Podding on the Train

No matter how old I get (5 more days to B-Day), I confess to you, I always get a little nervous when the rowdy teenagers step into the train car where I’ve been peacefully sleeping, reading, music-listening or staring out the window. You know the types – 14 to 16 years old, traveling in packs of 4, unable to speak quietly, baseball caps, big winter jackets, constantly throwing shit or about to throw shit, banging on things, and – I swear – they even smell funny. They smell like teenagers who don’t give a shit about the rules, and are just out for a laugh. And no matter what train you’re on, at what time, they show up when things are most peaceful.

I’m sure it’s very old man-ish of me, but I’ve been this way most of my life. I can remember, even as teenager myself, walking around small towns in Portugal and turning down dark alleys the moment I saw groups of teenagers walking my way. Come to think of it, maybe I’m what the french call “a wuss”.

Whatever the reason, there I was on the train tonight, hoping I was invisible and not a potential make-fun-of-him target. What with my word-filled papers, notebook, collared shirt, and pen. I tried to slouch a bit and be deep in thought, so as not to be noticed. I was also careful to not ignore them, in case the mere act of being oblivious would be an attention getter.

Fortunately for me and my neurosis, as BitchPHD has always told me – it’s not always about me. They chose instead to annoy the man seated behind them by excessively banging on their table while rolling up and down their window (yes.. its one of the old cars). Thankfully for him they got out at Antwerp, and I’ve never been so happy to see boring senior-citizen dutch couples, with their copies of the Davinci code, and bags of shopping, taking the seats around me. Oh hooray for the sound of snoring old passengers. Minutes later, I even joined in. So much for overcoming my irrational fear of groups of teenagers.

My only podcast recommendation for this week: Whole Wheat Radio; broadcasting from Talkeetna, Alaska. WW is super cool if you dig guitars and folk. Oddly enough, computer generated voices announce the songs and their online chat-community thing blows my mind. A robotic voice also announces on the air when their listeners’ blogs are updated. I’m not on their list…. yet.

Today’s Sounds: Ricky Lee Jones – Evening of my day

Belgian holidays

First things first – this here bloggy crossed the 10,000 visitor mark. And for that.. I thank you all.. especially you 10 or so who visit multiple times in a day to check on today’s conversations. I really enjoy those conversations… so again.. thank you everyone!

It’s been quite some time since I wrote a post after midnight, in the beginning of autumn I became a morning blogger, and I really don’t know how much it has changed my writing… but I do believe we are different people, in the morning vs. at night… right? I think up great schemes when I’m in the shower, most of my blog posts are developed while applying shampoo. (Kiss my Face imported from Trader Joes!)

Enough of the small talk. This morning.. bright and early at the break-a-break-a dawn, I’m hopping on the international train with the big B on its engine. Destination: Brussels. Objective: A down-home St. Nicholas weekend with my Portuguese-Belgian cousins and godson. I’ve been racking my brains all week trying to figure out what to buy the kids, ages 10 and 5. I stress about this because I’m determined to buy gifts with purpose, but I also try to listen to BitchPhD and her xmas strategy.

I’m the guy who spends hours in that tiny section they call “education toys.” What a nightmare, here in Amsterdam. The only thing I learned from seeing the educational toy section is that there isn’t much education to go around. Worse was when I ventured over to the “educational multimedia” section, where every title seemed to say DISNEY on it. I don’t necessarily have a problem with Disney, but don’t tell me that’s your educational software section!

The thing that haunts me is the roles we assign children early on. You hear the conversations all the time:

Cousin: What's little bm into

BM's Mom: Oh you know, he loves drawing

-Cut to BM receiving enough art supplies 

to arm the entire American military. 

 And suddenly he's the artistic one in the family.

So I’m guilty of this as well… one cousin likes electricty and science, the other seems to like art and creative-do-it-yourself stuff. So sure enough, I get them stuff related. Poor kids… imagine the day where they wake up and just say… “you know what… from now on.. I like backgammon. Skrew this science stuff.”

You have no idea how often I looked at guitars today and thought “I’ll be him one.. and then get him lessons… and a gig.. and a band.. and a record deal.. ooooh man it’s gonna be a great life.”

What’s my point? I dunno.. poor kids… they have to deal with morons like me who start assigning them their careers based on a little interest.

Today’s Sounds: Joseph Arthur – (Something Indy.. I don’t remember.)

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

Chinese Bloggy Style

Today I spend some time helping a good citizen and a new friend, setup his baby blog.. not even one month old. He wants it primarily to write while he is off living in China. Obviously this is one of those cases where blogs are ideal, you want to let your loved ones know what’s up, you want to write your thoughts and observations of a far away place, and you’re up for sharing it with strangers who might bring their own experiences to the table. So I’ve got my champagne bottle in hand, ready to break it over the monitor, and two months before his journey begins, I baptize thee Marc&China blog. May she sail fast and far, weather the comment storms, and not be censored by the internet police.

Being a blogger of the people, it is part of my programming to spread the word, and help all beings get their own blog and go forth happily on their life’s journey. I also like to meet the chicks. I mean.. the wondrous ladies of the blogosphere.. even if they are really middle-aged men pretending.

That being said, there are no bloggers – female or male – who I worship, contrary to what it may seem. I admire everyone for different reasons. For instance, this week I’m laughing my ass off reading the Winter of Discontent’s interview series with the employee who doesn’t stop talking at the library, or the old navy ad. Brilliant abstract journalism right there.

So when I make my own award nominations, or I read about Raymi winning an Anna award, i think it’s nice. BUT THATS IT.. NICE. I don’t subscribe to the madness about who is the best blogger ever or any of that bullshit. It’s a matter of taste, different people appeal to you for different reasons. And everyone’s opinion matters and does not matter, just the same. What I would compliment Raymi on is how she seemed to condemn the idea of her winning the award… now that is cool. Someday I’ll condemn myself for winning something… cause I like modesty.

I thought I was going to end the blog, but Marty McFly is online, live from Sweden, and he’s a wordsmith and a half. Plus he’s shown me these great complaint letters from American companies to Swedish hackers, and the hilarious responses they write.

Mart says:It is the opinion of us and our lawyers 

that you are fucking morons, and that you should please 

go sodomize yourself with retractable batons.



bicyclemark says:

thats high tech



Mart says:

i don't even know what a baton is

a fluffy lill animal???



bicyclemark says:

no no

its like what the police hit you with

bicyclemark says:

on friday nights

*And Happy Birthday to J and his Brain. Who has been with the blog since way back. And has been discussing things on the net with me since.. shit.. probably since ’00.

Today’s Sounds: Off the Hook on 2600.com

My blog broke

Man… this bad boy’s been down all day long thanks to some bigtime changes with my server people on the left coast of the continental US. Matter of fact.. let me publish this and make sure the microphone is on…. I feel like christian slater in Pump up the Volume.. all I need is a Jeep Wrangler, and I’ll do the rest with Wi-Fi… just keep driving around University buildings.

Hot dam.. we’re back on the air, and just before the clock strikes midnight and my laptop turns into a pumpkin, and I leave behind a glass bicycle-tire with which the princess will run about Amsterdam looking for the bicycle-boy missing a glass tire.

Who’s blog wasn’t working much of the day. Who’s site traffic is setting records, even on days where it isn’t working properly. Who today pumped up his hosting plan from 1 American Buck a month to 4, getting him a whole lot more space and plenty of room for all them new readers that keep popping up! Welcome you new person reading this… fear not.. this is one of them “good hearted” blogs.

Lately on the communiqu? I’ve been doings lots of sentimental goodbyes. Maybe because lots of things are changing during this moment in world history. Often times the changes I’m seeing, I can’t even tell if they’re good or bad.. but change is change right?

Amsterdam’s Number One Jazz CLub…. my next door neighbor.. held its final show last night. Normally on Tuesday nights, I’ll pop in to the jamsession with my horn and I’ll sit in with the extremely judgmental and cold Conservatory Students. They know their shit, no doubt… but man.. they sure ain’t teachin social skills at that school. Is it an admission requirement that one be extremely removed and self-centered in order to study jazz? Is smiling and a warm handshake simply not allowed?… Nothing like E and my boys at Willy P, those were/are great men, though we had some real brilliant assholes as well.

How did I get here? Or yeah.. the Bimhuis has moved.. forever… to the shiny glass state-of-the-art no-personality water front. Hooray for the arts… hooray for jazz.. hooray for the yupification of the ‘Dam. I doubt I’ll ever really play open mics there. (never say never)

Speaking of changing and assholes, seems like a whole lot of them are leaving the Bush admin eh? Let me check my shitlist:

  • Powell

  • Ashcroft

  • Rummy

  • Ridgey

  • Condi

  • Wolfi

So far so good. Remind me to show you my international shit list.. it’s great!

Happy Birthday to Blueberry Girl… who left me in Amsterdam to go handle the world’s banking in Paris. City hasn’t been the same since.

Nine days to my own date of birth

Today’s Sounds: Broken Social Scene – Feel Good Lost

Time Capsulate

Years from now, when my bike tires are a bit more run down, my beard is grey, and personal hairline security loses the battle, my nephew will ask lots of questions. So travel with me now, into the future, to the year 2020, and a conversation between teenaged A-Ren and I.

“Did you really put my photo all over your blog uncle bm? Why did you do that?”

Yes I did A-Ren, I had so many of your amazing photos that grandma sent me, and I was so far away in the Amsterdam, that I felt the need to put you all over my blog. I also figured when you got older, blogs would be this ancient idea, like NEW COKE, and you’d look back and laugh, like I do when I see my own “babybook” that grandma keeps in a closet.

“Why did you live so far away uncle bm? I mean… if you really liked me…”

A-Ren my boy, before the ocean levels rose and swallowed it up, Amsterdam was a wonderful place to live. With a quality of life that was so high… I mean.. good. The children there seemed so happy riding their bikes to school. And even the adults seemed content with their tiny lives that they could pack into a tiny apartment when they weren’t in their modest offices. I started living there before you were born, and I loved it, you see my heart needed to be there. And so I stayed, even though I missed you alot, and of course, I came to visit you in NJ all the time!

“Didn’t you miss your mommy and daddy? And my daddy?”

Oh yes, you can be sure I did. I wished very much that they could visit me all the time, the same way you would come to grandma and grandpa’s house on sundays. I missed grandpa and grandma alot and I hoped they didn’t mind too much that I wanted to live in such a far away country. I especially missed your daddy. We used to go bowling together, and we’d play those old time playstation 2 games, remember those from the museum?

At the same time, thanks to Al Gore and George W. Bush, we had the internets, so even though I was accross the ocean, we spoke everyday and shared lots of photos, especially yours. I remember asking your dad about every little detail about you, how you eat, what sounds you make, etc. So even though we were far, we were still close.

“Uncle BM, what ever happened to your blog?”

My blog? Well, after using it to secure world peace, I really wanted a vacation. But then suddenly your dad asked if I wanted to move here, to mars, with you guys. And I thought, “hmm.. a far away planet.. with my nephew A-Ren.. this is gonna be fun!” So I came here and we were so busy growing organic martian food, that I stopped blogging for a while. But now that we’ve got terrestrial internet going, I’m definitely restarting the blog. I can’t wait to read what the Midnight Mailman is delivering. Or to hear about how Bitch PHD is holding up in her old age. I really want to see who wins the 16th annual Anna’s this year!

Oh look at me going on and on about the golden age of weblogs. Pay no attention, you run along now and play with the martian prairie dogs, I’m going to see if our new neighbor Brian needs a hand with his solar panels.

Today’s Sounds: Whole Wheat Radio live from Alaska