The Frountain

As I sit at my computer, I'm constantly watching the activity in the park across the street. Sometimes, I become so engrossed in this voyeuristic practice, I accomplish very little in the way of [computer] productivity. Actually, I sometimes use the pretense of working at the computer as an excuse to simply sit and watch the people outside my window.

There is a water fountain at the end of the park, across from my window, directly in my line of sight. In recent weeks, I've observed this one particular indigent, using the fountain as a washing station. He saturates his filthy rags in the basin, which is only inches away from the spout from which people drink, and washes himself, reaching inside his shirt to clean his torso and then wiping down the outside of his clothes ...constantly returning this disgusting rag to the basin of the fountain to re-wet it for more cleaning.

He even has some sort of soap product that he squirts on the various pieces of clothing he pulls out of his sack and actually washes them there in the drinking fountain. When I think of all the people who will drink from that fountain throughout the day never knowing how it's been used... But then again, if you choose to drink from a public fountain, located in an outside park, you have to realize that it's not the most sanitary of water dispensers.

My reaction to seeing this homeless person abuse this utility is somewhat mixed. On one hand, I'm disgusted by the act, the disregard for the utility and the use for which it was intended. I cringe to think that people are actually going to drink from this, are going to lift their infant children up to the spout to quench their respective thirsts. If they only knew.

Then on the other hand, the guy is homeless. His life is already hard enough. Like any other homeless person, he has to fend for himself and try to improvise on those facilities we take for granted. Using the water fountain to clean up is rather ingenious. And I give him credit for taking the initiative to keep himself clean ...or make the attempt. Besides, the park is for everyone, not just the neighborhood elite, with their screaming kids and barking dogs who piss all over everything.

Still this is a disgusting habit he's developed. The funny things is that all the people seeing him just pass by and pay little or no attention. So for that very reason, I can see why he'd continue with the practice. Nobody was objecting.

Then today, just moments ago, I notice that there was someone who was objecting. As I suspect, with so many things in life, most people turn a blind eye because they just don't want to get involved. Well here was someone who wasn't turning a blind eye, who didn't hesitate to get involved. He stepped between the fountain and the [homeless] guy who was still in the process of cleaning himself as if in the privacy of his own bathroom.

The stranger verbally chastised the public bather and refused to let him continue. The homeless guy became very agitated and in a violently outburst, slapped the stranger across the face with the wet rag he'd been using to groom himself. By now, I'd abandoned any pretense of working at the computer and my attention was undividedly focused on these two who I was sure were about to engage each other in a physical altercation.

To my surprise, the stranger, took the blow without reacting. He simply stood his ground and refused the homeless guy access to the fountain. Seeing this was a fight he couldn't win, and probably knowing he was wrong in the first place, the homeless guy walked off, swearing angrily at the stranger who still unfazed, stood like a sentinel guarding the fountain.

My sympathy for the plight of the homeless notwithstanding, I was glad someone had taken action and put a stop to this practice. It'll be interesting to see if the homeless guy comes back at a later time ...since this had become a daily habit with him. If not, I wonder where he'll go to clean himself ...or if he'll even bother.

A funny thing though. After the episode was over, the stranger, as if waiting for some kind of affirmation, looked around the parked at all the other people sitting and standing nearby ...only to find no support for the actions he'd taken. By their demeanor -- I couldn't hear the actual conversation from so far away -- all the people he approached seemed to not really give a damn one way or another. It seemed as if they were regarding this stranger as the cause of the commotion. Sort of a "why don't you just mind your business" attitude. This is precisely why I never considered getting involved in this. I could see myself calling the police or reporting this to the authorities, (after spending the time to find out who the authorities actually were), only to be met with the attitude of "he wasn't bothering you, why don't you just mind your business".

But The Stereotypes Are True

As I was watching the movie "Finding Neverland" there were several references to "Injuns", which stood out because of its politically incorrectness. In today's social climate, this is a definite faux pas when referring to Native Americans.

I'm very conscious of negatives stereotypes, having for so many years dealt with many of some rather unpleasant ones. Consequently, I make a concerted effort to get beyond my own biases. This is not to say, I don't still make some judgements based on those very stereostypes I find inappropriate. Some of the stereotype are true.

Are stereotypes okay if they're positive? You often hear people proudly identifying with certain "positive" associations. But this, too, can have a negative effect. Imagine the plight of the Black guy, with the small penis, who can neither dance nor play basketball? Oh, the horror!

What stereotypes are you [consciously or unconsciously] perpetuating?

There is a uniquely humorous treatment of this subject featured in the blog post "Bill Maher Is My Hero". Although two of my favorite comedians are Richard Pryor and Chris Rock, much of their humor involves the comparison of groups of people ...Black people vs. White people. This is very common among ethnic comedians who compare the traits of their own ethnicity to those of anothers. The comedian Carlos Mencia is currently enjoying success as an equal opportunity assailant of all cultures and stereotypes. His humor is so insulting that you're forced to see the ridiculousness of all this political correctness.

Admittedly, I respond to the humor; some of the stereotypes are true. However, I reject the notion that all the people of any group are of a single mindset. I long for an America where people, still drawing their sense of self from their respective heritages, incorporate all that into just being American.

We draw a lot of strength from all this diversity, but we give so much credence to those diverse elements that we end up being a conglomeration of disparate factions ...each with its own culture, language, attitudes, and biases ...and as it turns out, some with considerable disdain for America itself.

After all, if you're so steep in your culture, so unyielding to change, then why the hell are you here. Go back to where that culture exist. It comes down to the old adage, "American, love it or leave it". You want to avail yourself of the socio-economic benefits of this country? You should be willing to be a part of it.

I consider myself an enlighten American, an enlightened human being, but I'm constantly being taunted by internal whispers and nudges from past attitudes, attitudes I thought I'd outgrown and overcome. Why does that shit from the past still linger on.

For the answer, I draw on this analogy. If you can imagine a jellyfish, floating on the surface of the water, looking rather benevolent and serene, you're unaware of all the tentacles below the surface. At the end of each of those tentacles is a painful experience. For each of us, that experience is tied to something in the past, which is never really past, and is therefore tied to our present. It affects our being, our perceptions, and colors our reality. The only way to become untethered is to re-visit the "sting" of that yet-unresolved experience.

So when I take my enlightened approach to so many of societies circumstances, I'm always being surprised that somewhere, beneath the surface, I'm still reacting in a manner that's the very antithesis of what I claim to believe and stand for, what I aspire to.

I don't thinks it's hypocritical to cling to one's "aspirations" even if they've not been completely realized. After all, perceiving one's self as successful, (in whatever area), is necessary to create the reality in which this can come to fruition. The ends are, in fact, always inherent in the means. Successful people have always thought of themselves as successful. This is a stereotype that is true.

On Death And Dying

I like films that make me think. I recently saw one that set that process in motion, a film entitled "The Chumscrubber". It dealt with the aftermath of a teenage suicide ...the reaction of the adults and, more importantly, that of the other teenagers. This film was reminiscent of "Permanent Record", another teenage suicide movie, where the act was so traumatic to all others concerned mainly because [he] had no apparent reason for taking his own life, no indication whatsoever that he was so despondent that this was even a consideration.

Being a Gay male and having lived in San Francisco over the past thirty and some odd years, I'm well acquainted with death. We (myself and others so acquainted) don't treat the discussion of dying with the "kid glove" approach taken by so many. A person's impending demise is not regarded as some "white elephant" that is tiptoed around and alluded to with euphemisms such as passing on, or going to a better place. The act of dying is discussed matter-of-factly, and not patronizingly with comments implying that "things are going to be all right" ...especially when they so obviously aren't.

In dealing with the subject of "death and dying", Elisabeth Kubler-Ross penned a book by that very title. It amazed me how someone, regardless of [her] credentials, would be so presumptuous as to claim to understand the process of dying ...the experience of all the people who've ever died ...to distill the process down to five steps: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

In the case of those who've self-terminated, there obviously was no denial, anger, or bargaining because before the act, they weren't actually dying. And the depression and acceptance would precede the act, and would likewise not be an actual part of their dying process.

Another recently-viewed film, "November", which was a cross between "All That Jazz" (without the music and dancing) and "Jacob's Ladder" (without the supernatural aspect), reduced this process to only three steps, which they labeled denial, despair, and acceptance.

Not having read [her] book, I'm making a major assumption here and perhaps Ms. Kubler-Ross was referring to a select few, and not applying this template to everyone's experience. (But no, I don't plan on reading the book.)

Cycling back to my initial subject, suicide -- especially by someone who's not a terminal patient or in excruciating physical pain, I started thinking about why this is so unacceptable, why the two previously-mentioned conditions are the only ones where the decision to self-terminate would be accepted and not considered insane. All living things are endowed with an extremely powerful survival instinct. But if despite this, someone arrived at the decision to not continue, is this not his decision to make?

Sure, such a decision is often temporary and the result of depression, and if one were to somehow get past that depression, he would be glad to not have succumbed. But allowing for that, what if you arrived at the point where "to survive wasn't enough; to simply exist wasn't not enough". After considerable deliberation, you concluded that you no longer wanted to live ...that your life was simply a matter of fact and not one of quality. Is it right for some external force(s) to insist on your continuing in a life that is absent of that "quality" that makes it meaningful to you?

It's funny how we live in a society that says that you're supposed to feel good ...all the time. If you don't feel good, there are pills, therapies, self-help books, and myriad support groups to help you get over it. Feeling bad is not a valid or acceptable condition ...well, only in certain situations and then, only for pre-determined periods.

Mind you, I am neither contemplating nor advocating suicide, but just thinking, looking at another perspective of an issue that's had only one acceptable viewpoint. That other perspective that everyone has, at some albeit ever-so-brief moment, queried, but only the few have actually explored.

Art: Standing on Its Own

This post is about the appreciation of any experience, mainly art (painting, music, poetry, film, photography, song, etc.), that comes with conditional circumstances.

Okay first let me pose the question. Would the Mona Lisa be as revered if its origins and history were unknown? I've always felt that a piece of art should stand on its own. If it's good, it's good regardless of who did it, or the circumstances under which it was produced. But so much art is simply about the artist and the circumstances. Case in point, why does a piece of art appreciate so significantly after the artist dies? Okay, here's another question. Is it the appreciation that gives art its value, or is there something "divine" inherent in great art that is there whether appreciated or not. Another case in point. Van Gogh never sold a single painting in his lifetime.

Why is it that you can see or hear something and immediately know that it's great without having the slightest idea as to why? There was a quote ...I don't know from whom... that goes, "Art should appeal to the soul of everyone, not just an elite few. Art transcends all cultural, social, and economic boundaries. If it only appeals to a select few, then it's merely a fad ...a fad that might catch on and become popular, but it's not true art." I've always believed this and yet I've seen so much to contrary.

The elite do have their purpose ...to recognize art and to acquaint the masses with that which would go unappreciated. Sometimes the appreciation of something is greatly enhanced when you know what you're supposed to see or listen for, or you're supposed to experience the "piece" in the context of what the artist intended, or the experience is multi-layered and changes with repeated exposure. So much of my appreciation of so many things has come out of my "learning" to appreciate them.

There is no doubt of art's relevance and influence on society. However when trying to define it, you get as many different responses as people you ask. Everyone has his own idea of what art is. Everyone has something he [might] express, and every creative expression is art. Everyone, therefore, is an artist. Although I believe every artistic expression is valid, not all art is relevant to everyone. Some expressions may be of significance only to a very few ..or only the one, the artist.

Back in '78 when I had my gallery, I used it to display my photography and screen prints, quilts and other textile art, and any other artistic expressions. The gallery was not about commerce, nor about proclaiming myself as a great artist, but a place where my stuff could be displayed, viewed, and appreciated by those who might. When someone bought something, they always wanted me to sign the work, which I would, but only on the back or some other insignificant place that didn't impact the piece. Even when I made clothing ...I once considered fashion design as a possible career choice... I would never put a label in the garment.

I hate labels, so much so that I make a conscious effort to, wherever possible, remove any label that's attached to something I've acquired. I get so riled when I hear people talk in terms of labels without ever once referring to the item itself ...it's texture, color, sound, aroma, taste, or visual aesthetic. Sometimes that label might speak to the level of quality, general style, period of time, etc., but as a culture, we've been brainwashed to buy the allusion.

Circular Incompentency

What happened was...

I closed my AOL and CompuServe Accounts. I'd had these accounts from way back when these were primarily "information services" and they were the source for information, files, software updates and add-on, etc. It'd been over ten years since I'd really used these accounts. The Compuserve account was one of their original pay as you go accounts, so I wasn't being charged for having it ...except the 30¢ (or so) a month for the time it took me to periodically clean the junk out of my email account. The AOL account was their minimum account and had been costing $4.95 a month, but I kept it because it made it easier to commulicate with the many friends who weren't exactly computer savvy and used this service.

Well, AOL raised it price to $6.95 and I said "no". I cancelled the account -- after having to get really nasty with the guy who was determined to convince me to keep it. I took this opportunity to also terminate the Compuserve account. In each case, I requested a letter of confirmation stating that the account was closed. No biggie, right? Well, you'd think so.

I received the AOL letter promptly, but the one from Compuserve never arrive. Now I'm an [retired] accountant. I'm all about details and follow through. So it mattered that I'd never received the confirmation. I know for many, this would be unimportant and they would simply say "don't sweat the small stuff" at which point I'd go spare. Anyway, I called Compuserve and gave them the reference number of the cancellation and requested the confirmation.

First off, [she] could find no reference to that number. So, I gave her my old username. She informed that there was no one with that username. So, I gave here my user ID number. "Oh!", she said. "That's a classic account. I'm showing that that has been closed." Well, Duh!

So I re-stated the details, this time speaking - to - her - as - if - she - were - 10 - years - old. What I'm requesting is the letter of confirmation. She responded -- now get this -- "I can't send you a letter because the account is closed."

I could feel the expletives forming in my brain, so I simply hung up the phone before they made their way to my mouth. No, I never did receive the cancellation confirmation. hrmpf!

...And then, I get a letter from AOL letting me know that they're offering me a free email account with my old username. This is evidently a service they're extending to [the many] who've cancelled their accounts. You see, that old email account still exists. That explains the few people who've inadvertently sent me mail to that old address wondering why I never responded. For a second ...and just a second... I considered retaining that email address, but now that I'm free from the clutches of AOL, (who also now owns CompuServe), I think I'll let well enough alone. My few AOL friends ...the ones who've not yet jumped off that sinking ship, will just have to put forth the effort to use my new address.