Against My Better Judgement...

....and against my personal style.  But I love this Cheshire Cat Snuggie.  It'd make an awesome blanket as well, no?   Thanks, Dangerous Minds!  http://www.dangerousminds.net/comments/cheshire_cat_snuggie

Mittel Duna

I walk back and forth across Margit Hid a couple of times a day almost every day.  Even if I'm on my way to a tutoring gig, I usually stop once or twice just to take in the beauty that is Budapest.  Margit Hid, arguably the city's most beloved (or at least well-trod) bridge apart from Lánchíd, offers the best view of Országház in Pest and Várhegy in Buda, with the Freedom Statue on Géllert Hill rising between them in the southern distance. Classic postcard shot, unachievable with my digital camera.
 The much less magnificent, distant view north along the Danube, could well be Spokane, Washington, that is, if you look well past Margitsziget, which lies just off the middle angle of Margit Hid.
  So, I'm usually looking at the horizon, north or south.
A couple of weeks ago, I was walking across the bridge one night and happened to look down.  Probably saw something shiny. Then I heard voices rising, apparently from the river's surface  I looked further down and saw a couple of young hippies on the now visible dirt and pebble abutment at the middle of the bridge.  Couldn't figure out how those two got down there.  Rope?  Boat?  'Twas a mystery until I noticed how low the water was, and that it was now possible to walk from Margitsziget to the tip of the abutment.
  Those snidelys at that smart assy online rag, Pestcide, reminded me today that I can and should venture down to the bare abutment while it is still accessible...http://www.pestiside.hu/20111129/to-do-while-you-can-walk-around-margit-bridges-central-abutment/
Think I'll take Cosmo there tomorrow.
I love cheap thrills. x

You're Just Supposed To Do It

    Whimsically profound British troubador, Robyn Hitchcock, once sang about Gene Hackman, "and when he smiles, there's trouble somewhere".
  I doubt Robyn was referring to Gene's character in "The Conversation" because in this film, Hackman's character, surveillance expert Harry Caul, rarely cracks a smile, if ever. There is, however, plenty of trouble and Harry Caul is in the middle of it.
  The movie's all about spying for hire, the questionable ethics of that field, and the paranoia which is inherent. It's also a compelling mystery which ends with a disturbing twist, filmed in a San Francisco that has lost its innocence, seeming as shell-shocked as Harry Caul himself.
  Director Francis Ford Coppolla was on a creative roll here.  "The Conversation" was shot and released the same year as  "The Godfather Part II" and both movies won awards in 1974.  The haunting piano instrumental soundtrack sounds like saloon music from the city's 49ers era whose composer spent a little time with the hippies on Haight-Ashbury.  Slightly boozy bordering on strung out but beautiful nonetheless.
  I have seen this movie several times, but  have been wanting to see it again recently.  It might be available somewhere in Budapest but I'm not sure where to look. Alas, it's not available at our neighborhood DVD joint, The Odeon.
  Might have to resort to iTunes.  Ah well.  It will be worth it.
  If your curiosity is piqued, watch this trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=34BRG_K1X4o
here's the theme song:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RUsEIdHxBPk
  

Black Friday, Etc.

Stay home, I say, and watch this movie.  It's free! http://www.revbilly.com/chatter/blog/2011/21/a-buy-nothing-day-gift-what-would-jesus-buy

When Black Friday Comes

   When Black Friday comes, my pretties......

May you find yourself getting up early, not to make a mad dash to the nearest big box retailer, but only to shuffle sleepily to the fridge to fetch a leftover piece of pumpkin pie to accompany that nice, hot cup of coffee you just brewed for yourself.

May you ignore that wicked little voice which tells you you'd better get out there and shop because there are once a year deals to be had.  It's not true. http://money.bundle.com/article/5-top-myths-about-saving-money-black-friday Relax and enjoy your day off, away from the madness. (More Black Friday truths can be found here: http://finance.yahoo.com/news/5-reasons-skip-black-friday-164603988.html
Pay particular attention the the part about "frenzied shopping".  I'm actually surprised this showed up on Yahoo's home page.



You know that word "savvy" you see in articles and advertisements, referring to you, the intrepid shopper?  It's flattery.  Ignore it. Stay home in your pajamas.

If you do venture out into the madness....remember that bright, shiny thingy looks much sexier and more useful in its store display than it will back at home, away from the fluorescent glare. Take cover in a coffee shop or better yet, go back home. Watch a movie.  You won't miss a thing.

May you lack the desire to be part of the embarrassing spectacle that is Black Friday shopping, an entirely commercially concocted American holiday of its own, a day which brings out the very worst primal behavior in people.  Seriously, we have to resort to these measures to go to the damn store?
http://blogs.laweekly.com/informer/2010/11/black_friday_shoppers_continue.php
Folks die during this unbridled consumer madness. Shame.

Having dismissed the idea of joining the Black Friday folly, if you find yourself in front of your computer may you visit the following link, for fun and edutainment: http://www.revbilly.com

I'll leave you with a quote I found on Rev. Billy's website, coined by a German blogger named Luisa Franca. Remember the Bob Dylan tune "It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding"..."he not busy being born is busy dying"?
  Luisa's twist, heavy with relevance, "she not busy being born is busy buying."
Stop Shopping. x

Dervish of Buda, Father of Roses

  After work this evening, I took the short, precipitous stroll up to Gül Baba's mausoleum.  The Turkish poet's tomb is Islam's northernmost pilgrimage site. He died here after a battle in 1541. Legend has it that he introduced roses to the city, although roses had grown in Hungary long before the Ottoman invasion. The hill on which the tomb rests is called Rozsádomb, or Rose Hill. The old man has quite a view of the city from up there!

Someone Else's Shoes

  

  I saw these shoes the other day, tucked neatly away inside the nook of a large building on Bálint Balassi utca.  Decent pair of kicks, even without the laces.  Who and why, I wondered.... x

Me, On The Edge of Creativity

  Something strange happened last night.  Strange but very cool.  I'm not sure how to proceed or even if I can. It was all in my head anyway.
  Yesterday evening, I was in our kitchen washing up some dishes after preparing the marinade for our fajitas.  Fajitas are one of our comfort foods, whose ingredients are easily procured from the ABC downstairs.  It was a comfort food night, cold and smoggy.
   I was at the kitchen sink, staring down into the bubbly dish water, when I began to feel slightly faint.  I tried to ignore it, thinking it would pass.  I'd been sick  so feeling kind of woozy has been my status of late.
  It got worse.  Quickly.  Soon my vision was blurry and my body began to feel icy and numb.  I felt as if I might vomit if I stood there any longer so I shuffled out of the kitchen, turning briefly to tell Aidan and Boone, "I feel sick".  I travelled through what felt like a nauseating worm hole to my bedroom, dark and warm, and plopped face first onto the bed, clumsily wrapping myself in the tangled duvets.  I'm not one to make my bed on a daily basis.
  Boone followed shortly to check on me, asked if I was okay, and I said I was, as long as I could just lay  there for a few minutes.
  As I lay there, the spins slowly easing and the nausea retreating, I began to have visions....yes, visions, but only inside my head.  They came without any effort, seemingly on their own, like an internal reel of clips.  There were faces, scenes, animals, all presented in different styles from animation to abstract expressionism.  I realized they were ideas...ideas for drawings, collages, photographs.  Coming from me.  But I had no way to hold onto them.  Nothing stuck.
  This visual process was backed up by the most intense aural hallucinations I've ever had.  Sometimes between wake and sleep, my brain cooks up melodies and harmonies, sometimes with vocals, which lull me sweetly into dream land.  These compositions almost always disappear upon waking and I'm never sure whether or not they are mixed up regurgitations of the music I listen to on a daily basis.
  The music I heard inside my head last night was all me. Like the visions, they seemed to come on their own.  They sounded original and seemed unreferenced. To me, they sounded beautiful.  I wanted to hold them down, rmember them.  But like the visions they were slippery and would not stick.
  Now, I swear I had not taken anything to induce this little mind trip, which sounds a whole lot like an acid flashback.  No cold meds, nothing, just a few sips of hot wine passed my lips last night.
  Whatever it was, I loved it.  I felt joy.  I rarely feel joy, I feel her fleeting past from time to time but rarely able to catch her by the tail.
  I stayed in my cocoon of duvets for a half hour, perhaps, I couldn't tell because the dimension of time wasn't discernable to me then. I was lost in this wonderland of creative bliss.
  When I finally arose, heading back into the kitchen to complete my tasks and eat my fajita, (Boone had popped the marinating chicken into the oven) my body was shaking but my mind was as clear as crystal.  I was also ravenous.  I made short work of my fajita, declaring happily, "I will never get tired of these."
  I realize that this experience is probably nothing that unusual.  Who knows what we as individuals go through on a daily basis, unshared, unspoken.  But I really felt like this was a message from my higher self (who seems to have been on a decades long retreat) to my conscious self. Look what you can do.  See what you could have done. Enjoy a glimpse of could have been, what might still be. Do it.  That part of the experience is still not quite evident.  All I know is that I came out of this episode curious, content, and incredibly hungry.
  

Breakables, etc

  I've been pretty good with money since landing in Budapest.  I've been forced to be so....iffy pay schedules and "feast or famine" tutoring scenarios kind of made it so.
  I have managed to acquire a few precious items in the past year, things that will be beautiful functional  reminders of our time in Europe.  Wanna see?

  This little collection represents three countries.  The red plate is from the Czech Republic, and at eight euro, a screamin' deal.  The blue plate is from the Tihany Peninsula, Lake Balaton, Hungary.  That blue is so deep, so vibrant, so marine, a person might be tempted to dive right into it. I love the whimsical horse design on it as well. The small floral dish is a gift from Debra, who purchased it in Paris.  My own little piece of the City of Lights.

  This plate is from a gift shop which sits beneath the shadow of the mighty, Hunyadivár, that vast and brooding fortress in Hunedoara, Romania. The "tree of life" motif is widespread in the former "greater Hungary".  Pre-Christian Magyars believed this tree held up the sky, kept it from falling to earth.

  This goofy little group warms my heart. I had been lusting after this cat clock since moving over to Pest.  Each time I'd stroll down the körút this past summer, I'd eyeball this kitty, confident that I was the only one who wanted him.  Other clocks from his storefront display window appeared and disappeared, but the cartoon cat stayed.  It was meant to be....since I stated quite bluntly to the boyz that all I wanted for my birthday was that clock.  I think the fact that I miss Zissou so intensely kind of inflamed my desire for this clock.  Well, the dear boyz heard me, bless their hearts, they heard me, and now he sits safely on a shelf with his pals marzipan Krampusz and the darling little stone turtle that Dean sent to me, his head snapped from his body in transit.  Where's the damn superglue, anyway? x

Exquisite Truth Comes to The 4/6 Villamos

                                                            
                                                         4/6 tram, on its way around the ring road


  From a Facebook post from Dan Schwartz,  owner of the wonderful Treehugger Dan's Used Book Shops here in Budapest:

On the 4-6 tram last night 2 Hungarian school girls were trying to practice their French with each other and not getting very far - their vocabulary consisting mostly of snippets from pop songs. In steps a homeless man who starts chatting to them and correcting them in French, and then another young guy joins the conversation...


  This snippet from the day in a life says so much, not only about Budapest or Hungary, but also about the state of the world at large.  School girls, the possibility of a bright future ahead, learning French from pop songs. Educated homeless man, down on his luck, but up on his French. Young boy, also apparently fluent.


  I guess the truth is that you never can tell.  The old cliche of books and covers comes into play.  Humanity is much too comfortable with our lazy assumptions and this is so important to remember these days as jobs around the world are scarce. All of that fancy education may mean nothing, may get you nowhere, and you may find yourself on public transportation, listening to some whippersnapper reciting shallow pop songs in flippant French.


  The 4/6 tram is a constantly revolving stage of live theater.  I should listen more.  I'm usually hyper-focused when I'm on the tram (almost everyday), since that is how I handle being in among the crowd.

Oh Yeah, Krakow

                                        Boone, just outside Florian's Gate, where the barbicon once stood

    Despite my previous lag in travel writing, I can't allow our trip to Krakow to remain undocumented. It's just too swell a city not to talk about.  Four central European cities stand out as the jewels in the old Habsburg crown: Vienna, Prague, Budapest and Krakow.  I've seen them all now and love each of them for their distinct moods and personalities.  Krakow felt the most special, perhaps because its continued efforts to pick up the scattered, tattered pieces of its tragic, not so distant past, are solemnly evident  This is a gravely beautiful city still wrestling with the pallid, ever present ghost of the Holocaust, trying to keep that spectre at bay without denying its existence.

  Auschwitz is about a half hour drive from the city.  There are tour groups, buses galore that will take you to the camp complex, oftentimes as part of a package with a visit to the Wieliczka salt mine, where one can see an entire chapel carved out of rock salt.  

  We did neither of these tours...we wanted to devote an entire day to Auschwitz, knowing that the visit and all of its gravity required some time for thought and emotional recovery, and on this trip, we felt we just didn't have that time.

  Thing is, Aidan wasn't sure he could handle the intensity of these emotions, so we decided to visit later next year, when he feels ready.  I know I would be kind of a wreck for a day or so.  Boone has been to Auschwitz twice and can testify as to the chilling sadness that does and should set in.  Nonetheless, I think it is very important for us to go, to see, and to pay respect to the dead somehow by allowing ourselves feeling that intense emotional pain for awhile. We will do that before we leave Europe.

   Since we were staying a few blocks from Glowny Square, it was easy for us to focus on today's Krakow, enjoy its grey lady allure, cloaked in thick mist spiked with the sharp, coppery hues of autumn. I even had a mental soundtrack running through my head, songs by Marianne Faithfull and Thurston Moore, parts of a compilation cd we listened to driving up throught the mountains of Slovakia, thanks to the thoughtful and generous Dean Volker.   A few of my favorites from the cd ran on a loop through my brain the whole time we were away from Budapest. The Blind Faith tune "Can't Find My Way Home"  found a warm spot and wedged into my cerebral cortex as well...it was the first song I heard coming out of the speaker in the comfy common room of our hostel. It seemed to work with the mood of the city on that first, foggy day.

                                                   Wawel Castle, on the banks of the Wisla River

                                                      Smok Wawelski, the Dragon of Wawel Hill

                                                         view from our hostel balcony, looking toward the Wisla River

                                 Wawel Castle, looking like a colossal land ship navigating the seas of time

                                                                    Katyn's memorial, at the base of the castle wall

                                                                                                dusky serenade

      Food  is always a very important part of any trip to parts previously unknown.  The food we wanted to eat in Krakow just happened to be incredibly affordable.  We dined mainly on pierogis and brothy soups, which kept our bellies full and our bones warm during our stay.  

  Krakow, like most other central European cities, hosts a bustling cafe culture.  Stop at any coffee shop on or around Glowny Square and you are sure to find the richest espressos, the most fragrant teas.  I indulged in the delectably complex, almost pudding-like hot chocolate. This ain't no Swiss Miss, my dears.

                                                   "you must stir this chocolate before drinking..."

                                                                                      yes, I licked the cup clean

      

                      U Stasi, old commie "milk bar" where the food is cheap and delicious.  It is served up at super sonic speed....get 'em in, get 'em out, no time for lingering table talk!

    When and wherever I travel, I tend not toward the big tourist draws, the stuff in all of the guide books. And while I don't blame anyone for wanting to see the big sites, all of which are worth the time, I prefer to wander the streets for aspects of a city's true personality.  I've said it before, and I don't mean to sound smug, but I feel that once you've seen a couple of churches in central Europe (with a few exceptions) you've seen them all.  Their hallowed chilliness gets old, makes me tired. I'm also not a fan of the cliched  tourist composition that consists of a cluster of people grinning at the foot of an otherwise stunning monument.  I'm fine with tourist shots, but prefer the candid ones, and definitely ones without me in them.  I don't need to prove I've been there.  No, I like to people watch, focus on the locals, and snap

 shots of them when I can.  I enjoy capturing the small oddities of a place and while I am capable of enjoying a grand view, it's the small vignettes that really speak to me. 

                                                                      Glowny Square

                                                                                                Glowny Square

                             She was handing out fliers for an Auschwitz/Salt Mine tour, pushing a pram with a doll inside

                                    Bird Man of Glowny Square...central Europeans enjoy pigeons rather than curse them

                                     living statue...throw a zloty into his bowl, watch him dramatically change position

                         I'm always charmed by bike vignettes, especially ones like this, featuring a crocheted bike warmer

         Our last day was spent in and around the old Jewish Quarter of Krakow. It was once bustling and lively, pre WWII.  Today, the neighborhood is working hard to regain its old vibrancy and doing a damn fine job of it, but you can still feel a bit of the silent emptiness that will perhaps never be filled. 

  Now the neighborhood is once again full of friendly cafes and little hole in the wall restaurants, small but bursting outdoor markets, and a thriving community center.  This was my favorite part of town.

                                                                 restoring the old synagogue

                                                                                   Autumn hugs the synaogue wall

                                                                                        the living and the dead

                                                        memorial wall, made up of gravestones destroyed by the Nazis

                                                                 offerings for the murdered Jewish citizens of Krakow

                                                                                 scene of our last meal in Krakow

                                                              potato pancakes smothered in savory stew. scruptious!

   We all fell in love with Krakow....Aidan intoned, almost under his breath, "I really like it here".  If you find yourself in central Europe, make Krakow a priority.  I predict that you will fall in love as well. x

Oktogon: "Ablak A Multra"

                                     Oktogon as the crow flies, waaaaay up high. Not from Zoltán's series. 


http://www.flickr.com/photos/mrsultan/6327489581/
From Kerényi Zoltán's Flickr series "Window to The Past", time warp photo of Oktogon, intersection of Andrássy ut and the Nagykörút, as it is being newly paved.  It was interesting to discover that Oktogon was called Mussolini Square during WWII.  Thanks to Dean Volker for this reference!

Bike Lust

   "I think I'm going to miss you most of all...." (cue maudlin Wizard of Oz finale muzak).  That's what I said to my cat Zissou before leaving for Budapest that bright, sunny August day.  I should have taken a few moments to tell my bike how much I would miss it too.  I probably didn't realize at the time to what extent I would pine for my ol' war pony.
  I do get a very little bit of bike riding in.  Boone bought a cruiser that gets the job done but whose brakes don't work so well.  They squeak and whine each time they are squeezed, shrilly announcing my arrival in a disconcerting way.
  I miss my mountain bike...its sturdy frame, chunky tires, and comfortable seat.  It would like Budapest.  The streets are fairly bike friendly and the trails in the Buda hills beg to be explored.
  I'm currently settling for bike-ogling.  I can't justify purchasing a bike now since we shall return to the states early next summer.
  I also calm my yearnings by keeping up with the latest bike news here in Hungary.  The following link will take you to a story about a bio-degradable bike.  Very cool.
http://www.pestiside.hu/20111108/local-inventor-makes-breakthrough-in-crucial-biodegradable-bicycle-technology-area/

Fox Familiar

                                             "Kitsune" mask, by Melita Curphy aka "Miss Monster"


  I get a small thrill when I recognize common threads within works of art that I love, art being anything from film to fashion.
  I've been on my perennial Neko Case binge lately and have been oversaturated myself with repeated spinnings of  her fabulous 2005 recording "Fox Confessor Brings The Flood". My pal Dean and I were singing her praises on Facebook a couple of days ago, discussing her particular artistic relationship with and reverence for nature, which never suffers from cheap sentimentality but always resonates as deeply, primally genuine.
  During this discussion I put Neko on the ol' IPod dock and as she sang the song "Fox Confessor" in her sweet tenor, I was reminded of one of my favorite movies, "Dreams", by the Japanese film master, Akira Kurosawa.  This movie consists of film shorts, all solemn and mostly silent.  One of the shorts is called "Sunshine Through The Rain", which tells the story of a young boy who sneaks into the woods to witness a fox wedding and the consequences he faces after observing this forbidden wonder.
  I invite you to get lost for a few minutes in Neko's song and Kurosawa's vision as they spin spiritually similar tales of the wily fox.  Enjoy....


Here's Neko:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ihONUt99utg

Here's Kurosawa, in four parts:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eGhqHZypds4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f0LZ9AL8Xmo&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J6-25o2lFZc&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SIJBT4Rq4lk&feature=related

I should not failt to mention the genius that is Miss Monster, Melita Curphy, who carved the beautiful Kitsune mask.  You owe it to yourself to peruse her online store.
http://missmonster.myshopify.com/pages/f-a-q

Lingua Franca

     As an English tutor in Hungary whose husband is an English teacher, also in Hungary, I am acutely aware of the rabid desire to learn and master English, particularly American English, among speakers of other languages.  It is laughably easy to find, for a native English speaker, a comfy niche as a tutor for Hungarian students, with or without formal training.
  Sure makes things easier for me as far as communicating in my native tongue in this country.  Anybody  who can speak English will speak English to me, even when I initiate communication in Hungarian.  I don't know much, but I use it as much as I can and when people inevitably revert to English ("it's just easier", they say) it makes it almost impossible for me to move forward with Hungarian.
  I do hope all of this desire for English does not render its native speakers even more lazy as far as learning a foreign language is concerned. Most Americans do not speak a foreign language, do not feel the need at all, even as the Spanish language continues to become more and more important in our society. So the idea of a World English is a mite uncomfortable to me and I hope its burgeoning does not become even more of an excuse for native speakers to forgo foreign language study.   While I love the slippery sounds of my native tongue, I also playing with my basic French and rudimentary Spanish.  Learning language is good for the brain cells, broadens the mind in more ways that just learning a grammar that is foreign to one's own.

Have a look at this excerpt from a new book about the English language.  Food for thought, especially for us native speakers.
http://www.salon.com/2011/11/06/whats_the_language_of_the_fut

Faces

  I love the English language web site Pesticide.  It's my snarky and self -deprecating go to guide for absurd news around Hungary. The following link will take you to a story about "ghost photographer" Zsuzsa Galkó Kőházy and her recent discovery.

http://www.pestiside.hu/20111104/michael-jacksons-ghost-spotted-in-miskolc/


Reminds me a little of this also very recent discovery in Canada....the face of pain indeed.

http://www.thestar.com/article/1079655--man-s-face-appears-in-tumour-in-ultrasound-oddity

Occupying My Mind

                                              this carving would adorn the front gate of my personal eden

 What is the ideal human condition?  Ask a Buddhist and she might reply "Nothing".  Ask a Jehovah's Witness and he might describe a world in which conservatively dressed people of all colors walk hand in hand, wearing painfully huge smiles and tidy haircuts, among lion cubs and lambs frolicking in a manicured but bountiful garden. Ask me and you'll get your answer a few days from now and it still won't be complete.

  Part of my answer to that question would include all of what that exciting new movement, Occupy Wall Street, has been shouting about. An end to the cozy relationship between Wall Street and our government.  Student loan forgiveness. Decent health care for all. Some might chuckle condescendingly, bitch about drum beating hippies, and say this is all unrealistic.  Of course, that is simply lazy, selfish thinking. Those who look down upon the movement throw out the term socialism and their minions scatter for the shelter of their mental bunkers.  Works every time. The 99% are not seeking some sort of progressive eden, nor do they want to do away with responsible capitalism.  What was that about a "level playing field"?  It doesn't exist anymore in the U.S. The machine has worked out that particular kink, and it runs smoothly only for the one percent.

   After much hesitation, I've decided to dedicate at least one blog post to Occupy Wall Street. SO much has been surmised, theorized, and rhapsodized about the movement that I fear anything I have to say is either trite or repetitious. I also feel removed from the fray over here in Hungary (where there is a similar movement afoot, more on that in another post). I can only watch from the hill, so to speak, and keep up as best I can.  I fully support their efforts and think it's about damn time. I also think those things that have been pointed out as flaws within the movement are actually strengths that have not been recognized because they are not status quo.  You know, that god-awful idea that this is just how things are done.Working within the system to beat the system.  Fuck that.

  I do have my concerns.  I worry about the "branding" of the movement (indeed, the branding of a person or an idea sticks in my craw). Steps have already been taken that threaten to cheapen the OW ethos.  The loathsome irony of it would be funny except that it's really happening. Some guy has filed to patent "Occupy Wall Street", there's a "Hot Chicks of OW" bouncing flirtatiously around the internet, and MTV's "Real World" sent out casting calls for OW Participants.  I worry about egos inflating, celebrity seeking, leaving little room for anyone else as well as the unadulterated goals of the movement. 

  I know this is how America currently works and one aim of OW is to stop it and change it.  It's not good enough to merely question authority, we must seize it and break it up into bite size chunks.

  This blog post will feature a wish list of my "mays" and "may nots" for Occupy Wall Street. The one percent may be small, but they've been running this shit for decades and the residue of their influence will not be easy to shake off.  All we can do is try.  

                                                     DEAR NINETY NINE PERCENTERS...

                                                  (requests from an American supporter abroad)

Remain leaderless: Please, 99%, please do not be seduced by the ambitious, the bossy, and the sanctimonious.  No one person should be your mouthpiece.  Speak and shout for yourselves. No father/mother figures please. This ain't no liberal artistocracy, this is supposed to be democracy.  Representatives definitely have a time and a place, but only if they truly represent without personal ambition. At the risk of being accused of marxism (gasp) I say...from each according to his ability. No one person or elite group should be given all of the ability.

Don't Get All Purist on My Ass:  Back to the sanctimony...please, people, leave it at home, in the closet.  Don't try to out anti-corporation me or anyone else. My aim is as true as yours. Don't get so wrapped up in what's "corporate whoring" and what's not that you become an insufferable know it all. It's not always so obvious what is and what isn't. Again, the one percent have been in control for a long time, so long that the fruits of their culture have set seed every damn where. It's ingrained in everything, including our language.  Be patient, be compassionate, don't be an asshole.

Don't Ignore Your Elders: Some of them, many of them have great ideas which are as cutting edge and exciting as anything a 21 year old can conceive.  Plus they have wisdom and experience.  Not all, but some. Not all new ideas spring from the minds of the young either, bless their hot little heads.  It's all about the individual. Age is just a number, sonny.

Try to Find Common Ground: Not so much with the one percent (except the ones who sympathize with the 99%) but with other, more conservative folks who are in the same dismal situation.  This isn't about who is smarter, hotter, better, or about punishing those whose lives suck but who continue to shill for the very people who keep them down in the hole. This is supposed to benefit everyone.  A culture war may be waging and I definitely have a preferred victor, but combat here may divert too much attention from what is really important...an actual, level playing field (see, there's some sneaky corporate lingo again) for all Americans, not just those who agree with you on every single talking point. Get to know people as people rather than ideologues. Maybe we should keep the culture war a cold one for now.  Who knows, with a little fellowship, the culture war could be downgraded to culture spat.

  Anyway......I will continue to watch Occupy Wall Street and its sister protests around the globe.  Forgive the platitudes but if we really want change there must be a certain dilligence as to keeping this movement real and relevant.  No movement is without its flaws but OW is shouting down the bully in his own back yard and is susceptible to dominance because of that. Stay strong, my pretties, and carry on.