Stop & Frisk mostly silent march, a set on Flickr.
Dear Sir, Most of your charges against me I did not deny. As a matter of fact, I supplied the information myself. Some of your charges I have to deny as being untrue or a gross elaboration of the truth. In you first charge, you stated that I was a member of the Junior Youth League in San Francisco in 1955-1956. The fact is that I did not come to San Francisco until September of 1956. I never denied association or connection with leftist groups. This I admitted when I signed form 98 which I filled out to the best of my ability at the time. I am not in the habit of assuming that I am disloyal to the United States government. When form 98 was presented to me I did not know what to do, knowing I had been involved with groups which were on the Attorney General’s
If my friend Booktender has a QR code, I have to have a QR code too. Here it is.
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Dwell on your hurts, your crappy childhood, your crappy job, your resentments, your extra pounds, the things that they took from you, the words that were said. Hate with a passion. Choose revenge. Choose to judge. Die with regrets.. Another Look at Forgiveness: Not What You Might Think During one research protocol, subjects were asked to think about an event for which they had not forgiven. They did so for five minutes. For this mere five minutes worth of negative focus, they experienced an eight to twelve hour climb in the stress hormone cortisol. Chronic cortisol activation leads to a host of health problems, as much research has identified. These effects include increased blood pressure, cholesterol, atherosclerosis, blood clotting, heart attack, suppression of the immune system, insulin resistance, loss of bone minerals, loss of muscle protein, and atrophy of brain cells. When we are focused on the unforgiveness narrative our
Dance Parade NYC 2011, a set on Flickr.
I recently relocated from Manhattan to Woodstock. This was my 4th move in a little more than 3 years. At the time, I was gainfully unemployed and prepared to join the Ulster County poor as a starving artist. No such luck. I was hired full time by the company that I had been contracting for within a couple of weeks of my move. My life for the past couple of months has consisted of weekly jaunts from Woodstock, a full time job in mid-town and a room in Jersey City. Will I never settle down? By the time I moved out of Murray Hill, I hated it. My apartment was across the street from Tonic, popular douche bag bar. As I’m sure I mentioned before, I had no sunlight and lived for more than a year with a horrible high pitched noise that was caused by the vibrating pipes which
“You should be settling down right now”, my meditation teacher says. That’s me. He’s not looking at me, but I’m fumbling in my lap to put a shawl over my shoulders while he’s beginning to talk us into a meditation technique. My bracelets are jangling. I freeze…”as soon as you’ve finished doing what you’re doing”, he continues with a half smile, still not looking at me. He’s the best meditation teacher that I’ve ever had and a wonderful teacher in general, but sitting still has never been my strong point. I’m working my way through Shambala meditation workshops and have been attending another series of workshops and sessions called “Passion & the Path” with my favorite teacher (I’m not supposed to have a favorite, but I do). These meditation workshops involve sitting for long interminable periods of time, thankfully interspersed with walking meditations, thoughtful lectures, individual interviews and breakout groups.
It was not really that long ago that I found myself working for what is probably one of the worst run companies ever. Let me be clear that my experiences at this company, we’ll call it “Company B” made me into a better person and definitely into a better programmer. Shortly after 9-11, I found my job at the company I’d been with for 6 years dissatisfying in the midst of the emotional turmoil that I and everyone else in New York was going through. After working for 5 years for what is one of the two best managers that I’ve ever had, my job situation had changed for the worst. I often found myself on the defense deflecting blame for things that either were not directly my fault, under my control or for things that the person I was working for had specifically told me to do. This defensiveness
From New York 2009
My angry alcoholic boyfriend was in court the day that the FBI knocked on my door. He was on probation. He had been arrested for gun possession after he waved his gun around in his former employers face when he was drunk. Every now and then, he had to go back to court. In the meantime he lived in a domestic environment that his probation officer approved of and which helped to keep him out of jail. I on the other hand, was in college studying to be an accountant. I had a cheap, Section 8 rent controlled apartment in Chelsea where I lived with the above mentioned probation approved boyfriend. I had a job working for an answering service and had just started a second job working for a hip restaurant in midtown as a bookkeeper. I had offered myself up to this restaurant at an outrageously low rate,
I love being back in the city. The area right around the subway station at 28th and Park, where you can find a McDonald’s and a Duane Reade is prime central for street vendors, beggars and thieving bums. I frequently see the thieving bums selling stolen items near this corner. Yesterday a man chased a thieving bum out the front door of Duane Reade and grabbed back a shopping bag containing items that he had just purchased. The victim returned to the store without a word. The bum and I looked at each other and walked off in opposite directions. The Duane Reade itself is pleasant except for the pharmacy section which I utilized for the first time today. I went to pick up my prescription and was treated to a sullen and rude clerk. Out of curiosity I glanced at her name-tag which said “For Vaginal Use Only”. It
I am around the same age as Obama. Like Obama, my parents were mixed race. My father was an Anthropologist, as was Obama’s mother; I lived in another country as a child. Like Obama, I grew up with a wider viewfinder than many Americans yet I’ve always thought that I was an American. Like America, I was the ultimate melting pot. I am descended from early white colonists and from slaves. I am descended from Europeans who immigrated to the United States in the 19th century. I am not Joe Six Pack. I’ve spent the past week watching what has been going on at the Republican rallies. Barring the Bradley effect, I don’t think that McCain can win this race but something very ugly has reared its head in this country and it’s not going to go away. What are we, those of us who are not Joe Six-Pack to
This little blog has been largely overlooked by the MSM (link to NY Times article) but it’s full of inside gossip about Rudy Giuliani and other political figures. I particularly enjoyed the story about John McSame in Vegas. The blog is written by former Giuliani aid Russell Harding who appears to have some time on his hands after being released from prison. Some of the pieces I will post will be of interest mainly to New Yorkers. Some will be blockbusters. Knowing the tabloid press, a few in particular. Others may just be of historical interest because they shed more light on the eight years of Rudy Giuliani’s Administration and of the mindset of the man. One piece offers some new history on a foreign policy matter. I do not claim to be a good writer. In fact, you may think me a lousy one. But I am not out
I had a star studded week a couple of weeks ago. Ok, a two star studded week. A very friendly Matthew Modine hang out in my section at a Liberty Game. He was promoting bicycle for a day. I missed it, A) because I hate the South Street Seaport and B) because I was canvassing in Pennsylvania that day. He’s the nicest movie star I’ve ever met. He’s still adorable in a very white guy way but not as adorable as he was in “Full Metal Jacket”. Research tells me that he is Mormon and that he has married for almost 30 freaking years. The next day, leaving work in Chelsea, I made eye contact with “sultry”, slow speaking soap star Micheal Easton from One Life To Live. I watched this show during the many years that I didn’t have an employer for various reasons. I find Easton to be
I read a rumor that Jefferson Market was closing. Jefferson Market is one of those New York places (like Zabars and Lehman Brothers) that has been around forever. You tend to take these places for granted. It’s a huge, lofty space that sells bread, cheese and other sundries and take-out foods. New York Magazine called it a European Style grocery. Jefferson Market was here before that newer gourmet places like that horrid place on Broadway (the name completely escapes me) that changed an entire neighborhood. It was here before Union Market, which is also horrid. Unlike these other, modern stores, there is plenty of space in Jefferson Market to navigate the aisles. Sadly, the store looks abnormally empty compared to the Jefferson Market of my childhood. When I stopped by, a news crew was interviewing the owner. I was told that the news crews have been showing up all week.
I realized early on with horror what I was seeing in Governor Palin: the continuation of the Rove-Cheney cabal, but this time without restraints. I heard her echo Bush 2000 soundbites (“the heart of America is on display”) and realized Bush’s speechwriters were writing her — not McCain’s — speeches. I heard her tell George Bush’s lies –read more | digg story