jeblog

phoku.34

One of the most beautiful images in buddhism is that of the bodhisattva stepping off the meditation cushion, symbolizing his or her engagement with the world. You'll see it often in buddhist statuary, particularly statues of Kwan Yin. The cushion (meditation) is necessary; stepping away from the cushion (action) is also necessary.

Such thoughts prompted me to scribble the haiku above, and then grab my camera, to take a picture and make a phoku. It's meant to be a picture of me stepping away from my meditation cushion. Maybe the picture does'nt work so well. Don't be surprised if sometime in the future the picture changes and this sentence is removed...

my string theory

Our dog Kwan Yin has been eating a lot of string lately. She took out the fringe on a couple of rugs last week. And last night I found a big, hard tube of regurgitated, congealed string-mass in my office. I will not be providing a picture of that, because it was truly revolting.

I will provide a picture of this destroyed chew toy, however. I believe it is part of the problem.

We bought it at the local supermarket. It looked like a sturdy rope, not like a collection of little strings. Well she made fast work of it, to the extent that you see here.

Shortly thereafter she started eating rugs and barfing up string balls.

Which brings me to my string theory.

My theory: the rope/string chew toy got our dog addicted to string.

We gave it to her, she ripped it up, and now that she'd had a taste, she was totally hooked. So she went after the rugs, and anything else string-like.

Maybe this is more like a conspiracy theory: the string/rope toy industry is turning our dogs into junkies.

So I'm putting up the picture and telling the story. You be the judge. In the meantime, if I were a dog owner, I'd stay away from rope/string chew toys like this one.

proud to be a wild, queer, faerie drummer!

This past weekend I marched in my first gay pride parade, here in Washington, DC.

Well, I didn't actually march--I was driven. I was one of the drummers in the Radical Faerie float/car. There were five of us in the car, four of us with decent drum experience. So, we listened to each other and put down a grooving beat. Folks along the street just couldn't keep themselves from dancing when we came by. It was especially gratifying to see some many cute men smiling at me, grateful for my drumming, even admiring me a little, as if a drummer was a higher sort of being. He or she isn't, but can be the instrument for channeling for some higher energy. I think we did that during the parade.

Here's a picture I took during the parade. That's Keith on congas, Tigre on djembe, Henry on djun, and I must have been on the extra djembe at that moment (I also played djun during the parade).

walking dog nation

I am now a member of walking dog nation. I am of that segment of the urban populace that walks dogs regularly. Usually, for the 9-to-5ers of my Petworth (DC) neighborhood, that means early in the morning and at night, after work (maybe once more before bed).

My boyfriend Wallace and I spoil our little Kwan Yin (our dog's name). We take her at least four times a day. That's because, since I work at home, I can take her mid-day. And I'm usually up late, so I take the dog out before bed (leaving Wallace early morning duty).

I think I've learned more about my neighborhood in the past month (since Wallace and Kwan Yin arrived here) than in the past six years. You can't help but get to know people when your being dragged down the street by a cute, inquisitive dog, seeking another face to lick.

I've been such a recluse the past three years in the neighborhood, my neighbors probably think I just moved in, with my boyfriend. For they surely know we're a couple. Sometimes the tall white guy walks the dog, sometimes the tall black man: you do the math.

So I've gotten to know my neighborhood better, by walking around it, meeting folks on their stoops, on the sidewalk.

I've also gotten to know the little green spots in the neighborhood that I've never noticed before. One day I was walking the dog along New Hampshire Avenue, at the end of my street, and found myself in a pretty little park, with some ancient, gnarly trees (they look like olives). In my six years in the neighborhood I had never spent a moment in that park.

I've also become well acquainted with a triangular spot in front on the Dorothy Day Catholic Worker house, in the center an old, venerable locust tree, which looks like it's been hit by lightning a few times. Sometimes I let the dog off the leash here, and she goes pee, and then chases pidgeons and squirrels. But lately I've been keeping her on the leash there because there's a busy street bordering it.

I cross the street to reach a long green strip along the fence of the Armed Forces Retirement Home. On the other side is a large garden and golf course--lots of green space, nice to look at, but only that, since it's fenced off. Here I almost always let Kwan Yin off her leash and she bounds up the strip. I call the strip "the shit strip" because it seems to be the preferred pooping place for the neighborhood dogs. I always pick up with a little plastic bag I bring with me, but a lot of other folks obviously don't. Sometimes, after the dog does her thing, she gets playful, and I toss sticks or a tennis ball, or let her bound after the squirrels she can't reach on the other side of the fence.

I've learned a lot about the peeing and pooping habits of canines (and human owner habits concerning said doggy habits). It's always a topic of conversation between my boyfriend and I. If he's going out that morning, I make sure to ask him about Kwan Yin's poop status. I forgot to do it once last week and found a large dump on the living room floor later that afternoon.

I'm also getting to know members of walking dog nation itself, though the rule seems to be avoid other dogs, and dog owners. Occasionally a meeting is unavoidable, like last night in front of the Korean convenience store across from my house. There Kwan Yin and I met a man and his pit bull. I dragged Kwan Yin dancing and yipping away, straining at the leash, while I furiously drew it in. The man kept a hold of his dog too and, when it was safe, we shared a brief smile of commiseration, those exchanged amongst members of walking dog nation.

I'm really enjoying the breaks for dog walking; it's as much for me as for the dog. It allows for moments of contemplation, of grounding, in my day. And I enjoy the (Romantic) image of me romping under the trees with my dog, far away (in my thoughts anyway) from the madness of the city. But I wonder: did Wordsworth pick up his doggy's poop? If he didn't would he say his Muse took priority?

Wouldn't it be nice if my dog walking, besides relaxing me, might yield an academic paper or two? But then that would probably ruin it. I would lose my daily walking dog escape. I think I'll leave the Romantics on the shelf for this one.

best of all possible paperbacks

I really am a bibliophile. I'm also a digiphile--or maybe mediaphile is more accurate. But I've always loved books and always will.

And when I come across a really interesting book, I'm going to report it here. This version of Voltaire's Candide, for instance (Penguin Classics [Deluxe Edition], 2005), which a house-guest left in a guest bedroom.

[click on the image to see the big version]

The first remarkable thing about this book is that it's a deluxe edition of a paperback book. I didn't know that paperback books ever got the deluxe treatment. It looks like there's gold filigree work on the cover (see big image). It's a really beautiful cover.

But much more remarkable than gold filigree is the artwork on the front cover, back cover, and inside flaps, by cartoonist Chris Ware, who's known for his series of comics called the Acme Novelty Library, and a graphic novel, Jimmy Corrigan, the Smartest Kid on Earth. This seems more pared down than his usual style, nothing but circles and lines, stick-and-circle figures that a child might draw with a protractor. Depicted are scenes of cruelty, violence, all the more horrifying in being portrayed with child-like simplicity.

But the book cover is also funny, with a Voltaire-for-the-21st-century sense of wit, capturing Voltaire's mordant, deadpan voice very well. I think this is brilliant, multimedia book art and Chris Ware deserves a bigger credit than the tiny strip on the back flap with his name in a font so tiny I had to get some reading glasses to read it.

The cartoon strip explains the basic plots of the novel, but also tweaks it, makes fun of it using the cartoon book form.

For instance, there's the comic strip that has Leibnitz explaining his philosophy--until it turns into a joke about being plagiarized by Newton.

Under that is another strip about the Lisbon earthquake, which brutally depicts the descent of the city into amoral chaos, with a Voltaire figure getting shot and robbed.

Under that is "DR. PANGLOSS ACTIVITY CORNER," where you can play a game to figure out how "in the best of possible worlds" Dr. Pangloss got venereal disease.

[click on the image to see the big version]

I think this is more than just a quirky book-cover deconstruction of Voltaire. It's very much in Voltaire's skeptical and playful spirit.

Of course the book is more than just the cover. There's a a great novel with a full-blown critical apparatus here, with all the trimmings: scholarly introduction with notes, bibliography, translator's note, note on the text, note on names, two-page map, three appendices, extensive notes on the text itself. Comic book on the cover, but serious scholarly edition on the inside. Works for me.

I really love this book, as a book. So many things to admire and enjoy. And I don't think books like this are going to disappear. If anything, to compete with the digital, books might become even more beautiful, and more engaged with pop culture, than this one.