Well done, America.

I just got back from the White House. It is absolute pandemonium.

My voice is hoarse, I’m sweaty, I’m tired… somehow we hauled ass down there so quick, we were able to park a block from the 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. The leading edge of people that were rushing to the site. As we walked up to the lit-up house, we just heard this onrushing roar… the sounds of hundreds upon hundreds of supporters, screaming and yelling and shouting FOUR MORE YEARS! More than one person in tears. Hugs, kisses, climbing of trees, flashing of cameras, and oh the honking of horns. I’ve never seen such a spontaneous mass gathering fueled by such unbridled joy.

We walked around the White House, dodging reporters from all sorts of networks, foreign and domestic. Everywhere we turned, new throngs of ecstatic supporters rushed to the scene. After walking around the front of the House, we walk up to the other side of Pennsylvania Avenue. Every car is creeping by blasting it’s horn and waving– luxury cars, cabs, even DC ambulances. This one taxicab stops at a red light. A woman is leaning out the window and waving at everyone. She gets out, walks over, and gives me a big hug, tears in her eyes. “It’s nice to meet you,” she says, and gets back in the cab, driving off into the night.

By the time we can get back to the White House, the crowd has easily tripled in size. I climb up on top of a NPS truck that is rapidly becoming a camera platform, and just take it in. It’s a sea of people of every color, creed, gender and background. It’s positively electric, and it is pulsing through the crowd, feeding on itself. More people are still coming. The roar is oceanic, rising in tone, and as I leave it it is still growing. But we’ve seen all we needed. What a night.

More pics and videos later. This will have to do for now. Meanwhile, we have two more states that have allowed gay marriage, multiple states legalizing marijuana, our first openly gay senator… that’s progress, people. Well done indeed.

Today, we celebrate. Tomorrow, we go back to work. We have a long way to go before we rest.




I’m just going to leave this here.

If you didn’t know, Miles Morales is the new Spider-Man. Thanks to ‘Let’s Be Friends Again’ for nailing it

2011: The Year of Reading

Well, that was fun.

The best part (kinda-sorta) of the past year was the commitment I made to read as much as possible over 2011.  For years, I’ve collected books at a far faster rates than I could finish them.  I tried to to whittle down the collection this year, and if it weren’t for the Borders bankruptcy and subsequent bloodletting, I probably would have succeeded- instead, I came home with even more paper.  But as it stands, 2011 is my most readingest year on record.  I’ve read some good ones and some bad ones, but all in all, I need to make sure I carry this forward.  So!  Here’s what I read, in order:

Nexus: Ascension by Robert Boyczuk.  Super-entertaining hard sci-fi spanning hundreds of years until the last 10% or so.  The dry-heave of an ending somehow didn’t ruin the experience for me.

Ecotopia by Ernest Callender.  An interesting alternate history that serves as a possible blueprint to a post-oil society.  It got a little slow in parts, a little dated, and maybe a little too earnest, but it was an interesting bit of speculation.

Haiti Noir edited by Edwidge Danticat.  I’m a big fan of the Akashic Noir series, and the Haiti entry was excellent.  This country embodies noir like few others, and with the history of political oppression, crime, colonialism, voodoo, drugs, and the recent earthquake coloring stories, it was a riveting look into a world we’ll likely never see.

Ghostwritten by David Mitchell.  I can’t say enough good things about this book, David Mitchell, and his entire body of work.  I’ve never read anything that has so many diverse and entirely riveting and believable voices as what Mitchell does, and he does it here with nine different narrators.  The way they all link up, and how he draws the circle to a close with an incredible twist, made my jaw drop.  Highest recommendation.

Mountain Justice by Tricia Shapiro.  This is an insider’s look at the newest generation of organized grassroots resistance to mountaintop removal (MTR) mining.  I’ve always known it was bad, but Shapiro takes us inside the communities that are facing death from this mode of mining and makes it real.  It gets pretty in-depth into the activist milieu, so that may bore you, but I ate this book up.

Mythmakers and Lawbreakers by Margaret Killjoy.  A series of interview with fiction authors who have been influenced to some degree by the philosophy of anarchism.  Some real heavy hitters are here, like Ursula LeGuin and Alan Moore, but people I was not familiar with like Lewis Shiner who also provided some brilliant bits.  Michael Moorcock in particular really gave me some thoughts to ponder.

Zoo City by Lauren Beukes.  I read Beukes’ first book, Moxyland, and was greatly entertained by her fresh and modern voice.  Cyberpunk for the 21st century, with a South African twist.  This book was even better, a modern tale of noir and magic that is inextricable from its South African roots.  Truly a delight to read something so out-there.

The Brave Cowboy by Edward Abbey.  I find few writers as perceptive, honest, and revealing as Cactus Ed.  That is probably what made this novel so heartbreaking.  I often daydream of the kind of free life lived by Jack Burns, but Ed slams the door on that kind of life with finality, just as it was closed for our real lives as well.  But that doesn’t make it any less of a work of art.

Saint Leibowitz and the Wild Horse Woman by Walter Miller.  Since this is a sequel (or sorts) to A Canticle for Leibowitz I don’t know what I can say about this without tons of context.  But I will say in a world of lazy post-apocalyptic stories, this was a masterpiece that focused on the REAL topic- human nature, and whether we really can escape a violent end.  ‘Canticle’ took place two hundred, five hundred, and a thousand years after our world is destroyed in nuclear fire; this tale alone is longer than the first book, and set entirely in the five-hundred-years-after time period.  It is crackling with nervous energy and political intrigue.  Loved it.  Read the first, at least.

Mesopotamia by Arthur Nersesian.  I like a good mystery as much as the next person, and even more so when it’s in an unexpected place, i.e. rural Tennessee.  Extra points for a look at the odder side of life, like, say, Elvis impersonation.  This was exactly what I needed after the herculean effort and apocalyptic scope of Saint Leibowitz.

Aurorarama by Jean-Christophe Valtat.  I usually think that steampunk is wack, just another reason to use archaic words and machines in a new context, but this book was much more than the aesthetic it borrows from.  It’s an entirely riveting and modern world, while still remaining it’s olden character.  I was very engrossed in this one, and look forward for more from Valtat.

How Few Remain by Harry Turtledove.  An entertaining romp through an alternate history wherein the Confederate States won the Civil War, and the nations butt heads again in 1881.  It strives for reality and detail, and often delivers, but often at the expense of pacing and flow.  Whatever.  I can geek out on the details.  And, it sets the stage for…

American Front by Harry Turtledove.  The next volume in the series that started with How Few Remain.  The First World War has broken out in North America and my God does it give some horrible images.  Seeing trenches, poison gas, and slaughter on this continent is indeed scary.  Has the same problems with pacing and flow, but I can get through it.

Dune Messiah by Frank Herbert.  The second volume in the Dune series.  It draws in from the universal and religious aspect of the first into one of political intrigue, and does so masterfully.  Definitely read Dune, it’s kind of essential.

Zulu by Caryl Férey.  Now this is a hard-boiled mystery that pulls no punches.  Can’t remember the last time I gasped at a book, but I sure did here.  That poor bastard… anyhow, this was pretty great, and a really incisive look at South Africa.

The Lost Cosmonaut by Daniel Kalder.  I probably got into this book more than I should, because I love Kalder’s efforts to speak for antitourism- namely, seeking the places that no one else seeks, like the remote, ruined and obscure ex-Soviet republics, to see what they have to offer.  And based on his travels, he got something out of it.  I did too.

DC Noir edited by George Pelecanos.  Another entry in Akashic Noir that gave me a ton of enjoyment, perhaps because I know these places they speak of.  A lot of the stories are top-notch, some are not, but it’s definitely a great read in all.

Zone One by Colson Whitehead.  Zombies are overdone, we all know it- but Whitehead told a story of a world after the zombies that is possibly even more terrifying.  He examines what really would survive, in the world and in us, and I think that sometimes could be worse.  And then the shit got real and oh my God all that blood…

Supergods by Grant Morrison.  I’m pretty into comic books, and I appreciate Morrison’s work in explaining where comic heroes came from and how they reflect and influence the world around us.  They really are integral to the fabric of our society and should be treated as such.

Pump Six by Paolo Bacigalupi.  Awesome collection of short stories by a new master.  I have nothing to say but you need to check this out.  He runs all the gamut of sci fi, and some of his stories are too believable to not be terrifying.

The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi.  Pump Six confirmed to me that I needed to check this one out.  Bacigalupi’s world building is top-notch, and his biopunk story is creepy and deep.  Great characters and a fast pace give this one a movie feel.

Zazen by Vanessa Veselka.  Veselka’s narrator has such a remarkable and refreshing voice that I could not help but eat it up.  Her world-building shows a reality just slightly removed from ours, and terrifying in its own believable way.  It was engrossing, rewarding, and unique- so, I’m already looking forward to her next work.

The Discontents by James Wallace Birch.  A debut work by a somewhat-mysterious author, this one definitely struck close to home as it’s set in the murky activist underground in Washington, DC.  It has a ton of heart and passion, and it’s a good book to close out the year.

If I had to pick my top three, I’d have to go with Ghostwritten, Zazen, and The Brave Cowboy.  All moved me in very different directions, but move me they did.  So there it is.  A year of reading.  There’s no way I’ll get as many books done this year, as I’m devoting my time to some pretty big ones- Stephen King’s 11/22/63, Adam Levin’s The Instructions, Philip K. Dick’s Exegesis, and Samuel Delany’s Dhalgren.  It’s going to be a mind-bending year, I think.  Here we go!

Declarations of the Anti-Tourist

Thanks to Daniel Kalder, who captured these tenets and wrote a book about them. I am currently enjoying this book.  I’ve scratched the surface of some of these tenets in past journeys, and am interested in applying them in the future.  I’m particularly in agreement with the sentiment about the banality of the Great Destinations.  It’s all been seen, it’s all been done… what more is there to experience?  Am I really going to go a huge amount of time and expense to wait in line to see a fossilized moment in human history, one that is managed and fossilized and irrelevant?  I’m sorry, but I’d rather go and do things, instead of see things.  This is why I don’t like to spend my time on the ‘must-see’ things of a certain place- odds are, we’ve already seen the representation and a facsimile of the object in question.  But that’s just me.  So!  Offered without further comment:


(Excerpts from the resolutions passed at the first international congress of Anti- Tourists
at the Shymkent Hotel, Shymkent, Kazakhstan, October 1999)

As the world has become smaller so its wonders have diminished. There is nothing
amazing about the Great Wall of China, the Taj Mahal, or the Pyramids of Egypt. They
are as banal and familiar as the face of a Cornflakes Packet.

Consequently the true unknown frontiers lie elsewhere.

The duty of the traveller therefore is to open up new zones of experience. In our over
explored world these must of necessity be wastelands, black holes, and grim urban
blackspots: all the places which, ordinarily, people choose to avoid.

The only true voyagers, therefore, are anti- tourists. Following this logic we declare that:

The anti-tourist does not visit places that are in any way desirable.

The anti-tourist eschews comfort.

The anti-tourist embraces hunger and hallucinations and shit hotels.

The anti-tourist seeks locked doors and demolished buildings.

The anti-tourist scorns the bluster and bravado of the daredevil, who attempts to penetrate danger zones such as Afghanistan. The only thing that lies behind this is vanity and a desire to brag.

The anti-tourist travels at the wrong time of year.

The anti-tourist prefers dead things to living ones.

The anti-tourist is humble and seeks invisibility.

The anti-tourist is interested only in hidden histories, in delightful obscurities, in bad art.

The anti-tourist believes beauty is in the street.

The anti-tourist holds that whatever travel does, it rarely broadens the mind.

The anti-tourist values disorientation over enlightenment.

The anti-tourist loves truth, but he is also partial to lies. Especially his own.

Thirty Days of Music: #23

“day 23 – a song that you want to play at your wedding.”

Well, since I was married last summer (yay!), this really wouldn’t be all that speculative.  We had some great music, including an outstanding a capella performance by a good friend, and I really have no complaints.  But at the same time, it wasn’t music that really expresses me as an individual.

So for this entry into this (un)timely series, I have to pick Sæglópur by Sigur Ros.  This song to me expresses beauty and love like nothing else, video notwithstanding.  If it were a little shorter, or I could have worked it into the festivities, this would have played at my wedding.  As it were, it was definitely playing in my head as I took a step into my future, and I think I’ll always associate it with that day.

Thirty Days of Music: #21

“day 21 – a song that you listen to when you’re happy.”

Compared to anger, happiness is a relatively simple emotion: it doesn’t need analysis or observation, it simply is.  What else can you say when you are happy, other than affirm it and live it?  This is a song I listen to when I am happy.

(POSSIBLE SPOILERS: If you intend to watch The Wire, which you should, I’d recommend you not watch the below.  This is the closing montage for season 2.)

Thirty Days of Music: #20

“day 20 – a song that you listen to when you’re angry.”

It’s taken a long time to get my anger under control.  For a long time, I let it dominate me, and let it influence how I acted out on things, and regrettably, people.  I’ve embarrassed myself and done things I wish I could take back when I’m angry.  But facing up to that realization has enabled me to start getting it under control, and hopefully those closest to me would agree.  Personal things don’t get me angry hardly at all anymore.  I know myself well enough, and how best to handle stresses and challenges, to make sure I don’t fly off the handle at the little things.

When I do get angry now, it’s usually over the big things.

The big things are usually so big, that there’s no one person to get angry at, or to blame.  So on the one hand, it makes for a lot of impotent, fist-shaking rage at problems so huge that I can’t hope to solve them myself.  You know, things like blowing up entire mountains to get at a seven-inch seam of coal, or hunting whales to grind them into dog food as part of an international politics pissing match, or maybe any one of myriad instances of the strong and powerful taking advantage of the weak, near and far, on small scales and huge.  These are the things that make me furious, and get my blood boiling.  Injustice.

So, when faced with a culture that so often tacitly accepts, or even sometimes encourages such behaviors, it trips the nihilist nerves in my body.  I start to gravitate towards the music that rejects and negates e  very assumption about modern society.  So ever since I was a teenager, that would be Atari Teenage Riot.  Nothing says ‘senseless negation’ and ‘bumper sticker politics’ like this, but when I’m full of rage, it speaks to me.  Still does.

Thirty Days of Music: #18

“day 18 – a song that you wish you heard on the radio.”

For my money, I think Infectious Organisms is some of the best hip-hop I have ever heard.  Period.  I’m so pissed that I missed out on them when I was in college in the early-2000s in Richmond, because they were frequently touring and playing in the area.  I just wasn’t ready for them at the time.  But when you’re ready for Infectious, Infectious is ready for you, so please indulge if you haven’t heard them before.  Truly awesome music.