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NEW ORLEANS - 3 February, 2005: The concurrent note, appearing in the last edition, evidences how low I am riding today. The tough choices which I've allowed to circle the airport these past few weeks now beggar the question, settling or not? [Brace yourself, Babe. By the time you read down to the actual 'Wings of Fire' essay in this journal entry, I'll have taken you through the proverbial mill. Trust me.] I've not eaten in the last three days and so feel that I am in no state of mind or strength to provide answers or the central answer today. I shall wait until my plate is cleaned again. Until I feel some respite from the new version of perennial stress.
In this frame of mind, my level of sociability dwindles. It is almost an era of deep retreat.
I have begun trying to digest Jim Wallis's God's Politics for the review I have promised HarperSanFrancisco, his publisher, I shall produce this month.
It came as a bit of surprise when I received the e-mail from the publicist for Wallis's book, since I am the kind of secular humanist that he makes it a point of denigrating when decrying the lack of respect for religion in American politics. On the other hand, I have raised the issue of spirituality in these pages on multiple occasions. And my interview and review track record is estimable. I shall endeav or to the give Wallis's perspective, that religion and politics need not be taboo topics and need not be taboo to each other, a fair hearing. I did find his introduction compelling. In it he quotes the statement of the Catholic bishops prior to the 2004 election, which reads, in part:
"Politics in the election year and beyond should be about an old idea with a new power -- the common good. The central question ... should be 'How can we -- all of us, especially the weak and vulnerable -- be better off in the years ahead? How can we protect and promote human life and dignity? How can we pursue greater justice and peace?'"Wallis has the ambition of beginning a national discussion about the role of religion in politics that he hopes will be transformative. I wish him luck but suspect that the terms of the discussion have already been set by the Pat Robertsons and Jerry Falwells of this country and it will take more than Wallis's wishful-thinking to alter those terms.I considered writing another missive to my friend Dragana today but my energy is even low for taking on a project like that one.
It is a grey day here, colder than most, and not one from which to draw encouragement from any quarter ...
5 February, 2005: I have to admit it. Yesterday morning, on my 35 minute trek to work, I went into what I must describe as a prayer trance. I have joked before that when my youngest brother, Nick, used to ask me what I was doing when I went for my notorious long walks as a teenager -- as he remembers it -- my response was: "I talk to God."That is kind of what happened yesterday morning. Admittedly, I was in a strange state already, as I hadn't eaten more than a few cookies and a bit of King Cake (a Nawlins thang for Carnaval season) for about four days. AND -- as you know, Luv -- I was desperate for a break. So I prayed for friends in distress like Van Helsing, Bob and Betty Powers, friends who have helped like DC, and then I started talking to God. I told my God that I didn't need another overcast day, that I needed the paychecks at work to appear today instead of Monday, that I needed to feel strength and confidence again, that I knew what a fuck-up I can be but that there was no way that He could not as well, so cut me some slack and give me what I want, you know I always give back.
By the time I was finished "talking" I was halfway to work. I hadn't seen a thing or noticed the passage of time and was a bit surprised by my progress. By the time I reached the office, the clouds were beginning to part and the Sun started breaking through. I whispered, "Thank you!"
The paychecks were released early. Though they were dated for Monday (Lundi Gras,) when I went to the bank the teller nonchalantly cashed mine. I rode to the bank with my co-worker, Tanya. She got a teller who didn't cash hers. Tanya said, "Rod, God wouldn't give you something and then not let you have it."
I gave the a prototypical Nawlins response, "Yes, indeed!"
Allah Akbar!
After a typical long day in the field for ACORN, I ate.
I ate.
You likely take eating for granted but, in my life, it is luxurious.
My abiding hope is that one day soon my friend and putative landlord will get around to hooking up the stove so that I can cook for myself again. Living on cold cuts and sardines or buying food out all the time is expensive but also now a fact of my adventure in urban camping.
Earlier, I bought a pack of American Spirits non-filters, my cigarette of choice. I gave Tanya ten bucks so she could grab lunch earlier, too, since she couldn't cash her check.
I lamented the fact, at the end of my work day, that I did not have the energy or inclination to get the last edition out to you, my Loves. I was just too damned tired. There was today, to mangle the Scarlett O' Hara saying.
6 February, 2005: WHY ARE THE TYPOS almost invariably in this column when we first launch? I usually edit all the other writers work and come to this Glass House last and sporadically. That's my usual excuse. It takes me about a day after publication of the magazine to get around to actually reading what I've written into this diary of mine, this bloggish monster, over the course of days between editions. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.MY ADVICE TO YOU: Read this column three days after the magazine is launched and it should be "straight" (as the brothers now say) by then ...
Now that I've been paid by ACORN, one of the Brainfuse.com checks materializes, of course. The one for the first pay period of this year is still mysteriously missing.It makes me think about a joke I once made at Matt's expense. I said:
Matt is a friend of mine, in fact, one of my best friends, no doubt. I've admitted that before. I use the word "admitted" because I'm about to bring up the Foxhole Analogy.It's that knowledge, in the final analysis, that still makes me question the idea of staying in New Orleans. Living here again would mean accepting the Foxhole Mentality because of the brutality inherent in the place, especially toward Blacks. I would rather prefer to live somewhere where I could have the Paradise Mentality.If you were in a foxhole, Matt Stowell is probably the last man you would want there with you. He has no backbone. Chances are, while the enemy was driving the bayonet through your chest, Matt would be pontificating about why he really wanted to help you but that it was in his own best interests not to (he would stay alive and only be taken prisoner by giving you up) and how you should still consider him a good friend for standing by you while you were dying.
Maybe that's just me ...
A small, independent and outspoken magazine like this one can't reach you every week without the support and patronage of its readership. As our way of thanking those who have committed to keep your World's Magazine here on your desktop through their generous donations, we feature their names and cities here in our Roll of Honor.
SUSTAINING PATRONS
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New York, NY, USAWe encourage you to add your name to this Roll of Honor. GENERATOR 21 cannot continue and thrive without your support. Thanks in advance.
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FROM ROD'S PHOTO ALBUM
Once again, Kids, I'm sharing with you the digital images that make me smile.
The first one I wanted to give it you in the last edition but it didn't fit what I thought that page should feel like. I mean, nails? Naw. Naw.
So here they are now. From Greg's "Bored Graphic Artists" pile.
Then there's this Laugh Out Loud (a.k.a LOL) one from my pal DC is Florida.
You should be happy, Luv, that I don't include all the images of women, beautiful and strange, dressed and undressed, scanty and nasty, on this page.
Oh wait! I did. Didn't I? Well, not this page, per se, maybe the whole magazine ... in one place or another over the years.
It seems that dirty young cads becomes dirty old men, doesn't it?
I really enjoyed Peter Sellers when he was alive.
There's a piece of Internet humor, in .jpeg format, that started circulating after the last U.S. election called the "Kerry FU Letter." My pal, Matt, passed it along to me for consideration. IF you have a twisted sense of humor, as I do, and don't blanche at strong language, it's a bit of joy in the Sam Kinnison vein. I don't include it in my photo album here because it would be considered offensive by many. If you'd like a copy, drop me an e-mail at the address provided at the bottom of this page and I'll send it along whenever I can afford to have 'Net access again after this launch.
I received RADIO RAHEEM's latest article today, when I went out to jack in, and was surprised that he issues a challenge to me -- and admittedly other journo types -- to come strong for social justice. (I thought I was already doing that when not navel-gazing. Correct me if I'm wrong, Luv.)He reminded me that this is Black History Month. I scanned it while I was out "sniffing." (Larry Durrell said it. Cocktail parties were invented by dogs.) My hormones are raging again. I need to find The Next Woman ...
Lundi Gras: TODAY IS THE BIRTHDAY OF CHARLES DICKENS, a writer who managed to shape many of us writing in English, more than Shakespeare for us Americans, I suspect. Miss Haversham and the Artful Dodger will always be with us, as will A Tale of Two Cities and Ebenezer Scrooge. Few enjoy such honor; Poe, Stevenson, Tennysson, the Bible, Twain, Disney and Hemingway, for better or worse. These are the lodestones, after them, we are shaped -- at least we writers in this language -- by those we are drawn to from personal taste, whether it be Lardner, Miller, Mann, Neruda or Tolstoi.The challenge of writing, as John Gardner, one of my personal taste choices, suggested is to just be able to tell an entertaining story and do it with economy and elegance.
Perhaps that is why this Glass House of mine reads so much like a novel. At the end of the day, all good journalism is about telling you not just what is true but also what it means for you personally. That does not simply require a perspective but also some level -- and I most often hope a deep one -- of an historical perspective. We humans have infected this planet for thousands of years. We should have learned something from the ancestors ...
I want to hope so.
What do you do when dealing with a master story-teller? Should I tell you the story of bartenders running with strippers?Or how about the story of the globe-trotting writer meeting artists of note? Don't like that one?
Okay, I can tell you the story of the political operative dealing with the California political machine. No?
How about the community activist? The homeless guy? The cab driver? The writer? The construction worker?
I've got a million of them.
The screens keep shifting in this Kabuki theatre of your mind.
Which one do you want today, my love?
How about the lover?
Wait! I know your favorite:
YOU ARE A KILLER AND I AM DEAD.My life-long friend, Ric Williams, pulled that beautiful line from a dream.It's the kind of line that only a writer could love.
I have long come to accept that you use me as either the mirror,Luv, or the private dancer in your voyeuristic dream. You pretend that my suffering is a reflection of your own if you are kind; if you are sadistic, you wait to hear how there is a new way of inflicting pain on a poor man ...
MARDI GRAS:with a love like thatFarewell to the Flesh.
you know you should be glad ... - Lennon & McCartneyI have spent this Carnavel weekend making a suitable fool of myself, being God's Own, and now must be on the cusp of deciding what my Maker needs me to do. Sex was high on the agenda list, of course. Look where I am. Holding back from decision-making can only last so long though.
The major decision is whether I devote my life to ACORN or if I continue my great hejira. The siren song of the road tinkles in my ear and courses through my blood as it always has, Luv.
What resonates at the moment is that I have felt these last few days that I formed deeper roots here in New Orleans than I might have guessed. I am known here, intimately, by more people than might have been evident in this diary of mine; I have picked up part of the infectious idiom and the mindset. Though the plantation system that thrives here, and often seems intractable, hurts and angers me at my core, there are people here with whom I have a deep and abiding bond.
Meanwhile, dispatches from outside, from the people in the world I once knew and loved, provoke me to re-engage, now that I am whole again, in the larger arena. If my "mission from God" (a la the film "The Blues Brothers") is to continue the effort to make your World's Magazine the best I am able, New Orleans is not the place to do so. I know that from long experience ...
Contrary-wise, I am getting older, Luv. (Christ! You're not that old! I can hear my dear Dragana lament.) I want to make to an end. I want to settle somewhere, if not here. That is where the internal conflict exists. Where does the hejira end and the last chapter of Life of Rod begin?
(My little sister, Dragana again: "And what is this 'last chapter' crap? Why do you always have to be so fatalistic? You are NOT Homo Balcanus, after all.")
Tom Hart: "Dang, Dude. You even internalize your friends!"
ROD RESPONDS: Yes, I know. You can take the fiction writer out of his genre but you can't take being narratively inclined out of the writer ...
When I was a tadpole, we used to call passages like this one "Mind Emissions." We have James Joyce to thank for these. [Remember the "proverbial mill" mentioned in the first paragraph of this journal entry? That is what writer's do. If you've followed this "Glass House" for a year or more, you must expect me to pull writer's tricks like this one. They are also meant to be lessons. I don't mean to simply edit with a blue pencil. I have always believed in kinesthetic -- that is, 'by doing'-- learning. I teach by example. Ask AAMENA or MPUSH. --RA]
This Month's Readership Poll
THIS YEAR we're going to try a new kind of G21 Poll suggested by a post from our friend, Baby Boomer guru and G21 alumnus CHUCK NYREN.OUR FIRST POLL QUESTION OF 2005: Please complete the following sentence. "I believe the purpose of human life and consciousness on Earth is..."
DEADLINE FOR SUBMISSIONS: 28 February, 2005.
RESPONSES PUBLISHED: Our 9th Anniversary Edition on 21 March, 2005.
Lynda, I have tried to explain LOVE, like the love you gave to me, uncritica l and deep, our souls bouncing off the walls. I have had it only a couple of times in my life and never been able to explain what that technicolor feeling is about. Not ONLY sexual passion but relating to all the people who have lived before us. A form of transcendence, no? The earth moving is a weak way of describing it.I lost my self and found myself being in love with you and I have tried to find that feeling ever since. It set the standard for love.
I am grateful because I KNOW what love is.
But nothing and no one can compare ...
Nothing can compare to you.
Wings of Fire
CONDITIONS IN THE LOWER NINTH WARD OF ORLEANS PARISH must be among the worse in the country. I work in this area every day and find it difficult to believe that much of it can even, legitimately, be described as urban. Yet, it is part, though a distaff part since it is across the canal and thus separated from the rest of the city, of the city of New Orleans. It has to be its most neglected part.This is just the list of the most obvious problems and issues I've discovered while walking the streets and talking to the people in the community of the ninth ward. I have a mind to produce a photo essay on the conditions in New Orleans Ninth Ward, if only to show you graphically how appalling they actually are.
- Rare police patrols, thus higher crime and blatant drug dealing;
- Lack of street drainage so appalling in some places that children can swim in the pools left after a typical hard rain;
- Potholes in the streets that are more like actual craters;
- Abandoned houses falling into ruin and blight that serve as either crack houses or breeding grounds for rats on every street and most blocks of those streets;
- Vacant lots where weeds and vermin are allowed to thrive for months at a time;
- Woefully inadequate street lighting.
Meanwhile, there is a high percentage of home ownership in the ninth ward; these people pay property taxes but the services those taxes are supposed to provide simply don't get delivered. The money goes elsewhere (St. Charles Avenue, Lakeview) where the residents just happen to be almost entirely white. That is one of the reasons that New Orleans' Mayor, C. Ray Nagin, has a less than favorable rating among the Black community here.
There is an election coming up in 2006. As you know, my love, community organizing means political organizing to Rod. You saw that in the last election most blatantly. But I have just begun to fight (back.) While I am in New Orleans, and if I stay here awhile again, much of the focus of what I do will be on bettering the conditions for my people here by helping them become more politically savvy. I sharpened my teeth in California politics, after all. I know how that dirty game is played ...
ANOTHER G21 WRITER IS IN LINE FOR THE CAINE PRIZE IN AFRICAN WRITING. This time it is Nigeria's STEVE OGAH. It is for a piece published elsewhere; but, again, we are keeping it in "the family." (Last year's winner came from G21 alumnus BINYAWAINA WAINAINA's publication Kwani, a publication that is a spawn of our efforts together.)The best new African writers appear in your World's Magazine. It's not a conspiracy, as one writer to Kenya's Nation implied a few months back.
It is simply that your World's Magazine has good taste. I have absolutely no problem with the mantel of the Maxwell Perkins of African writers. But I do resent the implication of the writer to the Nation (Kenya) that I am trying to promote or create a new voice for African writers.
It has been my intent and credo from day one to be an invisible editor. Like any editor, I pick the writers that meet my standards and provoke my interest; I encourage and support them-- BUT I don't intrude on their voice.
Perhaps the learned gentleman should accept that there is a new and exciting voice coming out of Africa, be it from Kenya or elsewhere, and stand back -- as I have -- and listen.
Godspeed, Steve!
10 February, 2005: Let me share a little secret with you: LOTS of people who actually live in New Orleans don't like Mardi Gras at all. Yep, I've heard the expression "f--k Mardi Gras" more than once since I've returned and spent most of my time around native New Orleanians. To those folks it only means snarled traffic, costume and bead bedecked drunks feeling it's their right to wander in the streets and relieve themselves on your stoop or front lawn, finding alternative traffic routes when there are parades and waiting for all the party animals who feel they can do things they'd never tolerate in their own cities to leave town. Lent arrives as a collective sigh of relief among people of that school of thought.I myself spent Mardi Gras Day in. It was a rare day off in my ACORN week and I wanted to savor it. I only went out long enough to snag a pack of cigarettes and wolf down a quick lunch. Then it was back to my cave to relax and listen to music from the radio.
What little time I was out, riding the bus out and back to save time and make a speedy return, I was reminded by the bawdy and colorful regalia of too many people on the streets how similar this holiday can be to Halloween.
Once the bus got in the vicinity of the French Quarter, it was slow going, as people just clogged the streets, crossing at their leisure, wearing feather boas of various bright shades, bedecked in royal blue, red and green, masked and fishnet-stockinged, plastic "go" cups of alcohol clutched in their hands. We eventually made it through. I bought my smokes and made a bee-line back to the return bus route. I was sure this was something I wanted no part of.
Farewell to the Flesh ...
The Lenten season is more suited to my nature, my love, as you might have gathered. I understand giving things up too well.It seems that I am constantly giving up something: sustenance, comfort, time, rest, locations, people; all except you and this Cathedral of Words ...
This season, I have eighteen days remaining, when not out knocking door-to-door for my Day Job, to make this house ready for habitation. I've been offered the chance to take up occupancy myself in March. It would be possible with a roommate, since the rent is beyond my means single-handedly. This has only added to my conflict about whether to stay or go. For now, I'll just focus on completing the job.
NEWS TO ROD
ITEM ONE: My good friend here in NOLA, Scott Salin, sent me an e-mail with this old news story that I felt has special relevance today, as he did.From September 3, 1967:Speaks for itself, doesn't it, Luvs?U.S. Encouraged by Vietnam Vote
Officials Cite 83% Turnout Despite Vietcong Terror
by Peter Grose, Special to the New York TimesWASHINGTON, Sept. 3-- United States officials were surprised and heartened today at the size of turnout in South Vietnam's presidential election despite a Vietcong terrorist campaign to disrupt the voting.
According to reports from Saigon, 83 per cent of the 5.85 million registered voters cast their ballots yesterday. Many of them risked reprisals threatened by the Vietcong.
... A successful election has long been seen as the keystone in President Johnson's policy of encouraging the growth of constitutional processes in South Vietnam. The election was the culmination of a constitutional development that began in January, 1966, to which President Johnson gave his personal commitment when he met Premier Ky and General Thieu, the chief of state, in Honolulu in February.
The purpose of the voting was to give legitimacy to the Saigon Government, which has been founded only on coups and power plays since November, 1963, when President Ngo Dinh Deim was overthrown by a military junta.[Emphasis ours. - RA]
ITEM TWO: Arianna Huffington, often mentioned in this section, came up with a doozy l ast week. It seems that there is an effort in Congress to form something akin to the Truman Committee that sprang up during World War II in order to stop war profiteering by the ever-greedy and corrupt corporate sector. The Committee, formed by then Senator Harry S. Truman was so unbiased and so successful that President Franklin Roosevelt made its founder his Vice President. You know the rest of that history.
Here's part of what Ms.Huffington had to say:
By even the most charitable standard, the effort to rebuild Iraq has been an unmitigated disaster. A cornucopia of waste, fraud, ineptitude, cronyism, secret no-bid contracts, and profiteering cloaked in patriotism. There is the $9 billion the U.S.-led occupation government can't account for; the over 70 investigations into potential criminal cases involving U.S.-funded projects; the ongoing billing disputes with Halliburton, which despite having repeatedly ripped off taxpayers, continues to receive billion-dollar contracts; the $20 billion in Iraqi oil money kept track of by a single accountant; the study showing that up to 30 percent of reconstruction funds are being lost to fraud and corporate malfeasance. Whether you are passionately in favor of the war or passionately against it, don't you want to know exactly where our money is going and how we can stop the corruption?I say, it's a shame, a pity and just flat-out criminal.On top of the corruption is the fact that, because so little of the $24 billion in taxpayer money that Congress has earmarked for reconstruction is reaching ordinary Iraqis, two years after we cakewalked over Saddam, the Iraqi people are still facing massive food shortages, energy shortages, and woefully inadequate water and sewage systems. According to the Center for Strategic and International Studies, only 27 cents of every dollar spent on rebuilding Iraq has gone to actually improving the lives of its people, with the rest going to security, waste, overhead and fattening the bottom line of big U.S. corporations ...
SAINT VALENTINE'S DAY: This special day for lovers everywhere was merely another work day, both here and at the office for Yours Unruly. I went to sleep yesterday, on my sleeping bag on the floor here in my New Orleans urban camping situation, thinking that it was about time I found The Right Woman for someone as eccentric, vagabond and philosophical as myself. The Right and Last Woman.
It should be obvious by now that you, my little loves, are my longest-enduring and truest valentines. I have forsaken and sacrificed much for the sake of bringing this World's Magazine to you over the last nine years ...
In the process, I must believe, I have also helped midwife some major stories and interviews and mentored some of the finer writers our language has to offer -- solid, "on the ground" journalists all. I take that as the justification and payment for the many hours of labor devoted here. If I regret anything about your World's Magazine, it is only that I could not develop the resources to devote more time to this endeavor and bring you more writers like the sterling ones featured in this edition and pay them for their soldierly efforts.
My partner Organizer with ACORN, a wonderful, funny humane sister named Tanya, a woman of great girth and charisma, commented to me tonight that " ... the wheel always goes full circle, Rod. You were up once and you will be up again."
I gave her one of my typical "hard-bitten" and cynical rejoinders. That is my way. But I could tell that she knew that I still hope for one last pass at the gold ring, one shot to prove that all the sacrifice has been worth it ...
Keep me in your prayers as I keep you in my own, my loves.
THINGS I PRAY FOR THIS WEEK
1. My friend, Terry.
2. Receipt of long-overdue payments from various sources.
3. The Right & Last Woman.
"Work like you don't need the money,
"Love like you've never been hurt,
"Dance like no one is watching ... "
Love,
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 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 Internet 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.
In 2002, he worked as Assistant to the General Manager of a Big Easy company that does restaurants and nightclubs. He did stints as the Resident Philosopher at three separate gin mills in that city in the French Quarter and the Marigny, earning his stripes during two successive Mardi Gras seasons. 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. Our Resident Philosopher is now resuming his hejira. He is in training as a Community Organizer for ACORN and hopes to make positive change for other poor people like himself. Now he needs to find an angel to hire him to do this magazine ... In his spare time, he chases women in the manner that a fly pursues a spider. 
He continues to be committed to integrity, chastity and a dose of humility.
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E-mail your comments. We always like to hear from you. Send your kudos, brickbats and suggestions to rod@g21.net.
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