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Showing posts from January, 2011

To Download or Not to Download

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I've heard a good deal of discussion lately about E books. Many people I know are quite concerned about the recent revelation that downloaded books are outselling the traditional variety. It's no wonder, they are certainly less expensive. Even paperbacks are moving towards $20. these days. Most downloads go for half that price. But that's hardly the issue. It's really about the real thing as opposed to an electronic version. Lately, all the electronic versions are looking more like paper books; some even have a simulated turning page. (That's hysterical, isn't it?) But many people I know are completely unwilling to give up their books. Some are quite worried about all this. I think it's a moot point. What will be, will be. And, believe me, it is going to definitely be. So much so that many college "bookstores" will no longer sell books. That's right, it's happening right now. Students either download or rent books. Lots more

It's True, I Swear It is

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Last Friday I watched the first episode of Portlandia, the new tongue in cheek parody of life in Portland, Oregon, my fair city. Funny? Yes, in parts. A little over the top? Definitely. Today I read a bit of a review from Newsweek which contained the following: There are certain things every Pacific Northwest native knows: * You must love the outdoors. * You must eat local and organic. * You must brake for pedestrians, even when you’re in the middle of an intersection with a green light. Now here’s what a Pacific Northwest native who returns home after living in another city knows: * You will hold back your frustration after 45 minutes in the checkout line at Trader Joe’s, because the cashier will insist on having a conversation with everybody coming through the line. * You will experience uncontrollable road rage, because in the Pacific Northwest, there is no difference between the right and left lanes. * You will spend 10 minutes standing in front of a row of trashcans, trying to

As Others See Us

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Some years ago I went to an Italian festival in San Francisco. I'm not Italian, but being a Bay Area resident at the time, this yearly event featured great music, art, and of course...FOOD. The festival back then took place near Fisherman's Wharf on a roomy pier that featured both indoor and outdoor attractions. After sampling some lovely garlic infused pasta and a robust red wine, I wandered into a nearby display of photographs. The history of the Italian community in San Francisco was on display. I found myself engrossed in a few of the photos more than others. Perhaps it was because of their size. They had been enlarged to life size and covered large portions of the makeshift walls used for their display. One particular photo that caught my eye was of a 1926 milk truck. It beautifully captured all the detail of what was then a state of the art motor vehicle. I was fascinated by the tires, the bumpers, the detail of the upholstery, and the steering wheel. Then I not

Time for a Kenneth Patchen Poem

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Sometimes, nothing else will do. I have enjoyed sharing Patchen's work with some of my Portland poet friends this week. He remains a profound influence. Now More than ever, I think the saying goes... There Are Not Many Kingdoms Left I write the lips of the moon upon her shoulders. In a temple of silvery farawayness I guard her to rest. For her bed I write a stillness over all the swans of the world. With the morning breath of the snow leopard I cover her against any hurt. Using the pen of rivers and mountaintops I store her pillow with singing. Upon her hair I write the looking of the heavens at early morning. -- Away from this kingdom, from this last undefiled place, I would keep our governments, our civilization, and all other spirit-forsaken and corrupt institutions. O cold beautiful blossoms of the moon moving upon her shoulders . . . the lips of the moon moving t

Healthy Choice

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How deep does a culture of violence go? Apparently deep enough that we have varied ideas when trying to sort out the rantings and ultimate assault of a psychotic young man in a Safeway (irony not lost) parking lot in Tuscon, Arizona. Yes, our airways are filled with hate speech, intolerant sound bytes, all manner of pseudo commentators with agendas as transparent as Saran wrap. Yes, actions have consequences, so that when Sarah Palin uses gun crosshairs on a map to target members of Congress we don't really believe she intended them to look like a surveyor"s view. Yes, over the top video game graphics and content desensitizes people to violence. How could it not? But other, less apparent ironies abound. One has only to look at the smiling face turned mug shot of this troubled young man to know that his "elevator does not go to the top floor." While the media interviews former classmates and teachers, while the shooter's mother cries for days, while the det

Then You Are Not

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2011 is turning out to be a big year for Mark Twain. Go into any bookstore and you'll see his telephone book sized autobiography for sale. Twain cleverly left notice that it was not to be published until well after he and anyone mentioned were no longer around. It's not surprising that someone as perceptive as Mark Twain would take great care to insure that the truth would hold sway over anyone's attempt to alter anything he might have wanted us to know. So it is with equal fascination that Twain's work has again come under scrutiny and truth is on trial. This week, New South Publishing announced a new version of Huck Finn which replaces the n word with slave. Some see no difference. I get that, but I beg to differ. School boards have already tried to censor writers who use the n word in historical context. Richard Wright's Native Son comes to mind. Is this being too PC. Are we that sensitive that we can't handle the truth? I argue that we can h

Who Cares?

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I've been reading about a new study that finds a correlation between reading and empathy. Apparently as people abandon reading, I guess that means books, they are also turning away from the innate human characteristic of empathy. Empathy is what makes us human. It's our ability to feel the emotions of another. Moral emotions is what child psychologist Jerome Kagan calls them. Best definition of empathy I ever heard was, "The ability to feel the whip on the other person's back." Now we know what happens when a person has no empathy. It's like having no conscience. Feeling nothing, no remorse, no moral emotions. We usually call these folks sociopaths because they are a danger to all (society) with whom they come in contact. They were formerly called psychopaths, but that term psycho tends to have media buzz and is best replaced by socio. The study says that as empathy declines, narcissism rises. A real me-first mentality, I guess. I see this kind o