R.I.P Murray Bookchin, 1921-2006.
I read some of his history of the Spanish Anarchists while i was living in Barcelona in 1998. I think i'll pick it up again to toast his memory tonight.
The toxic load really got me down at work this week. After involuntarily sleeping for 14 hours, i took a day off to get diagnosed with prepatellar bursitis and watch Leonard Bernstein's first "Unanswered Question" lecture. That, along with Ibuprofen, made me feel a little better.
In a particularly serendipitous turn of events, i finally got around to sending Noam Chomsky a copy of my book (of poems about him and Jack Spicer) a few weeks ago. His thank-you note arrived on Saturday afternoon, moments before i had to head out the door to work. I had been in a pretty foul mood - having missed a booklaunch, a concert, and a tea party in the preceding 12 hours due to my stress-induced coma, but somehow a few words of thanks from Chomper seemed to outweigh all the bad stuff. I climbed on the bus feeling safe and protected in a happy little golden bubble of satisfaction. Remarkably, no one threw an egg at me.
Today my dad shared a great quote with me: "The right to swing my fist ends where the other [person]'s nose begins." It is attributed to Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. I like it as a concise corrective to one of my perennial pet peeves: infantile libertarianism. Yes, Dorothy, there are other people to consider.
It's a little frustrating (to an obsessive citation-monger like me) that - like Freud's famous remark on the Irish - there is no identifiable source for Holmes' gem. However, i'm working to develop appreciation for the uses of such phrases, independent of their dubious authenticity. I can usually resolve the whole wrestling match in my mind by invoking that great scene from Smoke Signals, where Thomas is asked "What do you want, truth or lies?" and he replies "I want both." I found this interesting article on the film today, which reminded me of Ward Churchill's piece from several years ago.
Speaking of Churchill (and footnotes), is anyone else out there feeling the same mix of emotions about the conclusions drawn by the Boulder research misconduct inquiry? What i mean is: i'm deeply troubled by the prospect of specious, cynical dismissals of all of Churchill's work on the basis of its purported flaws, and by the highly suspicious timing of the investigation itself. Ward insists, in his response to the committee, that no serious scholar's work "could withstand the type of scrutiny to which [his] has been subjected".
I'm inclined to believe him, and it seems likely that he is currently facing termination because of the backlash against his statement about September 11th. However (especially after my recent experience as a juror), i couldn't help empathizing with the committee members during their press conference. I've been ambivalent about some of his ideas for a long time, but i have insisted and will continue to insist that - like the authors of The Rebel Sell, elsewhere on the left - Churchill asks difficult and very important questions that deserve to be taken seriously (whether or not "we" like their implications, and certainly whether or not he has always footnoted scrupulously - which is argumentum ad hominem). Simply put, we ought to honour his call for all lefties to operate "on a basis of mutual respect" - which i think might best be accomplished by embracing what has come to be called "diversity of tactics" rather than interminable and self-defeating factionalism (the absurdities of which were hilariously demonstrated in the second half of my favorite scene from Monty Python's Life of Brian - the first half can, i think, be read as both feminist and pro-trans, but i tend to read generously).
Okay, i've got a hike to Berg Lake (and subsequent trip to Worsley, AB) to prepare for.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
A Diabolical Turn
There must be some physicists who can back me up on this one: heat makes time flow more slowly.... I experienced it the past three days at work.
My mind's been busy this week (in moments when a cool breeze has disrupted meditation on what lobster death must feel like)...
The Vampire government continues to demonstrate spectacularly deadly short-sightedness on both the foriegn and domestic fronts. Fresh from applauding the PM's outrageous statement on Israel's bombardment of civilians (and now UN observers) in Lebanon (and his cynical encore photo-op), the conservatives have now announced they'll sit back and record the death-throws of Insite before they'll consider renewing the successful program's funding. Click here for an *easy* way to tell Harper that his contemptuous indifference is disgusting.
On a more positive note: as i settled into my new "youth counsellor" duties this week, i was momentarilly relieved when i read about the intuitive approach to recovery outlined in this article (from the straight).
Also, the Tyee posted their Canadian Books story, including a slimmed-down version of my statement. Here's the original:
On Joy Kogawa’s Obasan
by ryan andrew murphy
Canada is full of great writers. Canada is also full of crap. Many of Canada’s best writers know this, but few have indicted Canada as artfully as Joy Kogawa.
While Kogawa may shrink from the credit I wish to give her, I like to think her character Aunt Emily would not. Every page of Obasan is brilliant; however, Emily’s dialogue in particular stands out from the tapestry of memories and dreams. Early in the text, Emily cautions her niece (the protagonist), “You are your history. If you cut it off you’re an amputee.”
If Emily is right, then Canada is a land of amputees; the self-congratulatory exaltation of “multiculturalism” only masks a powerful and long-standing prescription for quiet homogeneity.
Emily, like Kogawa, is Canadian and demands to be recognized as such. But unlike many “Canadians”, especially “white” Canadians (from where?), she refuses to amputate her history, despite all it’s pain and horror, because that would let other Canadians – the ones who bore responsibility for (and inherit the spoils of) the Japanese internment, for example – off far too easily.
Emily even writes a manuscript attempting to “find the right mix [of words]” to “make familiar, make knowable, the treacherous yellow peril that lived in the minds of the racially prejudiced... Like Cupid, she aimed for the heart. But the heart was not there.”
Does the praise that Obasan has won suggest that Kogawa has found the words her character sought, and that, after all, there is a “heart” in this country?
I think it is several generations too soon for anyone to indulge in the luxury of imagining that we live in a vindicated Canada. But if such a vision is deemed worth pursuing, Kogawa’s book may be our best compass.
I had considered flogging the metaphor some more (mentioning that one needs more than a compass to find one's way), but i was already well over the 150-word limit. They seemed to like it anyway, which is nice. Thanks dad, for attending the symposium on my behalf (and getting my prizes signed by the authors)!
On the heels of last week's serendipitous theme of good people, this week seems to have brought visions of bad things happening to them... The first time i heard of Mike Frastacky was this evening, when i read that he'd been killed. Made me think of Rachel Corrie; not because of the circumstances of their deaths, but because of the choices they had made.
Similarly (but of much greater importance - because we can do something to help him), the first time i ever heard of Dr. Gazi Walid Falah was this afternoon, when i learned that he'd been arrested by the Israeli police earlier this month, in a Kafkaesque manner reminiscent of the "Secret Trial Five" in Canada. This news naturally brought the Cuban Five to mind, but it also made me think again of the Portnoy Family (in Newfoundland) for whom i wrote this letter of support two months ago:
Dear Honourable Minister of Citizenship and Immigration, Monte Solberg.
In October of last year over one thousand people gathered at the Sacred Heart Parish in the small Newfoundland community of Marystown for a special prayer service in support of the Portnoy family - who have taken sanctuary in the church since early that month. The Portnoys, originally from Moldova, sought sanctuary in the church to avoid deportation to Israel.
As if the threat of deportation weren't sufficiently troubling, Angela Portnoy is pregnant and has been repeatedly denied safe passage to a hospital for medical attention. Thus, the immigration bureaucracy's apparent determination to destroy this family's well-being extends not only to the parents and their four living children (two of whom were born in Canada), but also to their children yet unborn.
I join the thousands of Canadians who have demanded a stay on the deportation order that continues to menace the Portnoys; I join them in demanding that Alexi Portnoy (who has already been deported) be allowed to return to Canada immediately, and that the entire family's immigration application be fast-tracked in recognition of the completely unwarranted suffering they have already endured due to the immigration bureaucracy's unconscionable blindness and callousness.
It is in your power, Honourable Minister, to exercise Ministerial Discretion to overrule this deportation order. I hereby add my voice to the chorus of Canadians urging you to do so.
I further join the many Canadians who are calling for an immediate moratorium on all activities of the Canadian Border Services Agency in light of the number of conspicuously incredible deportations performed by that agency in recent years. This agency should, in the interest of Canada's professed commitment to human rights (enshrined in our Charter as well as the UN Declaration), be publicly investigated for human rights abuses.
The Portnoy family, who have lived in Canada since 1996, are only one of many families who have been denied a life in Canada - after having already built one. Such abuse of power by unelected bureaucrats must be halted immediately.
I await a substantive response to these concerns.
Sincerely,
ryan andrew murphy
Tuesday, May 2nd, 2006
...Monte has yet to get back to me.
All in all, the heat and the heaviness of this week have fostered a (slightly crispy) black humour in my waking mind, and a straightforward Inferno in my sleeping mind (and the two have been overlapping more than usual lately). If it hadn't been for a couple of therapeutic visits to The Irish Heather, and a couple of well-timed mood-boosting news stories (like this one - which my mom passed on to me), i hate to think what might have become of me... I might've become just a little bit bitter or something.
peace out,
ry
My mind's been busy this week (in moments when a cool breeze has disrupted meditation on what lobster death must feel like)...
The Vampire government continues to demonstrate spectacularly deadly short-sightedness on both the foriegn and domestic fronts. Fresh from applauding the PM's outrageous statement on Israel's bombardment of civilians (and now UN observers) in Lebanon (and his cynical encore photo-op), the conservatives have now announced they'll sit back and record the death-throws of Insite before they'll consider renewing the successful program's funding. Click here for an *easy* way to tell Harper that his contemptuous indifference is disgusting.
On a more positive note: as i settled into my new "youth counsellor" duties this week, i was momentarilly relieved when i read about the intuitive approach to recovery outlined in this article (from the straight).
Also, the Tyee posted their Canadian Books story, including a slimmed-down version of my statement. Here's the original:
On Joy Kogawa’s Obasan
by ryan andrew murphy
Canada is full of great writers. Canada is also full of crap. Many of Canada’s best writers know this, but few have indicted Canada as artfully as Joy Kogawa.
While Kogawa may shrink from the credit I wish to give her, I like to think her character Aunt Emily would not. Every page of Obasan is brilliant; however, Emily’s dialogue in particular stands out from the tapestry of memories and dreams. Early in the text, Emily cautions her niece (the protagonist), “You are your history. If you cut it off you’re an amputee.”
If Emily is right, then Canada is a land of amputees; the self-congratulatory exaltation of “multiculturalism” only masks a powerful and long-standing prescription for quiet homogeneity.
Emily, like Kogawa, is Canadian and demands to be recognized as such. But unlike many “Canadians”, especially “white” Canadians (from where?), she refuses to amputate her history, despite all it’s pain and horror, because that would let other Canadians – the ones who bore responsibility for (and inherit the spoils of) the Japanese internment, for example – off far too easily.
Emily even writes a manuscript attempting to “find the right mix [of words]” to “make familiar, make knowable, the treacherous yellow peril that lived in the minds of the racially prejudiced... Like Cupid, she aimed for the heart. But the heart was not there.”
Does the praise that Obasan has won suggest that Kogawa has found the words her character sought, and that, after all, there is a “heart” in this country?
I think it is several generations too soon for anyone to indulge in the luxury of imagining that we live in a vindicated Canada. But if such a vision is deemed worth pursuing, Kogawa’s book may be our best compass.
I had considered flogging the metaphor some more (mentioning that one needs more than a compass to find one's way), but i was already well over the 150-word limit. They seemed to like it anyway, which is nice. Thanks dad, for attending the symposium on my behalf (and getting my prizes signed by the authors)!
On the heels of last week's serendipitous theme of good people, this week seems to have brought visions of bad things happening to them... The first time i heard of Mike Frastacky was this evening, when i read that he'd been killed. Made me think of Rachel Corrie; not because of the circumstances of their deaths, but because of the choices they had made.
Similarly (but of much greater importance - because we can do something to help him), the first time i ever heard of Dr. Gazi Walid Falah was this afternoon, when i learned that he'd been arrested by the Israeli police earlier this month, in a Kafkaesque manner reminiscent of the "Secret Trial Five" in Canada. This news naturally brought the Cuban Five to mind, but it also made me think again of the Portnoy Family (in Newfoundland) for whom i wrote this letter of support two months ago:
Dear Honourable Minister of Citizenship and Immigration, Monte Solberg.
In October of last year over one thousand people gathered at the Sacred Heart Parish in the small Newfoundland community of Marystown for a special prayer service in support of the Portnoy family - who have taken sanctuary in the church since early that month. The Portnoys, originally from Moldova, sought sanctuary in the church to avoid deportation to Israel.
As if the threat of deportation weren't sufficiently troubling, Angela Portnoy is pregnant and has been repeatedly denied safe passage to a hospital for medical attention. Thus, the immigration bureaucracy's apparent determination to destroy this family's well-being extends not only to the parents and their four living children (two of whom were born in Canada), but also to their children yet unborn.
I join the thousands of Canadians who have demanded a stay on the deportation order that continues to menace the Portnoys; I join them in demanding that Alexi Portnoy (who has already been deported) be allowed to return to Canada immediately, and that the entire family's immigration application be fast-tracked in recognition of the completely unwarranted suffering they have already endured due to the immigration bureaucracy's unconscionable blindness and callousness.
It is in your power, Honourable Minister, to exercise Ministerial Discretion to overrule this deportation order. I hereby add my voice to the chorus of Canadians urging you to do so.
I further join the many Canadians who are calling for an immediate moratorium on all activities of the Canadian Border Services Agency in light of the number of conspicuously incredible deportations performed by that agency in recent years. This agency should, in the interest of Canada's professed commitment to human rights (enshrined in our Charter as well as the UN Declaration), be publicly investigated for human rights abuses.
The Portnoy family, who have lived in Canada since 1996, are only one of many families who have been denied a life in Canada - after having already built one. Such abuse of power by unelected bureaucrats must be halted immediately.
I await a substantive response to these concerns.
Sincerely,
ryan andrew murphy
Tuesday, May 2nd, 2006
...Monte has yet to get back to me.
All in all, the heat and the heaviness of this week have fostered a (slightly crispy) black humour in my waking mind, and a straightforward Inferno in my sleeping mind (and the two have been overlapping more than usual lately). If it hadn't been for a couple of therapeutic visits to The Irish Heather, and a couple of well-timed mood-boosting news stories (like this one - which my mom passed on to me), i hate to think what might have become of me... I might've become just a little bit bitter or something.
peace out,
ry
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
I see good people . . .
This might sound crazy, but i'm actually feeling quite optimistic at the moment.
Sure Israel is on an insane killing spree, but i've been really encouraged by the ubiquitous outrage that the slaughter and destruction has elicited. The best part is: people are being moved beyond disgust - to resistance. Naturally, everyone i've talked to is especially furious about Harper's pathetic response: essentially applauding Israel's "twenty heads for an eye" approach to "defense".
The most crucial thing that needs to be understood, as i see it, is that the Israeli assault on Lebanon is terrorism pure and simple: terrorizing and holding an entire nation hostage (including - "the real story" according to the Canadian media - anyone who presently happens to be within the Lebanese borders), in response to a particular group's actions.
If you wanna add your voice to the chorus, one of the most under-appreciated activists in Vancouver has posted some helpful info on her blog. And the indomitable Libby Davies has of course posted an examplary statement on her site.
Besides that, there seem to be a lot of cool things coming up in the next little while, like "Selling Security" tomorrow, or the booklaunch for "Sociology for Changing the World" next week... or the Bedouin Soundclash show at the Malkin Bowl (ie: where we can sit outside and listen for free in the park).
I guess i'm probably also in a good mood because i'm one of the winners of the Tyee's "Canadian Novels" contest - they're going to publish my short statement on Obasan by Joy Kogawa.
In other good news, Guujaaw (aka: my buddy Gwaai's dad), is being honoured with the Buffett award for Indigenous Leadership today.
So maybe i'm just nuts, but somehow i can't shake the feeling that things are gonna be ok... eventually.
Sure Israel is on an insane killing spree, but i've been really encouraged by the ubiquitous outrage that the slaughter and destruction has elicited. The best part is: people are being moved beyond disgust - to resistance. Naturally, everyone i've talked to is especially furious about Harper's pathetic response: essentially applauding Israel's "twenty heads for an eye" approach to "defense".
The most crucial thing that needs to be understood, as i see it, is that the Israeli assault on Lebanon is terrorism pure and simple: terrorizing and holding an entire nation hostage (including - "the real story" according to the Canadian media - anyone who presently happens to be within the Lebanese borders), in response to a particular group's actions.
If you wanna add your voice to the chorus, one of the most under-appreciated activists in Vancouver has posted some helpful info on her blog. And the indomitable Libby Davies has of course posted an examplary statement on her site.
Besides that, there seem to be a lot of cool things coming up in the next little while, like "Selling Security" tomorrow, or the booklaunch for "Sociology for Changing the World" next week... or the Bedouin Soundclash show at the Malkin Bowl (ie: where we can sit outside and listen for free in the park).
I guess i'm probably also in a good mood because i'm one of the winners of the Tyee's "Canadian Novels" contest - they're going to publish my short statement on Obasan by Joy Kogawa.
In other good news, Guujaaw (aka: my buddy Gwaai's dad), is being honoured with the Buffett award for Indigenous Leadership today.
So maybe i'm just nuts, but somehow i can't shake the feeling that things are gonna be ok... eventually.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Head-in-the-Sand Holiday
Sara & ryan's long weekend film binge:
On Saturday we saw The Devil Wears Prada at the Fifth Avenue Cinemas. Place your bets now on whether or not Meryl Streep wins her third academy award for this movie. I've got $50 says she does.
Then we went to the Pacific Cinematheque to watch The Battle of Algiers (it was encouraging to see how many people agreed that watching a film about an anti-colonial revolution was a good way to spend Canada Day; of course we all should have been here).
The next day we picked up Sara's (first ever!) new bike and went out to Riverport in Richmond and saw Superman Returns (in Imax 3D, of course). I laughed, i cried, and i left the theatre beaming with absurd euphoria.
After the movie, as we were riding our bikes toward Steveston, thinking of visiting Finn Slough or maybe stopping in at the tea room of the London Heritage Farm, some exemplary human specimen threw an egg from a moving vehicle... After indicating my disapproval of such behaviour, i threw my yolk-soaked shirt on the road. Sara rinsed it with water from her bottle, bless her perversely inperturbable heart. We carried on riding into the late afternoon sun until i heard a fishy noise and noticed a rusty nail in my tire.
Whoosh! The following evening we rode to the Hollywood and saw The Notorious Bettie Page. We stayed for the double-feature and caught On a Clear Day, which i loved. It almost made me regret spending the weekend watching movies instead of swimming... Maybe i'll go swimming tomorrow.
I guarantee you that swimming will be more fun than Nacho Libre, which sets a new low for fart-joke films. It manages to be mostly boring despite all the action and absurdity; i recommend postponing the three funny moments in this movie until it airs on tv. I should have been even more disappointed, considering how much i actually like some of (writer) Mike White's other work.
The highlight of the weekend turned out not to be a movie after all; this afternoon i spent an hour wandering through the Haida exhibit at the VAG, with Jerry Zaslove. So i'm feeling pretty luxuriously overstimulated now.
Oh and: Happy Birthday Caelie! Sorry we missed the sing-along.
On Saturday we saw The Devil Wears Prada at the Fifth Avenue Cinemas. Place your bets now on whether or not Meryl Streep wins her third academy award for this movie. I've got $50 says she does.
Then we went to the Pacific Cinematheque to watch The Battle of Algiers (it was encouraging to see how many people agreed that watching a film about an anti-colonial revolution was a good way to spend Canada Day; of course we all should have been here).
The next day we picked up Sara's (first ever!) new bike and went out to Riverport in Richmond and saw Superman Returns (in Imax 3D, of course). I laughed, i cried, and i left the theatre beaming with absurd euphoria.
After the movie, as we were riding our bikes toward Steveston, thinking of visiting Finn Slough or maybe stopping in at the tea room of the London Heritage Farm, some exemplary human specimen threw an egg from a moving vehicle... After indicating my disapproval of such behaviour, i threw my yolk-soaked shirt on the road. Sara rinsed it with water from her bottle, bless her perversely inperturbable heart. We carried on riding into the late afternoon sun until i heard a fishy noise and noticed a rusty nail in my tire.
Whoosh! The following evening we rode to the Hollywood and saw The Notorious Bettie Page. We stayed for the double-feature and caught On a Clear Day, which i loved. It almost made me regret spending the weekend watching movies instead of swimming... Maybe i'll go swimming tomorrow.
I guarantee you that swimming will be more fun than Nacho Libre, which sets a new low for fart-joke films. It manages to be mostly boring despite all the action and absurdity; i recommend postponing the three funny moments in this movie until it airs on tv. I should have been even more disappointed, considering how much i actually like some of (writer) Mike White's other work.
The highlight of the weekend turned out not to be a movie after all; this afternoon i spent an hour wandering through the Haida exhibit at the VAG, with Jerry Zaslove. So i'm feeling pretty luxuriously overstimulated now.
Oh and: Happy Birthday Caelie! Sorry we missed the sing-along.
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