Surviving Third World America, Part One: Grain Elevators

Now, before I get started, I have to admit:

I have never read Arianna Huffington's book

on Third World America, though perhaps I should.

It's just my own private, personal interpretation

that I now impart: 

The U.S.A. is rapidly becoming 

a former First World Country.

I really believe that.

And as we plummet, we're becoming

the 21st Century Wild West,

most recently embodied by the armed laid-off worker

who killed his former boss in broad daylight.

It used to be, if there was to be

a dual, that both parties got a weapon.

But no, not in Third World, Wild West America.

Why are so many people going crazy?

Because so many of us have experienced so much wealth 

that we really don't know how to handle it

when it's suddenly gone.

That is, unless you live in an American city

that's been suffering recession longer than the rest of the country.

And that's where the title of this entry comes in,

because

I do.

O.K., I'll finally admit it:

I live in #2:

Buffalo, New York.

No, I wasn't born here,

(remember, I was born over 400 years ago,

in Greece, and have lived in countless places

since then) but right now,

I live in Buffalo.

And like so many other places, Buffalo

is a state of mind,

and for several years after I moved here

it was a state 

of mind

that I desperately wanted to leave.

But, unlike many Buffalonians,

I happen to have a job here, in a field

that it's hard to find a job in.

And it just so happens that Buffalo, NY

is a pretty good place to live

if you happen to have a job. 

There's lots of reasons for that, but perhaps

one of the most intriguing reasons is because,

only 100 years ago,

Buffalo was a very desirable city to live in,

and plenty of people did,

and  because of that, plenty of very famous architects did work here.

Much of it still stands:

Indeed, it's very easy to find a very nice house in Buffalo,

and live very frugally.

Now, I'm not here to convince you to move to Buffalo,

but I will say, it has grown on me.

I've learned to cross country ski

and bike, both of which

are very good ways to get around this city.

And I've been discovering that many of the secrets

of surviving, and living in

Third World America

might be answered right here.

Rather than blast you with a ton of stuff right away,

I'm going to focus on one feature at a time,

and tonight I'm slightly in awe of this:

The Grain Elevator.

Buffalo has plenty of abandoned grain elevators,

because they were actually invented here, in 1843,

by a fellow named Joseph Dart.

At that time, Buffalo was centrally located 

between the midwest

and the water ways that could bring products to the east.

This produced a need for a place to store grain, in particular,

while it was waiting to be shipped; thus, this behemoth.

And they were used continually, as the city grew, thanks 

to the Erie Canal, 

and continued to be used, a little beyond that thoroughfare's demise.

But when I moved here, I found, they just stood empty,

as they had been standing for years:

huge, hulking structures,

ghosts of an industry long gone, like the mines of 

Nanticoke, Pennsylvania, 

the work these monsters housed,

and the workers too,

are gone, long gone, and the buildings left to rot.

~ ~

Now, one of the many admirable qualities Buffalonians have

at a level much higher than the residents of other dead cities,

is a strong sense of historical pride,

and some very bull-headed local grass roots preservation organizations.

I'll write later about some of the preservation work they're doing in this town,

because it's quite remarkable.  Remember,

I've lived in lots of places, and the way this city rallies to restore itself

is pretty admirable.  Well, one of the historical fascinations among

Buffalonians is these grain elevators.  Some of them (the one above, in fact,

photographed by me about a year ago) have been destroyed,

but several have become sites of exploration.  Tours go through them now, 

and last night I witnessed an amazing thing:

a performance in a grain elevator.

My admiration was won a few years ago by an innovative theatre group called

Torn Space, and they got the job of mounting this show,

which included dancers pirouetting above from wires in the high, 

echoing, empty storage chambers,

to Beckettian monologues

to classical minimalism

(all photos from The Buffalo News )

It was, quite simply, transformative.  And when we all walked out,

to watch videos by different artists projected on the largest screen I've ever experienced,

nearly everyone there was seeing this structure

no longer as an eyesore, but rather

as a place of potential.

Knowing Buffalo, they'll keep using the grain elevators this way,

making them another exclusive hang-out spot 

for their abundance of gritty artists and performers and musicians

and cool wanna-be's from the suburbs.

This is, I would say, one of the coolest ways to 

survive Third World America:

turn it into an avant-garde art venue.

Oh, and by the way, did I tell you admission was free?

Maybe it won't be the next time,

but the flame has been lit

and there will be

a next time.

Natalie Merchant, remedy for madness

 

 

 

 

. . . as I pass through my days,

that float by in a haze

I wonder who's truly crazy --

is it the man with the coal black eyes

who can see into my heart and 

tear it in two

or is it the politicians

and the businessmen

and the generals

and the mediamen

who don't give me credit

for having a heart?

 

 

If your heart, too,

is hurting with the pain

of our planet so ravaged,

and with the pain of the farce

of our current electoral charades,

and with the pain of people gone mad

in Syria, Afghanistan, and Manhattan,

I've found something that may help ease it:

listen on, listen on ---

 

 

 

Geneology

via geneology.about

. . . and so, you see

I have been researching

my family tree, and when

you've lived as long as I, that can take

an eternity --

                    or thereabouts.

And that is one of the reasons you haven't seen 

too much of me.

My family tree is long and strong;

it goes back centuries.

On looking, I see a pattern

emerge, a story that is only marginally

about me.

It's about humanity.

I am, after all, just one tiny shoot

off this ambling oak, and one that bore

no progeny --

at least not in this lifetime,

so my place on the tree is like

earth in our galaxy.

via coolcosmos

Still, I'm part of the pattern, but

not without duty, or responsibility

to the health of tree.

At this particular point

in this particular generation,

without me, the tree

would not be.

via laceyville

This is the pattern I've drawn:

there is a long, strong base

that documentably links my family

to history.

It's full of soldiers, war heros, pioneers,

Admiral Perry,

and a questionable link to the wife

of our first president George.   Notably,

it's my mother's mother's ancestry.

But within that long noble trunk

it appears

every fifty or one hundred years,

someone stumbles,

drinks too much,

and looks askance

at the teaming world.  Smitten

by the beauty there,

that person beds, then weds

one who their own Society would label

risky:

An Irishman, a German, or

godforbid, a Pole,

an Indian, a Turk, or even Negro:

the whole clan mutates 

into a jumbled hybridity

that all adds up to me.

Accidental, incidental,

those periodic lusty embraces

between two so mismatched social faces

have produced a tangle of branches

that links cultures,

to the point that I can say,

with fair certainty,

that, dear reader, you and me

are kin, if only 

remotely.

via viz

CONVERSATION

O.K., go OK Go again

OK Go "All is Not Lost"

I lost track of this band for a little while.

They're worth paying attention to.

This is a year old, but the sentiment is, 

well,

timeless:

Cooked Meat

Why is my cat Pisi saying

when she follows me around,

              miaowing,

even after she has eaten?

Is she asking me to feed her again?

I beg to differ; she's actually asking me to feed

myself.  She is, after all,

domesticated.  And

in the cat world, "domesticated" means

to prefer ones meat

cooked,

especially over an open fire.

Because that's how it was cooked

aeons ago when

the first brave feline took the step -- 

or should I say,

the first hungry feline took that step 

into that huddle of men,

that circle of fire,

and chose to not attack

but rather accepted

                                          the rules, and in accepting

                             the rules, received

Cooked Meat.  

Cooked Meat? the first brave cat or two meowed

and then ate some more

and liked it.

And once into cooked

meat, there was no

turning back.

My cat, Pisi, might I note, is a 

frontier cat, a border 

cat,

not content with mice 

or just one street corner.

That's why she's with me.

Now, that primitive connoisseur cat invited other cats

like itself to dine with her, and gradually,

they all joined the human coterie,

and in joining

-- and surviving -- 

developed an innate sense memory to find

Cooked Meat.  Smell

sense and sound sense and 

sight sense and sixth sense, the cat 

knows the meat is cooking and awaits

its arrival, patiently.  Obediently.  After

a few generations, the cats become

programmed to believe that

Cooked Meat is the only ticket

to survival.  So

my meowing evening cat, following me

from every task to every task except 

cooking meat, is not demanding more

cat food, but rather expects that since I give her

meat even when she doesn't ask for

Meat, she'd much prefer I just

Cook Meat.   Cook Meat! is what she says, not

"cat food."  She wants

Cooked Meat.  And once I

Cook Meat, and Share Meat,

she is replete, and if I'm 

good, she might even let me

pet her,

brush her,

tame her.

My cat Pisi, plucked early in life

from Ankara's cat-killing streets,

learned fast.  Domestication appealed

when she knew the wild would 

turn her into

Raw Meat.  So she said, pass the

Cooked Meat, and keep it coming!  And she has traveled for miles

with me because I give it

to her,

even when she doesn't ask.

The domestic cat, like any

domesticated creature

requires consistency.  She

wants the meat everyday,  or else

she'll eat your ankle.

Take heed:

FEED

the cats

Ode To A Cloud

The clouds have been so fabulous this summer,

so I thought I'd write them

an ode.

Here goes:

You dance and turn and sing

O wispy thing

have you substance more than lace?

So quickly to dissolve, trace-

less, and yet your bulk 

can shudder the ships of man

almost to the point of breaking.

We should not underestimate you,

oh ghostly friend.  Only

praise and awe-fully gaze

as you drift across

                         the silent sky.

(photos by me)

bushels

via texasbasket

. . . and Jesus said, lest you be dead

don't hide your light under

bushels.

That bushel, friend, is the skin

you're in:

the woven textured artifice

often

mistaken

for who we are meant to be.

The light, dear friend, grows dim each time 

you deny its luminosity.

It guides yourself

to your

Self,

It is the christ within.

As long as you resign your Self to pine

away in the vehicle given

for living and doing on

the earth,

you are destined to

die,

and live and

die,

and live and 

die

again and again.

via artnet

the work of Artist Shoichiro Matsuoka, found at createyourcosmos

Meditate.

Dive in.

Have no fear,

when you let your light shine,

the body, too, 

will follow,

magnificently

Also with gratitude to createyourcosmos - a fabulous blog! and the artists Daniel Franke and Cedric Kiefer 

return to the garden

(all photos by Makropoulos)

At the moment when the infamous residents

of the original Garden Eden

ate the apple, something happened:

the human brain began so quickly to grow, so

much so it began to rival

God's

.

And not knowing this new power they so quickly had in hand,

they panicked.

If they had not panicked so

A + E may have discovered,
far too early,
 the distinctive 

pleasure of mind, the intense

satisfaction one can gain

from imagining worlds.

Ultimately, they, both woman and man,

might have gotten lost

in their own individual revery.

Like two fools in front of a TV,

they would have climbed inside themselves

-- godlike, indeed, one and only --

and that would have been the end

of the human race,

before it even began.

But that was not the plan.

God had intended all along for woman

and man

to make manifest the many dimensions of Him/

Her/

(Whatever pronoun we must deploy

to speak of God.)

But if so early in the game

the human players got distracted,

it would be the end.

Amen.

So God, in Her infinite wisdom,

put an end to that:

He decided that humans, 

more than any other species,

would have the distinct ability

to take intense pleasure in the act

of coupling, and presto!

it worked. 

Man and wife produced

legions, and with that too came

                         jealousy

                         pride

                         leachory

                               treachory

                             and 

                         falsehood =

all the products of minds misused

and bodies abused, in the 

lusty quest for self stimulation.

But meanwhile we have reproduced

indeed, and invented History

(written by the few, not always the wise;

the wise, in solitude, advanced technology).

And here we are now 

at the crest of infinity.

In our spare time,

we have created a facsimile 

of God=Expansive Mind,

but in our limitations

and morbid manipulations

we cannot see

that God is with us

and in us

right now.

O man, listen to birdsong.

O woman, cease your labors.

The earth pulses with life;

we are her masters.

It is our responsibility to care for her

as it is our appointed duty.

In the word huma, hu represents spirit, and the word mah in Arabic means water.

In English the word "human" explains two facts which are characteristic of humanity:

hu means God and man means mind, which comes from the Sanskrit mana, mind being the ordinary person.

The two words united represent the idea of the God-conscious person; in other words, hu, God, is in all things and being, but it is man by whom He is known.  "Human" therefore may be said to mean God-conscious, God realized, or God-man.    from: The Music of Life, by Hazrat Inayat Khan

Rainbows in the Trash

And as the sweet cicadas call,

in this, only early July,

I wonder if the world will

ever be the same again.

The bees have burrowed in the soil,

and herbs have gone to seed;

will August bring an early fall?

Will autumn quickly recede?

Then I found these rainbows in the trash

and captured them for you.

Do not despair, it's only hiding

the earth, we know, will renew--

It's just waiting for you

too,

to renew.

Radio Ruminations

(phil's old radios)

Today I found this little blog called

Phil's Old Radios,

and I must confess, I was quite smitten by it, and

it's not simply because the guy who runs it

is named Phil.

He has a gallery of radios he has restored,

and he gives plenty of information

on how to restore your own.

I wanted to put Phil on my favorite blog list,

and I will, but I thought I'd also call attention to him

with this modest little entry today.

pbs

You see,

I have a little radio problem.

I love radios.

Not only do I think they are one of the most efficient ways

to disseminate information, I also have

utopian visions about them.

I'm not the only one -- when radio first appeared,

plenty of people felt it would be the most

democratic of mediums,

and it would unite the world.  

Well, that task would be left for radio's

younger cousin, the internet.

But I also have

great respect for the way their waves

embrace the earth, in something

like a woven electronic basket.

vsc.edu

We tend to be afraid of too much 

radio-activity, but

I tend to think radio waves are our friends;

and we just don't understand how fully they can be --

So many of our recent technologies, in fact, 

have involved working with some form of 

radio wave, taming it for our

own selfish ends.

~ ~ ~

I read somewhere just yesterday

that there is a project afoot to protect the earth

from asteroids.  There's this huge telescope looking for them.

bunsenburner (story here about the telescope)

My question is:

what would we do if we actually found an asteroid hurtling towards us?

Is there some way that the earth can duck?

My simplistic theory is:

use the radio waves.  We can use microwaves to cook,

xrays to see into our bodies,

is there any frequency at which we can create

some kind of shield?

Just thinkin'

This is a pretty modest entry,

so pardon me.

My brain is just not functioning

as fluently as I would like it to.

Too much sun will do that to me.

So let me wish you a happy day,

and move on my way --

(greeninnovation)

. . . and another radio thought:

(just found this on Facebook,
at the FB page "Global Awakening"

Everything Must Change: today's diva: James Marcell

Don't know if this guy is really homeless

but

he's got a voice,

and a message worth sharing:

Dear Karen Klein, Please Retire

via bullyingproject

I'm writing this off of the top of my head, so it may be messy,

but today I saw some of the video of the bullying that occurred

on a school bus in Rome, NY  (outside Rochester), and I felt the need

to write something about it, and post it, if only to join in the outrage

against it.

Now if you haven't seen the video, 

and you feel like being sickened,

go on YouTube;

it seems to have gone so viral

that people are reposting it 

for the attention it brings.  

I will not post that video on this blog.

Or you can read this story, from CNN 

The basic details are these:

Four or five middle schoolers on a school bus

taunted, swore at, jeered, made fun of, 

were absolutely nauseatingly awful

to a 68 year old woman named Karen Klein, 

who was on the bus as a monitor.

Someone took a video of it,

and posted the video on You Tube, and it "went viral."

I watched about 30 seconds of that video,

and it made me sick.  Now, the questions bound up in this video

and its "popularity" are many.  To begin, there's the horrifying question

of who raised kids who would act that way?  Yes, I will also blame the kids; I

like so many others who have commented on this, feel they should be

disciplined, severely.  But, as the saying goes: "the apple doesn't fall too

far from the tree."  I'll come back to this thought in a moment.

I also can't help but wonder who took the video?  That person

was sitting right next to the elderly victim, and the video captures

that woman's reaction: she cried; yes, she cried, as her assaulters

commented on her weight, her glasses, her ears (and then I stopped watching).

Why would someone want to capture that woman's reactions to this,

and then post it on YouTube?  Whatever the

motivation, as one You Tube commenter said,

the internet works fast, and no matter what the poster's intent,

within hours there were people all over the world responding to it with horror.

This included a blogger starting a collection to send this woman, Karen Klein,

on a trip.  I sure hope she just retires.

Now, bullying has been around for a very long time,

especially among children.  There's garden variety bullying,

I think, like my sister as a child teasing me because I was fat

(or so she said) or because I had a lazy eye.  That 

often comes from sibling rivalry.

But bullying has become such a huge issue

in the United States in particular.  A few months ago, just down

the road from Rochester, in Buffalo, NY,  a 14 year old boy

became famous because he committed suicide; he could no longer

tolerate the bullying against him. 

This caused a national campaign against bullying,

but did it make any difference?  

The common feeling about the Karen Klein case is that

these young people should be punished,

but would punishing these kids make any difference?

These kids have no respect for authority --

this woman was on the bus as a monitor,

and they attacked her, so punishing them might just

roll off them like water off a spaniel.

Furthermore, it's only a matter of hours before

their parents and other family members start

posting videos about how their poor, innocent child

is so misunderstood.   Which, let me say immediately,

is just a load of bullshit.  Those kids are perfectly understood

to be messed up.

I tend to think that whatever system

produced kids who felt it was ok to harass

an elder needs to be 

examined very carefully, and changed, immediately  --

and that includes calling to task their parents,

or anyone else who led these kids to feel

that they could gain popularity or respect

by harassing other human beings.

I do tend to feel parents are a huge part of

this sad equation of dysfunction: 

what I hear in these young peoples'

jeers are the jeers of an immature father or mother

who bullied their children with similar insults.

The U.S. education system is at fault, too:

it so wrapped up

in teaching kids to pass a test that it

isn't really paying attention to teaching

human dignity.

And then there's the entertainment industry:

the glorification of bullying and ridiculing through figures

such as Gordon Ramsey, Charlie Sheen, or even cartoon

characters (like those on Family Guy) who ridiculously

become models for human interaction.

The problem is very very deep, and it's only going to get worse

unless we all take responsibility for it now.

I'm going to have to teach some of these kids in university,

and I will say right here and now that it's already happening:

a year ago, I had a young woman in a university level English class

who took great delight in taunting me, calling me "stupid" in front of her peers,

and writing on her final course evaluation that I was just ugly

and she hated coming to class and looking at me.

Of course, she never did her classwork, and also

wasted precious class time by asking me, over and over again,

to repeat the requirements of any given assignment.

What gives me the chills is that she is now a year away

from graduation,

with an education degree no less. 

This type of behavior should not be validated

in any way, shape or form. They should not be allowed

to graduate from high school.

They should not be admitted into a college or university.

I'm not sure how to fix this system as quickly

as it needs to be fixed.  So I add my voice to the chorus

of online distress over Karen Klein's sad experience.

Perhaps shame, as this gets broadcast all over the world

by countless bloggers just like me, will be what it will take

for every person in this country to stop being preoccupied

with an election that is costing way too much already,

and put that money into teaching people how 

to be humane, and how

to live in the world.

happy solstice to you

via wkbw

So I was walking along the harbour today,

watching the sun sizzle over the horizon,

while the Wednesday sailing regatta pirouetted underneath,

and a salsa band played music,

and couples danced and walked

and children ate ice cream

and I did, too.  I did

too, with you

thankful for this moment,

this day,

and you reminded me it was the longest of the year.

The past few weeks have not been altogether easy,

but there is the sun,

always to be counted on,

and there are the smiles of a summer dawning ~

We can rejuvenate ourselves,

indeed.

Our planet does, every day,

every year

Happy solstice to everyone

The Shimmering Self

So hard to believe my material self
                                           is the very least of me,
not meant to accompany me
                                           into eternity.

Over the centuries, I've grown so very
                                                      very
                                             intimate
with my curves and lines,
with my cracks and groans,
with my nails and toes,
with my hair, and every
crevice of me.
So very hard to believe my physical
                                           disposability.

( with gratitude to The Happiness Rx )

And yet, when breathing deep,
I find my shimmering self exceeds
my mortal limits, is only impeded
by my body's desires, but smiles
              compassionately at my body's
needs for snacking on the fruits of the earth --
                air and sea, wine and bread,
                you and me
                together --
gentle pastimes of the time
we spend clasped in this earth's embrace.

But if one sincerely meditates
one finds the lines of our bodies
only hold us close; we seek to fly,
and we can fly
infinitely.

(photo by Makropoulos)

Why
is it that we fear our dying?
It is because the body
which is a somatic entity
loves the vibrancy
                   the spirit endows it with.


The body is, essentially,
a parasite that sucks the life
off the spiritual source
that created it.
No sin in that, we live mutually,
striving to see clearly
                         the duality
               of each and all.

~ ~ ~

Now what the hell
             you may implore
does this have to do
               with the cost of oil,
               the unending wars,
               the embittered child,
               the Tony awards,
               with Barack Obama,
               or with Mitt or George?
               With the rising debt
               with the setting empire
               with Madonna's tit
               or the unpredictable weather?

With all the awful news today
Why is it that this is all
                I can say?


Because it is all I can say.

It's hard to believe,
yet it may be time
to believe
that our materials selves
are the very least of we
not meant to accompany
us
into eternity.

nature

(Huffington Post: "Human Induced Ocean Warming" )

Respect Yourself, by the Staples Singers

Heard this on the radio this morning,

and I can't get it out of my head.

It's worth a listen,

or two:

Or Three.