BOOTSTRAP CRAP

Bootstrap pull-up myth

Economic alchemy

Fosters heartlessness

What is the whole bootstrap thing

that seems to play such a prominent

role in America's heritage? The origin

of this phrase is obscure at best; James

Joyce, the English author, may have first

coined the phrase. It refers, of course,

to boots and their laces and the

imagined physical gyrations necessary

to accomplish the imagined feat of lifting

oneself off the ground by pulling on said

bootstraps, symbolic of personal achievement

against all odds. These days of heavy tea

partying, intolerance, greed and self service

ethics the bootstrap thing has morphed into

bullying, badgering and belittling those who

are less fortunate. "Give me your tired, your

poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe

free, the wretched refuse of your teeming

shore, send these, the homeless, tempest-

tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden

door..." The golden door is tarnished and

the voice of the Statue of Liberty, a distant one.

The cartoon is brilliant and an example of the

genius of Paul Conrad, who died in September.

T'AI CHI

I am an ibis,

Slow, deliberate, stealthy,

Aloft without wings.

I recently took up the martial

art of T'ai Chi for all sorts of

reasons. It appealed to me

primarily because of the slow,

choreographed movements, the

stretching and balancing and

the emphasis on all things "core".

What I discovered is that T'ai

Chi is a blower of minds. At least

my mind. It is rather like attempting

to pat your head while rubbing your

tummy and balancing on one foot; call

it an asymmetrical workout where

disparate body parts undulate and

weave around each other in an ultimate

dance of unity. Tai Chi's literal translation

is "Supreme Ultimate Fist", and is

considered an internal Chinese martial

art practiced both for its applicability in

defense training and its health benefits.

The slow, deliberate and graceful movements

take their cue from the natural world with

bird mimicry paramount. I am now a kindred

spirit with the Ibis, one of my favorite birds.

If only I could fly.

HILLCREST

Bloom of neon dusk

Borders village revelry

The days grow shorter

I got a late start home the other

night; took the shuttle at dusk

and witnessed an amazing sunset

as I strolled through Hillcrest down

University Avenue, the main artery.

My community is eclectic with a

heavy dose of high end organic pizza

joints with the requisite hand-crafted beer, Greek, Thai, Pho, Italian,

Afghani eateries within a block,

gelato bars, gay bars, wine bars,

used bookstores, funky recycled clothing boutiques, tattoo parlours,

candle shop, coffee shops, head shops and

some empty storefronts, now depositories for

garbage. Things were bustling, it was happy

hour, early-bird special at the local deli on

the corner of University and Sixth Avenue.

The doorways are not yet filled with our

village nomads, the tired and torn citizens

that lurk in the shadows waiting for the

evening's revelry to end, before they

turn up their collars and pull their blankets

close and snug. I love this village but

can't help but feel part of a bi-polar life

as I stroll and see the have's, the have

not's, the never will have's. The gleam of

prosperity takes on a patina of poverty

and I wonder what in the world went

wrong in our self-proclaimed America's

Finest City. I duck into Whole Foods and

shrug off that uneasy feeling.

MEDITATION ON SKYLINES

Skyline of my mind

Fills in the darkness of void.

Emptiness brings peace.

I have dabbled in the mind art

of meditation. Took a 4-week

course where I learned how to

meditate while walking, while

eating and even gave it a go

while driving and spin cycling.

Tried a little chanting, mantra

style and became very mindful

of my breathing. I got to the

point where I had the tools to

smooth my ruffled feathers

by closing my eyes, becoming

cognizant of my breathing

and allowing my body to slow down.

The odd thing that would happen

is my closed eyes would become

accustomed to the darkness

inside my head and I would

"see" a line of lightness faintly

emerging, which took on the

look of a skyline. This seemed

to happen with every attempt

at closed eye meditation;

skylines. And when I see a

skyline what always comes to

mind is Matteo Pericoli's,

"Skyline of the World". The idea

behind meditating is to empty

one's mind of life's daily detritus,

of which skylines are not. But

they are a slight distraction.

So, I now do my meditating with

eyes open and the world around

me just blurs away, like white

noise, white sight. But, back to

the "Skyline of the World".

It was commissioned by

American Airlines to dress up

their terminal at JFK and

undertaken by the Italian

architect and artist, of the

above name. It is a 397-foot

long mural that depicts a skyline

comprising recognizable landmark

buildings alongside lesser known

buildings from more than 70 cities

throughout the world. I'd like to

see it in person and meditate on it

with my eyes both wide open and

wide shut. To see Matteo's

art work check out his web:

http://matteopericoli.com

BEACH MUSINGS

Path of sunset gold

Beckons long legged waders

Hunting for treasure.

Took a walk along the shore in

Del Mar recently and happened

to hit it at sunset on an unusual

evening where there was an actual

sun to witness an actual setting.

Overcast skies have been embracing

the coast all summer long, but on

this particular evening the clouds

parted. Golden tones everywhere.

I walked on a golden shore leaving

golden footprints, surfers' silhouettes

etched in, you name it, gold. And the

birds, the ones with the skinny legs

and long beaks that walk slowly,

regally, teasing out something

delectable; this evening they were

spotlighted, awash in gold. I was

transfixed by a golden moment.

ART????????

Throw the rule book out

Kissing palm trees turns wrong right,

Conceptual art.

I visited LACMA recently with daughter in

tow, or perhaps more accurately described

she visited LACMA with mom in tow to catch

the waning days of the John Baldessari exhibit,

entitled Pure Beauty. Unlike Phoebe, I had

never heard of this artist, who lived and worked

for many years just down the road a piece in

National City and now has stepped it up to digs

in Santa Monica. He is considered a conceptual

artist which, best I can tell, means he turns art

on its head, questioning its very essence and in

doing so creates art that turns heads. At least it

turned mine. Baldessari has been at it for a

long time (he's nearly 80),pushing the envelope,

looking for relevance,seeking a new way of

speaking to us about us. In 1970, finding

the medium of painting no longer relevant to

him as an artist, he burned all of his works of

art completed between May 1953 and March 1966.

Rising from those ashes came "The Cremation Project",

which turned the act of his destruction into a new work.

Thoughtful, manipulative, deliberate, daring, crazy, a

stroll through this rather extensive and beautifully

laid out exhibit made my brain ache. In a good way.

I AM A MUSLIM

Ground to dust and ash

Yankee bedrock's open wound

Exposes abscess.

It looks as though the litmus test

for determining one's Muslimness

is whether or not one believes that

it is perfectly OK for a mosque to

be built within two blocks of Ground

Zero.  I do.  Therefore, I must be a

Muslim.  Obama does, hence he is

also a Muslim; one in five Americans

believe that is so.

 And just what is wrong

with being a Muslim, other than 

the wrongheadedness of believing

in any  religion? Well, that's easy. The

logic goes something like this: Al- Qaeda=

911 terrorists=Muslims=destroyers of

America=blacks=Obama=socialist=Kenyan,

really. If ground zero is to stand for anything

it should be that of reaffirming our American

principles of freedom of expression within

a community of tolerance. This mosque

 non-issue is just an attempt at fear-mongering 

to set and control a political agenda that 

includes bringing down Obama. So, I will

temporarily put aside my atheisticness

and  declare myself a Muslim.