein know that the Ukraine held elections that were so rife with corruption and collusion that they had to be declared null and void? Does anyone care?

Ah...we also know Scott Peterson was defended in part by his father for going to choir practice when he was a child. That's not news, however...a lot of choir singers would commit murders more, most likely, if they weren't always so damn busy rehearsing ;-) Okay, so even that might seem a bit heavy-handed -- maybe they're just spending a lot of their time at band camp experimenting with flutes...

In general terms, I wanted to lament the dearth of real news and in specific terms, I wanted to explore the fact that news isn't news anymore. Something short of a catastrophic incident -- on the scale of 9/11 -- can easily (and be worthy of) front-page coverage. But it seems that technology has outpaced our ability to entertain and stimulate ourselves. Or at least, of course, until the next Spongebob movie is released.

Lost and Found Truth

Keeper of lost faith, retain the fruits of your labor
pelted like lottery stones, adjusted growth and gleaming tarnish
Like marzipan dreams with sour afterglow
your youth lost in dreams that were doomed in the past.

Memory stricken with ill-fitting genius
of darkness fallen and virginity sealed within
taunting, flaunting and cherishing nightmares
that ring hollow like empty bottles of wine.

Air evokes the night's change to daytime
the sun burns a hole right through the sky
the flourescent remainder of a feted approach
the caustic badge of courage that embodies a lie.

Paper-thin armor and guilty repast
nerves like petals that melt to the touch
fear palpable worry impending doom at the door's edge
awaiting its entry with inexorable reproach.

The translucent aching of a fallen life
the tangible sadness of a sullen strife
passion removed, detached and absent
begone with your sorrows, woes and wary delights.

A Thanksgiving To Remember and Forget

A day or two late, true, but what other national holiday inspires good will, comfort, contentment, happiness and that "holiday feel" better than Thanksgiving? Christmas, if you're Jewish, is a day for Chinese food and movies; New Year's Eve/Day is for alcohol, hangovers and resolutions and Memorial and Labor Day are for kicking back. Thanksgiving, however, is truly a unique and worthwhile holiday.

This year, I spent the day with my family, including my grandmother, my mom, my sister and my father. Foodwise, which is part of why I love the holiday, this wasn't anything special -- we had turkey and the other "stuff" but for the most part it wasn't much of anything to remember. I have turkey on other days of the year, so this year's Thanksgiving didn't do anything for me that way.

We were all together, which is a plus, especially given what we've been through this year. Having my father around -- despite him not being at 100% -- was a great thing, given that I wasn't sure he would be here with us. Check the archives for more detail on this if you're so inclined, but odds are if you've made it this far you know the deal and can imagine that the last several months have not been easy, to say the least.

So why was this year's Thanksgiving so mediocre? For a variety of reasons: the food was a non-issue, we weren't at home, and while we were able to spend time with my father, since he's still recovering it wasn't quite normal. And since I worked the day after -- and since he had to go to the hospital on that same day -- it's almost been a non-holiday. And on top of that, wanting to spend time with my other half -- and her with her family across the country -- left me feeling very disjointed and out of place.

So the back-and-forth, out-of-place feeling still persists...while I know how much I have for which to be thankful -- my father's (hopefully improving) health, my family, a wonderful woman who never fails to make me smile daily -- I also know what I want and that to which I am looking forward. So whether this is a memorable Thanksgiving for good reasons, or whether it turns out to be one which I want to forget as soon as possible, it's a holiday which marks a point in time, for me, that reminds me and teaches me what the holiday is all about. It's not just about giving thanks for what we have, but to what we can look forward as sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, husbands, wives, lovers and friends for the coming year(s).

I know that being thankful is part of this holiday, so I'll unabashedly admit that I am thankful for where I am in life this day, and where those who mean the most to me are as well. But I also am looking forward to the day when I can exhale, breathe a sigh of relief, and smile thankfully and know in my heart that there is nothing more in life I need or require. That day might not come, but I'm thankful most of all that I still believe, perhaps someday soon, it will indeed come. And I am thankful that I will know in my heart when that day does arrive that I will be thankful and truly humbled in my gratitude and humility.

For those of you who have been there with my family and with me throughout the ordeal of the past three months, I can only say thank you and wish you and your family, friends and those closest to you the kind of happiness that I one day hope to again experience. And to my other half, she who has found a way to make me smile, to give me hope and to make me content during those days of unhappiness, futility and hopelessness, there are no words that I can offer to convey my gratitude, except to say that I hope I can give to you if and when you need me as much as you have to me. The trifecta isn't quite complete, but through the dark, difficult days of the past, and the unknown of the future, I am thankful that you are have been, will be, and are with me.

I wish you all the best Thanksgiving and the best of everything.

-B-

Day After Yesterday

The day before she left was a little chilly
a tinge of bite in the air, nary a cloud but
wind that warily whirled around buildings
and through my hair while my eyes shuddered
to avoid the sand lifted from the scattered pavement.

The day she left was sunny at times
the clouds coming going rising falling
the warmth was there but couldn't feel it
and the scratch of tires the fall of leaves
didn't mask the dropping mercury inside and out.

The day after is cold, the sky is dark
the faded, burned-out yellow of the sun no more
The lenses of windows and cars and glasses
reflect the empty sky and the cold coming of winter
that's already risen and arrived far too soon.

Tomorrow is another day.