A sponge is a sponge.
The Euro sponge takes issue with such a claim. It has been traversing the difficult terrain of your disgustingly uncultured kitchen and must point out that in one simple sweep of the bread crumbs on the counter, it managed to teach your browning bananas several words of Swedish, whereas before, they were simply going to be sacrificed to make a banana split, or be massacred in the blender.
The Euro sponge is a member of the EU. It is worldly, and far superior to your 1970s plastic faux-granite countertops and colorless eggshell tiled floors. Nonetheless, it feels the need to protect your kitchen against communist aggressors, also known as the fruit flies. Since the best offense is a good defense, the Euro sponge will rid the kitchen of popular fruit fly terror cell hiding places: moldy bits of food caught in the sink drain, decaying fruit, problematic garbage storage. The Euro sponge is so effective in its cleanliness, it will even manage a total lifestyle makeover. Your slovenly studio in Wichita will be transformed into a lush loft on la Rue Saint-Honoré. You will no longer wear stretch-waist sweatpants everyday. You will become European.
After a tour of duty, your Euro Sponge is dishwasher safe, so you can refresh it again and again (it prefers being splashed with Evian, despite plastic water bottles waning in popularity). Does not disinfect surfaces. Rinse thoroughly before and after use. May be sterilized by boiling.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Wal-mart Nights
It was Wal-Mart we went to when drunk. Target’s air of newness, of dusty hipness left us feeling like we should buy clothes for work while they were on sale. Walgreens was dark, dank, as if they couldn’t afford lighting. TJ Maxx wasn’t open 24 hours.
Wal-Mart had the toys. The children’s aisle that we wandered to after weaving through the kitchen goods, the best lit aisle in the store. We didn’t like lighting. We liked erecting monuments of toys, from toys. We built skyscrapers and pyramids of toys and talking animals and read children’s books aloud to celebrate, joyous. We were ecstatic and leaving our mark. We talked circles around the toys.
We were not bothered. We were not thieves. We never went near the frozen food aisle, the cookie aisle, the candy aisle, the aisles that would have given us, staggering, away. The cops and workers and the clientele left us alone. We never bought anything, it goes without saying. But we left glorious messes, messes of cuteness. We sometimes left notes for those who had to clean it up and we usually got to our own work in the morning on time.
Wal-Mart had the toys. The children’s aisle that we wandered to after weaving through the kitchen goods, the best lit aisle in the store. We didn’t like lighting. We liked erecting monuments of toys, from toys. We built skyscrapers and pyramids of toys and talking animals and read children’s books aloud to celebrate, joyous. We were ecstatic and leaving our mark. We talked circles around the toys.
We were not bothered. We were not thieves. We never went near the frozen food aisle, the cookie aisle, the candy aisle, the aisles that would have given us, staggering, away. The cops and workers and the clientele left us alone. We never bought anything, it goes without saying. But we left glorious messes, messes of cuteness. We sometimes left notes for those who had to clean it up and we usually got to our own work in the morning on time.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
when he loses ground
after predicting the existence
after the mirror and wishes, starring
at her, when he puts a hand
over, when the talons capped
before the sound, before soaring
when precedence would cost more
than the future, when his
mother visits, before the scar
before the baptism
when they curl and
he is ready
after the mirror and wishes, starring
at her, when he puts a hand
over, when the talons capped
before the sound, before soaring
when precedence would cost more
than the future, when his
mother visits, before the scar
before the baptism
when they curl and
he is ready
the first election
What was my experience with this election? How do I answer this question? I have been assigned this question, and have asked it of my own students. As a teacher, I decided to share this writing with my students, and as a student, I know my classmates will read it. My own electoral experiences are framed by the first presidential election I voted in. I had just turned eighteen, which is approximately where my students are now. There is the before and after of that first election, my own personal drama of the last weeks, the personal events in my life of the last two years. There is the fact that I cannot tell my students my own political affiliation. So where do I start? If I start with that first election, I would have to tell about boarding school, about my political activism (but not the issue), about moving to San Diego to work on the campaign and being sacked within weeks. Apparently, I am not a good fundraiser. After the summer I went back east, back to the neighborhood my parents still lived in, and started working for the campaign again, this time in voter educator, which was a bit more successful. I really believed I was making a difference. Is that enough to start? OK, here we go.
On the morning of November 4, 1992 I had to work. This was my “real” job, in other words the one I did for money. I was not volunteering at the polls. Honestly, I can’t remember why. No, I’ll make this a story without doubts. I could not volunteer at the polls because I had to go to my mother’s house. That is an easy reason; she is sick and at that point I was taking care of her, so I am sure she needed something. The truth? Neither answer above; the organization I worked for was afraid of violence, so we didn’t have anyone at the polls that day. I went to vote after stopping at my mother’s house, so I was driving the old blue Aries K station wagon. That car was a total lemon. I was so excited to finally vote, and then frightened because there was no traffic at all as I drove on the small residential street to my polling place. Where was everyone? I passed a cop, strange in this neighborhood. And then, out of nowhere, a man on a bicycle shot out from behind a parked truck. I slammed on my brakes and tapped his wheel, but he wasn’t hurt. Of course, the cop was right there, lights flashing and ready to give me a ticket. But he was kind, and I was weeping. I was so excited and distracted by my own politics I had almost killed a man, or at least that is how I saw it. Really, I had just run a stop sign, which was blocked by that same illegally parked truck, So the cop said he would write me the ticket but support me if I appealed it since he believed me. I suppose the real tears also helped.
And then I voted. Still full of adrenaline and fear from my incident with the bicycle, terrified that there weren’t many people at the polls, believing I had fought for something true and good and overwhelmed with anxiety at the possibility we would lose. We didn’t lose, and I still feel that rush of pride and anxiety every time I vote. The fear? Well, 15 years later a ballot in Wisconsin asked me if believed my fathers had the right to marry, and I stood there for a 5 full minutes unable to write down that yes, I do have a family, no matter what you call it. For the record, I can’t tell you how I actually voted on that one either.
What happened on November 4, 2008? On that morning, 547 days after my grandmother died, 1 day after Barack Obama’s grandmother died, and 9 days after my doctors announced I might have cancer, I slept late. Well, to be more precise, the painkillers I took after the biopsy were still making my drowsy, but not doing anything for the actual pain. And I still hadn’t registered. I had to get it together enough to find my proof of residence, stand in line (would there be lines this time?) and vote. That was my job on Tuesday, vote and wait for the doctor to call. And miss my grandmother.
When I asked my students to write the story of November 4, they wanted to know if they should include what they did, what they ate, if they watched television or went out with their friends. Of course, I said no, I wanted the story of the election, which is more than those simple facts. I didn’t eat anything at all; I can’t eat when I am really scared. I did bake 50 cupcakes; somehow, baking is comforting, even when it comes from a box. And I did think about our grandmothers. All of them.
I used to say I couldn’t get married, because my grandmother was waiting for my wedding so she could die happy. I know she died believing the United States was a hundred years away from electing a black man to the white house. She was a teacher too, at a high school in Harlem in the thirties. A girl’s school, all black of course, being that it was segregated. The grade you earned in my grandmother’s class determined whether of not you would got training to be a secretary or if you would be relegated to “domestic” work for the rest of your life. She never lost the understanding that her own actions always, somehow, implicated her in what she saw as the racist structure of our society. She never lost he belief that she could change things. And she never say November 4, 2008. Neither did President-elect Obama’s grandmother, but maybe that’s ok, because maybe she believed it could happen.
One of my students objected to this assignment, saying there was nothing to tell, that we don’t know anything yet. Maybe he’s right; we can start here. This is the first election. My friends ate the cupcakes, I don’t have cancer, our grandmothers are gone. We waited in line and we voted, and I know 40 eighteen year-olds who are excited and frightened and waiting to see what comes next.
On the morning of November 4, 1992 I had to work. This was my “real” job, in other words the one I did for money. I was not volunteering at the polls. Honestly, I can’t remember why. No, I’ll make this a story without doubts. I could not volunteer at the polls because I had to go to my mother’s house. That is an easy reason; she is sick and at that point I was taking care of her, so I am sure she needed something. The truth? Neither answer above; the organization I worked for was afraid of violence, so we didn’t have anyone at the polls that day. I went to vote after stopping at my mother’s house, so I was driving the old blue Aries K station wagon. That car was a total lemon. I was so excited to finally vote, and then frightened because there was no traffic at all as I drove on the small residential street to my polling place. Where was everyone? I passed a cop, strange in this neighborhood. And then, out of nowhere, a man on a bicycle shot out from behind a parked truck. I slammed on my brakes and tapped his wheel, but he wasn’t hurt. Of course, the cop was right there, lights flashing and ready to give me a ticket. But he was kind, and I was weeping. I was so excited and distracted by my own politics I had almost killed a man, or at least that is how I saw it. Really, I had just run a stop sign, which was blocked by that same illegally parked truck, So the cop said he would write me the ticket but support me if I appealed it since he believed me. I suppose the real tears also helped.
And then I voted. Still full of adrenaline and fear from my incident with the bicycle, terrified that there weren’t many people at the polls, believing I had fought for something true and good and overwhelmed with anxiety at the possibility we would lose. We didn’t lose, and I still feel that rush of pride and anxiety every time I vote. The fear? Well, 15 years later a ballot in Wisconsin asked me if believed my fathers had the right to marry, and I stood there for a 5 full minutes unable to write down that yes, I do have a family, no matter what you call it. For the record, I can’t tell you how I actually voted on that one either.
What happened on November 4, 2008? On that morning, 547 days after my grandmother died, 1 day after Barack Obama’s grandmother died, and 9 days after my doctors announced I might have cancer, I slept late. Well, to be more precise, the painkillers I took after the biopsy were still making my drowsy, but not doing anything for the actual pain. And I still hadn’t registered. I had to get it together enough to find my proof of residence, stand in line (would there be lines this time?) and vote. That was my job on Tuesday, vote and wait for the doctor to call. And miss my grandmother.
When I asked my students to write the story of November 4, they wanted to know if they should include what they did, what they ate, if they watched television or went out with their friends. Of course, I said no, I wanted the story of the election, which is more than those simple facts. I didn’t eat anything at all; I can’t eat when I am really scared. I did bake 50 cupcakes; somehow, baking is comforting, even when it comes from a box. And I did think about our grandmothers. All of them.
I used to say I couldn’t get married, because my grandmother was waiting for my wedding so she could die happy. I know she died believing the United States was a hundred years away from electing a black man to the white house. She was a teacher too, at a high school in Harlem in the thirties. A girl’s school, all black of course, being that it was segregated. The grade you earned in my grandmother’s class determined whether of not you would got training to be a secretary or if you would be relegated to “domestic” work for the rest of your life. She never lost the understanding that her own actions always, somehow, implicated her in what she saw as the racist structure of our society. She never lost he belief that she could change things. And she never say November 4, 2008. Neither did President-elect Obama’s grandmother, but maybe that’s ok, because maybe she believed it could happen.
One of my students objected to this assignment, saying there was nothing to tell, that we don’t know anything yet. Maybe he’s right; we can start here. This is the first election. My friends ate the cupcakes, I don’t have cancer, our grandmothers are gone. We waited in line and we voted, and I know 40 eighteen year-olds who are excited and frightened and waiting to see what comes next.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
All the unicorns care about is who's going to be President
They gave me a pencil this time. Someone will inevitably erase my line and put down whatever they wish.
Write-in candidate: Magical Unicorn, The Unicorn Power Party
Platforms: Expanding magical forests, using special horn power for good, not
Evil
The man standing next to me looks on to the ballot of the man next to him. “So, do we, like, have to vote for all of these people or whatever?’ He points to the ballot.
“Maybe.”
“Shit, man, I don’t know. All I fucking care about is the President.”
Write-in candidate: Who cares? It’s all the same.
Platform: Local politics don’t matter. The TV/the wasp buzzing in my windowsill/my grandfather/the dog down the block barking demonic phrases/the leaves chattering in the street/the men fighting on the corner told me who to vote for.
You know who I’M voting for?
Who?
Joan Baez! I saw her and she gave me the message. PEACE! That was it! The drumming started and I got it. I totally got it.
Write-in candidate: Jada the Siamese cat mix
Platform: Single issue: string
Alexander is packing his bags, ready to leave for Germany if needed. He says they have beautiful white asparagus there. The Green Party is very strong. Everyone under 45 speaks English better than we do. How lovely.
The machine is beeping at me to hurry up and load the goddamn ballot already.
The man says I have to let it go.
Write-in candidate: Magical Unicorn, The Unicorn Power Party
Platforms: Expanding magical forests, using special horn power for good, not
Evil
The man standing next to me looks on to the ballot of the man next to him. “So, do we, like, have to vote for all of these people or whatever?’ He points to the ballot.
“Maybe.”
“Shit, man, I don’t know. All I fucking care about is the President.”
Write-in candidate: Who cares? It’s all the same.
Platform: Local politics don’t matter. The TV/the wasp buzzing in my windowsill/my grandfather/the dog down the block barking demonic phrases/the leaves chattering in the street/the men fighting on the corner told me who to vote for.
You know who I’M voting for?
Who?
Joan Baez! I saw her and she gave me the message. PEACE! That was it! The drumming started and I got it. I totally got it.
Write-in candidate: Jada the Siamese cat mix
Platform: Single issue: string
Alexander is packing his bags, ready to leave for Germany if needed. He says they have beautiful white asparagus there. The Green Party is very strong. Everyone under 45 speaks English better than we do. How lovely.
The machine is beeping at me to hurry up and load the goddamn ballot already.
The man says I have to let it go.
Nov 4, 2008
Tears, tears. Millions of people crying. Are they tears of joy? Tears of sadness? I don’t think this is quite so. I cry watching television. I cry at the people crying, who cry at the talking, who cry at my crying, cry at the thoughts they are thinking, the feelings being felt. But are they tears of joy or tears of sadness? I don’t think so. Millions of people are crying. Altogether now, our people are crying. A nation is crying. We come together in small groups and it’s only a moment before some long held tear wets a cheek. In parks more than one million people gather. They are streaming in, streaming down, why so many crying? Are they crying for a document called The Constitution? Do they brace their eyes and turn away because old institutions have nosed back in line with older ideals? I don’t think so. Tears for our torn history, collective tears for our horrible suppressed and silent past. Tears for letting go. What escapes through these tiny tears? What evaporates with this wailing? Tears of exhaustion, tears of relief. Beg the criers, please, to their torturers, let us go. Tears of love, tears of thanks, for this bit of mercy. Tears we cry to be at last forgiven? Tears for starting over? I think so.
Someone else's opinion
Having cast my vote – the first time I’ve ever voted - I thought I’d contact the most (and practically only) conservative friend I have, an American who teaches in Poland - the type of friend who would never be a friend if we hadn’t met overseas – to ask who he was voting for, and why, not to persuade him out of his opinions, but to hear them out….
He says….
Voted for the Constitution Party/Chuck Baldwin, he's a preacher, I think a bit of a holy roller but the closest candidate to a Ron Paul type of philosophy.
I guess to summarize why I won't vote for McCain and why I really wouldn't vote for Obama is the following:
The three wars which Bush and Dems have both inflicted upon the US, massive third world Immigration which is changing the whole foundation of our nation, Imperialism - trying to democratize third world hell holes which is Utopian insanity and crazy expensive and Indebtedness - to pay for all these peace keeping, democratizing projects overseas and the hopeless task of educating, medicating, housing all these third world immigrants, asylum seekers, refugees etc. we are putting ourselves in hawk to the communist Chinese, Arab oil sheiks and whoever else will lend us the money. We have a 10 trillion dollar debt now? My grandchildren will still be paying that off.
I'm at the fringes of the republican right wing. I'm probably more of an American Firster than any kind of Republican. I like Pat Buchanan's saying - A Republic not an Empire.
If I was in charge as President I would:
Pull out of Nato
Pull out of the UN and force them out of NYC, let Pyong Yang or Tehran host them.
Pull our troops out of Iraq, Afhganistan, and also Germany, S.Korea, Japan – they’re rich countries they can defend themselves.
Seal the border with Mexico with US troops,
Halt nearly all forms of immigration - guest worker programs, family reunification/serial migration, Green card diversity lottery, refugee asylum seekers
Felony charges for any business hiring illegal immigrants, a federal electronic verification system that all employers would have to use to check if a worker is legal to work in the US.
Most illegals would self deport based on the above laws, ICE would round up the rest.
Eliminate the federal dept. of education and HUD, and dept of homeland security.
Legalize all drugs then we can get rid of the DEA and a massive amount of state and city police work.
Anyway, I could go on and on its kind of fun, but you get my point. I’d like to turn the clock back to a time that Calvin Coolidge would appreciate.
Your Prof will probably think you’re friends with a nut job crypto-fascist but really I'm just an old fashioned nationalist/American firster.
He says….
Voted for the Constitution Party/Chuck Baldwin, he's a preacher, I think a bit of a holy roller but the closest candidate to a Ron Paul type of philosophy.
I guess to summarize why I won't vote for McCain and why I really wouldn't vote for Obama is the following:
The three wars which Bush and Dems have both inflicted upon the US, massive third world Immigration which is changing the whole foundation of our nation, Imperialism - trying to democratize third world hell holes which is Utopian insanity and crazy expensive and Indebtedness - to pay for all these peace keeping, democratizing projects overseas and the hopeless task of educating, medicating, housing all these third world immigrants, asylum seekers, refugees etc. we are putting ourselves in hawk to the communist Chinese, Arab oil sheiks and whoever else will lend us the money. We have a 10 trillion dollar debt now? My grandchildren will still be paying that off.
I'm at the fringes of the republican right wing. I'm probably more of an American Firster than any kind of Republican. I like Pat Buchanan's saying - A Republic not an Empire.
If I was in charge as President I would:
Pull out of Nato
Pull out of the UN and force them out of NYC, let Pyong Yang or Tehran host them.
Pull our troops out of Iraq, Afhganistan, and also Germany, S.Korea, Japan – they’re rich countries they can defend themselves.
Seal the border with Mexico with US troops,
Halt nearly all forms of immigration - guest worker programs, family reunification/serial migration, Green card diversity lottery, refugee asylum seekers
Felony charges for any business hiring illegal immigrants, a federal electronic verification system that all employers would have to use to check if a worker is legal to work in the US.
Most illegals would self deport based on the above laws, ICE would round up the rest.
Eliminate the federal dept. of education and HUD, and dept of homeland security.
Legalize all drugs then we can get rid of the DEA and a massive amount of state and city police work.
Anyway, I could go on and on its kind of fun, but you get my point. I’d like to turn the clock back to a time that Calvin Coolidge would appreciate.
Your Prof will probably think you’re friends with a nut job crypto-fascist but really I'm just an old fashioned nationalist/American firster.
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