Inexorable imposter

Even though I have a cargo plane of work poised for imminent impact above my head I feel an equally inexorable urge to blog a bit. For one, it was my birthday last week and I have some photos to post. For two, I went to a wedding (my friend, Eli's). And for three, I came across a passage of text that spoke to me. I'll cut to the chase and give you the text, written by a former New School for Social Research professor of mine, James Miller, while describing a passage of Theodor Adorno's. The piece suggests that 'truly unpopular writing willy nilly becomes a locus of resistance to the powers that be' -- an interesting thought given all that's taking place on ye olde blogosphere.

"Under capitalist relations of production, human beings exist in a state of alienation. Much of what they think they know must pass through a process of exchange, in which writers working for large corporations premasticate ideas, arguments, and the events of the day, and then deliver this information in measured portions to a starved and stunted public desperate for distraction and indifferent as to wether it is devouring thin gruel or a real meal."

Sound familiar? Well, it does to me. And I don't mean the shoutout to Marx.

In less academic news, I turned thirty-two last week. Not exactly a special number by any measure, but still a threshold to cross, eh? And I crossed in typical quasi-bohemian-proto-yuppie style -- by drinking eleventeen Rolling Rocks (some at 2A and some at Tile Bar) with a bunch of friends. These days I'm trying to be as aware as possibleof how I feel when I am doing certain things. And by feel, I really mean feel/think. It's harder than you might imagine to simultaneously have and experience and monitor it. I guess that's why Buddhists have so much to write about and yet no one can quite figure out what they're saying.

So at the birthday party, surrounded by friends from three areas of my life -- work, school, and that elusive organically non-structured group -- I found myself feeling, well, uncomfortable. Sure, at least part of it was that (since it was my birthday party) I felt obliged to make sure everyone was having a good time. But I think also at some level I felt as though I just don't fit into any of those worlds very neatly. It was only when the night progressed and just a few people (all from school) remained that I felt at ease. Granted, that was many beers later and the social lubricant had done its work. But still...watching your worlds come together is an excercize in holding the mirror close to the point of distortion.

Anyhoo -- don't get me wrong. I actually had a blast despite all the introspecting n' stuff.

Eli's wedding. What can I say but whoo hoo! Eli is married. And to a great woman. The wedding was elaborate, beautiful and, uh, extremely well-documented by three cameramen PLUS all the peeps in the house with cameras like me. That said, I'll post a shot here just because if it's not documented on my blog, it didn't happen.

While there, I have to admit to having felt distracted. See, both Eli and my stepbother, Mac got married on the same day on different coasts. I had accepted Eli's invitation first and -- in a conversation we had over lunch a few months prior to getting my brother's invite actually promised him I'd be there. So I had to tell my brother I wouldn't be at his wedding. Ugh. Major ugh. It was an extremely tough call and I actually lost sleep fretting over it. Writing this song for my brother helped a bit. But still.

Even so, going to Eli's wedding was worthwhile. In addition to watching one of my life-long friends cross the threshold into a new chapter (a chapter apparently filled with mixed metaphors if this sentence is any indication), I saw some friends I haven't seen for a while, including Gideon Kendall and his wife, Julie. These two are, perhaps, the coolest couple in the world (or at least Park Slope.) Ages ago I wrote a song with Gideon called Crosseyed Farmer's Prayer and, in fact, he's the one who inspired me to embark on a long-term, long-distance recording project with Dan. You should check out Gideon's site -- he's an incredible funky and talented illustrator and musician.

And with that, I'll head back to my IBM work for the evening (and may not resurface for a couple weeks!)

September and then some

September marks the beginning of the year. Well, for me, anyway. It has always felt this way for a couple reasons, not least of which, school has traditionally begun for me in September. But also, my birthday falls within the month (on the 15th.)

So this morning I heard on the radio weather report that it'll be a high of 69 degrees today (insert 69 joke here if you must) -- which is perfect Autumn weather. It's sunny and bright outside and cool and the air is fresh and crisp. It's time to remove the air conditioner from the window and let the autumn air enter my space unfettered.

I've always thought it funny that during a season where everything seems to die around me (leaves falling, flowers retreating) I would feel most alive and most freshly renewed. I've observed elsewhere, but I'll say again here that the contrast inherent in the visible presence of death could be what forces my mind to revel in my vitality. If my lifeline is a year of season beginning in Spring, I suppose I'm somewhere in summer.

And then of course there's September Eleventh. Worth of capitalization. Worthy of a presidential visit to the small island I inhabit. My friend Mary's birthday. Another sunny autumnal day. This year, the day a new iPod arrives in the mail. Five years ago, the day I ran incredulous to the platform on the elevated train to catch a glimpse of the towers in decline.

And so it goes.

This weekend I'll turn thirty-two. My brother will get married (I wrote him and his fiance a song.) My dear friend Eli will marry Jen. I'll read essays in the park.

Yep, and so it goes.

It coulda been Chicago

Funny, going to Sao Paulo, Brazil was a bit like going to Chicago or some other city in the American Midwest. I was, for the most part, in IBM offices the whole time with the exception of a couple of nice restaurants. If there weren't so many folks with cool accents, I could have been in Cleveland and not known the difference.

That said, I got a peek at what that world is like -- we went on a tour of some IBM facilities way out in the country, so we drove for about an hour and a half outside of Sao Paulo which gave me a chance to see the country side a bit of the cultural landscape (as much as can be seen from the window of a minivan, anyway.)

Everyone I spoke to there kept saying, "You have to go to Rio, you have to go to Rio." The Brazilians are really proud of the beauty there. So yeah, one of these days I hope to get there.