Backyard Archaeology - A Very Short "Memoir"

The cat bones lay in my closet, wrapped in their plastic shell, for years.

Actually, we had never really proved the bones came from a cat; they could have been the remains of a dead squirrel. I remember picking them up out of the dirt, my long brown pigtails brushing the ground as I bent my back, squatting with my knees under my chin. The stream, our sacred river, rushed by as we went about our work, too busy bringing sustenance to the land to attend to the fallen in the battle of life. I remember sunlight, spotted between the shadows of leaves.

My father, always teaching my sister and I to love knowledge, suggested that we collect and study the pale, hard bones. How they ended up in my closet for over ten years, I'll never know. Perhaps it would have been more ceremonial to wrap them in a shroud, or to bury them with a makeshift cross (as we did to each fish that had left us for thhat big tank in the sky), but a plastic food container served them well. Their home was peppered with seashells when I unceremoniously threw them out one day, cleaning out my closet without the air of marked finality that usually accompanies cleansing rituals.

I didn't bid adieu to the clothes I tossed; nor did I linger over the sneakers that needed retiring. The toys went downstairs, to be sold or given away. The art supplies were dutifully stored in my closet; I preferred a simple pencil or charcoal and a scrap of paper anyway. But the cat bones never harmed me, and hardly took up any space. There was simply no place for death in my life anymore.

What a strange thought. The opposite of life is not death. It is nothing. Life is everything. Everything that has ever been, that is, and that will ever be. But nothing...just try to picture nothing...I see a white room with gray shadows. A void. But even this has color, has feeling, has shape. Nothing is always scarier than something. But try and "see," try and imagine nothing...I dare-

No. No more dares. No more driving home my words with biting suggestions, intimations, and my uniquely cold voice. Even thinking of it makes my mind slip back into Ice Queen mode, as some have called it. And not without reason. Coldness, cruelty, are so hard to pull away from. It's not just the power, though that gives you the strength to fight back. It's the rush, the satisfaction, until even that disappears and you don't realize how far you've gone. You call it progress, but it feels empty. Lines and gestures on a stage, pulling and pushing at the audience, but never meaning a single word.

I've spent too long living my life in third person - driving the me out of my soul, my actions, my words - to find out who I am, what I'm like. I'm not even an I, just a conglomerate of the bits and pieces of my lifelong performance that got rave reviews. What could I say that would have the most effect? What would read the best? Just how far should I narrow my eyes? Worse than a disease. And I had no antibodies. Not even a former version of myself, an innocent self, cringing inside my plasticine shell. That malleable, moldable outside and inside that I presented anew each time I met someone. What would make me irresistible?

I broke free from this seductive prison long before I threw away the cat bones. They were not even the start, the genesis of my life as a chameleon. They reminded me of what I had to build, and of what I had. Just bones: no heart, no tendons, no thoughts; disjointed, unable to stand on their own.

REM

My excitement over getting to see REM live in concert! at MSG*! on Thursday (Nov. 4th) made me careless. I broke my rule of always having a paper and pencil on my person at all times. Because of this, I lost a poem I composed while listening to them. I lost it in the deepest recesses of my mind. I even made myself repeat it out loud (softly, under my breath) at the time, and I still forgot it. I only remember the first part of the first verse. And I don't remember where the poem was meant to go at the end! Sigh. Such is life.

That said, it was a small price to pay for the joy of seeing Michael Stipe pants himself.

And to feel that beat, the bass, or the drums, that urges your heartbeat on. That merges with the pulse of your body until you can't tell whether your heart is echoing that beat, or it's all in your imagination.

A remarkably staid concert for me, sitting far away and wishing the tech people would use the screens. I rocked out in my seat, singing along softly (so as not to disturb anyone around me). I went with Alex and some of her friends, and we hardly talked, what with sitting all in a row and with loud music all around. Wonderful, amazing, music, that made me glad I said yes to this concert, and the memory of it spurs me on to imagine more verse, more mental pictures, more love in this world.

*MSG = Madison Square Garden, New York City, NY.

Temporary Soundtrack: REM, I Wanna D.J.
Quote Trapped in My Head:"I'll trip, fall, pick myself up and / walk unafraid / I'll be clumsy instead / Hold my love me or leave me / high..." - REM, Walk Unafriad

Vanished

You're gone.
It's over.
Done.
Your life - finished.
Say it, get it out there -
Dead.
To the world, to me -
Gone

gone in the dissolution
of sharp, sweet, sugar granules
on my tongue -

I've swallowed you
so painfully.

gone with the slow extraction of
light from sunset, of
dark from sunrise -

You've killed both
day and night.

gone in the lost innocence
of children grown old
before their time -

I've aged them with
my abandonment.

vanished, banished, released
from behind prison bars, the very things
holding you up at the end -

Free from mortal affairs.

You are Gone.
Dead.
Floating above the earth
- or below it -
carelessly naked and unconcerned.
Space-time bores you.
Physics cannot trap you
in paradox.

And (to you)
I -
I am gone.
I am dead, over, finished,
lost in the mists;
my burdened thoughts
particles
separated by your
ghost wind.

~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~

You Still Have More to Learn... <-- More Poetry

Kerry Concedes the Blues

Why, oh, why, now, Kerry,
Why, did you concede?
Tell us...
why, oh, why, now, Kerry,
Why, did you concede?

We gave you all, I said a-a-all,
our sweat and tears.
We gave you a-huh-all, to belay-hee-ay
our fears.
We trust in you-oo-oo-hoo,
and we still do-o,
but you've, you've gone and
condemned us
to another four ye-eh-ears.

Why, oh, why, now, Kerry,
Why, did you give in?
Tell us...
why, oh, why, now, Kerry,
Why, did you let him wi-in?

We would have fought hard,
so hard, Lord, so ha-ard,
to make you our man.
We would have followed you-hoo-oo-oo
and helped you in all
of your plans.
But now we've heard, yes they say,
they say, so they say,
that you've given up
on post-eleh-eh-eh-eh-eh-ehction da-ay.

~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~
Temporary Soundtrack: Hello, did you not read my blues song? Sheesh, people. I'm crying over here.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "Run for the hills! Or, in my case, the Andes mountains." - Me.

I Want a Push-Lever Voting Booth for Christmas

I would use it every day. I would vote on what I want to eat for each meal, what I want to do that night, whether or not to call my friends or eat dessert. I could even keep it in my bedroom and use it for the naugh-I mean, bedroom stuff. It would be so much fun. Oh, and the novelty of fooling around in a voting booth - that doesn't wear off. Or, so I've heard. Right.

What's your favorite use for a voting machine?

Temporary Soundtrack: Jefferson Starship - Volunteers of America
Quote Trapped in My Head: "This place is fantastic; it's like "Gone With The Wind" on mescaline. They walk imaginary pets here, Garland---on a fucking leash. And they're all heavily armed and drunk." - MITG(OGAE)

Votar vs. Botar

In Spanish, both "v" and "b" can be (in a number of regions) pronounced with the same sound: "b". The verb "votar" means to vote. The verb "botar" means to throw out, to throw away, to get rid of. Interesting to see whose votes will be "botado" (thrown out) and whose will actually be voted.

More linkage fun:
Fair Vote's Election Predictions - Follow the polls as they close from East to West.
Vote Pair - Although you can't vote pair now, you can read about this interesting proposition. Completely legal.

Temporary Soundtrack: Totó La Momposina: Sombra Negra
Quote Trapped in My Head:"Sun's gonna burn out some day/you recognize/you'll be out of things to say/you recognize/that everybody's gonna die/even you/so what's a party girl to do?...you can rely on no one, no one baby..." - Laura Dawn, Recognize

High on Voting

Voting gives me such a feeling of power. The problem is whether or not that power is real. Voting is virtually the only official way we as citizens have of making a difference in the political system. We can campaign, we can write letters, protest, run for a position ourselves, but voting is a right and a protected one at that.

Some interesting sites on voting:
Video Vote Vigil - Protecting Voting Rights

Vote Watch 2004 - Information on Intimidation, Vote Suppression, Election Fraud, etc.

The Swing State Project - Curious About Swing States? How is the election doing in these states?

Rock The Vote - Voting Tips, Candidate Info, just a heck of a lot of important stuff.
Polling Point Survey

Two articles from People for the American Way:

Run-Up to Election Exposes Widespread Barriers to Voting
The Long Shadow of Jim Crow: Voter Intimidation and Suppression in America Today

And, my personal favorite:
Project Vote Smart - Find out information about who's running in your area, for which positions, which parties candidates are affiliated with, etc. Use the NPAT (National Political Awareness Test) tool to find out candidates' real opinions on key issues.

Temporary Soundtrack: State Radio - Rushian
Quote Trapped in My Head: