Archive for March, 2003

just lie to me, so I won’t know

Thursday, March 27th, 2003

(Found it here.)

I promise I will stop dwelling on the political in a minute, because I am in need of dipping the ladel into the truly deep well–it is very overdue.  Until then, here’s a fairly decent article about a few of the indecencies of the Bush administration.  This is just the tip of the iceberg, but nobody really wants to know that. 

The brazenness of this approach would be hard to believe if it weren’t entirely in line with how the administration has pursued so many of its other policy goals. Its preferred method has been to use deceit to create faits accomplis, facts on the ground that then make the administration’s broader agenda almost impossible not to pursue. During and after the 2000 campaign, the president called for major education and prescription drug programs plus a huge tax cut, saying America could easily afford them all because of large budget surpluses. Critics said it wasn’t true, and the growing budget deficits have proven them right. But the administration now uses the existence of big budget deficits as a way to put the squeeze on social programs–part of its plan all along. Strip away the presidential seal and the fancy titles, and it’s just a straight-up con.

– from “Practice to Deceive”
by Joshua Micah Marshall

This country is great.  The people of this country are great.  The young men and women in this country’s military are great.  Help me know, then, how it is these things have happened.  Are we not responsible for the things these warmongers do with the authority they have derived from us? 

But nobody really wants to know that. 

painful poetry

Tuesday, March 25th, 2003

Just stole this link from ex-lion tamer, and I’m just passing the word, like a bucket at a fire. 

Go to March of Death and listen.  Read and listen.

Lies, sanctions, and cruise missles have never created a free and just society.  Only everyday people can do that.  Which is why I’m joining the millions worldwide who have stood up to oppose the Bush administration’s attempt to expand the U.S. empire at the expense of human rights at home and abroad.  In this spirit, I’m releasing this song for anyone who is willing to listen.  I hope it not only makes us think, but also inspires us to act and raise our voices.

– Zack de la Rocha


Saturday, March 22nd, 2003

A quote posted at Mary’s site:

free speech is what America is about

“Of course the people don’t want war…  That is understood.  But after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine the policy, and it’s always a simple matter to drag the people along whether it’s a democracy, a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship.  Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders.  That is easy.  All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger.  It works the same in any country.” 

— Hermann Goering, Adolf Hitler’s Deputy Chief and Luftwaffe Commander, at the Nuremberg trials, 1946 from “Nuremberg Diary” by G M Gilbert (Signet, New York, 1947).

tear drops

Thursday, March 20th, 2003

Why do I always convince myself that the world is not as bad as it seems–and then it proves it is.  Why do I hope, over and over again, that brutality and hatred will subside, and that peace will find a home in my lifetime?  Why don’t I just give up?  It’s so simple to do.  And it hurts so much to keep trying to rebuild my tissue paper dreams under all these tear drops. 

You can see the summit but you can’t reach it

It’s the last piece of the puzzle but you just can’t make it fit

Doctor says you’re cured but you still feel the pain

Aspirations in the clouds but your hopes go down the drain…

Why don’t I just give up? 

Why ever did I think it could be different?


Wednesday, March 19th, 2003

I heard a rumor at work that Aziz was shot.  Of those at the top in Iraq, Aziz is the most capable politician, and certainly more moderate than Saddam.  Aziz wants Iraq to survive as a sovereign nation and has arguably accomplished a political miracle within Iraq to subdue the petulant Saddam and allow inspectors unconditional access.

from the article:
Aziz (said) a U.S. request that Iraqi soldiers and citizens allow coalition forces into Iraq uncontested is “unjust” and gives “an example of the mentality of such an administration.  They have power but no brains.”

My first thought was cynical; that we had him killed to reduce what sanity and reason there may be in the Iraqi leadership.  Then, likely, our opponent would be an irrational mad bomber Saddam–that is if he returned to his erratic scud-launching of a decade ago.  When I finally read this article, I was relieved.  It means my country has not yet sunken to the monstrosities which I fear it eventually will.

no pics

Wednesday, March 12th, 2003

I don’t feel like writing, so try this old journal entry.  I’ll be rearranging the site soon.

If you get screwed up in the frames (these are old pages, coded when I knew less than not much) then try this link to the old journal entry


Tuesday, March 11th, 2003


A couple days ago I threw out all the junkmail and outdated catalogs which had accumulated on my kitchen table.  I tidied what was left, a few books and some old journals and sketchbooks, with plans to put it all away somewhere eventually.  This morning, as I opened the blinds to let in some light, I glanced sleepy-eyed at the titles revealed there on the table.  I hadn’t noticed them before, together.  Postcards from the Edge, by actress Carrie Fischer and The Immense Journey, by anthropologist Loren Eisley.  Cute. 

Are you sick of my pictures yet? 


Tuesday, March 11th, 2003


Here’s another before I go to bed; a window and a loft door from the same building as last entry.  It was a fire station at the turn of the century.  I have always loved this building and I don’t know why.  Maybe I worked there once in another life.  It’s amazing what one can see through those windows… 

given image

Monday, March 10th, 2003


Cold as can be, here.  Joint-aching cold, and windy, too.  I was outside around sunset playing with my new camera.  My fingernails are still throbbing. 

This one was an accident; I thought the windows were in focus, not the branches.  I set everything else manually, except the focus.  I figured the good ‘ol auto focus will just set up on the wall, and won’t even notice the skinny little branches.  I’m learning. 

Used to be, on really good days, some mundane thing would present itself to me as a vision, and I would wish I had a camera.  That was back before I did have a camera.  Such visions presented themselves as perfectly composed images that lacked only capture by a gentle hand.  It almost seemed that first there was a perfect image, then reality conspired to make its presentation in the physical world as if hoping that someone might find it, recognize and appreciate the beauty in it, and save it.  This made me want a camera. 

I look at everything a little bit differently now, or maybe just a little more closely.  I see into things.  Even without a camera in my hand.  I look for light, for clarity, for perspective.  I am on the lookout now for images that would be orphans, produced by reality according to a truer, more perfect plan that exists outside of reality and casts itself like frozen branches into our view, hoping that we will see. 

Even accidentally. 

helicopters coming

Tuesday, March 4th, 2003

I woke up, started the coffee, and heard a helicopter go over my house.  I folded the futon and heard a helicopter go over my house again.  I poured my first cup—oh! that first cup is always so glorious—and my windows and walls shook from a helicopter again passing over head. 

I became curious. 

You know a helicopter is close when you can hear a ringing whistle sound from it in addition to its throbbing bass.  Such high frequency sounds do not travel as far as the lower pitched sounds, and are usually drowned out by them.  As I took my first piss I heard that shrill ring from the air machine, and I thought, “I have to get outside.”  I grabbed my new camera. 

It made seven more passes after I got outside.  It had probably made twice as many flyovers while I was puttering indoors.  I must say the best photo is the very first one I took.  I didn’t even know how to set the camera for a daylight shot—or for any shot for that matter; it’s brand new.  I just spun the mode dial to the symbol of the little green camera as I ran through the front door.  I looked up and shot. 

My house was on the southern extent of a small circular pattern which the helicopter was following repeatedly.  At its furthest from me, it was only about a quater mile, and it was banking to the left throughout its course.  I thought I would feel awkward, standing on a street pointing a camera in these code orange days.  I suppose if it had been marked clearly as a police helicopter, I might have felt naughty photographing its surveillance—but I would have anyway. 

But it was not marked clearly, and in these post 9/11 days the unexpected behavior of aircraft gains a whole new significance.  I felt almost patriotic, standing in the street, camera braced against a no parking sign, brazenly setting up for a N824AH, and after some web searching, I was able to locate still other photos of my mysterious airborne visitor’s siblings: 



And lastly, this very informative page

In this image, a dangling square structure beneath the body of the helicopter, directly in front of the floodlight, seems to me to be perhaps the airborne equivalent the directional antennae arrays I see on the roofs of some police cars used for locating stolen cars. 

Need I say more?  I love my camera