From The Morgue

I’m about to start the long-awaited account of our trip to Palestine.
And I need to set some stuff down first. So here it is.
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When I was showing Palestine photos to my workmates Teresa and Kerry, I realised how hard it was to talk about anything without massive digressions explaining where I’m coming from, and why I hold the perspective I do.
Here, then, in abbreviated form, are some points of reference to use when reading about Palestine.

Continue reading Palestine: My Points of Reference

So I’m reading this book on Eminem. It’s by Anthony Bozza, a Rolling Stone journo who’s covered him since he started to break, and its pretty much in that RS free-flowing journo style – not nearly confrontational/cutting edge like the mag supposedly was in its heyday, but solid, investigative, thoughtful.
I still don’t quite know where I’m at with Marshall Mathers and his music. I remember the strange feeling as music critic after music critic lined up with the teens of the world in hailing the coming of the Great White Rapper. I didn’t get it. His singles (especially ‘My Name Is’ with its numb hook that still sends me to sleep) didn’t turn me on, and the controversy over his content was nothing new in the hiphop lyric field; I had no incentive to look closer.
But he kept getting bigger and bigger.
I don’t class myself as a hiphop backpacker, but rap music holds a key place in my background. Public Enemy’s Fear of a Black Planet in 1990 was my wake-up call to the world of music. I had coasted through the 80s without ever engaging in music on any level – nothing ever got to me, until this. (Honorable exception: Karma Chameleon, the only song from the 80s I remember enjoying in the 80s.) PE was astonishing. Finally, music I could get into!
Over the next few years I followed Matt, Nicky and Brad’s explorations into the music, and eventually started making my own. I fell pretty firmly into what Bozza calls the ‘College Rap’ crowd – Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy, Digable Planets, De La Soul, Arrested Development.
I did enjoy the music of the aggressive, and rising, gangsta sound. The gangsta fantasy never really bothered me, except for its prevalence, and the suspicion that way too many people were taking it seriously as a bible for life.
The misogyny and homophobia were bigger deals, but still not dealbreakers. I needed to investigate and see how deep it ran, how serious the artist was, in order to figure out if I could back the music.
Course, I wouldn’t do any digging if the beats weren’t good. That’s why I didn’t care about Eminem for ages, and why I’m coming late to the party now – his recent single ‘Lose Yourself’ is outstanding in every way. And I still haven’t figured it out, but its a familiar process – trying to get to the meat of what’s going on with the image that’s presented.
Which leads back to the book. Here’s a quote from Bozza’s book, because it crystallises exactly the core of my reaction to the media storm over Eminem back when I hadn’t found any reason to care about him:
“When he did appear the problem for me was that he received all this analysis and psychoanalysis that black rappers never got. If you look at somebody like Tupac… when he was alive he was a ‘bad boy’, that’s all people thought of him. There was no effort in the media to deconstruct who he is or where he comes from. But as soon as Marshall Mathers appeared they all said ‘Oh, this troubled white youth. May we lay you down on the couch? What’s your problem?’ To me it really highlighted the issue that nobody gave a rat’s ass about why young black men felt like expressing themselves in this way, but as soon as a white guy did it then there was an effort to understand.”
The quote is actually from someone named Farai Chideya, a journo who runs Pop and Politics.
And I’m not going to follow this line of thought any further, because my dinner’s getting cold.

Back in University in the mid 90s, a large chunk of my social life was built around “the BBS”. It was a bulletin board system for Vic students (and ex-students), and it was a virtual hangout for an awful lot of cool and interesting folk. An important element that sets it apart from every other virtual community I’ve come across was the amount of crossover into real life – most people on it knew most other people on it in the real world and BBS parties were commonplace.
I loved the BBS. I met many wonderful people, had many preconceptions challenged, had my first and only “e-romance”, was introduced to The Onion, and learned lessons about online discourse that have served me well as the entire world has gone digital…
…but this isn’t a general nostalgia trip. This is about something specific.
Somewhere along the line, the BBS ended up celebrating Hug Day. This was basically an excuse for going around and hugging other BBS members in real life, because Hugs Are Good. Somehow or other I became the flagwaver for hug day in the BBS’s latter days (the BBS was shut down for good in 99 – or 2000? – a shadow of its former self due to member attrition and the rise of so many other avenues for online entertainment and community).
Anyway, today I’m thinking about hug day, and that excuses to hug other human beings are far too infrequent. So, promise me that today you’ll go out and hug someone you normally wouldn’t hug. Your excuse can be this: “I promised Morgan.”
And you wouldn’t want to let me down, would you?
(I can’t remember the time of year in which Hug Day fell – late in semester 1 I think. Doesn’t matter much. Every day is Hug Day!)

In my last post I wondered at the failure of the internet to stay on top of the prison story as compared to slow-coach television.
I neglected to mention that the first I saw of the prison story was in Idiot/Savant’s No Right Turn. So the internet won the race (like Vortox, the internet always wins) but Old Media won the, erm, the discus and the javelin and stuff.
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And the internet has provided my new favourite thing:
people who have had control devices implanted in their brains by the New World Order have set up an online questionnaire to be filled out by the perpetrators.
“While we all want the torture you are heaping on us to stop, at the same time, we would like to know something about you as well.”
(Found via the delightful Making Light, still essential reading for writers of all stripes.)

So I was planning a happy-skippy blog entry about how I’ve been really busy knocking off dozens of items from my post-Palestine to-do list (no exagerration – the list came to 40 items and I’m down to the teens). And talking about Kill Bill, because I saw part 2 and feel I have Things To Say about it. And making wry comment on the coverage that sheep and that budgie have been getting all around the world.
But I’ve just seen the coverage of the Iraqi prisoner abuse.
First thing – it’s on TV way before the net. Discussion boards have the story but the mainstream newssites and big blogs aren’t covering it yet. Weird – TV ahead of the internet – I can’t think the last time it happened to me.
Second thing – oh my lord. Of course, it’s one incident and it’s being dealt with and it’s not a general situation – but there have been so many reports of this kind of thing in Iraq, in Afghanistan, in Gitmo. It is a sign of a general culture. This kind of activity is the outgrowth of the rhetoric surrounding the US military effort and ‘clash of civilisations’ and war on terror etc. It’s *inevitable*. It was predicted. It has been reported before. But photos tell a different story.
Third thing – it’s been a rough two weeks for the Arab world (which does exist as a collective entity on some level, if only because the rest of the world keeps lumping them together) – Bush supporting Sharon, Fallujah being bombed, and now this. If you’re already feeling victimised, this run of events certainly looks like the West is prepping for a fight to the finish with the Arab Middle East.
Fourth thing – the grinning thumbs-up may be familiar to anyone who’s been paying attention to the war-blogs for the last few weeks – the ‘Boudreaux controversy’ has been argued all over and made it into Salon.com a few days ago. Basically, its a photo of a grinning GI next to an Iraqi kid holding a sign – but there are two versions of what the sign says, one sickening and one heartwarming. Obviously one, or both, was photoshopped for political reasons. I think psychological logic supports the idea its the negative one, but it’s impossible to prove. This prison activity will lend more weight to this logic, because its premised on the fact that some soldiers in Iraq are happy to humiliate the Iraqis. And now we see that this is indeed the case.
Christ. Things are going to get worse before they get better.
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I did like Kill Bill 2, for what its worth.

Beautiful run of days lately. Sweet. *Puts global warming thoughts aside*
Yesterday I sat in the Meadows under pink-blossomed trees and read Russell Hoban’s Angelica’s Grotto, and wrote in my travel journal of Palestine. I’ve written about twenty pages and I’m at the start of the first full day in-country. It’s taking a long time to process.
I’m trying to get writing happening again but this has stalled it. Gah. Soon, though. Ron the Body is aching to be written.
My friend Tina is back in Edinburgh. She was my best friend at work and she dematerialised to England, but has come back. We had a nice wee drink at our local pub on Saturday night, which was sort of a new experience for me. Very cool though. Apart from that it was a weekend of sunshine and roleplaying. Too much roleplaying! But it’s all good stuff. I want to make the most of my time with the Providence Summer crew before they scatter to the four corners of the earth; and the Ottakar’s Club isn’t quite ready for me to walk away from it, though it’s close. I have a number of usurpers who are pretty much running things now – we just need a few more people running games to take the pressure off.
I have been saddened to note the gender balance of the Ottakars group has slipped markedly. Our women have left the country and no new ones have joined. Bums. But what can you do? At least GEAS is a very healthy demographic variety. That’s the way we like it.

Still drifting, just a little.
Haven’t yet come to terms with Israel and Palestine, in that I haven’t turned it into something I can tell stories about. It’s too big and complex. There’s a couple I am comfortable with, but most of it is just too much. Tomorrow I plan on sitting in the Elephant House after work and writing down everything I can about the trip. That should be a good start.
We have some great photos at least. These will be shared shortly.
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Just saw Shaun of the Dead. It’s a solid 4-star effort, well worth the cash but no groundbreaking classic. And given that my criticism is “but no groundbreaking classic” you can imagine how much I enjoyed it. (Lots.)
It was effectively scary, and very funny. Filled to the brim with easter eggs for horror trivia fans. (Name of the restaurant Shaun rings to make reservations: Fulci’s.) And the gore, while infrequent for a zombie movie, was very effective – in fact, I think it’s the best disembowelling-by-crowd-of-zombies I’ve ever seen. (Maybe Day of the Dead tops it. Maybe.)
Which reminds me, it’s Dead by Dawn this weekend at Filmhouse. I forgot to book tickets in advance AGAIN. Dammit. Last year Freddy Kreuger elbowed me and I saw Bubba Ho-tep. Not sure what I might make it to this time around. Maybe nothing. I feel much, much busier this time out.
Beltaine celebrations are coming, and they’ve put an attendance limit on it for the first time. Calton Hill will still be the venue and thousands of all ages are expected. Should be great.
Gah. Sleep needed. Zombification imminent.

Nothing has seemed real today. Back to work. It was like floating.
I’ve spent most of the evening churning through the chaos of our home to make it tidy and suitable for doing all the things I urgently need to do. There are so few spaces that are usable… I still can’t quite deal with the absence of tables. The laptop is on a small card table. There’s the coffee table. And that’s it. It doesn’t seem right.
I’ve accumulated a lot of books. Dammit. That wasn’t meant to happen.
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A new batch of Leon testimony is up at Leon’s God page. A couple of new commandments too. Get on the Leon train, it’s the hottest ticket in town…
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I won’t post the subservient chicken link, even though it amused me far too much, out of some faded determination not to participate in viral marketing. I’m sure you can find it if you don’t know what I’m talking about and care enough.
I will post this link, to a dog on a skateboard. At Frank’s place on Friday night this provided endless entertainment. Well, to me at least. He’s so cute, riding around on that skateboard! Look, he thinks he’s people!
No link to Stone and Parker’s Princess, our other main entertainment on Friday night (well, apart from Leon). Children read this blog and that little bundle of love is NOT FOR KIDS. If you think South Park is restrained, Google for it – it’s out there.
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It was great to catch up with some of the Londoners over the last few days. Sorry I missed those I missed. London is still a crazy town.

Radio silence has been due to a week spent in Israel and Palestine. Wow. More to come.
Currently in London. All is good. Back in Edin Sunday evening.
Leon-worshippers, be advised your testimonies will be added to the site as soon as I get home to do it.
Peace, everyone.