You like a good documentary, right? Well, I’ve got one you must go see this weekend—What Would Jesus Buy?, about one of my favorite groups on the planet, Reverend Billy and the Church of Stop Shopping. It starts off by showing some pretty terrifying clips that underline just how stuff-crazy we get in the holiday season—including an interview with a parent who landed in the hospital after a stampede for XBox 360s. (He said it was all worth it.) From there, the movie follows the Stop Shopping Choir on a road trip across the United States where they invade chain stories and sing their hearts out to try to get people to take their shopping down a notch. The best is when they descend on the Mall of America dressed in their white and red choir robes—it takes security a little while to figure out what is going on.
Archive for November, 2007
What Would Jesus Buy?
Friday, November 30th, 2007All Kinds Of Pleasure
Thursday, November 29th, 2007__
Kimmi
Therapy Thursdays
I’m the Pack Leader
Thursday, November 29th, 2007
As the proud owner of a Mastiff/Black Lab mix who doesn’t understand the full potential of his 175 lbs (that, by the way, is an underestimate — he was leaning up against the wall when the vet recorded it), I would like to be the pack leader in the house. It’s my sacred writing space, after all. The only trouble is that the little fox-dog is actually the one in charge. With a quick arrrrr in Porter’s thick face, Skylar has the massive beast on the floor in submission and ready to do his bidding. Unfortunately, our pack leader doesn’t employ this technique when Porter is jumping up and down with the impact of an earthquake, or wiggling his way in between me and Joe on the love seat, or whining louder than the sonic boom while I’m attempting to focus on my work. Not even when Porter’s trailing drool from his underbite.
I need Cesar!
College Cult Members Even Buy Coffins
Wednesday, November 28th, 2007
Two and a half years ago, I went to my five-year college reunion and realized just how cultish college can be. Even as adults, many of my former classmates professed that they continue to define themselves by where they went to college. All their friends went to Dartmouth. They married people from Dartmouth. They wanted their children to go to Dartmouth. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were hoping to be buried at Dartmouth.
Believe it or not, there’s actually a company out there which will ensure that college-cult members can be laid to rest with their school colors and logo. According to their website, Colligaite Memorials is a “family owned business striving to provide tasteful personalization to a unique group that wishes to declare their life interest. That extends to expression of loyalty to their alma maters or to their favorite collegiate sports teams.” Customers have their choice of cherry wood, oak or mahogany coffins that can be detailed with about 100 different college insignias.
What is it about college that inspires some people to put more emphasis on these four-years than any other time in their lives, including the after-life? Why do so many people choose to define themselves by where they went to school?
What is Within You That Will Save You?
Wednesday, November 28th, 2007As I return to work after the long weekend, I’m re-reading Dr. Christiane Northrup’s book Women’s Bodies, Women’s Wisdom. I discovered this provocative quote from the Bible in her final chapter:
If you bring forth what is within you,
What you bring forth will save you.
If you do not bring forth what is within you,
What you do not bring forth will destroy you.
—Jesus, from The Gospel According to Thomas
Dr. Northrup introduces the quote in the context of women healing their own past pain (individual and ancestral) and how this leads to the healing of the world.
What do you think about this passage, and its assertion?
What Would Jorge Do?
Tuesday, November 27th, 2007More often than not, my Sunday newspaper reading experience is depressing. Wars, natural disasters, violence, economic depression, and tyrannical leaders seem to be par for the course these days. But this Sunday, nestled into the couch and checking out the City section of the New York Times, I came across a story that made me want to climb up to the rooftop and shout, “See?! People are amazing!”
It seems that Jorge Muñoz, “the chicken and rice man,” is this Colombian immigrant living in Queens who, for the last 21 years, has been feeding a group of illegal immigrants hot meals every single night out of the pure goodness of his own heart. He and his mom plan huge meals, cook them in their tiny kitchen, and then drive them out to a spot in Jackson Heights where homeless and hungry folks–mostly Latino it seems–hang and wait for their 5-foot-2 angel.
Jorge’s example got me thinking about a few things. One is how refreshing it is to read heartwarming news. I wish that the news gathering tradition wasn’t so fundamentally built on looking for “the bad stuff.” But second, it really got me thinking about the choices we make every day, what we deem possible.
There’s a Rat on the Train
Sunday, November 25th, 2007
Wednesday night felt like Friday. Smith Street was full of folks who didn’t have to work the next day. No flights home for us, we simply wanted to enjoy the city in that special middle of the week, four-day weekend kind of way.
After a very French dinner with my friend J, who’s moving to Paris in a week, I got on a downtown C train at Jay Street. I am still amazed that, approaching midnight, I have to stand on the subway as if it were rush hour. One stop later, I scored a seat.
iPod firmly in place, playing my new favorite song, “Misery Business” by Paramore, on repeat. I was thoroughly engaged in this week’s Village Voice, reading J. Hoberman’s review of the Bob Dylan biopic, “I’m Not There.”
When the subway doors opened at Nostrand Avenue a man on the platform screamed, “There’s a rat on the train! There’s a rat on the train!”
We thought he was crazy.
Courtney Versus Laura Ingraham On The O’Reilly Factor
Friday, November 23rd, 2007For your weekend amusement. Go, Courtney, go!
Thanksgiving Vlog
Thursday, November 22nd, 2007I woke up this morning sad that he wasn’t with me. He was “my person,” which you feel or crave more on holidays. I didn’t think I’d get through the day with a smile, but with the help of my mother, brother, his wife, their doggie, text messages from 12 friends, good food and some sage advice from a taxi driver, I am going to sleep tonight happy, feeling grateful and blessed.
PS. You can check out my list of gratefuls in the comments section of Courtney’s recent post. Please add your list. It will make you feel good, I promise.
Listening is an Act of Love
Thursday, November 22nd, 2007On this Thanksgiving Day, or Day of Atonement (as proclaimed by a writer on AlterNet), I would like to draw your attention to a new book from the StoryCorps Project, which calls itself “A Celebration of American Life.” A gift from two dear friends (one who facilitated for the Project and jokes that Kleenex should be its national partner), this compilation of recorded stories has brought me to tears, made me laugh out loud, and reminded me to be thankful for the rich history that surrounds us at every corner… if we only ask.
I’ve often admitted to being an avid NPR fan (i.e. a slave to This American Life) and have even mentioned StoryCorps here before, but who would have guessed that these stories are as moving on paper as on the air? Even a story by a steelworker, which I almost skipped over for more gushy grandkids and real-life romances, convinced me that boiling metal is beautiful.
The Last Angry Honkey
Wednesday, November 21st, 2007This was recently posted on the Amazon page for my novel, Bang Bang:
Not the book, the author!!
WHILE I AM SURE THIS BOOK IS GREAT, THE AUTHOR IS SOMEONE OF QUESTIONABLE CHARACTER. HAVING ATTENDED HIS CLASS (HE IS ALSO A TEACHER) I FOUND THAT GANGI HAS A TENDENCY TO ACT DIFFERENTLY AROUND CERTAIN GROUPS OF PEOPLE. DURING A DISCUSSION OF DEROGATORY SLURS, GANGI STATED THAT THE WORD HONKEY IS NOT ONLY ACCEPTABLE BUT FUNNY. I FEEL SO BAD FOR THE KID HE ARGUED WITH. JUST WHAT THIS COUNTRY NEEDS, ANOTHER IGNORANT PERSON!!
The Last Angry Honkey here is referring to a class in which I tried to explain why the ‘n’ word is worse than ‘honkey’. LAH (Last Angry Honkey) was dismayed that George Jefferson was allowed to drop the ‘h’ bomb on a mainstream sitcom. He then proceeded to accuse all Jews of being ‘cheap’ (I’m Jewish).
The Six Word Story
Wednesday, November 21st, 2007Last week, the awesome Steve Jones, a teacher at the North Carolina School of Science and Math (and my civics teacher back in 1994, holler) asked me to judge a contest he was holding for his students. The assignment: to write a compelling, six-word story. As the legend goes, Ernest Hemingway once did this—some say he wrote it to settle a tab, while others think it was a bet. His story: “For sale: baby shoes, never used.” He claims it was the best writing of his life.
When I heard this assignment, I thought it was pretty impossible.
But I Love You All The More For That
Wednesday, November 21st, 2007In late May, Chris and I went to see the movie “Once” on his hunch that it would be lovely. He was right. It was magical and unexpected. We woke up to the soundtrack for a month.
In late August, Chris, three dear friends, and I went to see a late showing of “Once” after eating at Katz’s Deli for Chris’s 29th birthday. We all laughed and sighed through the film, crying at the end together. It was so good to be alive.
In between those two viewings, life went haywire. My grandfather passed away weeks before his 89th birthday. Our frightening landlords raised the rent with no warning and we left our apartment and neighborhood in six days. Chris left his job. Our storage unit flooded. We decided to move to Austin.
Thanks for…
Tuesday, November 20th, 2007
1. the make-up artist who let me borrow her earrings on the O’Reilly Factor
2. Marni Grossman’s sense of humor and storytelling skills
3. Professor Dennis Dalton, who is re-teaching me about idealism
4. chick peas, green tea, and brie cheese
5. second chances in friendships
6. my dad reading Virginia Woolf for the first time
7. days in Prospect Park that look like Ireland
8. babies on the train dressed in tiny snowsuits
9. my mom’s emails
10. my new glasses
(more…)
Something is Happening Here
Sunday, November 18th, 2007
It was a very New York night.
11:00 PM Saturday on 37th Street between 8th and 9th, I found myself in a converted zipper factory. Lucky enough to catch the last showing of Margaret Cho’s “The Sensuous Woman.”
(Thanks, Monica!!).
The theater, appropriately called The Zipper Factory, is quite possibly the coolest off-Broadway space I’ve ever been in. The crowd was as diverse as the city itself. But it was the performers that reminded me why I love New York. (Which is funny considering most of the cast is based in L.A.).
Petty details aside, “The Sensuous Woman” was so over the top and anything goes that it felt like home. Like the Lower East Side when it was still called Alphabet City.
Curses and Chaos
Friday, November 16th, 2007
I could have flown from New York to Cairo or to Moscow or even to London and back in the time that it took me to get to Duluth yesterday. A simple 4-hour journey with one connection became a 15-hour winged marathon on four planes and with two stops in Detroit. Count ‘em, two stops in Detroit. I missed my connection and the first plane that I was re-booked on had faulty landing gear. So faulty that it wouldn’t retract. After a bumpy take-off and a frightening thirty minutes in the air, we returned to Detroit. Smoke, fire trucks, the works.
But I’ve got to say– I’m not complaining about yesterday’s misadventures. I feel lucky to have made it back on the ground, and especially fortunate that I didn’t have to fulfill my duties as an exit row passenger. I remember thinking at the beginning of the flight, should I read that card about what I’m supposed to do in case of an emergency? I probably should. The one day I don’t read it will be the day I need to know what’s on it. But I’m too sleepy.
Barry Bonds, Criminal
Thursday, November 15th, 2007
Barry Bonds has been indicted by a federal grand jury for lying about his use of steroids. This is big, folks. If you were one of those people who vaguely heard your baseball fan friends complaining about Bonds’ oversize head but never paid much attention, this is the time to perk up. Now it’s real.
I Remembered To Miss You
Thursday, November 15th, 2007How would you know who you are, who you love, who you miss, if it weren’t for your memory? Last week, I was on a plane to Scottsdale, AZ, reading National Geographic, asking myself these questions. I usually pick up girlie, trashy magazines for plane rides, but the headline grabbed me.
Memory: Why We Remember Why We Forget.
The question of memory and identity keeps coming up for me. Samantha Who? is a perfect example. I haven’t seen the show yet, but the ads are everywhere I go. Christina Applegate plays Samantha, who loses her memory and gets the chance to redefine herself. She gets to be a virgin again, or as Khaled Hosseini wrote in The Kite Runner, she “gets to be good again.” Heroes is another example. The last episode was all about memory, how memory helps us to be witnesses in the world, so that we can write history, tell stories, so that others can learn from our mistakes and wisdom.
Jay-Z and the Sadly Confused Arts Section of the New York Times
Wednesday, November 14th, 2007It’s almost impressive how Kelefa Sanneh of the NY Times Arts mangled his review of Jay-Z’s American Gangster album. Impressive like one of those movies that meanders until it turns into itself, like The Player. He is so caged behind wanting to be relevant and smart at the same time so at no time do you actually get the writer’s genuine feeling towards the music.
It needs to be said that the album is a masterpiece, and extremely important for Hip-hop. For a long time, Hip-hop has been frustrated by its negative role in the black community and its addiction to gangsterism. For the first time in its official life, Jay-Z makes the argument that the music’s connection to the American Gangster makes hip-hop bigger, not smaller.
Before you go all ‘how can you say that hip-hop should be gangster’, think about our American Gangsters, from The Godfather, Goodfellas to The Sopranos—all respected by mainstream America as classic, profound artistic achievements. Yet when black Americans express themselves about their version of the American Gangster, they are rejected and treated like a dirty secret we have to pretend we don’t like. The gangster archetype in hip hop is even more relevant to contemporary America than those old Italians, but the message still seems clear: white gangster—good, black gangster—bad.
Growing Up Gay
Wednesday, November 14th, 2007Not one kid in my entire high school ever openly identified as being gay while I was a student there. This isn’t to say that all 500 of us were straight. Obviously, nobody felt comfortable coming out while they were still living in their parents’ house and confined to those gossip-filled beige hallways.
Even Ellen didn’t say that she was gay until a year after I had graduated.
This may partially explain why I didn’t really have any gay friends until college. I simply didn’t know anyone who came out before they turned 18, and many of my friends waited several more years. When they did come out, it was never easy. They agonized about telling parents and friends–but even more importantly, many of them had already formed identities as “straight” people, which sometimes made it hard to even admit to themselves that they were gay. Being forced to hide who you are is never good.
We’ve come a long way in the past decade, and it’s much easier for kidz today to grow up gay. In fact, the whole notion of “coming out” may be on it’s way out.