" /> Learn From It: July 2004 Archives

« June 2004 | Main | August 2004 »

July 30, 2004

Mama T

I have a long history of paying attention to Teresa Heinz Kerry. I went to college in Pittsburgh, PA, where the Heinz's are from. The Heinz "pickle plant" was near a bridge I crossed to work every day on the Norsside, at Allegheny General Hospital. There absolutely is no other real ketchup than Heinz, in my opinion.

That said, I cannot say I know very many facts about her, no personal history or list of specific charities in which she was active. But I do have that sense of her that everyone who's known (or, rather, known about) Teresa Heinz for a long time has: an ineffable strength and stalwartness. She was always just there, a force of nature or a Happy Given.

These days, the Republicans don't seem to know what to do with her. This is similar to 12 years ago when they didn't quite know what to do with Hillary Rodham Clinton, didn't know what to do with a strong woman who spoke her own mind. Back then, they resorted to name-calling and piling-on. Back then, in the hangover following the longest political bender in American history (that would be "the Reagan Years"), shrill voices from the right were permitted to be sexist, frustrated Gordon-Gekko-wannabes exercised their personal rights to free speech in the course of trying to knock her down a peg or two.

I can't imagine them succeeding with Teresa Heinz. She's a good person, she's decent. And other than having been married to politicians, she remains separate from politics.

More than that, according to the woman herself, we queerfolk have a mom in the Whitehouse! We can refer to her, if we like, as "Mama T". I'm thrilled; I'm honored. And in the context of that statement, I'll try to be as good as son to her as my own wonderful mom says I am to her.

I have to say it again: we'll have a mom in the Whitehouse! And folks, that's more than even Mary Cheney can say today.

July 28, 2004

Other

I have a thing for answering questionnaires. Maybe because it's one of the only situations left where one has the chance to answer in direct and unnuanced ways; maybe because there's not going to be a tumid Republican at the other end screeching "what did you mean by 'None of the Above!' Tell me now, don't hide behind words!"; or maybe I just like talking about myself (I mean, I'm here after all, right?).

This morning I got a spam from classmates.com. Back in the day (years ago) I signed up and actually paid them for the privilege of potentially getting in touch with lost classmates, most of whom I have not seen nor spoken to since graduating over 22 years ago. I'm no longer considered by Classmates.com to be Golden, but they do still permit me to answer questions about myself, so what the hell.

This time around, though, there were an alarming number of cases where only the "other" choice seemed apt, but even then it was just the least inaccurate and not a good fit. There were quite a few cases where the question was phrased in such a way as to be nearly orthogonal to the savage garden of my brain. Most of the questions were thuddingly passé.

Now, I knew from the start, even years ago (when I was Golden in their eyes) that any questionnaire attached to such a past-minded organization wasn't going to be geared toward anyone who wasn't heterosexual and who didn't believe they knew what the future held for themselves back in 1982 (or whatever year). This time around, however, in answering the new questions, I began to wonder if that's what today's conservative mindset really has in mind for everyone: following the Path.

They want families to picket-fence themselves into a mortgage and produce a fractional-average number of children, knowing in advance everything they want to occur for themselves in the future. Moving away from the path would be failure. Choosing otherwise is failure. Being Wrong About Something is Failure.

Now, I've been wrong a bunch of times; I'm certain—though I may be wrong about this—that I'll be wrong again. Sure, it's a ding to the ego of someone who prides himself on brainpower. Perhaps the ego is so large as to not mind a ding, but I like to think it's that when approaching learning, when approaching knowledge, a certain intellectual humility must be present in order to actually learn something New. I mean, at some point you'd have to have admitted you don't know a thing in order to be able to accept new information, right?

I had lovely and powerful teachers in both highschool and in college who drove this point home. The Zen call it Beginner's Mind. Linda Kauffman, who taught the Molecular Genetics and the Biochemistry Labs at CMU, would say, "All data is good; good data is better."

She'd written over and over in my lab notebook that the math and the procedure were good, but that I wasn't "getting" the biology of it. I had no idea what she meant by this; I'd plugged away at the math and the procedure, checking for errors in addition and in form, and getting a decent grade, but with the niggling "not getting the biology" comment every time.

Near the end of the semester, I was writing up a lab where we were generating digest maps from liquid chromatography data and what I was seeing sort of leapt past the math we'd done in calculating the dimensions of a high-enough-resolution column, leapt past the data-fitting, and saw what we were trying to do, saw what was going on with the biology of it. The math and the procedure shook itself out into an organized tableau behind the biology of it. I "got" it.

I wrote it up, though, as I'd written up all the other labs: show the math, explain the procedure, describe the significance. Sure enough, Linda saw the difference. Her comment? "Finally!" I was thrilled.

There were two big lessons I learned in this. The first, there's more meaning to any given thing than the laundry list of refutable facts attached to a thing. Secondly, that being wrong isn't the end of the world, it's the beginning of a brand new one.

Linda's Labs (as we called them) happened for me 18 years ago, and I can still see her handwriting in my mind. I can still smell the bleach and the phenol of the lab. And I still try to get the big picture of a thing, because of or in spite of the so-called refutable facts presented in "black and white".

So when I was chugging through the questions on that silly questionnaire, mostly checking "other", I realized that I don't wish to make demands that the world bow to my ideologies, my worldview. That would be boring and I hate being bored. It would be nice, however, if people would look less at the list of literal facts attached to a bigger picture and spend more time looking at the artistry and beauty contained in that bigger picture.

Once you gain the knack of that kind of appreciation, the facts find their own way.

July 26, 2004

The Evidence of Things Not Seen

In quieter times, in more balanced times, speakers have had at their disposal allegory, anecdote, whim, flourish, illumination, metaphor, abstraction. The speaker could be expansive, tangential, even explosive, going out on that limb of orotundity knowing that decorum, even politesse would allow for a soft landing back in the literal world. A story told, a point made, a bit of context cut out and illuminated for the purposes of instruction, even persuasion.

Decorum and politesse were, in times past, considered so important as to be codified. They provided rhetoric with a pause to take a deep breath so that ideas could be completed, digested later in their entirety, to be weighed on merits rather than ownership. A time when argument's purpose was to change the nature of truth itself.

The speaker had all these things at his disposal, but the most important thing she would have going for her: listeners.

There is an art to listening; listening requires effort. The audience must assume some responsibility for interpretation. The audience should have the knack of recognizing fact from abstraction, should keep near enough to the beginner's mind to avoid conclusions that come too quickly.

There is responsibility on the speaker's part as well: to speak without knowingly imparting falsehood and to know enough about the subject matter to minimize the unknowing.

In short, both the speaker and the audience must have at least short-leap faith that there's a greater good to be had by participating in the whole process with copious good will. And here, I'm taking a page from the King James Bible, Hebrews 11:1, in defining faith: "The substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen."

There seems to have been a deadly frustration built up in the 1990s by the Right in this country, trapped as it was between the over-companionable past of the Ronald Reagan "I got mine, you get yours" dogma and the then-present of a Clintonian America which had the Democrats changing what the Republicans had always wanted them to change: their fiscal behavior. The Demos spent less than the Reaganites; the Demos built an economy that had wings.

Instead of applauding the Democrats for having learned from them, the Republicans stomped their feet and cried thief, demanding that the Democrats stop co-opting their ideology.

The frustration built such that the legions of the uneducated, the unprepared, the un-understanding took it upon themselves to target every little bit, every little word, every little—dare I say it—nuance, set it apart out of its original context, subject it to the harsh interrogation illumination of a single bulb, and broadcast to the world that it had found proof of Hell Incarnate.

Clinton goes down for having been gone down on (I know, none of it makes sense to me, either), the result of a Cleansing Hunt by the Right. I blame Clinton, too, not for having had a hummer or twelve, not even for lying about it. I can understand why he answered the way he answered: he knew that the truth would be too much to take for the American public, because they wouldn't just hear it once in his testimony, they'd hear it over and over and over again, taken out of context by the so-called Liberal Media, taken out of context and twisted into something of Doomsday magnitude by the likes of Fox News and the legions of not-intellectually-up-to-it conservatives out there thinking with their stomachs.

No, Clinton had the chance to play the Trickster here. He is certainly charming enough to have stepped up instead of stepping around, smart enough to have figured out a way to be a flawed and human man and still be Presidential, clever enough to have pulled the collective stick out of America's ass and gotten us all to have moved on.

But then again, would anyone have been good enough? With millions of armchair deconstructionists sadly lacking any literary abilities beyond literalism, I doubt that even Clinton could have done what I just attempted to give him credit for.

The art of argument is lost because the field of play has been overrun by those who should have stayed in the stands. Death by a million bombasts whose main tack is to bog you down in the minutae of single words while they counter with broadly vague statements about Good, Bad, Nature and Design.

Thing is, I'm certain that this isn't the first time in the history of the world that Rhetoric has suffered at the hands of rhetoric, that Argument has devolved into arguing. The big question here is, how in the world did the world get back to statesmanship from brinkmanship last time around?

I have no idea; I don't (yet) know enough about world history to take a guess. But then again, "knowing enough" means remembering you can never know enough.

July 25, 2004

Coffee & Sandwiches

Today I walked out of the bathroom and heard another person milling about. The sounds came from the kitchen, as did the smells of soup and other cooking. I have these moments where I forget that I do not live alone anymore; with no disrespect towards Sam (well, at least not the bad kind), it still hasn't sunk in organically that Sam is here and with me. In this house in which I've lived for so long.

I am used to the water being used by only me: the water pressure out of the shower head shouldn't change while I'm under it. Sounds coming from the kitchen should only be mechanical: popping and chugging of brewing coffee, the rhythmic backbeat of the dishwasher, the blowing of the microwave fan. To hear pots and pans being moved about, the water being run and then shut off, the fridge door opening and closing. These are unexpected.

Unexpected, but only for a split second. Then comes the happy realization that he's here (and as of today's mail delivery, it's documented that he's officially free of the un-American strictures of the U.S. military).

Today he made us sandwiches and soup. And I drank coffee while I did some work at home today.

He's a good boy. I'm a lucky man. He's a lucky man. I'm a good guy.

July 20, 2004

Clean Bathroom and Feet

Life, like evolution, seems to subscribe to the notion of punctuated equilibrium. That is to say, that thing seems to be fairly stable for stretches of time, then flux comes to town and washes away quite a bit of the old while ushering in (or clearing space for) the new.

Such was Lazybear weekend up in Guerneville. You won't hear me mocking martinets or bitching about the bears. No, not at all. This weekend was just a terrific time with terrific people.

I feel so much closer to FTP and to D., so much more relaxed and settled-in with Sam, so much more familiar with my friends, so happy to have met some terrific men (especially the Kiwi/Aussie hotties).

We left on Sunday afternoon instead of Monday morning as we'd planned, because we missed the Internet. Seriously, we did, but there were other more reasonable....reasons like, as Shan said, "I miss having a private bathroom...and clean feet."

And Then What?

The Demos are good at pointing out Bush's faults...or at least they do it a lot. But have you noticed they mostly do it in the past tense?

Republicans, on the other hand, play the spoiler before the fact. The spectre preceeds the fact, so why not go after that? Get a bit of a head start, right? Best way to deal with a Present that's not going exactly your way is to sabotage potential futures by stirring up hysteria and fear. Don't wait for that smoking gun, cuz then it's too late.

Does this ring any bells?

The one question I've yet to see the so-called liberal media bring up is...."And THEN what?"

I doubt I have many conservative readers, but I'd really like to know:

  • So you keep gay people second-class. What does that get you?
  • So you get that tax break. Where's the pay off beyond the extra money lining your wallet?
  • So the world can totally suck. How would you actually set out to make it better, instead of just bitching that the liberals are only making things worse?
  • The FoxNewsAnnCoulterSeanHannityBillO'Reilly crowd will give you 10-word sound-bytes as to why the liberals are of the devil. What are those next 10 words telling us exactly how YOU people are?

You guys have been screaming about nothing at such a volume for so long that people forgot to do anything other than try to pull you back to Reasonable.

Fuck that noise. C'mon Conservatives...YOU tell ME why you're better. You tell ME what contributions you can offer, ideas you have, that will make the world a genuinely better place, instead of just telling us why the liberals have ruined it.

Maybe that will shut you the fuck up, but I'm not holding my breath.

July 14, 2004

Woof Grrrr

Sam and I are off to the suburbs wilderness of Northern California...Guerneville that is...for the Lazybear 2004 confab.

We'll be camping it up out with the Bears for the Epcot pavillion version of roughing it.

I'll be writing, but not publishing. No Internet! I guess we'll be roughing it after all.

Back in a few days!

July 12, 2004

Maaaa! I'm Hitting Him!

Today I read that I hate. Yes, folks. I hate. I read it on the internet, so it must be true. And it gets better: it's not just me who hates, but everyone who pins his/her tail on the donkey instead of the elephant.

Haters all, aparently.

Much worse is the implication in the contrapositive: all conservatives are lovers. Now, while I've suspected for a while, the sullied goings-on behind closed doors among the me-thinks-the-ladies-doth-protest-too-much-about-all-things-same-sex crowd, it's not only gross to think about (hey, you try rocking yourself to sleep after thinking of him slammin' hams with him), but it's off topic here.

"Conservatives don't hate". This is what they all want everyone to believe. But let's face it, even they can't keep from wincing at least a little bit when they say it. A poker face, the likes of which has never been seen, would be required. So instead of building themselves up, they tear down the opposition—remember when "they" used to be just opposition and not "the enemy"? No, they can't come right out with such a guileless statement of self-love. To love, to care, to worry, to do for others...that's all the domain of the bleeding heart. And we know which side's hearts bleed, don't we?

It's manly, it's strong, it's righteous to build a fort out of furtive hotel pillows and the American flag, then screed from that place where real people can't touch you and where you don't have to see the negative effects of your whistle- and horn-blowing and Chicken-Littling.

There, you appeal to the baser animal instincts while decrying evolution theory. You use injurious words against those who are developed enough to understand speech, while singing the sanctity of life in the womb. You hold up disagreement as traitorous. Your world collapses to a single Absolute patch of land upon the so-called moral highground, from which you extend your purview into every nook, cranny and bedroom of everyone who doesn't subscribe to your real estate moral values.

There is a difference between morals and ethics, in practice if not by Webster. Morals look backward to what has worked in the past. What worked in the past establishes itself first as a Good Idea, then, even though times change, that static good idea gets carried, unchanged, on the backs of the unthinking (or unwilling to think), and carried forward into the present, having created a long-suffering group of blind followers along the way. Followers who, having believed they've paid their dues in suffering, can do nothing but try to insure the continued intactness of their moral cause.

Ethics, on the other hand, are forward-looking and abstract enough to carry forward, relatively unchanged. They are so abstract, however, that thought and feeling and empathy are required to apply them into something concrete, something for today, for right now, for this particular situation.

A body of ethics shines a general light on a particular scenario, inviting the decision-maker to participate in good will, in decency, in mutual respect. A given morality, on the other hand, will frighten you with the darkness, convincing you to run to someone else's light, even if you must abandon the others in the darkness, even if decency, respect and good will suffer: someone outside the closed system will provide salvation.

In running away towards a promised salvation, in insisting that everyone come along on the approved journey, tension is created, stress builds, wars begin. Opposition becomes Enemy. Right becomes little more than Not Wrong. Blood soaks into the Moral Highground while profiteers go Happy Camping on much drier soil.

If I still had a sense of humor about Conservatives, I'd liken them to a sibling who hits a sibling and then screams from the next room, "Mom! He's hitting me!" What's the brother to do in that situation? Deny having hit his sister to the Mom who can't be bothered to investigate the truth? Scream out that, in fact, it was the sister doing the hitting (because, by that point, Mom has been inured by the simple volume of the screaming)? Mom is going to accept it at face value, or she's going to play at laissez-faire politics and simply choose not to choose, decide not to participate.

All well and good, you might say, because the children figure out the intra-family politics and eventually grow up. That's fine when you're an 8 year old girl, not when you're Leader of the Free World. People don't die, homes and lives don't get ruined because a child behaves badly and lies about it.

Off we go, the Conservatives learning that lies told loudly, repeated often, and spoken from an entrenched pulpit become indisguishable from noise, if not from truth, and so they continue on this path. There is only one Outcome.

Brinkmanship.

This is what the Conservatives at Large are doing. Nothing more. It's what Ronald Reagan did with the USSR. There was no moral highground there, no ethically sound position. Webster defines brinkmanship thus: n : the policy of pushing a dangerous situation to the brink of disaster (to the limits of safety).

Liberals are called Traitors...no, wait..."Liberal" becomes tantamount to "Traitor". Those who oppose are stepped on or cut out, or simply disappear. Dissension is not allowed. Disagreement becomes the Only Deadly Sin.

The Big Tent was traded for the Pillow Fort, and there's simply no room for anything other than Sameness. References don't need to be checked because Right is Right, right?

"They Hate Our Freedom". Forgive me if I have forgotten who said that, and about whom.

July 11, 2004

Situated

After a rather rocky start to the weekend—Sam and I missed out on a dinner party I was really looking forward to, because of a...gastric anomaly on Saturday—Sunday shaped up much better. We drove around a bit, trying to decide on where to eat....laid around the house for a few hours, then hit the beer busts: first the Eagle, then the Lone Star.

At the Eagle, I met a fellow blogger, Victor, whom I've been wanting to meet for quite awhile. He's a terrific writer, and some of his stuff was so compelling, i'm still not sure what's true and what's fiction. In either case, I'm glad to have met him in person. Hopefully, it's the first of a continuing set of meetings-up. He's a sweet guy—and fun to look at—and as I said, a terrific writer.

[Aside: Corin, I know you were in town for unfortunate reasons, but I'm still sorry we didn't get to meet you. I hope that Fate will conspire to make it happen again. We're just down the street, after all. :)]

So we ended up at the Lone Star, and almost everyone was there. I missed Fred, of course, but you have to understand that it was the concluding chapter of this nearly-year-long strange dichotomy: eitherwith Sam or with my friends. Sam was there, and so were they, and it was all just a fucking amazing time.

Life is good; life is finally altogether.

Me happy.

July 06, 2004

There Is No Arizona

LOML's stuff arrived today while I was at work, back to the office for the first time. When I got home, there it was: Arizona. All the stuff that became so familiar over the past year down there is now familiar here, in a familiar place, and that makes for a weird combination for me.

It's like a metaphor, but without the similitude.

He's here and nothing is on-hold any longer. That's an amazing feeling.

For the record, I just want to say how much I love him; y'know, just in case I get up in the middle of the night and trip over boxes, glass tabletops, clothing, the wooden bedframe that I'm not used to, or any of the bazillion wads of packing paper strewn about.

Dashboard vs. Konfabulator

Those of you who are not Mac folks (and shame on you for that!) can ignore this one.

But why didn't the Konfabulator guys just exclaim that Apple validated their idea (i.e., Dashboard), then proceed to port (and charge for) the Konfabulator Widgets to Dashboard?

Never expect longevity when all you're doing is filling a hole that the OS manufacturer left in their OS. Duh.

For more on the topic, I highly recommend the Daring Fireball.

July 05, 2004

I'd Want To Call It Political, Too

We went to see Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11 today. The FEC insisting that the work is a political advertisement that, in turn, would fit the definition of McCain-Feingold campaign-finance law, makes the FEC a big pile of steaming Republicans—or cunning Democrats.

Given the target-rich environment for poking fun, I was surprised how on-target (September 11) and on-message he actually stayed. So much so that I completely disagree with the FEC. In fact, I'd go so far as to ponder the possibility that the FEC is suborned, ironically, by misapplication of a law that was supposed to make campaign finance (and so the FEC as well) less corrupt. God bless the stupid fucking GOP asswipes.

Yes, they really do deserve to be called that.

I find Republicans—and any of those who favor the current administration—absolutely unsupportable. Moore hasn't so much fired me up as refocused me on the salient points.

Bush doesn't respect the Office of the President because he didn't earn the Office.

Bush has failed in every endeavor he's ever tried, including his current gig.

Conservatives in this country hate to be wrong; it's something I've noticed that's germane to many organizations who value uniformity over diversity. To be wrong is egregious and unbearable. To be wrong is to be less of a person.

Democrats aren't saints, but I sleep better knowing that if someone's going to fuck up, they err on the side of caution towards human rights and humane efforts.

W is about the Bushies. And about himself. And that's something not worth the effort, to me.

On the other hand, maybe the FEC ruling is the better than anything any amount of advertising money could ever buy.

July 03, 2004

The Mayor of Bernal Heights

This morning at Cafe Commons, Tom Ammiano was behind me in line. Now, Soonae, one of the proprietors, knows everyone's names here. It's not that she makes a point of it, she just has this splendid ability to instantly remember all she sees. She and I are a lot alike in that, but her talent is much stronger.

The way that Mr. Ammiano talks to her, talks to anyone around the neighborhood shows what a kind and decent man he is. I've voted for him in every election race he's run and I'm proud of that, often proud of San Francisco through him and his efforts, and glad of the coincidence that he lives right down the street from me.

I don't want to say he's neighborly in his comportment, because that sounds like a political pose: he's just a nice neighbor.

Limits of Change

Change is good; flux is good. Change, often countenanced by yours truly in these pages, is not merely necessary, it simply is. So why not run with it?

This is how I typically operate: bring on the changes! That's easier to say when the change hasn't walked into your home, mixing up the chewy center of the big gay bon-bon that is your life.

But this is like complaining that you've just eaten way too much food when you know there are people out there who never get enough...or like sanctimoniously whinging that your taxes are too high when you already have more money than you'll ever know what to do with.

So if I don't get done all the things I need to do for tomorrow's Welcome Home for the Boy, I hope my friends will forgive the state of the home: it's a moving target.

July 02, 2004

Eleven

My Past continues to reconfigure itself into something of a more pleasant—and a more distant—caliber every year. "Every year" is language I don't usually use, so you might suspect some annual event has just occurred. And it has: Wednesday, June 30 at 11:45 pm (23.45 to you Euro folks) marked eleven years since I first arrived in San Francisco.

With stories of Then ("orange and fluffy") and stories of Now ("but you can't die, Norman!") to follow when I have more leisure time, suffice it to say that for eleven years I have been perfectly At Home in this lovely place, through the worst pains I could have ever imagined, or while soaring at heights I never thought possible.

There is nothing I would trade about my life. My mistakes are my own; my successes are just as much mine. My neophilia remains intact, as does my Openness towards the Universe.

Now get me some granola while I slip on my Birkenstocks, would ya?

July 01, 2004

60 Inches of Bliss


-original image courtesy of ThinkSecret-

Apple introduced a 30" LCD display this week. Turns out, that a single 30" screen has too much data to display through a typical DVI port, so Apple took advantage of the DVI standard and piped TWO DVI signals through each connector on the back of the video card....and added a second of these Dual-DVI connectors. Each one of the monitors in the image is driven, essentially, by two DVI-card's worth of graphics bandwidth. Both are connected to a single card on the PowerMac G5. Dual-Dual!

What would YOU do with 5120x1600 pixels? It'd be like Heaven...Mac OS X everywhere you looked, and no Winders anywhere.

Click on the image for full-size bliss.