Tuesday
I did not leave Utah expecting to be a political activist. I didn't have any PETA pamphlets, I didn't have any anti-war stickers, and I didn't have dreadlocks. I had a well read Gore Vidal book, but people who read that sort of book don't really participate; they move to Italy and complain about pretty much anything.
I took a train, which arrived at about four in the morning, two hours late. had not slept in several days, and done other things that left me a little off guard, as those of you who were at my going-away party can attest. When I got to my seat, I found I was surrounded by people with the wild-eyed fanaticism I usually associate with religious zealots and my fellow Star Trek fans. These fanatics had a heroic looking cardboard cutout, so I assumed they were going to a Sci-Fi Convention.
After I had several hours of sleep and several cups of coffee, I realized that these were not in fact Star Trek fans I was talking with. They were not religious fanatics, either. Their cardboard hero was not Gandalf, it was Howard Dean. I looked down and saw that I was wearing a Howard Dean sweatshirt and my train ticket no longer listed my destination as Philadelphia. I was headed for Des Moines, Iowa, and I was a political activist
I remember our arrival in Iowa with perfect clarity, even if we were technically in Nebraska. It seems that in the flood of candidates, reporters, and activists that descend on Iowa every fourth January there were no rental cars left in the entire state. We were asked to get off the train in Omaha and drive forty rented minivans into Des Moines. A list of names and insurance numbers was taken, and the vans were decorated with DEAN FOR AMERICA bumper stickers. We set out in a caravan; thirty-eight vans all in a row, down I-80 to Des Moines. I rode in the passenger seat of the very first van. Unlike the stretch of I-80 that cuts through the mountains to Park City, I-80 in Iowa is flatland, so I was able to see the entire caravan behind us, a quarter-mile long convoy—van after van after van—rolling across the bumps people in Iowa call ‘hills.’ It was an extraordinary sight, and I marveled.
Later, the entire magnificent collection pulled off because my driver, Vicky, had to use the restroom. Iowa has the cleanest rest stops in the entire country, and I marveled at that, too.
I had not arranged for a hotel, and every room in the city was booked by the same flood of candidates, reporters and activists that had all the rental cars. Not to worry; the Dean campaign had arraigned a campground for three thousand volunteers who were going to storm the state and intimidate the Iowans into submission. The volunteers called themselves THE PERFECT STORM, and they were prepared to subject themselves to cheap tents, ratty sleeping bags, and bad food in their effort to change the course of our country.
I found a stormer named John who preferred to subject himself to $2999 a night at the Budget Inn and had an extra bed.
There were a lot of people buying a lot of other people things in the
posted by J'myle 10:57 AM
Sunday
Seeing as FOD is not putting my entries up, I'm putting up a few days worth of journal entries that have been languishing on my hard drive.
5 April 2003
I rode TRAX downtown, and there are all these cute guys wearing neckties, and more than one of them is being nice to me, almost enough for me to think I'm being hit on. But what the hell would any self respecting gay boy be doing awake at nine in the morning on a saturday?
Then one of the guys I'm chatting up says that he'd like to introduce me to his wife. His wife? he can't be more than a year or two older than I am. And he's hitting on me. What the fuck?
Oh, yeah. It's confrence weekend.
I gotta get out of this city. I mean, being nice to people when your not trying to get money from them or get into their pants? It just strikes me as fake. I don't believe for a second there is a single human on this planet who doesn't feel superior to everyone else; we couldn't survive without disproprtionately large egos. But as long as we all hate each other, can't we be honest about it?
=/\=
If Chris Rice is to be belived, New Orleans is the home of clubs that make Axis look timid, masoleums that make the set of 'Buffy' look cheerful, and repressed-but-hot Catholic school boys that make Andy look like Russ.
If Anne Rice is to believed, New Orleans is the home of Vampires, the living dead.
Either way, cool.
=/\=
So, the state mock trial championships were thursday. We should have lost. Technically, we did. In the overall point spread, Mountain View had more points than West. But two of the three judges gave West more points, by narrow margins, and it's done on a ballot system; in other words, we won on a technicality.
I'm not complaning. I'm going to New Orleans.
=/\=
My opening statement sucked. It was all narrative, with little finding of fact. In fact, the defense pretty much threw out the whole thing with their first line. "The prosecution has told you a story, but we're going to give you the facts." I'll have to do better at Nats - and in the humidity of the South in May.
I did good work objecting to Arnold's direct. I made four creation of material fact objections, argued them well, and had three sustained. Then I stood up and said, "Objection, that's unfair speculation." The defense attorney immediately responded, "It's in his statement." I said, "I'm not arguing that it's in his statement, I'm arguing that the statement itself is objectionable." And the defense attorney opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say. And it was good.
My cross of Arnold was more than good, it was fun. "Professor, can you tell me where in your statement it actually says you teach?" Boom. Dead on Arrival, that man is down. But he wasn't - he was a great witness, and we struggled for three minutes over our time, and I lost some of it, but in the end, it was the most fun I had in the whole damn competition. Whoot.
=/\=
My uncle John was in town, we played chess, he won. I paid for the ice cream. So friday night was good, too.
I fully expect to have a good day today - I'm going to see the CDT concert, possibly with, possibly without, Jeff - then Jeff and I will do the whole 'date' thing.
=/\=
I got the case from the national web site. It's all about election fraud, and all the characters are named after characters from Louisiana political history. And they use the phrase 'political chicanary,' bless 'em.
Most of my web time has been about searching the web for things to do in New Orleans, though. Theres two gay clubs within easy walking distance of the hotel we'll probably be staying at. I think I'll leave my inhibitions, such as they are, at home - along with most of my clothes. It will be humid, after all.
=/\=
But for now, I think I'll head back downtown and ogle missionaries. I may have mixed feelings about door-to-door conversion tactics, but as long as they keep wearing those cute little suits, I can keep my feelings to myself.
10 April 2003
Lets see - of three people assigned to the dance concert the week after we come back, one is sick and one is in Washington. It feels this way with all the shows. I can't even remember the last time I got to just sit down and tech, maybe design some lights. I won't even count the musical.
I think I'm gonna crack, if I have to do this much longer. It's really driving me nuts.
=/\=
Maybe thats one of the reasons it's such an appealing idea to do a film with Paul this summer. I'd just be DoP, and he'd handle all the other shit. We talked about it yesterday, on the way to Park City. He's really a fan of Reservoir Dogs, and wants to do a film about two assasins sitting on a rooftop, talking to each other.
We also talked about driving to New Orleans a few days before nationals. It would give us a few days to do all those things we won't be able to do during the competition. It would be a good send-off to high school, especially because I can't go to Moab with Libby &c.
=/\=
And I do need a last blast, so to speak. I was talking with my father today, about when I'm gonna move out. (He wants me to find roomates for the summer, I'd rather wait 'till I get my EMT certification in August. But I might do it, if I can find anyone to split a shitty apartment.) I'm looking forward to being on my own, and to getting the hell out of Utah - but I want one last chance to party white suburban middle-class teenage boy style.
Then again, I never quite got the hang of that whole scene anyway. I don't know why I always felt out of place when I was hanging with Sam or Mike. I mean, granted, my parents aren't lawyers, but we've never been hurting for money. And it's not the queer thing - alternative sexualities are back in style, much like flared jeans, pot, and other seventies fashions.
There a scene in Almost Famous where Phillip Seymore Hoffman's veteran rock critic is explaining what he thinks about art. Artists, apparently, are the chronically dispossessed. The ones who are always on the outside, looking in. How else can you see everything?
I don't know if I quite believe that. But it is a comforting thought.
=/\=
Okay, shit. I swore to myself that I wouldn't let this become just another angsty white kid bitching about how hard life is type of thing, like all those other BLOG's. Art is founded on elitism as much as observations, so I can only stay afloat as long as I'm better than everyone else. So much better, in fact, that I don't even bother trying to share my motivations, which are incomprehensible to the burgoise swine anyway. And in that spirit, I think I'll just make a gay joke and leave.
So, a rabbi, a drag queen, and John Travolta walk into a bar and [the punchline to this joke has been removed at the request of Mr. Travolta's lawyers.]
11 April 2003
So, Hillary got Josh Height to come back and run the dance concert after spring break. Cara's in D.C., and I'm gonna have to tell her as soon as she gets back. She's gonna flip. I think I want to rehearse what I'm gonna say to her.
If Hillary wants to put another crew in charge, it's her call, and that's that.
Wow. Shorter than I thought. I mean, its not like I actually enjoy running tech crew, and if Hillary wants to take some of the stress of my back, good for her. But I do run tech crew, and I bear the ultimate responsibility for the conduct of everyone on it. I talked with Hillary about who was going to be on the crew for this concert, and she disagreed with me, and since I wasn't going to change my mind, she decided to go over my head. Fine. It's not my show any more. Good luck to Josh, and I have other things to worry about.
But I can't just dismiss it. I haven't second-guessed anything I've done as head of tech so far, but now, I'm uneasy. If the dance teacher doesn't trust me to crew a show, I can't be doing a very good job, can I?
No. It's my job. If Hillary wants to second guess me, that's her regard, but I'm not gonna run around changing my decisions on everyone. If I say someone is doing a show, there it is. If a techie screws up, it's my responsibility, and if I'm going to take responsibility for the techies, then I also need to make the decisions regarding them. Otherwise, I'm not a leader, I'm a martyr. And I'm not going to go around pretending to be Jesus on everyone.
Just Captain Picard.
posted by J'myle 9:43 PM
I've moved. I can now be found here.
posted by J'myle 10:23 PM
Monday
This day has to be near the top of the charts. Enjoyed my classes, especially the ones I spent at Village Inn with a couple of mythadorks and assorted personages. Plus the read-through for the play, covering my bits. A small part, but me and my cockroaches will get big laughs.
I felt bad about leaving Cara to hang lamps. But it was worth it. Eric walked up to me after school and asked if I wanted to go to a screening of Live From Baghdad. I was hesitant, because it would mean leaving Cara and Stuart together to do... well, does the last half of that sentence really matter? Fortunately, they both seemed to get over it right after I broached the possibility. I was damned impressed with them.
And I was so happy with Baghdad. Eric and I went down to Spy Hop, and from there to Trolly Corners for the film. I nearly got killed by riding in an SUV without seatbelts. Awful car.
Anyhoodles, we got to the theater, and it turns out there's a "bit of a reception" at Tucci's beforehand. We get there, and the place is packed. I bumped into Jodi from the library and we talked about the new main branch. That was fun. Then the guy with the SUV mentions that Eric is talking to the screenwriter.
"What screenwriter?"
"The guy who wrote the movie."
"What, the movie we're going to see?"
"Yes. And never complain about my car or threaten to kill my entire family again."
Yeah, that was tactless. But the point was, I went to talk with Richard Chapman, the screenwriter for Live From Baghdad. But before I should get there, I end up listening to Rocky talking with some guy.
Yeah, that Rocky. And he's talking with is Ambassador Joe Wilson, the former ambassador to Iraq and the last man to leave the embassy in Baghdad before the 1991 Gulf War. He talked a bit about exile; in short, he doesn't think Saddam will leave Iraq. A pity we don't have an easy out like exile, but I think he's right about Saddam.
I didn't get a chance to talk with this Chapman chap before the movie starts, but I figure, the Mayor and the Ambassador are good conversation partners.
The movie was really quite good. I expect it's easy to get carried away by a crowd whose enthusiastic about a movie, and Baghdad wasn't a monumental artistic work.
What it was, though, was well-told. My father is fond of saying that a movie director is a story-teller, descended from the first humans, huddled around a camp fire, talking. Baghdad creates several interesting characters, drops them into a realistic situation (especially for those with a good memory) and tells us what happens, all with skill and poise.
Some movies do more than that, but that sort of lightning in a bottle is pure luck.
So, the movies over and there's Q&A session. Most of the talking is done by Ambassador Wilson and Robert Weiner, the producer for the CNN team in Baghdad during the Gulf War. Weiner was played by Micheal Keaton in the film; Keaton was on the guest list, but didn't show.
The ambassador gave a stirring speech rebuking Bush's justification for an invasion in the State of the Union. His centerpiece was the problems arising from an occupation of Iraq, in their incredible scope and magnitude.
Mind you, that's conventional wisdom among the left. But it's easy to dismiss me as an unAmerican, revolutionary hack. But a former Ambassador with unparalled experience in Iraq, a man who met personally with Saddam Hussien to negotiate before the first war, a man who was in Baghdad right up until the invasion - well, that's harder to explain.
After the Q&A, which turned into a soapbox for Weiner and Wilson, I got to talk with Richard Chapman. Turns out he totally approved of the political discussion this has sparked. His only complaint was that not enough people will see the movie for it to signifigantly affect discourse on Iraq in this country. Now he was a superbly cool person.
Then, I got to talk with the Mayor again, and even make a point about corporate influence in the news media. And he said some very flattering things about City Weekly. Excellent.
I had to take the bus home, which was OK. I met a very nice girl from Highland at the stop. She was hitting on me; I gave her my number. I must admit, the prospect is a little bit tempting. What is this thing all the straight guys are raving about?
After all, she is smart, funny, and good-looking. Plus, she doesn't know me. If I do date her, I won't have to see her every day after it hits the skids. I could never use one of the smart, funny, and good-looking girls I know just to satisfy some latent curiosity. But with Melissa...
Then again, it would just be to satisfy my curiosity. There'd be nothing genuine in it. At least with casual sex, there's a mutual aknowledgement of innate physical attraction. Every bit of physical attraction I've ever had toward a woman has felt, well - fake. Something pasted on by a childhood dominated by Disney movies and Sesame Street, all lying to me about love and sex.
But no point turning this into a rant against, in the words of Russell T. Davies, "the fasicst heterosexual orthodoxy." Let's focus on me here.
And I had a good day.
posted by J'myle 10:42 PM
Personal Log, 15020.3 -
I worked again yesterday. The new office is nice, but it'll take a while for me to find the good food. Ah, well - nothing like a challenge with motivation. Oh, and Kingpin premiered yesterday. Not exactly an original concept, but it looks like they have some good writers and I like the six episode arc format. Whoot.
I'm not working enough; all my time this week - like every single day - is going to the Dance Concert. Grr.
posted by J'myle 11:45 AM
Friday
Personal Log, 15013.1 -
Meet and greet for the play. It was so odd to use the words, "and I'll be playing the role of," when I introduced myself. It feels like some sort of betrayal. I'll be codesigning the set w/Emma Lumbeck, so it's not a complete abandonment of my principals. That sucks too - I don't do things half-assed, not even selling out. At least Emma's good with sets - that thing she did for the Opera was excellent. It will be good.
Oh, and I've changed my mind about resolutions. I'm not making enough of them. I had my first "we have to stop off somewhere to get condoms first" moment, and I'm damn proud of it. Here's to psychology majors.
posted by J'myle 9:45 PM
Thursday
Personal Log, 15013.0 -
Someone said I was without fear yesterday. That was cool, but also bullshit. Walking back to TRAX, in front of PTC, a few people with various musical instruments walked past me on the sidewalk. One of them, a tall guy with nice hair, looked at me. I took a few more steps, and turned around. He'd turned around too, and we looked at each other for a minute. I took a deep breath, looked across the street, and...
...walked away.
Damn. I resolve to hit on one person every single day for the next couple of weeks. Even if it's only a little.
Okay, I'm making too many resolutions. Never mind. I resolve not to drive until Saturday, and, depending on how reliable my memory of New Years is, I resolve not to drink for an undetermined amount of time. That's it. I will hit on whoever I want to, or not, whenever the hell I want to.
Oh, well, enough about sex. I'm a well-rounded individual, with more on my mind than sex. I can talk about other fascinating things in an extensive and engrossing manner. For instance, ah...
posted by J'myle 9:48 AM
Tuesday
Personal Log, 15012.8 -
Okay, I just sat through the State of the Union Adress. I won't go over every detail of Bush's proposals and new policies. They don't quite work when you put them together. Or on their own, come to think of it. Someone should probably have read that speech beforehand. Especially the line about "Hitlerism, militarism, and communism." It's not that I supported the Nazis, I just have issues with George W. Bush taking personal credit for their defeat.
Coffee with Sam touched on this today. There is no morally sound ground for war, under any circumstance. Let's face it, even in the conflict that American's equate most with justified military action, World War II, we didn't exactly come off as Jesus with an M-2. We locked up our own citizens simply because they were born Japanese, and we remain the only country on earth to ever have deliberately use nuclear weapons to kill civilians.
I guess Bush's reflex to label anything America has ever done good and right can get a bit absurd. Take this, for example; "Other Al Queada operatives have met a different fate. Let's put it this way -- they will no longer be causing the U.S. and our allies trouble." I understand that it might be nessisary for the United States Government to kill people, but when the President brags about it on national television... well, it seems a bit tasteless.
posted by J'myle 7:40 PM
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