I have a karaoke hangover, like for real. I am so out of it. I must have sung like 10-15 songs. My lips are dry, my body is sore from packing, moving, and dancing and now I have to finish my interview with Seth Schoen. I also was reminded that today is father’s day via Google. You don’t just find stuff online but it reminds you about things like needing to call your father.

More later with photos from the party…

I am out of Chi-town tomorrow and back in SF till the 16th of June. Come to my goodbye party Sat June 14th if you are in town at 8:00 pm at Ocean Beach. Bonfire karaoke. Think of it as romantic lighting for your singing.

I promise it will be a heck of a time. Here are directions and map

I have been on the move lately, like any good sato should do. But this sato has had a bit of sensory overload since my trip to NYC which was, in the words of Bill and Ted, Excellent! The pugs, the Jewish Hospitality (thanks Andy), the great weather, the swirling spring flowers blowing in the wind, the weird window displays and sinage, the friends, food, new friends, blah, blah, blah. The city stimulates, tires, and revives you all at once. I was happily surprised that they have unlimited fares on the subway and dissapointed that they were raised while I was there. I was also surprised by all the organic and vegetarian food places, especially in the east village, which seemed to far outpass the # here in SF which is supposed to be a hot spot for such culinary delights. I guess the fact that there are a bazillion places to eat in NYC makes a difference.

Back here things have slowed down but last night I saw two good movies at this cool little “home cooked” movie theatre in the Richmond, the “4 Star” at 2200 Clement street (corner of 23rd avenue), which offers a double feature for $7:50. Not bad. Last night I saw Amandala and City of God. Both are about the human, cultural response to violence and struggle, and both are worth watching…

Today, I was overloaded with another type of stimulus, that of permaculture in Marin. The garden/farm, whatever you want to call it was remarkable: the depth, the height, the sustainability, the beauty, the diversity, the recycled nature of it all. I mean, there was everything in that little plot of land from the tastiest guava flowers and rasberries, to comfrey, walnuts, apples, pears, every imaginable lettuce and herb, endless flowers, and on and on. If you ever have a chance to go see a permaculture farm, go! It will blow your mind away. It was by far the most three dimensional farming I have seen…

My trip to NYC is nearly wrapping up and I have much more to write about it but I am simply wiped so I can only write a sentence or two. The trip has been great so far with lots of good weather, lots of socializing, and an abundance of pugs. I think that “Men in Black” had an impact on the pug population in the city because it is HIGH, proved by the number of people enrolled in the pug meet-up in the city. I have seen a lifetime of “pug situations” since I have been here. Strange. But more strange is da bomb squad which is right around the corner from where I am staying. Soon, they will need a “pug squad” when the pug population gets too high (about 9 more months perhaps??)

I am back in the place where I first lived in the US after moving away from Puerto Rico–> NYC. A wonderful time of year to be here (it actually smells wonderful!), I am here for my friend Lisa’s wedding and just to kick back and see some friends. Today Micah and I met up with Mako to hang and so we could work some in person on a paper that we have been working on via IRC in the last couple of weeks. We also met up with his friend Greg who is one of the few techie and lawyer type folks. He has written a paper on the legal history of UNIX which I am incredibly excited to read. We ate some really delicious and “out of this world” food at galaxy. Grasshopper, eel, bubbly cous cous, lemon chutney, crazy bok choy, and the divine plantain. The gluten-free options were everywhere! My type of place.

It probably sounds like I am beating a dead horse saying this but it is so nice seeing IRC friends in person. Even though I have not seen Mako in like 8 months, the pretty constant online interaction made it seem like we saw each other… yesterday. Perhaps it is because we did. And it is I and the collective “we” that has to really let go of seeing IRC as this sort of non-place.

I better get back to the paper and then to sleep. Those red eyes flights are nice on the wallet, killer on the body.

I can’t really know what the nitty-gritty experience of imprisonment is really like. The endless days confined in a small dreary space knowing that there is no escape, no matter what one does. I felt like I had a taste, a small nibble, of what what a spirit breaking experience imprisonment is yesterday when I finally left San Francisco for an all day hike at the palomarin trail near Bolinas, in Marin. Well, of course the hike was the antithesis of confinement but the contrast to the normal hum-drum of my life as of late, made me realize that I have spent WAY too much time indoors lately, only going out for errands and socializing at night, basically not leaving the city since my snowshoeing expedition in February. After awhile, it comes to weigh on you.

This has been one of the longest periods that I have spent confined to one space: my room, metaphorically chained to my computer or bed. And on the one hand, my space, my so-called confinement is really luxurious and I have nothing to complain about. It is warm, large, sunny, safe, and secure. Yet it is relative too. If I am used to getting out, and heading in and through a completely different environment where the idea of walls is totally ludicrous, it makes me appreciate that space that I do spend the majority of my time in.

But it makes you realize what a luxury “movement” and “difference of experience” is. Sure there are parks in a city, green zones and spaces, but for one to get out of a city, it takes time, it costs money, and there are other cultural knowledge that comes with that territory.

And this hike was one of the most luxurious of day hikes that I have ever been on. There are not many hikes where different bodies of water (waterfalls, freshwater lakes, and the pacific ocean) merge over the course of 3 miles in what is an already a very diverse landscape with endless flora to admire (and for some on our expedition, fondle). And then to top it all off, there were some irresistible seals bobbing in the waves curiously ogling at the “land creatures” as we, or at least I, ogled them in total delight.

Part of the freedom of being outdoors, as you stare at the large rocks in the Pacific ocean as waves crash indiscriminately against then, is that you feel, part of the “All” of the world, a sort of connection that at once makes you insignificant (as you are just such a small bit of “da world”) but there is a huge liberatory satisfaction of being just a small part of it. It makes you realize that there is a nearly endless range of experiences that you can tap into and expand yourself out to even if momentarily which makes you appreciate your small place in this world. A small place that has the ability to change and move depending on your position, you orientation, your emotional disposition.

With confinement comes many things from boredom to lack of physical movement but one of the most troubling aspects is that it makes it much harder to connect with the wider world of humans, objects, and nature that makes one’s spirit feel insignificantly special.

Sometimes as an anthropologist, I am envious of literature as a means to convey the worlds of meaning that we try to put forth in academic analysis. I just finished reading Drown by Junot Diaz/ which is on the “Domincan” immigrant experience, an experience that happens just as much on the soils of the DR as it does in the sordid neighborhoods that Diaz chillingly depicts in this collection of stories. Wives and children left behind in the DR are thrust just as much into the experience of migration and immigration as those that have already crossed into another supposed realm. It is another place, yet the similarities (like that “wedge” of avocado that accompanies lots of Dominican dishes which he so carefully marks) are endlessly different. The plate of sancocho with the wedge of avocado connects this world with that world but a disconnect is also still there. Though “fiction” they clearly stem from life experience and speak a million poignant words of the incredible, daunting, and often dire condition of being an immigrant, a condition that marks generations, genders, and different cultures. The book is simple but so very potent because it lets dark stories pregnant with emotions (that are rarely spoken and seen in the intercourse of real life but always really present) do the speaking instead of the intricacies of language. He brings us the depth of meaning and emotion that anthropologists try to arrive at in our fieldwork and often do. But then I feel we lose a lot of that richness when we have to force it under an academic facade. Literature bypasses that veneer of “academic analysis” and lets the reader plunge right in and swim away… Or in this case, drown, as the title suggests.

One of the the things that I liked the most about the book is that the stories did not unfold chronologically. Some of the first ones were from the period of childhood in the DR, then the stories moved to the States, and then future stories brought the reader back in time to the past with different characters. “Molding Experiences That Never Leave You” that is what Diaz writes of, which though very culturally specific, still hold universal questions. They never leave a person even if they are “left” in the past. They come back always and it this return that Diaz captures well.

I get so stressed every year around tax time. It is not only season for coughing up $$$ to a government that you don’t believe in but also grant time and spring time so all you really want to do is be outside. Last year, my taxes were a nightmare: I had worked two jobs in two states and had two grants to account for, grants that had not withheld any money so I had to pay a lot. This year, with only a part of grant that was taxable, I had to pay the nice sum of $0 dollars. Given that my school’s health insurance was a whopping $1700 for the lousiest coverage in the world, I was relived that I was not giving more money that was going to nuthin. You see, I am not against taxes. But I am against what we use taxes for in this country, especially now. Surprise surprise.

Anyway, one chunk of my stress has vanished and now I have only like 2 or 3 more to go. I am soon leaving San Francisco and have so much to do before I head out to Puerto Rico where I will be living for three months (exciting!!!)

I doubt I will be updating the blog much as these days all I have been doing is sitting working on the computer and alternating with ill health that leaves me bed bound. I have drafted a pretty good dissertation outline which perhaps I should post here.

Of course, I have allowed for some entertainment in my life such as by watching some “good movies” like Old School. Yes is not one of those movies one raves about but like others in its genre (“Detroit Rock City,” “Dude, Where is My Car” “Road Trip”) it does not hold any pretense of being clever and it usually does the trick and makes me laugh….

Oh and thanks to Seth for help today and I think he is finally feeling better after a month long ear infection. Double yay!

These days, I feel like a student. I have been sitting more than I like, writing grant applications, finishing articles, and reading up on really academic stuff. The world of writing is not the world of fieldwork and though I am excited about the former I will miss the later.

I had to take a couple of breaks as the weekend in San Francisco was incredible, at least weather wise, reminding me why I am not crazy about this city (too cool).

My breaks started with a war protest–> critical mass ride that was luxurious. Yes, we got to ride in tee-shirts at night, the vibe was great and best of all was riding through the tunnel!!!!. Yay, it was so fun. Dinner with Micah and Ascott rounded off a fine evening.

I sat on my b(iella)ehind the following day as every other human being was having a good time in SF. But at least I got a lot done and found out that baby coconut water is the WAY to go when it comes to coconut kefir. The bad thing is that baby coconuts are hard to find and I think I busted my beloved drill making holes to extract the liquid. Lord, getting the kefiring process down is not easy.

But the highlight of my weekend was today. I could not sit another minute so I finally went to do what is my favorite thing in “da world”: play ultimate. After a 22 month hiatus, playing was solid, uncarved joy. There is nothing like chasing down a disc and I really can’t explain why but it is like the sublime for me. Everything empties out except pure experience. Perhaps it is testament to the fact that:

1) I don’t let myself get lost enough in other experiences or 2) that I don’t do enough drugs.

I only wish I could throw myself into wiritng and get that same type of pleasure from writing as I do with running around on a field chasing after plastic. You know go “all out” with that theory, dive for the perfect terms, thrill with the punch line.

Why do hackers always have to change everything?
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God grant me the valium to accept the things I cannot change

The Speed to change the things I can

And the LSD the know the difference!