...Not the kind of wheel you fall asleep at...


What happened to you, Al Pacino? Seriously? Back in the '70's, you were so wicked cool. I would've tied you up and had my way with you without even thinking twice about it.

Now, you just make me want to roto-root my eye sockets.

*Sigh of sad, 1970's remorse*



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White Like Me


(Excerpted from Tim Wise's White Like Me: Reflections on Race from a Privileged Son)

"You can't organize people if you don't love them. And however hard it can be to love the racists you come in contact with, doing so is the first obligation of a white antiracist.

While it is not for people of color to put up with us, or to hold our hands, or to love us (especially if loving us puts them at great risk), it is definitely for those of us who are white to show that love even as we issue the challenge. We are talking about our people after all: people who could be us but for some experience we had and they didn't. Indeed, at other times we might still be awfully close to them, might find ourselves vulnerable to the same kind of thinking, no matter how much work we think we've done on our own conditioning." (90)

I cannot put into number how many times I've wanted to say just this to people, but didn't have the eloquence to put it so perfectly:

"The most dangerous person is the one who refuses to admit that he does in fact contribute to injustice at least as often, if not more so than he truly rebels against it. Such a person is capable of learning nothing because he honestly perceives himself to be in such control of his shit that there is nothing anyone else can teach him, and that there is nothing on which he needs to work, no point at which he too is part of the problem, and not merely part of the solution to the myriad social crises that surround us." (102)

I know they are very different issues in many many ways (though a lot of folks have argued that the oppression of non-white folks and the oppression of animals stem from the same messed up ideologies), but this quote also very lovingly captures exactly what I feel when it comes to those who contribute to the suffering of animals as well:

"Racism, even if it is not your own, changes you, allows you to think things and feel things that make you less than you were meant to be. It steals that part of your humanity that is the most precious because it is that part that allows us to see the image of God, the goodness of creation, in all humankind. And our unwillingness to see that, and more than to see it, to really feel it, deep in the marrow of our bones, is what allows us, and even sometimes compels us, to slaughter one another, often in the name of the same God whose image we wouldn't recognize if our lives depended on it. Which, come to think of it, they probably do." (126)

I don't know how many times I've heard people so easily submit to defeat with regard to race-issues or animal-rights issues or feminist issues, simply because they claim that trying is futile since we'll never be able to change a system that is so firmly entrenched in backwards ideologies. With them in particular, I share these final quotes:

"'You do not do the things you do because others will necessarily join you in the doing of them,' [Archbishop Tutu] explained, 'nor because they will ultimately prove successful. You do the things you do because the things you are doing are right." (153)

"I have no idea when, or if, racism will be eradicated. I have no idea whether anything I say, do, or write will make the least bit of difference in the world. But I say it, do it, and write it anyway, because as uncertain as the outcome of our resistance may be, the outcome of our silence and inaction is anything but. We know exactly what will happen if we don't do the work: nothing. And given that choice, between certainty and promise, in which territory one finds the measure of our resolve and humanity, I will opt for hope." (154)



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If you are white and haven't already read White Like Me: Reflections on Race from a Privileged Son (Tim Wise), you need to go out and get your hands on it. Consider it your responsibility as someone who is privileged and who takes that privilege for granted (because we all do).

Especially, and particularly, if you are sitting there rolling your eyes and thinking that you *don't* need to read this book at all. That you aren't racist. That you're all up on racial-issues. That you're the epitome of multi-culti-ness. That you are colorblind and treat everyone the same. That racial inequality isn't an issue anymore.

Get ye.

Seriously.

It is a book that every white person should read, and it's a book that really should be implemented into high school curriculum (but which never will be, I'm sure).

So do it.

Because you really should give enough of a shit to squeeze these 160 pages into your week.



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Dear Old Guy Neighbor:


I dig you. I do. You are a nice fellow. You are a lonely fellow. You are an interesting fellow. And I honestly don't mind talking to you at all. But *YOU'RE STARTING TO SMOTHER ME*!!!!! So we need to make some changes.

Herein lies a new set of conversational rules I hope you will be willing to abide by:
  1. You need to start letting me be out on the roof for more than 30 seconds before you come to the window to talk to me. Otherwise I start to feel a bit like I'm being stalked and start wondering whether I should check my phone for wire-taps. An hour would be preferable--it will give me time to decompress after a long day of work before having to spend 45-minutes talking to you about the price of gas.


  2. Please do not make your usual cat-noises out the window at my cats when I have guests over. It is disconcerting and confuses them, especially if they've been drinking.


  3. If I am holding a plate of food, if I am very dramatically scooping the food into my mouth, if I am very obviously talking with my mouth full of food, all so you will notice that I am in the middle of eating my dinner, then please do not say "So you eating dinner?" and when I answer affirmatively, say you should let me get back to eating and then remember just *one* more thing you wanted to tell me real quick which, of course, takes the remainder of my dinner for you to tell me.


  4. You need to stop standing in the window for long periods of time without my awareness, not saying anything, just staring at me and my cats. Because when I finally notice you standing there, it freaks me out and makes me feel like I'm constantly under secret surveillance. You need to especially stop doing this at night.


  5. I don't eat meat. I would've told you that long ago, but you are hard of hearing and wouldn't have understood anyways. Like the time my downstairs neighbor asked you if your electricity was out and you said, "No, I have a dog." Anyways, this means that I don't like hearing lengthy stories about your meat-laden dinners. Anytime you ask me what you should have for dinner--chicken patties or spaghetti: I CHOOSE SPAGHETTI.


  6. My cats' names are Franny and Zooey, not Franny and Jody. The black one is Franny. The gray one is Zooey. Not Jody. Zooey. Just for the record.


  7. Take your shoes to be resoled already. You've been talking about it for three weeks already. What's the hold-up?


  8. If you're going to tell me a story for the 37th time, do not lead in with a "like I said before" transitional phrase. At least *feign* senility or something. Because if you're telling me the same story for the 37th time because you don't remember telling me it before, that I can understand. But when you lead in by acknowledging that you've told me the story before, then I am left wondering why in the bloody hell you're telling me it again. For the 37th time.


  9. Your stories about how people have broken into my apartment numerous times in the past freak me out, even if you end the lengthy description of the break-ins with a "but I'm sure they've fixed up the lock since then." So I officially declare a moratorium on this subject matter. Along with the price of gas. Because at this point, I think we have both reached an agreement that it's "Not so good."


  10. You are not allowed to end a 10-minute conversation by saying "I should let you get back to work--I don't wanna hold you up!" but then come back out again 45 minutes later and commence to talk for a whole 'nother 45 minutes. This offers me a glimmer of hope that is then viciously snatched away from me. And that's not nice.


  11. You need to not talk to me. Just once in a while. Like, maybe, Mondays. Because right now, I talk to you more during the week than I do my own mom. In fact, I talk to you more in a week than I do my whole family. And that somehow just doesn't seem right.


  12. When there is a plane/helicopter/bus going by, it would be useful to pause a moment in your conversation as I will not hear what you are saying for about 30 seconds and can only grin and nod.


  13. Please stop "accidentally" throwing bread-scraps up on my roof for the birds. I know you find it amusing to watch the cats freak out over the birds, but you have a driveway: use it.


  14. This is an important one: please keep our conversations at a 15-minute maximum, especially if they happen more than once in, say, two hours. If my days were 27 hours long, I wouldn't mind a 45-minute conversation more than once in the same afternoon. But since they are only 24, and since I sometimes only have a couple hours when I'm actually home in the evening to chill, 15-minutes it's gonna have to be.


  15. And finally: Do not, ever again, never ever ever stand in the window and point down towards your groin area and say "Look who's here to see you." I *will* eventually realize you are pointing at your dog, but the height of your window does not allow me to SEE that your dog is down there, so my initial reaction will be cold cold unfathomable horror.

I hope all this will better our relationship and allow it to continue to thrive, Old Guy Neighbor. I truly do. Otherwise, I am sorry to say, we may very well be on the road to Splitsville.

Sincerely,
Lindy Loo

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Often when I'm driving, I jot down random quotes and/or song lyrics that I hear and like onto whatever happens to be nearby (napkins, receipts, empty cigarette packs) and then promptly forget about them. I happened to notice this one on the back of a receipt for muffler-work from my mechanic. I like and thus share:

"The most violent element in society is ignorance."



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But I Swear It Was a Duck with Razor-Sharp Teeth


This weekend, I was at the bar with E and a couple of his friends, and we got on the subject of designer-breed dogs and pet-stores. E's friend J___ abruptly changed the subject to a story about how one time when he was little, he was out in a boat with his parents when suddenly they saw a duck with razor-sharp teeth glaring at them. "Razor-sharp teeth?" we all said, laughing. "Yeah," he said. "My parents were like, Don't move--it could attack you!"
J's wife: Was it maybe a platypus?
J: No, they don't have those in Ohio I don't think.
Us: Nor do they have ducks with razor-sharp teeth, really... Was it just, like, floating there in the water?
J: No, it was like way over on the shore.
Us: Then why the hell did your parents act like it was gonna attack you?
J: Well, because it had razor-sharp teeth and was staring at us... Hold on--I'm gonna call my sisters, and see if one of them remembers it.
(J engages in hushed conversation, hangs up)
Us: So?
J: She said she has no recollection of any of it and that I made it up. Hang on--I'm gonna call my other sister. She'll remember.
(J engages in another hushed conversation, hangs up)
Us: So? What'd she say?
J (clearing throat): She said it was a ferret.



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Last night I had the strangest dream I've had in a long time, mostly because it was not narrative at all:

There was a little girl with a scab running from the corner of her mouth to her chin, and her nose was running in that oblivious little kid kind of way.

There was a picture of a slice of pizza. I kept progressively trying to get the exposure darker.

Then the thought of J.D. Salinger.



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