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NEW ORLEANS - 6 JULY, 2003: Every fourth of July weekend for years now, the city of New Orleans has been graced by the Essence Music Festival. For the past two Julys, I've had the good fortune to have my friend HARRISON CHASTANG, the News Director of KPOO Radio, San Francisco, in town and dragging me off to one Essence event or another. This July 4th found me down in the press interview room with Harrison and the other journo types, firing questions at Patti LaBelle, Magic Johnson, Maxine Waters and other of the celebs in attendance.
One of the facts Magic Johnson shared with us was the alarming news that the incidence of HIV/AIDS is on the rise among people over fifty (50) years of age in the African-American community, as that age group becomes more sexually active. I was alarmed. That's my generation he's referring to. You would think, considering how AIDS ravaged this generation of Americans - especially in the artistic community - twenty or so yeas ago that the lessons of prevention would have already been learned. But, especially in the Black community, there's been a high level of denial about the risk of the disease. It's been troubling enough encountering people in their late twenties and early thirties who harbor the belief that unprotected sex is basically okay for heterosexuals, finding that people my own age haven't learned better is breathtaking.
It also happened that Barry White passed away on the day I attended the Essence Festival. Because most of the press at the event were entertainment journalists, the question "How does Barry White's loss affect you?" must have come up every single time an entertainer took to the platform. It got to be cloying aftet awhile. I commented to Harrison at some point that most of the people in the room seemed to have majored in softball questions.
"Softball!" he snorted. "You mean whiffle ball, don't you?"
Harrison's used to covering weightier issues than how many songs will be on Gerald Levert's next CD.
This year's Essence Music Festival took place in the SuperDome. I'd never been inside our famous stadium before and was delighted to find that besides the stadium concerts themselves (LL Cool J and Pattie LaBelle performed while I was in attendance) there are also "Super Lounges" upstairs where other acts perform in a more intimate setting. I managed to see Dougie Fresh before we dashed back to the press interview room to catch Magic Johnson.
During the preceding late afternoon and evening, at the annual barbecue at the Apple Barrel on Frenchmen Street, and while wending our way to the river walk to watch the fireworks show, we got to talk about California politics. I have to admit that I occassionally miss the circus. The recall effort directed against California Governor Grey Davis, the possibility of Arnold ("The Terminator") Schwartzenegger becoming that state's next Governor - or Diane Feinstein or Willie Brown - is the kind of story you have to love if you're a political junkie. Angela Alioto running for Mayor of San Francisco yet again is good for a boost, too.
As they take hammer and tongs to federal funds that used to go to state governments and as more and more states face bankruptcy, it's unlikely that California will be the only one of their number turning into a freak show.
Rubbing shoulders with my fellow laborers in the fields got me to thinking about seriously getting back into that game, putting myself out there at more press conferences and the like. I'm leaving that inclination in the hopper for now. I've got enough on my plate.
As I mentioned to my friends Ian and Mary last evening, it always seems that I'm busier than usual this time of year. What with out-of-town guests for Essence and invitations from people who are getting into the swing of summer, I never manage to stay on schedule. I was almost afraid, early this morning (I rose at 6 a.m.) that I wouldn't manage to complete this effort for you this week, my love. I've edited all the copy for the rest of the mag' already, though, and it's not even five yet.
JOB PROSPECTS TOOK A TURN for the better this week. I'll be starting work as a freelance editor for a California (of course) e-book concern within the next few days. The timing is perfect as I'm on the last leg of my editing work for Radik. (Okay, okay, I'm a day or two behind schedule on that one.) Since it's a start-up venture, I tried to offer a reasonable rate and they accepted. There's even the possibility that I'll finally get around to gathering together the essays from my various forums for an e-book of my own, now that I'm in with a publisher.
Rod Amis 
I'm hoping that things get rolling sooner than later, of course. Mama needs an overcoat, my attorney needs a new pair of shoes. If things work out, I'd like to begin searching for digs that better suit my attitude next month.
All planning is, of course, contingent on whether or not my (bogus) case actually has to go to trial. If so, then I face the prospect of giving three to five thousand dollars (USD) to my attorney, a circumstance that is harrowing for someone in my financial straits. I lay awake at night going over the list of pledges for my legal defense I've received from people here and abroad and ticking off the number of them that are still outstanding, as in "almost all." Meanwhile, the latest from my attorney is that she'll finally get a sit-down with the Deputy Chief of Trials on Monday - the day immediately prior to our court date. Considering that, I have to hope that the judge will see how little merit there is to my charge and simply throw it out. I try to keep hope alive in my thoughts about all this, but it's difficult... I'm a natural-born pessimist.
SOME WEEKS I HAVE MORE THINGS TO SAY than I believe space allows for this column, but this is not one of those weeks. After Monday's launch, I was awash in angst and an unsettled (very) state of mind that kept me from beginning this missive at all. I wasn't able to sleep very much, because of my worries, and it was all I could do to make it through the stress that seemed to be engulfing me. My attorney had called to say that the meeting with the Deputy Chief was on Wednesday, then I didn't hear from her for days. Only at the weekend did I learn that it had been rescheduled. She, my attorney, and I haven't had an actual conversation since my arraignment hearing. That hasn't helped my confidence level.
Make a Commitment to Justice.
Donate to Rod Amis' Legal DefenseClick here to read about our Publisher's false arrest.
Organizations and individuals in New Orleans are organizing to help Rod fight his unjust arrest and charges. You can help, too. If you'd like to throw a house party, benefit concert, or other event, it would be mammothly appreciated.
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THE HONORABLE CONTRIBUTORS:
(List Updated Each Publication Date)SCOTT SALIN,
New Orleans, LA, USA-$200MICHELLE and the Drag Queens of MAMA'S BLUES Revue,
New Orleans, LA, USA
And the many, many un-named guests who contributed to the proceeds.-$395SEAN CUSHMAN,
New Orleans, LA, USA-$25"DAVE",
New Orleans, LA, USA-Living QuartersSTEVE VIVIAN
New York, NY, USA-$60PETE SHORTELL,
New Orleans, LA, USA-CocktailsMARY MC GINN,
New Orleans, LA, USA - $100DR. IAN CRYSTAL
New Orleans, LA, USA - $40
And (far too many) cocktails
Money's been tighter than ever because of Tropical Storm Bill and the daily rainstorms; they inhibit business in a town dependent on the hospitality industry, so I make fewer tips. The only good thing that happened before I heard from the e-publisher was that my boss at the Middle Eastern restaurant asked me if I could work on his Web site. BUT since someone else (who's since left town) did the original work for him and neglected to give him information about his server, that's going to be a drawn-out project, I suspect.
For all of the reasons above, it's not been one of my more active weeks in contributing to this journal. The work I had in queue awaited my attention until the last moment and I did not make entries in the diary from which this column is normally built. That makes this act of "on the fly" composition seem daunting, after I had established the pattern of coming here with the majority of the material already composed. Unlike past weeks, there is no pressing philosophical concern that dominates my attention.
7 July, 2003: I broke off yesterday, hoping that some spark would jump from the fire to ignite an inspiration, in order to assist Ian with a computer problem. It seems nearly everyone I know with a computer telephones me when they run into a problem. It's been suggested - and I nearly acted on it when I thought my friend Greg would partner with me - that I should go into the business of being a consultant for people who have issues with their Memory Machines. I had planned to print out fliers to test the waters. But Greg was not as enthusiastic about the idea as I and, my life being as nomadic as it has, I was not certain what telephone number I'd use for contact.
I still feel the independent consultant idea is a good one, but even now I'm not sure that I'll be at this same meatspace address two months from now. My roommate and I are tied at the hip only because of this case, I feel, and once that moves forward we'll probably go our separate ways.
Speaking of which, my attorney called this morning to inform me that the meeting with the Deputy Chief was cancelled because the Deputy was out sick. Her strategy remains to get a dismissal from the District Attorney's Office, so she plans on seeking a continuance rather than putting the case before the court. As I am paying her for her good judgment, I have to accept that this is the best course of action. Every delay (I feel) simply keeps me in limbo and the meter running. I want to make an end, but I'm told that our system of (in)justice does not work that way. It drags on, I'm told, like molasses over snow.
"What about your family?" certain concerned people have asked me.
You, my love, can anticipate my response.
"Family?"
The very concept has become so alien to me, after all these years, that it might as well have Pluto, the nether planet, as a referrent. When you have lived in this state of orphanage and exile as long as I, you never consider the alternative existence, that of kinship support, et cetera, that other people seem to take for granted. When I hear other people refer to familial relationships as part of their average social sphere I am either bemused by the notion, sometimes envious, or simply detached. I have only a vague idea of what having a family as an emotional and material support system would be like. The closest I've come is in those brief hours spent with my sister-in-law, Rudell. I simply don't think about it until someone else brings the subject up. Then my reply is one of confusion.
It would seem, as my reading of Edward Said and Henry Miller implies, that I have chosen to create and affiliate with a family of like-minds. It is from them that I have derived my emotional, psychological and material support for as long as I can remember. Like the people listed in the sidebar to the left of this article, the like-minds have been my source of what little succor passes for a family. I am closer to my friend Dragana in Belgrade, for example, than to most of my blood kin. Ditto, Barbara, Terry and Lynda. It seems a phenomenon both of our pomo era in the West and personal bent that we create our families rather than being born into them. The biological connection to other people holds little sway.
It's almost a matter of course for me these days when people use the word family to mentally, silently add the word "dysfunctional."
I SHALL GET THIS TO YOU LATE TONIGHT, my love, as I have to fill in as bike delivery guy for a friend of mine who is feeling sick tonight. I'll wing this your way after I leave work this evening.By the time you read this, I'll likely be sitting in a courtroom in New Orleans, wishing I were anywhere else. The first leg of my battle against this system of corrupt injustice will have begun. Oscar Wilde indeed.
Things I Need This Week
1. More money for my lawyer.
2. A ray of Hope.
3. Fewer nagging worries...
Thanks for coming back this week."Work like you don't need the money,
"Love like you've never been hurt,
"Dance like no one is watching..."
Rod
Rod was a columnist for the Andover News Network, where he wrote over two hundred articles on web design and development issues. He was also principal writer and Editor for IT Manager's Journal, where he reviewed technology issues weekly, producing 383 editorials. He became the Managing Editor for Electronic Mail/Newsletter Publications at Andover.net at the end of February, 2000, and left in September of the same year. He was a contributing writer for ACCESS magazine, which appeared both on- and offline for 10 million readers in 100 newspapers like the San Francisco Chronicle, New York Post, Boston Herald, Austin American-Statesman, Denver Post and Orlando Sentinel, among others. Rod was the US reporter for Silicon.com, a division of Network Multimedia Television in London, UK, reaching 3.5 million European readers, until May, 2001.
Last year he worked as Assistant to the General Manager of a Big Easy company that does restaurants and nightclubs. (Think: The Boy.) Oh yeah, Rod's had Day Jobs working construction. Mostly renovations of old New Orleans structures, houses and a bar. Sometimes he designs Web sites for other people so that he can get his creative juices flowing the way he can't at a staid publication like this one. And he's been the instructor in Editing for Internet Publications at the Novi Sad School of Journalism in Yugoslavia. Right now our Resident Philosopher has left the pantheon of New Orleans bartenders and still doesn't know when he'll have a "permanent residence" that he likes.. He's decided that maybe it's time to be an entrepreneur again. Working with "employees" and Bosses doesn't suit his temperament. In his spare time, he chases women in the manner that a fly pursues a spider.
Rod lives in New Orleans, Louisiana. This town is eroding his normal sense of driven purpose. He wants to live somewhere civilized when he grows up. Wish him Luck.
He continues to be committed to integrity, chastity and a dose of humility.
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