HOPE ON A TIGHTROPE by Cornel West

Very few living intellectuals have the ability to inspire away the misanthrope in me that believes humanity is doomed: destined to hate each other; destined to desire and want until we kill for that thing we don’t have but that our neighbors’ do; destined to fall into a funk that’s so deep and so wide, dark and immoral that no light can penetrate it. Cornel West is one such intellectual that knows the meaning of the word “hope,” and his word resonate with me.

Listening to the West’s interview with Travis Smiley, included on a CD that comes with the book, his words moved me to tears while waiting for the buss downtown today. The combination of West’s ideas about race, what it means to be a poet and artist, and his moments of spoken word, all combined with sexy Jazz and Blues was phenomenal.

West is a living national treasure. His book, “Hope on a Tightrope,” is a small collection of his thoughts. The book is formatted self-help style, a small fat square that one might had off to a high school or college graduate, but don’t let that stop you. The book is filled with koan-like truths about the human struggle to find and hold on to the precious idea of hope.

Hope is a word that has been tossed around a lot in the last few years. Hope is an idea that cam mobilize people to accomplish great things in the short term, but can also have an opposite effect over time, great highs can produce awful lows, and that is the hope-balancing act that we must walk. We must let hope take us high, but we must also resist the lows that come failure, in action, or stagnation, or worse – indifference.

West’s interview made me hunger for a community of thinkers; thinkers that one day will become doers, making a leap to become public intellectuals – poet-warriors, writer-rebels, and artist-insurgents. In the next few weeks, I will be looking for people who are interested in writing that would like to partake in thinking, reading, writing, and action. I have a few people in mind, so beware, I might just be in contact with you soon.

West, Cornel. “Hope on a Tightrope.” New York: Smiley Books, 2008

Minnesota Renaissance Festival 2009

Jess, Casey, and I, all went to the 2009 Minnesota Renaissance Festival on Saturday, opening weekend! I love renaissance festivals, but Minnesota’s has to be the best that I’ve seen. I wish that I was a little more Festie, into dressing up in and all that, but I can’t seem to get a costume in order, perhaps by next year (although, that’s what I say every year).

One of the reasons that I enjoy the Minnesota Renaissance Festival more than I enjoy others is that I know a couple of the performers. Knowing performers and having a purpose – I must see their shows at least once – makes the festival that much more exciting for me.

One of those performers is Alisa. Alisa is one of the Sisters of the Sahara, lusty gypsy belly dancers, and when I write ‘lusty,’ I mean that they are, as part of the show, all in search of love. They are also all very beautiful and talented dancers. If you have a chance to make it to the Renaissance Festival this year, you must make sure to check out their performance.

The other performer is Melissa. Melissa is a singer and drummer in the Black Velvet Band, a folk band that performs traditional Irish and Scottish

ballads. Last year, I was duped into playing a role in their final song, a song about a knight, a dragon, and a princess. The Dragon Song has to be my favorite song because of the ending, “…and some times the dragon wins…”

Truly, the Black Velvet Band is an underrated act that you must make time to see.

Overall, a very good time can be had at the Minnesota Renaissance Festival. I don’t think that I will get back to the festival again this year, but I sure hope too.

Below, if I've done it correctly, you can see a couple of short vidoes that I took of both the Black Velvet Band and the Sisters of the Sahara. If you ave the time, you really must get thee out the festival.

Seven the Elder "Turning Sixty"

Here is a short story that I wrote this weekend for my character background in a D&D game that I’m in. I’m playing a 10th-Level Dragon Wrought Kobold Sorcerer who is 90 years old with the aspect of a Chaos Dragon.

Yeah, I know, I’m a big dork, but I love it.

Our GM’s assignment was to write a story based in our character’s childhood. Here is what I wrote, enjoy!

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“Turning Sixty”

Keeping anything as logical and organized as a journal seems quite beyond my abilities. Clang suggested that as the second oldest member of the brood, and any living member of my race for that matter, a record of my thoughts and experiences would be prudent. Seeing that I will be turning sixty at the end of the week, and seeing that no one seems to know what to do with me, I guess that recounting some of my adventures could help pass the time and keep me out of trouble. Trouble! O! Trouble! I used to love trouble, she was a tender and at times brutal mistress, but my days of courting her affections are over.

I guess that I should begin this treatise with some random facts about who, and what I think that I am. Ugh! Writing down that last thought makes me sound all pompous and important. I’m not either of those things. I’m just lucky, praise the swirling chaos that gives and takes. Okay, so here goes:

I like colored greens and vegetables. When I say I like colored greens and vegetables, I mean just that. I like red beets, orange carrots, green and yellow peppers, but I like rainbow chard the best. See, all chard starts out as little black seeds, but as it sprouts it unfolds like a well cast ‘color spray,’ something that I just can’t seem to do. Here, I’ll include a quick illustration of what I’m talking about:

O! I almost forgot. I wanted to include that I also really like, O! I’m starting to make myself hungry just thinking about them. I really love a good fire-roasted green tomato! Ha! Tomato!

Clang said that I needed to include some personal information. I don’t really see that point, it is my journal after all, but I’ll trust Clang’s judgment. If anyone would know, he would. He always has everything in order. You should see his horde! Everything in neat piles and tucked away. There is nothing on the floor. When I visit, I always make sure to move at least one thing, but when I visit next, it has always found its ways back to where it belonged. O! The unnecessary worry Clang puts himself through.

59 for 2 more days. Got my wings when I turned 21. Willie Haydukeson. Love the little ones. Never left the mountains; I mean, why would I? 689 or 10 Long Fire Curve.

There, Clang, I did it, but I did it my way. So, you can just go blow smoke out your ass.

Yellow apples! Chaos! I love yellow apples! O! and blue berries, I don’t know what they are called, but the berries that are blue are the best berries. I think that I might have to glide over to the Feck’s vines and get me some of them blue ones.

You know, writing all this down is starting to feel good. Writing gets me to thinking about turning sixty this week, and thinking about turning sixty makes thinking about when I turned ten, almost fifty years back now:

When I was ten, I had just discovered trouble for the first time. O! I’d been in trouble before, but when I turned ten, I went out on a mission to cause me some big trouble. What I discovered was that I had a talent for trouble, or I guess you could say that trouble loved loving me.

There had been some rumors a group of Rock Giants had taken up residency at the base our mountain. I’d seen giants before, some were friendly with the fire dragons that have a brood near by, but I’d never seen a Rock Giant before and that seemed strange to me. So, in my wisdom, I decided to pay them a visit.

I went alone, just me, ignoring Kobold rule #1 (I’m not much for rules), which states that when traveling, travel in parties of at least six or more.

When I got to their camp, I saw that it was much more than just a camp. They had molded the living rock into fabulous granite alehouses and homes. They had also tilled up the valley and started a very industrious looking system of agriculture. I had to see more.

I walked directly into what looked like the center of town. I climbed up the largest water fountain that I’d ever seen. I stood at the top and looked out over the town, not a town really, but a city to rival that of the dwarves. It all seemed completely impossible too me. I’d only just heard of their arrival a few days ago. The thought ran though my head, ‘They must have some truly powerful magic.”

Even though I was in the middle of town, I’d yet to see any of these Rock Giants. So, I cast a few spells that I new, making lights that danced, opening and closing doors, making things float and crash.

Then the Rock Giants seemed to come from every direction. They looked just like the giants that I’d seen visiting the fire dragons, except that their skin was a little dry and a peculiar shade of grey. Some seemed angry, while others were obviously angry, but they could not find the source of the commotion.

Then a small one, a child probably, spotted me at the top of the fountain waving my hands to keep the lights dancing. Leave it to the imagination of child to look up while the adults are looking around at their feet. I stopped concentrating on the lights and leaped from the fountain top, I’d always been a good jumper, on to the roof of the closest house. Then I ran!

A few days passed before a messenger arrived in our village with a small box addressed to: “The Brightly Marked Lizard.” Being that I was the only Kobold to meet that description, the brood elders summoned me to collect and open the package in front of them.

When I opened the package, there lay a large gold piece and a note. I picked up the gold piece. It was heavy and felt good in my hand.
The elders urged me to read the note aloud. It read:

Dear Friend,

Thank you for your light show earlier this week. At first, you gave many of the women and children a harsh starling, but then when we found you at the source, we had ourselves a good chuckle.

To pay for your services, please accept this gold piece. If you ever find yourself facing a decision, flip it. The coin will always put you on the virtuous path.

May you live until you are older than the eldest of your race by 30 years.

Sincerely,

Grup The Hardener

As you can imagine, the elders had many questions for me after that.

Wow! Look at the shadow entering my cave. Now, I’m really hungry for some blue, or what ever those things are called. I wonder if going there now is a good idea!

*Flip*

O! It is. It is.

HAPPY ENDINGS by Margaret Atwood

In an attempt to switch gears, see I will be teaching both Environmental Science and Literature back to back this term, I have added a few new stories to my line up, including Atwood’s experimental “Happy Endings.” I added this story to the day I have my students debate the idea of story, or try to answer the question: What is story? So, “Happy Endings” will sit on my syllabus along with three other stories, “Girl,” “House on Mango Street,” and “The Story of an Hour.”

“Happy Endings” is a story told in six parts, A through F. Each part complicates the previous; however, to read through to the end, is to experience life beyond happy endings. If you are so brave as to dare B through F, you will find the mud that turns the water of fiction into literature. It is one thing to simply layout one event after another, setting life in motion, but without pain, desire, and anguish, who will – who can – believe in happiness, or something as painfully moving as love.

The question that my students will have to answer for themselves is weather or not they believe “Happy Endings” is a story. I believe it is a story, but like “Girl,” the unconventional format will challenge their conceptions and push them to consider specific details and elements (or at least that is my hope). I won’t have long to wait to hear their reactions, only until Tuesday, and then I see if there is a happy ending to my assigning the story – even when I know that, “The only authentic ending is the one provided here: John and Mary die. John and Mary die. John and Mary die.”

Atwood, Margaret. “Happy Endings.” Literature: An Introduction to Fiction, Poetry, Drama, and Writing. 10th ed. Ed. X.J. Kennedy and Dana Gioia. New York: Longman, 2007. p. 476 - 479

Contrariwise: Literary Tattoos in Forbs

Aphorisms, Proverbs, Thoughts And Sayings www.forbes.com
The Word Made Flesh
Mark Lewis, 08.13.09, 06:00 PM EDT

Contrariwise: Literary Tattoos is one of my favorite blogs. Contrariwise is dedicated to showing off tattoos that have a literary connection, which was part of the inspiration for my 5th tattoo: Tattoo No 5: MFA Tattoo.

Congratulations! Jen, keep up the great work.

THE WEATHER MAKERS by Tim Flannery

Flannery’s “The Weather Makers” is a brilliantly accessible account of climate change, the most difficult and complex problem that humanity has yet to face. I use the world “yet’ because there has been no successfully coordinated global effort to combat the green house gasses that are destabilizing the earth’s natural climate cycle. Individual governments are taking baby steps, as political opponents become reluctant advocates on behalf of their concerned constituents.

Sorry to ramble off a bit, there are many good books on the subject of climate change. One excellent book is HOT, FLAT, AND CROWDED: WHY WE NEED A GREEN REVOLUTION—AND HOW IT CAN RENEW AMERICA by Thomas L. Friedman, but Flannery’s “The Weather Makers” puts forward three good arguments that I’ve not seen so clearly articulated anywhere else, the legal end of ‘Act of God,’ the first world’s genocide of the third world, and the potential for a new global dictatorship.

In the chapter “The Last Act of God,” Flannery puts his spin on end of the insurance industry’s ability to apply the phrase ‘Act of God,’ which refers to natural disasters that are violent and sudden physical hazards, which no man could have hoped to have foreseen (and by implication God’s doing). When climate change science is integrated into all sectors of business and industry, it will become clear that major climate shifts, for example drought, will no longer be God’s doing. Instead, it will be argued that humanity is solely responsible because we have destabilized earth’s climatic regulatory system that controls yearly average rainfall. The victims of drought, mostly regions that were already arid to begin with, will take legal action against those who brought about climate change: industrialized, CO2 emitting countries.

Industrialized countries, like the United States, that have know for sometime that CO2 and other greenhouse gasses have been altering the earth’s ability to regulate climate with no longer be seen as world leaders, but as conspirators bent on committing genocide against the third world, as Flannery puts forward in the chapter, “Civilization: Out with a Whimper.” Because Flannery spells the controversy out so well, I will quote from page 208:

“English environmental politician Aubrey Myer pointed out how this matter is being discussed at the highest levels. Economists who participated in the IPCC discussions stated that doing anything serious climate change was too expensive to be worthwhile, leading in Meyer’s view to ‘the effective murder of members of the world’s poorer populations,’ whose lives by the economists estimates were worth only a fifteenth of that of a rich person.”

Apologies to my boss, an economist, but only an economist would reduce human life to its base potential to contribute to the global economy, and ignore the damage that climate change will have on natural capital, upon which all economies depend.

This brings me to last of Flannery’s well-wrought arguments that I will address here, that if we do not act to limit the introduction of CO2 into the atmosphere, the only real solution will be a global carbon dictatorship. In Flannery’s chapter, “2084: The Carbon Dictatorship?,” he speculates that they only way that CO2 emissions could be sufficiently regulated and reduced (if we do not act right now) will be a global organization focused solely on policing greenhouse gasses. This dictatorship will be force the greatest shift in wealth ever speculated through a cap and trade like system that would require countries like the United States of America to buy carbon credits from a country with excess credits, do to their low emissions, in order to continue business as usual – driving cars, powering heating and AC unites, and the millions of gadgets that are slaved to fossil fuel.

Flannery’s “The Weather Makers” is a truly enjoyable book that is accessibility written on the most important subject humanity has ever faced. As an instructor of environmental science, I privilege of a captive audience on which I press the importance of understanding earth’s various systems and how they interact, creating the fragile requirements to sustain life, including ours. Humans are not separate from nature. We are a single species among earth’s biodiversity, which, just like the social insects and viruses, have the ability to drastically alter our environment to suit our needs, with one minor exception: we have the cognitive ability to know better.

So, to end this overly long review, those of us who know better have the obligation to educate those who don’t yet understand their impact on environmental systems, and those who have the power to make laws to spur change, must, or voters must seek alternative leaders.

Flannery, Tim. “The Weather Makers.” New York: Grove Press, 2005

BURNOUT by Rebecca Donner

I must be binging because I’ve just gorged myself on another excellent non-superhero graphic novel. “Burnout” combines my love for graphic novels with my passion for environmentalism. Donner’s story, which is beautifully rendered in black and white by Inaki Mirranda, modernizes George Hayduke, Edward Abbey’s ecoterrorist and central figure in “The Monkey Wrench Gang.”

“Burnout” is told from the perspective of an angst ridden teenage girl named Danni. Danni’s father split, leaving Danni and her mother to fend for themselves. They move out of the city to a small logging town where Danni meets Haskell, the Emo son of her mother’s new lover.

Danni immediately falls for Haskell, but he is far too focused on his work and only tolerates her presence. So, Danni, like any crushing girl, inserts herself into his activity. One day, Danni follows Haskell deep into the woods where she discovers that he is an ecoterrorist. Without thinking about the repercussions, Danni joins Haskell in spiking the forest’s trees. Lumberjacks will not cut down spiked trees, fearing broken chainsaws or worse.

As Danni and Haskell’s romance begins to heat up, Haskell’s destructive acts become bolder. He moves beyond tree spiking to cementing up toxic waste drainpipes, and planning a massive power outage. Will Danni continue to support and participate in Haskell’s fight to save the fragile ecosystem in which he was born, or will the threat of the F.B.I. rip their new found love a sunder?

Donner has created an intelligent fiction that explores the issue of ecoterrorism. Haskell may be an Emo-tree-hugger heartthrob, but Danni’s rock and roll best friend Vivian provides the counterpoint. Vivian’s family comes from a long history of loggers, including her uncle who lost a finger to a broken chain caused by a spiked tree. Vivian also argues that ecoterrorism adversely affects the local economy.

“Burnout” is a story that I wish I had written. I’ve been trying to put together a series of short stories based on environmental issues that trouble me. At the center of these stories, I’ve been sketching out an ecoterrorist group based on “The Monkey Wrench Gang” to tackle big business, big oil, big energy, and big water. I just hope that I can put forward a story half as eloquent Donner’s “Burnout.”

Donner, Rebecca. “Burnout.” Ill. Inaki Mirranda. New York: DC Comics, 2008

B.P.M.: BEATS PER MINUTE by Paul Sizer

After reading “Moped Army,” I had to find more graphic novels by Paul Sizer. Luck for me, Sizer has written “B.P.M.” and “Little White Mouse.” I’m still working on finding a copy of later, but I scored a copy of “B.P.M.” at the Library. My hopes were high because “Moped Army” was so amazing, but Sizer delivered big with “B.P.M.”

“B.P.M” stands for Beats Per Minute. Beats Per Minute is a DJ term that I’m just not cool enough to understand. My pedestrian experience with DJ culture begins and ends with The Crystal Method. I’m not part of the club culture, and I’m not a raver, but I do enjoy creating fast-paced, all-rise Itunes playlists for my commute to work, which I’ll included an example of at the end of this review. Beast Per Minute is also a medical term used by doctors, nurses, and the athletically gifted, to measure heart rate. DJs I believe use the term to describe the number of musical beats that they can cram into any given minute during their set.

What I really like about Sizer’s graphic novels, thus far, is that he takes the time to educate his readers about edgy subcultures by introducing a character that is either new to it or on the verge of making it big. In “B.P.M,” Sizer introduces his reader to Roxy, a purple mohawk sporting punk who is about to make it into the big leagues with a little help from friends and a mysterious burnout.

We meet Roxy at a point in her life where she must make a few hard decisions. She must choose between her girlfriend and her passion for music. Roxy’s girlfriend works the typical American 60 hour 9am to 7pm dayshift, and she DJs from 10pm to 3am or later. In true rock star fashion, Roxy life is flipped upside down when her girlfriend packs up and leaves, making the decision for her. Free from the entanglement of a relationship, Roxy pursues her music with renewed focus, a focus that propels her from playing crowds of 150 to 500 plus at one of the most elite clubs in town.

“B.P.M” has more to it than just a surprisingly tender and uplifting plot of an artist who makes it. The artwork is full of vivid colors. The characters are strongly rendered and super sexy without being Anime; although, one of the DJs does put on the air of Sailor Moon as part of her stick. Wait, however, the best part of the comic is that it has, at the bottom of each the page, a track listed. It is as if the comic had a sound track, which I guess it does. You can see the discography on Sizer’s BPM Discography page, on which there are links to Itunes, and they are available to down load by following links HERE.

If you are tired of super heroes, like I am, but still love comic books, Sizer is your go to author. His art is amazing, and he tells a good story to boot. He self-publishes, so I feel more than a little guilty for check these out from my local library. Just like anything else, we vote with our dollars, and if we don’t vote for artist and authors like Sizer, we are selling our culture short by letting big name publishers determine what will sell and what won’t. To that end, I will be buying a copy of Little White Mouse from Sizer’s website this afternoon.

Sizer, Paul. “B.P.M.: Beats Per Minute.” Kalamazoo, MI: Café Digital Studios, 2008

And now, as promised, my commuter playlist:

“Divided By Night” - The Crystal Method
“Primavera Anticipada (It Is My Song) [Duet With James Blunt]” - Laura Pausini.
“Paper Planes” - M.I.A.
“Just Dance” - Lady GaGa
“Bounce” - System of a Down
“U + Ur Hand (Bimbo Jones Remix)” - P!nk
“Cannon (AMG Remix)” - Lil Wayne
“Everybody's Free (Moz Morris Pumpin' Club Mix)” - Andy Whitby & Matt Lee

THE SOULLESS MACHINE REVIEW July 2009

SWAP MEET: THE JAWA’S TALE by Kevin J. Anderson

Extras:
MOPED ARMY by Paul Sizer
FOOD, Inc (2009)
HISTORIC PHOTOS OF MINNESOTA by Susan Marks
Star Wars: Legacy Era Campaign Guide
HOT, FLAT, AND CROWDED: WHY WE NEED A GREEN REVOLUTION—AND HOW IT CAN RENEW AMERICA by Thomas L. Friedman

*Sorry! I’ve been distracted. I’ll get back to short stories soon. Speaking of short stories, if you have any one story that you’d like me to review, drop me an email: Soulless Email.