fiction

journal

new york it is

There’s so much mythology about New York, and everyone has their favorite. Of course, the New York that existed in the 70’s and 80’s is long gone. Maybe there’s a hint of the electroclash nineties, but it’s only a smell on a certain day. The current New York is… I have no idea. Some kind of post Sex and The City world where Europeans have bought Williamsburg and Manhattan still has money (how is that?).

But even a slightly confused New York is a better city than most. Really, I love it here. I love the inefficiency of the subway, the way it goes to places no one needs to go but yet there’s no west side Manhattan line. And while the city may be a little more insular, creatively speaking, than it used to be, at least when large amounts of money are not involved, it’s still got a young core rolling the dice and making great work. It has the new media art powerhouse Eyebeam; seeing some of the projects currently going on there is totally exciting. And while Manhattan is mostly a floating world of the rich and their nauseatingly ostentatious display of wealth, Brooklyn still lingers large in the corner, soaking up the young, providing total steals on big apartments. And thanks to some urban design visionaries over a hundred years ago, they’re close to train arteries to pipe them into the monied class of Manhattan and back home again, safely, to their cozy neighborhoods.

All in all, it feels great to be here. Given a choice, I’d still rather be in Europe, but the visa difficulties in living there just were too much for me to work through. And since I was a kid, I sort of always knew I’d end up here. It just happened a little earlier than I expected. I guess I’m home now. (Cue Talking Heads “Home, it’s where I want to be, lift me up and take me there…”).

flux

Lots of things in flux, events happening, no shortage of ways to saturate time with activity. The biggest is the preparation for the move to New York.

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Things to do in San Francisco before leaving:

1 — Blue Bottle coffee. I really do love their coffee.

2 — DJ at Swissnex this Friday night. Come party with us!

3 — As suggested by my friend D., a good scream off the Golden Gate bridge.

4 — (Try to) hang out with all of my friends here.

5 — Pack, organize, plan, crunch details, numbers. Oi…

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A big move feels like a different beast when you’re in your 20’s. After 30 it takes on a kind of gravity that is really not at all unpleasant. I’m fine with it. It actually is nice to have to tug a little.

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I’m in New York November 19 – 27 looking for an apartment. Greenpoint, Parkslope, Prospect Heights, Eastern Parkway: these are all options. Any tips/suggestions/advice/leads would be GREATLY appreciated. Is the G really that unreliable? What’s up with the 7, is it real?

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New York is looking better than ever, at least from where I’m at. An economic recession, a cool new president, almost a new decade (the 50’s, 70’s, 90’s, now the 10’s?): it all adds up to good timing for a move as far as I can see.

im dj’ing at new langton tonight

The New Langton Arts Annual Auction is happening tonight, it should be a blast. I’m dj’ing it as St. Tropez. If you have a ticket, see you there.

amidst the celebration

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Listen up: if you’re gay, meaning, if you fall in love with, fuck, get turned on by, flirt with, dream of, sleep with, fantasize about, tie up, lick, protect, cook for, shop with, nibble on, bond with, care for, and want to spend your life with someone of the SAME gender, then you cannot indulge in that strange but useful thing called marriage with that person, meaning you cannot get the same state, city, and definitely not federal like oh, say, immigration rights as your straight brothers and sisters. So sayeth the apparent majority of bigots of the state of California! To those who voted yes on prop 8, I wish them all the ill of a thousand voodoo curses.  Their vote makes this sometimes beautiful planet uglier than need be.

a new job in a new town

Here we go:  Jano and I are moving to New York.  I always knew I’d end up there, but it’s happening this month.

Eyebeam Atelier, in Chelsea, offered me the production coordinator position, and I wholeheartedly accepted.  I’ve admired the place for years and honestly it’s a dream to work there.  I can’t say enough good things about that organization, they’re the American version of ZKM.  And they throw cool events like underground and host the Machinima FilmFest.

I am absolutely thrilled, and can’t wait to get there and get started.  If Obama wins today and Prop 8 is defeated, this will l have added up to be a pretty fucking splendid week.

the south… oh, and obama

While most of the western world embraces post-Christian values, and Japan has settled into something like a secular mysticism of the everyday, the American white south marches to its own drum, straight ahead with its absurd “small-town values” which seem to have something to do with God, fecund heterosexuality, and outdoor barbecue.

I’m visiting family down here, who are really quite open minded and curious, god bless their hearts (to use local parlance). But I realize just how entrenched most of the white population is. The piercing register of reaction on the subject of Barack Obama is proof. But what better way to pop a political thermometer in the ass of the south than to bring up Obama in Mississippi. He apparently hits all those good ol’ pressure points: race, religion, guns, and taxes. What I find amusing is that on most of these issues, Obama is not, publicly at least, very far left. He is certainly not calling for black revolution, he’s a devout Christian, he supported the Supreme Court in its decision to allow DC residents to have guns, and he’s not doing anything spectacularly big in changes to the tax code. I think, in the end, it all adds up to the otherness he brings to the picture, and it’s no surprise that white southerners are having just as much of a xenophobic reaction as they are. Another layer of irony is added when one realizes that it is, in fact, McCain who was born in Panama which is not a US state.

On a happier note, the African-American population down here seems, as far as I can tell, jubilant. From conversations with the woman next to me on the plane from San Francisco who grew up in Memphis to my old family neighbor, and loving surrogate aunt, B., people seem palpably excited about seeing a black man poised to win this election. I’m excited too!

It’s somewhat bittersweet, though, in the sense that his dark skin is even the issue that it is. The man is half white, after all, but the perceived need to even point that out is symptomatic of the hysterical state of things.

In my case, it is exactly his otherness, his ability to have the perspective of an outsider, that is most attractive to me. I am heartened by the fact that he is quoted as saying that one of the qualities he is looking for in a supreme court justice is that of empathy and an understanding of how the powerless live in this country. I am enamored with some of his earlier speeches which espoused good old hard leftist ideals of higher taxes on the rich and robust social programs for the poor. I love the fact that his father is from Kenya, and he has direct connection to that continent. And anyone who grew up in Indonesia can surely understand how to deeply relax and just stew in good food, amazing music, and spooky shadow puppetry. He is from multiple points of origin and I am thrilled that Americans could possibly, by a majority, agree with me that this is a really good thing. He runs a frighteningly tight campaign too; his messaging may be what most are reacting to rather than his postmodernity. But still, to feel as though someone I support actually could win the presidency is unusual and suspect. But if he pulls this off, I could certainly grow accustomed to it.

now this is air travel

At this very moment, I am flying, not too high, in an old Saab SF340 propeller driven airplane. It’s a 20 minute flight, and I guess Maseba Airlines doesn’t feel the need to upgrade their equipment.

Now, this is the first time I have ever flown in an airplane with propellers. And the first thing you notice is that the pilot has to turn on each engine separately. And then you see just how long it takes for this old jalopy to “warm up.” I ask the stewardess how to turn on the reading light, and she tells me that I have to wait for the engines to power up some more before they work. Wonderful!

The second thing you notice is THIS SOUND. It’s like all those black and white movies of World War II planes fighting it out over Europe actually really did sound like that.

And then, we’re about to take off, I look out the window and those propellers are just spinning away. And then we fly, in a really bumpy sort of way, with something rattling next to me, which is totally disconcerting. But we’re in the air. I wonder what the maximum altitude is though, I don’t think this can handle pressurization and all that new-fangled jazz.

One thing is for sure, there is no such thing as any illusion that we are simply gliding through the air, peacefully, with giant engines and computer-engineered wings. This old plane is fighting for every last inch of altitude we’ve got.

too clean

Early this morning I was biking as the sun came up, listening to old Coil Love’s Secret Domain, and thinking of how conservative the culture is. I see people on the train to Silicon Valley pensively pulled inside, studying analyses of work incentives, talking through multi-touch displays, careful not to leave any fingerprints.

In this age of a one or a zero, when I screw up, I hope to do so in a messy, full-on analog way.