There will be a gathering Monday at Chez Prune at 9:00PM
Il y va avoir un rendez-vous à lundi à Chez Prune de 21h
Adresse : 36 rue Beaurepaire – 75010 Paris,
Métro / accès : République, Jacques Bonsergent,
Horaires d’ouverture : Du lundi au samedi de 8 H à 2 H
Parce-que lundi est mon anniversaire. 30 ans.
Tags: Celesteh
Other Minds, although not having a festival this year, is producing a bunch of smaller individual concerts. This is the next one on March 6 at 7:30 PM at Kanbar Hall, Jewish Community Center, 3200 California Street, San Francisco. Sure wish I could go.
If the name Daniel Bernard Roumain is ringing a bell, but your memory is fuzzy, he’s a New York violinist/composer. The New York Times and NPR and other places have profiled him. Infuriatingly, the coverage tends to be, “oh my god, a black violinist! with dreds!” Quoting NPR, now, “Daniel Bernard Roumain doesn’t fit the image of a classical musician. The Haitian-American violinist and composer sports a silver nose ring and dreadlocks that reach to his waist.” Roumain, however, embraces this, “Roumain has coined a name for his style: ‘dred violin.'” After hearing a bit of Anthony Braxton’s difficulties being taken seriously as a black man who composes opera, it’s very clear why Roumain allows and encourages this kind of coverage. Being black and a classical musician is more than the liberal media can usually manage to wrap its’ tiny brains around.
The NPR article is a lot better than the NYT one I saw several months ago. Maybe the novelty of a black classical violinist is wearing off enough that Roumain is being taken seriously for his art, rather than his improbability. His art, by all accounts, certainly merits interest. It’s exciting that Other Minds was able to book him for this event. Lots of tickets are still available, get them while they’re hot.
Tags: Other Minds, San Francisco, Celesteh
Guantanamo Bay has been in the news again recently. Some of you may recall that a large percentage of inmates were participating in a hunger strike. That number has dropped to four. Why? The New York times reports it’s because US Soldiers have been strapping inmates into chairs, shoving feeding tubes down prisoner’s noses so forcefully that they faint and then pumping the prisoners so full of food that it causes them pain and to soil themselves and then harshly yanking the tube back out of the noses, so hard it comes up bloody.
Fellow, Americans, these are our tax dollars at work. This is our government. This is our country. The Pentagon’s own estimates say that only 45% of prisoners at Gitmo were involved in opposing the US. We have become the sort of regime in which people just disappear and then are tortured outside of judicial oversight. This violates every law and principle that the US is supposed to stand for or at least follow.
We must call attention to this situation.
Your city may have a group that protests once a week or once a month. Join them and carry a sign. Protesting is not grim or doomed. It’s actually a kind of fun way to meet some people and those in power do headcounts and notice if numbers of protesters are growing or shrinking.
I wrote my two senators and one representative:
Dear Honorable Barbara Lee,
I am writing to ask that you take action to close the Guantanamo Bay prison. Yesterday, I read in the New York Times about cruel methods used to force feed prisoners held in there. These people are being held without trial and many of them are innocent of any crime. The system of extra-judicial prisons and secret gulags being run in the war on terror is contrary to the values that America is supposed to stand for. The risk to our nation now is surely not greater than during the cold war or the world wars and we were able to obey international law and maintain our decency during those times. I am proud to be an American but I am ashamed that my government engages in torture. This must be stopped for the sake of our reputation abroad and for the sake of our humanity. If we cannot wage the “war on terror” in a moral way, then we cannot call ourselves defenders of freedom nor can we call it a “war on terror” as we perpetuate terror on innocent people being held without trial in our prisons.
Thank you for your time,
C. Hutchins
Write your rep: http://www.house.gov/writerep/
Write your senators: http://www.senate.gov/general/contact_information/senators_cfm.cfm
And, of course, Letters to the Editor of your local newspaper are also noted.
For more information on Gitmo, see this recent Gaurdian article and Amnesty International, who also has a What can you do? page.
Spread the word.
Tags: Gitmo, Guantanamo Bay, Celesteh
A few days ago, I blogged about wanting a machine which would create statuettes of me on demand. Such machines exist! They are called Moldaramas. Alas, they are vintage and while it’s possible to purchase them, the listed price is about $10k. Not including custom molds. So without factoring the costs of molds, materials, electricity, etc, I would have to sell 2k statuettes at $5 each, before I would break even. While I would say that $10 or even $20 was a fair price for a made-on-demand piece of art, I’m not sure the public at large would agree.
What I need a is a 3d printer in a large glass case. Apparently, it’s possible to build a 3d printer out of legos. I think that such a machine would require a lot of maintenance. A real 3d printer is probably even more expensive than a plastic molding machine. So, so far, legos are looking like the best bet. Or, perhaps, I just want to do a run of a lot of statues and put them in a more normal vending machine. The “risk” is that at the end of vending machine deployment, I have a lot of extra statues of myself. Fortunately, this isn’t much of a risk. Because, who could resist a statue of me? Not me.
Tags: Art, Celesteh
Every day that I’m in America, I thank god for divinely inspiring congress to avoid the godless Communism of socialized medecine. Imagine if you will the horrors of the french system:
Waiting: Nicole had to wait nearly 36 hours for her appointment with a specialist and after that nearly 16 hours for surgery.
Costs to the taxpayer: As far as I can tell, a French person would have paid 18€ for the whole thing. X-rays, prescriptions and surgery. As a non subscriber to the Social System thingee here, Nicole paid about 100€, maybe a bit more. Of course, we all know that treating a problem that’s minor is much less cost effective than waiting for it to become an emergency and require more extreme treatments.
Bureaucracy: It took nearly 10 minutes to have all of her data entered into a computer, but to be fair, about a third of that was because of language problems.
Invasive government databases: Every time Nicole saw a doctor, they gave her all of her X-rays, forms, etc to take with her when she left. That way, she had control of her file at all times. Fortunately, they told her what to bring to every subsequent appointment.
Smokers get the same medical treatment as everybody else: It’s true. I don’t why this is bad, but Bill O’Reilly keeps brining it up, so it must be terrible.
My major complaint is that I don’t want to go to school at IRCAM and I should probably get the advanced degree to make myself more employable. At least Berkeley has dental. I’m sure it’s just as good as being in France on a tourist visa. Almost. Maybe. Probably not.
Tags: Paris, Celesteh
When I last posted about Cola’s teeth, her normal dentist was stumped. An extra revealed a dark spot below the hurting tooth. He gave her antibiotics which did not stop her face from swelling up and so he reffered her to an (anglophone) specialist.
So I went with Cola to see the specialist because there are anglophones and then there are anglophones. He looked at her xrays for a while and then took a few new ones. Then he started poking her. Does this hurt? He pressed on her swollen gum. Does this hurt? He got out a pointy, stabby thing and started batting it against her cheeks. Does this hurt? Then he got out a ver small hammer and started hitting her teeth with it. Does this hurt?
Indeed, except for the first part, it didn’t hurt. There was numbness. He diagnosed a legion in her jaw. It must be removed or biopsied or something. “I want to emphasize that your life is not in danger.” Finally it was determined that the english word for her condition is “cyst.” There was a cyst growing next to the nerve below her crowned tooth. First, it caused pain, but then it caused numbness and swelling.
The schools have yet another holiday, however, which started friday. The doctor was going on vacation the next day. So he instructed Nicole to come to the hospital the next morning for surgery.
So the next morning, we went to the hospital, where a team of dentists discussed Nicole’s condition and then one of them, not her original specialist, finally operated on her jaw. I waited for her in part of the dental wing of the hospital. I’ve since heard it explained that they do even minor operations in hospitals just in case anything goes wrong there’s a lot of doctors and equipment near by.
In the room in which I read months old celebrity gossip magazines (in French) there was a framed picture on the wall. It was of a mime, with a tear drawn in hir eye. Ze wore a bandana tied around from the top of her head to hir chin. Ze held hir hand to hir cheek and hir mouth formed an “ouch” shape. A mime with a toothache. In america this would be there to mock the patients. No question. But in France, miming is an ancient and respected art. I bet dental patients feel relieved to be around such cultured dentists.
The waiting room I sat in was for anesthesiology. I wasn’t really supposed to be there. They didn’t really have a waiting room. There was no front desk to check in. No “this way” signs. Apparently, when you go to a French hospital, you wonder around until you find your doctor and then you sit in a chair in the hallway until your doctor has time for you.
So a while later, Cola emerged from surgery. Feeling in her jaw is supposed to come back in around a week from then. In the mean time, there’s a lot of soup being consumed in this house. Her face is less swollen at least. Almost back to normal. She gets her stitches out next week, but it’s not strictly speaking necessary because they’re the kind that are supposed to dissolve.
And so far, nobody has mentioned anything about insurance, costs, money or anything. Apparently, in France, if you have a cyst growing in your jaw, dental insurance isn’t an unnecessary luxury. I think I like it here.
Tags: Paris, Celesteh
My dad just left. He’s on his way to Spain and then home. We did a lot of touristing over the last week and a half. Yesterday, we went to Versailles. There is a project underway to restore it. The Hall of Mirrors is about half done. The half that’s finished is incredible.
The whole ceiling of that long hall is painted with the many achievements of Louis XIV, often with the aid of Roman gods. The rooms around the hall are full of statues of him. One has a giant portait of him. I’ll probably never have as much money as a past king of France, but it does give me some decorating ideas. How much does it cost to get a marble statue of yourself in roman battle armor anyway?
I speculate that a marble statue may be beyond my means, but there are other metallic and plastic materials available. Bronze would last a long time if it was indoors and furthermore, additional statues can be made form the mold. Why commission just one statue of Celestvs Avgvstvs, Roi de Berkeley? Why not many identical laureled statues? Heck, why not smaller versions that my subjects (or friends and admirers) can have in their homes?
Cola suggests that I build (or commission) small molds that can be filled with heated plastic or spray foam and thus generate statuettes on demand. Statue making machines could be coin-activated and placed in bars such that bar partons can have a statuette made of me on the spot.
Also, I want to be represented surrounded by cherubs. They’re just so cute. They can be helping me write notes or something.
Also: maybe in medieval armor like Joan of Arc and then perhaps in a hunting suit with my dog and then in a marching band uniform, playing the tuba. the possibilities are endless and ridiculous.
But seriously, if I were Bill Gates, I would have a marble statue hidden away somewhere of me as Cesar. Cuz why the heck would you make so much darn money if you weren’t interested in megalomania?
Tags: Paris, Celesteh
Hypothetically speaking, if one were a professional blogger, ghost writing for a monkey, what would be the typical market value per post?
My dad has been here since Saturday. He’s here until the 8th. So we’ve been doing the tourist thing. So far, he’s seen two cathedrals, medieval buildings in the Marrais, the Arc de Triomphe, the world’s first flea market and has been to the shopping district on rue de Rivoli.
When did I start liking shopping? I’ve become downright conventional.
The gigantic soldes are drawing to a close, which means everything is marked down even steeper than before. I felt kind of weird taking my dad to the men’s section so that I could try on pants, but they do fit me better. Also, since I’m rather scrawny for men’s pants, my oddball size meant that there was a much wider selection of things that fit me on sale. So I got two pairs of pants. All I have left now on my list is a nice stripey scarf and a suit. Maybe with a vest.
There’s a restaurant around the corner from me that specializes in wine, lamb and string beans. And oh my god do they have a fantastic goat cheese. (Have I mentioned today that I love the food here? I love the food here.) So I took my dad there. I really like that place. They recommended a Haut Medoc wine. Any Bordeaux appellation is good. Haut Medoc and Graves are especially good, probably along with every other one. Every time I try a new Bordeaux, I think it’s the best wine ever until I try the next one.
My dad is growing out his hair. It’s at the awkward length between chin and shoulders. He’s also growing out his sideburns to comb backwards with his hair. He looks grumpy most of the time, so he’s really got that biker-about-to-smash-you look down. It’s a little alarming. His hair is stringy like mine (which is also much too long). I would suggest we go get haircuts together, but he wants it as long as possible. Kids Retirees these days!
With his hair, he looks completely unfrench. As non-french as somebody could get. Not that it really maters because he doesn’t speak a lick of it anyway. I taught him how to order coffee after introducing him to the proprietor of the local brasserie.
You may have heard that it’s impossibly to become a regular at a Paris café unless you’ve lived on the same block for 20 years. This is not the case. Five years will do. This particular brasserie, however, opened within the last few months, so I became a regular sort of by default. It also helps that the two guys that work there are exceedingly friendly and wave and whatnot when I walk by. The proprietor seemed extremely pleased to meet my dad. He’s a bilingual guy, but was speaking to my dad in French for some reason, I think to make a joke. Have I mentioned that my dad has never been to Europe before? He hasn’t even been in a non-English speaking country (Mexico) since his childhood. So he gets a little bit panicked when people speak french to him. I can relate. I felt exactly the same way the first week or two that I was here. Of course, the majority of my conversations were with the Prefecture de Police, trying to get registered.
In other news, Cola’s toothache has been referred to a specialist, who, thank god, is an anglophone. Why she needs a specialist rather than a normal dentist has not been made clear. Dental stuff in Paris is just as annoying as dental stuff in the US, but much much cheaper.
My dad wants to go see the Mona Lisa soon. I don’t think he realizes how small and unexciting it is. And then the Eifel Tower, which at least is as big as he expects. If Cola’s tooth recovers, I want to go Armagnac tasting. It’s super-fantastic brandy. One of the main Armagnac towns is called Condom. (No really.) Maybe I don’t want to go with my dad . . ..
Tags: Paris, Celesteh
Every time I’ve riden the metro lately, there’s been at least one passenger in obvious distress on the train. A few days ago, I saw an empty car. Score! In retrospect, I should have made a more careful note of the fact that the woman waiting to get off of it was holding her nose. Yeah, so this guy, who was now rocking back and forth dazedly, had been sick. Oh my god, the smell. Me and another woman got on, sat for a minute, looked at each other and went to stand by the door to change cars at the next stop. But what to do about the guy?
Today, I was riding the 11 line to Chatalet and I saw another guy sort of swaying as if he were sick. I noticed that one of his shoes had been decorated in a really weird manner. He splattered it with brownish red paint. Soaked it, really. And it was on his pant leg too and oh my god, his shoe and pant leg are covered in blood! Chatalet is the terminus of the 11 line, so I got off at the end, but he didn’t. He stayed swaying in the metro car as it drove to park in the tunnel.
I was on my way to see Michelle (the secret girlfriend of the soon-to-be-famous Cynthia) and asked her what to do when I see people in distress. She told me that if it’s an emergency, I can pull the emergency break, but I should do it when the train is stopped in the station with it’s doors open. Alternately, I can go talk to the station agent when I get off the train. I can picture myself waiting in line for a while and then “Excusez moi à vous déranger mais il y an person avec un problem dans un train qui ummmm le train est sortie um… dix minute ummm…. un person malade….”
Coming home, I don’t know what was going on at Place d’Italie, but it was bad enough that a bunch of metro workers were standing at the top of a staircase, not letting anyone down it. Meanwhile, hundreds of people were pouring into the station from other trains and from the street above, trying to get home and waiting in a pedestrian tunnel that I was trying to make my way through. There was an “accident” the metro workers explained. Oh my god. So I got on an escalator to go towards my line, which, fortunately, was not effected. You know, it’s a really bad idea to get on a moving surface that ends in a crush of people. What are you going to do at the end, walk backwards on the moving surface? What about the people behind you?
The moral of this story is complex and multifaceted: never get on an empty metro car. Notice if people are holding their noses. Learn how to summon help. There are a huge number of homeless and sick people in Paris. This morning, it was -4C outside. Médecins du Monde has distributed tents, but it’s not enough. The cold drives people indoors, into the metro, where all the commuters ignore them, just like they do in the summer, when these people are in the streets rather than on the subway. I don’t know about life in the big city. How can we just step over and ignore somebody who obviously needs help?
When I got home, Cola was in crying distress from her toothache, so I walked her over to the dental x-ray people and arranged an earlier appointment. But it was late friday, so that means monday. Then I took her to the pharmacy and got her some better pain killers.
My dad gets here tomorrow afternoon. Maybe I’ll go buy some pants before then. And read the Burroughs that I need to read. And mop the kitchen and generally clean and buy groceries and send a mandat to my landlord’s mother already, it’s only, what, 3 weeks late.
It’s really goddamn cold, by the way. I’ve heard the cold front blew in from Siberia. Oh sure, you get your cold snaps with air from Alaska or Canada or the Arctic, but we get fucking Siberia. Who sounds more damn cold and desolate now?
Every bad thing that happens in Paris also happens in Middletown Connecticut, only there it all seems much much worse somehow. And there’s no metro there.
Tags: Paris, Celesteh