Tag Archives: india

Writin this Speech

Do you feel my blog has been stale this week? I do. It’s always a matter of opinion of course, sometimes I write shit I hate, and the people say “hooray.” Other times I write shit I think is fun, and people say nothin. The other thing is that my podcasting has taken center stage in my mind, and blogging has become like the middle child… the jan brady.. of my internet activities. Not sure who the Cindy would be.

But let’s focus on the task at hand. This is intro week for new international students in Amsterdam, and yours truely is the keynote brotha this afternoon. I’ve scribble-typed a speech that I don’t much care for. I never follow what I write anyway, I just say whatever comes to me when I’m on stage. Same thing with my podcasts, I jot some notes, but I still basically make it up as I go along… that’s my WAY.

So what would you, gentle reader, say to them? Imagine… a bunch of Spanish-Australian-Thai-Indian-Nigerian-Canadian-Mexican-Americans, who might be studying in another country for the first time ever, what would you tell them?

I know what I’m not going to say. No bullshit about this being the “TIME OF YOUR LIFE” I hate that shit. There are so many GREAT times in one’s life, I hate when they point at the 20 something year old college students and say “enjoy it while it lasts” as if the rest of life is one big drag. If you spend your whole life daydreaming about the good-ol-days when you studied abroad, my advice to you would be to stop everything right now, and make some changes, cause you must be going about it all wrong.

The fact is, most of the shit I can tell them, they have to learn for themselves. I can’t stop everytime I see someone with a map or someone with questions, because I’m not allowing them to grow on their own if I do. It shouldn’t be my job to tell them what to enjoy and how to enjoy it, my job should just be to say hello, offer some little advice about restaurant choice or daytripping (with or without the drugs). Otherwise I should just remain the WATCHER… the scribe… who observes and appreciates, but allows young fish to swim as they wish.

Oh.. and I could definitely recommend REBEL DAD RADIO to them, not to mention remind them about ANTI visiting New York RIGHT NOW.

Today’s Sounds: In Over Your Head Podcast

The Baron of Bass

Today is Mingus Day.. recognized by only a few of the world’s cities and of course – this here communiqu?. Therefore I’m happy to welcome from the great beyond, in the second installment of “I See Dead Historical Figures”, musician, composer, activist, Pithecanthropus Erectus, Mr. Charles Mingus!

BM: Welcome to what I assume is your first ever blog appearance mr. charles, I’m really honored to have you here.

Mingus: Well thank you son… while I know nothing of your abilities as a musician.. it looked like a fun thing to do. Plus.. I’m dead, so this is excitement at its finest. Oh what the hell is a blog?

BM: Let me explain. No.. it’s too much… lemme sum up: this is a blog and I am blogging. That being said, let’s start from your death in 1979, why spread your ashes over the Ganges River in India?

Mingus: Why not. It’s beautiful. Can you imagine my ass being sprinkled over the East River? Nowadays they’d probably call it a terrorist attack and throw my wife in Guantanamo.

BM: So I take it you’ve been following current events over the past decades? Whats your take on this tsunami disaster?

Mingus: Right away I have a problem with your question… you didn’t ask me what I think about the suffering on the streets of the US, the death and destruction in the Congo, or the crippling poverty all over the world. People are dying at this very moment as victims of violence… yet somehow this isn’t considered a distaster.

BM: I suppose in the case of this Tsunami, its all the attention it gets in the media and the scale…

Mingus: Whatever it is… it should be unacceptable. I was an outspoken critic of racial segregation in my time, and it angers me the way the world acts like everything is fine now, as if the struggle is over. You wanna bet if that thing had happened in the first world, you would have been more prepared and suffer hardly casualties.

BM: I started you on politics, but I’m in fact a big fan of your music, even the tracks where you seem to just yell and mumble shit.

Mingus: Who the hell are you anyway? You don’t really know shit about my work, do you? You’re just a hack trying to look cultured. I suppose you travel Europe and speak languages too… [takes a swing at me]

BM: Hey now.. there’s that infamous temper. I once saw a video of you in your New York City apartment, what a dump. And you had a rifle and kept shooting at random spots.

Mingus: I wish I had that gun write now, I can tell you that.

BM: Well… I guess we should say goodbye… thanks alot for being here.. sir?

Mingus: [Walks off before the interview is over, new tune on his mind]

Today’s Sounds: Mingus Big Band – Que Viva

Beyond Horror

When I left New Jersey in 2001, it was immediately following Sept. 11th. I mention this because being back, I do remember it often. Usually its as I begrudgingly drive down the highway and still spot the faded bumperstickers with supid-ass slogans like “these colors don’t run” or the images of the Twin Towers with a yellow sash that reads “Never Forget” just in case you were forgetting while searching your car-cupholder for change to pay the -now 70 cent- toll. I usually shout “shut the fuck up” as I pass them, mostly just to hear my own voice. The only thing I really get MORE pissed off at are those annoying yellow ribbon stickers on people’s cars, that read “I support our troops.” I always shout “I don’t support your goddam war asshole….”… the sound stays within my car, of course, it keeps me alert and relieves road rage as I struggle to see the road, blinded by the monstrous SUV’s headlights which align perfectly with normal cars’ rearview mirrors.

But this isn’t about roadrage. I wanted to say that the tragedy which has just taken place is beyond understanding. I’ve tried to imagine the horror… to picture all those dead in my head. 2,000 plus in Thailand… where a dear friend of mine has only recently returned to her family. 15,000 in Sri Lanka, which only recently began recovering from a terrible civil war. 25,000 plus in Indonesia, where they can’t even find dry enough ground to bury the dead. 7,000 dead in India, near Madras, an area where so many wonderful people who have influenced my life, come from. The list goes on and on… tiny islands facing flooding which threatens their very existence.

Where are the bumperstickers… the shock in the streets, in every corner of the world? I’m waiting for the outpouring of good will, and even better, the traditional declaration of war against the cause of this. Natural disaster you say? Fine. But I can only imagine if the entire planet, especially wealthy nations, focused the wasteful energy and resources that go into the so-called war on terrorism, to a campaign of natural-disaster global readiness, we wouldn’t have such an unbearable and unimaginable death toll. I don’t look at this and say “wow, natural is so cruel” … I say “wow, the society I was raised in has such a twisted value of human life when it comes to Africa, Asia, and anything OUT THERE.

Thank the golden calf for bringing us blogs that care… that feel… and that share.

In keeping with the usual “everything is fine” spirit, my dumbass went out and bought an MP3 player. It was made Asia, that way I can feel better about myself.

Special guest tomorrow, in my new segment “I SEE DEAD Historical Figures”

Today’s Sounds: Jamiroquai – Return of the Space Cowboy

Real Terror

I was going to tell you about the beautiful mornings Amsterdam has been greeting me with, of late. But I can’t.. because these words echo in my head:

" I woke up on that morning with my dead son in my arms... 

and I couldn't even look at him as my eyes were so swollen, 

I had to force them open with my fingers."

–

It’s been 20 years. Dec. 2nd, 1984… they call it “the worst industrial accident in the world’s history.” I call it – a crime against humanity. And 20 years later, neither Union Carbide or its owner Dow Chemical, have stepped forward to take responsibility for the fact that 27 tons of some of the deadliest chemicals imaginable leaked out and poisoned 100,000 people. 3,000 died in one night. And the survivors not only had to bear the pain and trauma, they were also left with horrendous cancers and mutations that continue to blow my mind.

So I ask myself, was I ever taught about Union Carbide in school? In those pathetic high school courses they called Western Civilization or US History 1 and 2? Nothing. Somehow the fact that Dow and Carbide are American companies doesn’t count. Somehow the fact that the tens of thousands who died weren’t American, or European, makes it unimportant. The fucking world stops every 9/11, but you don’t hear shit on 12/2, unless you check out public or alternative news sources.

Of course, the CEO and other officials of Union Carbide have been called to face charges of manslaughter, negligence, and you name it, in the highest Indian Court. But they refuse to come to court, or set foot in the country where their factory was the source of so much death. They have been declared fugitives by the Indian government, but the US State Department has refused to hand them over.

If I’m the Indian government, I know when a crime has been committed against my country. Some call it terrorism. And according to recent history, they should send their army into the US and drag these untouchables back to India, into court, to face the charges for one of the worst crimes in the history of the world. – Come to think of it, according to the Bush doctrine, they can bomb the shit out of the US and “smoke out” the bastards.

OH… and of course DOW has made their statements, in that ooooh so corporate-robotic way. They threw some money at the problem and well, it’s a wonder they can sleep at night.

Today’s Sounds: Dead Prez – Lets get free

Tour Chicks

It’s a rainy saturday afternoon and I’ve done all the apartment cleaning one can possibly do within a 5 hour stretch; a good time for a trip down memory lane:

It was the summer of 99′, Bill Clinton’s library was but a faint idea, GWBush was on the 12-step program, Lionel Jospin was still popular in France, and one of the fastest rising NJ Ska bands of the third wave set off on the longest tour of their 3-year history. I remember it well:

I was entering the third year on my undergrad career, and One Cool Guy’s first EP was selling like hotcakes in the NY/NJ area. They never really told me the specifics about how much money was made or what was sold, all I know is that thousands of CD’s and a countless amounts of shirts had been sold. I myself couldn’t even get my hands on each of the different screenprints.

We set out from Jersey with one goal: to have a hell of alot of fun. OH yeah, and play music, promote the album, and reach new fans bla bla bla. And so we did, with the usual trials and tribulations: Being unable to find Athens, Georgia. Having a Gainesville, FL show moved to a Radical Bookstore, playing some sort of abandoned barn in whatevertown, Indiana. I can remember all 10 of us staying with some teenage fans house in south Florida. The mother made us brownies I think. I distinctly remember thinking “OK, nobody break any laws tonight.” Having found a corner to put my air-mattress, I was easing off to sleep, when a little girl stood over me smiling like I’m her new pet goldfish. “Goodnight” I said, pulling the blanket over my head. “Goodnight” she responded, I’m not sure how long she stood there watching me sleep. I awoke to find some other teenage girl with a backpack on, who greeted me with a cheery “goodmorning” as she went off to – i guess- summerschool.

But there were moments that still to this day leave me with a huge smile and sense of satisfaction: Arriving in Palm Beach (or something like that) and sitting on the dock of a canal with the horns, jamming like we own the state while the neighbors seemed to stop everything to listen. Or stopping along the highway to watch the Sunrise in Tennessee with Dan Skatalite, while the other guys slept in the back of Red Leader and Gold Dust, our legendary vans. I’ll never forget playing at a Laundromat in Cincinnati where my darling, Willie Nelson’s daughter, came to see us. And the best memory of all, returning home to NJ to a sold out crowd of enthusiastic fans at the Palace in BoundBrook.

Almost five years later, here I sit, trying to retrieve the memories from that cobwebby part of my mind. Scanning old photos. Making plans to see the boys when I’m in Jersey next month. Hell, I even got fanmail this week, ain’t that some shit?

I swear I meant to tell this story better, with more illustration, but in the end it’s one of those things that, well, you had to be there. And even then, you wouldn’t have believed it.

Today’s Sounds: Zero 7 – When it Falls

Pigs in Space

Captain’s blog – stardate 071104.1909

Museum-night! Does your city do this? What? You don’t live in a city? THE HORROR.

So seriously, not everyone has to live in a city, I know. But if you do, you probably have some sort of annual event where they are all open til 2 or 3 in the morn and they turn themselves into all sorts of nocturnal hip-spots. The idea is, of course, to promote museums to audiences who may not always check them out (young people like my non-museum going self?). Having lived in quite a few cities mostly in Europe, I have to say Amsterdam puts the Muse in Museumnacht. Bright lights, trams dating back to 1915, old ass buses with postboxes attached to their bumpers, and a whole lot of people running from museum to museum like it’s an easter-egg hunt.

So the mysterious Anne from Underabell decided to combine our first ever in-person meeting with this special evening’s events, and she arrived in Amsterdam just in time for some of my famed green-bean soup and hummus on olivebread. Needless to say she was high on good eatin before we even started museuming. In total we hit up about 6 museums (Artis, Tropenmuseum, Oudekerk and the Waag, among them) and took one old fashioned tram ride. In this one night we managed to see prostitutes, canal fish, a Javanese mating dance, artifacts from the Aztec civilization, a Tango competition, computer nerds at play, and one of the coolest Astronauts ever – LIVE.

My favorite part had to have been the hour we spent in the planetarium listening to Andr? Kuipers, as he showed up images of his mission aboard the International Space Station. The training involved is so intense, the ISS looks amazing, and cosmonaut culture in Russia and Kazakstan fascinates me to no end. The snow, the images of Yuri Gargarin, the Russian computers, and the orthodox priest who soaks you in Holy Water when its launch day.

But there’s a larger issue I want to discuss with you friends and readers. Why oh why does space research and travel fail to interest the masses? What happened to the romanticism of exploring the new frontier? What needs to be done to get the public and the powers-that-be to get interested in space for reasons besides making “friggin laser beams.”

After Andr? Kuipers, who just returned from the ISS, who crashlanded softly back in a Kazak desert and back in Amsterdam, who played with M&M’s in zero gravity while orbiting the earth, after he finished his presentation, he opened the floor to questions. A crowd of maybe 80 to 100 presumably Dutch people, considered highly educated folk, a majority of this crowd walked right our the door like the room was filled with the plague. A few people, myself and Anne included, stayed and listened more. We wanted to shake his hand. I wanted to give him a hug and say thanks on behalf of humankind.

But all is not lost. Andr? didn’t seem worried. He spoke about the a mission to land a vehicle on a comet, the inevitable human-landing on mars, and YES – Europe (ESA) beginning its own shuttle program from its beautiful base in French Guyana. From there they will launch Soyuz and Arianne rockets and move forward together with the rest of the world, regardless of NASA and its obsession with weapons of mass destruction in space. And let me not forget the Indian, Chinese, Japanese and Brazilian space programs, that are advancing quickly and are interested in understanding the universe as well.

Still I come back to that nagging feeling, all those people walking out, the disinterest and underfunding of space programs versus insane money spent on stupidity. What needs to be done? Oh.. and DAM — Its hard to become an Astronaut with the ESA.

Today’s Sounds: Dave Mathews – Some Devil