I was out very late. I got off the Red Line stop around 2AM and started walking home. I’d gone a few blocks when I came across a chunk of ice. There’s snow on the ground now, but not a whole lot. In fact, there’s very little. But there’s some, and here was a chunk of ice. I guess I was feeling whimsical (and inebriated), and I started kicking the chunk of ice up the sidewalk. I started to record the kicking of the ice on my iPhone. I’m not sure why, but it occurred to me that what I was doing was something I would want to remember. It felt important. I’m not sure why.

After about a block I decided I was going to kick the chunk of ice all the way home. Now, it’s only about five blocks total here, but that’s plenty, I think, for kicking a piece of ice by yourself in the middle of the night down an empty sidewalk.

I didn’t run across any people, though I did see some cars at a stop sign. At one point I crossed the street without the ice because I didn’t want to cross in front of a stopped car, kicking ice, and looking crazy. I doubled back and resumed kicking the ice after the car was gone. It was about this point that I understood what I was doing was spiritual, the kind of small thing that feels big, the sort of trivia that defines life.

About a block and a half from my apartment a young man, about my age, crossed the street in my direction and came across the chunk of ice, which I’d just kicked about ten feet toward him. He playfully kicked the ice past me, behind me. I laughed awkwardly and said, “Nice job,” being friendly, then walked back toward the ice, as he watched, and began to kick it in the direction I’d been going, toward my apartment. I said, “I’m gonna hold onto this one.” He said, “Are you okay?” I said, “Yeah, I’ve just been following this one for about four blocks.” I kept kicking, left him behind, for about twenty feet when I heard him yell, “Why?!”

I turned, saw him looking at me about fifty feet away, this stranger, this man on the street, at 2:30AM in Chicago. He wanted to know, why was I kicking this ice? He wanted to know so much that he yelled the question at me, past our insecurity, past our strangeness, past the late hour.

Well, I was moved by his question, but I didn’t have an answer. And that’s what I said.

“Just because,” I yelled back. “I don’t have a good reason for that.”

Nothing eloquent about it, and part of me wishes I’d said more. But I think the act itself says enough, and I’m glad that, if he cares, he can figure out his own answer. I’m also glad that someone witnessed my private performance piece. That someone took part in it.

I did make it, with the ice, all the way to my apartment. Then I put the ice in my freezer. It’s there now. I don’t know what I’m going to do with it. Maybe, on the hottest day of the summer, I’ll let it melt somewhere in the city. Maybe I’ll toss it in the lake. Maybe I’ll leave it in a restaurant, a dairy freezer at the Jewel. I don’t know. But it’s there, waiting until I figure something out.

So that’s my amazing thing.

And it’s one, two, three,
What are we fighting for ?
Don’t ask me, I don’t give a damn,
Next stop is Afghanistan;
And it’s five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain’t no time to wonder why,
Whoopee! we’re all gonna die.

Come on Wall Street, don’t be slow,
Why man, this is war au-go-go
There’s plenty good money to be made
By supplying the Army with the tools of its trade,
But just hope and pray that if they drop the bomb,
They drop it on Iran.

And it’s one, two, three,
What are we fighting for ?
Don’t ask me, I don’t give a damn,
Next stop is Afghanistan.
And it’s five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain’t no time to wonder why
Whoopee! we’re all gonna die.

Well, come on generals, let’s move fast;
Your big chance has come at last.
Now you can go out and kill towel heads
‘Cause the only good Muslim is the one that’s dead
And you know that peace can only be won
When we’ve blown ‘em all to kingdom come.

And it’s one, two, three,
What are we fighting for ?
Don’t ask me, I don’t give a damn,
Next stop is Afghanistan;
And it’s five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain’t no time to wonder why
Whoopee! we’re all gonna die.

Come on mothers throughout the land,
Pack your boys off to Afghanistan.
Come on fathers, and don’t hesitate
To send your sons off before it’s too late.
And you can be the first ones in your block
To have your boy come home in a box.

And it’s one, two, three
What are we fighting for ?
Don’t ask me, I don’t give a damn,
Next stop is Afghanistan.
And it’s five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain’t no time to wonder why,
Whoopee! we’re all gonna die.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LBdeCxJmcAo

President Obama just announced that Osama bin Laden is dead – killed in Pakistan by a US military force. Outside the White House people gathered in the streets to celebrate. We are supposed to be rejoicing because justice has been done. The greatest individual enemy of peace-loving people has been done away with.

I don’t feel like rejoicing. The atrocities of bin Laden and Al Qaeda have always been our atrocities. It is our society, and when there is a sick member within it, we are all sick. I don’t want to suggest that bin Laden was crazy or “sick” in the head. Instead I mean to say that his existence – the circumstances that led to his existence – are a sign of great sickness among all humanity. They are sicknesses of poverty and wrath.

If bin Laden’s life and crimes were products of our sickness then his death is also. And so I can not be happy now but saddened that we are, indeed, so ill.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t feel sorry for bin Laden. I feel sorry for all of us. Some say justice has been done, but I don’t call this justice. I am not one who believes in the death penalty, because I don’t think the breaking of your toys for the breaking of mine makes for a just society – only a brutal one – an endlessly brutal one, where justice is sought like a holy grail or a stream with no source.

When Civil Rights marchers resisted without violence they did it because they knew violence against violence would not give them justice. They sought justice elsewhere. As water can be liquid, gas, or solid, so can justice take many forms.

After 9/11 there may be justice in our nation’s resilience. There may be justice in our efforts to improve on the circumstances that led to that day. There is justice in those who go on, and in the memory, and in the prevailing strength of hearts, bodies, and intellects.

But the death of one man is not justice. There is no justice in wrathful, primitive bloodletting. It is only a temporary distraction from real justice, which we may have if we really want it.

So maybe it makes sense that bin Laden should die by force. It had to happen some time, I suspect. He couldn’t run forever. But I will not be celebrating.

Robert Gibbs defended the US by saying our values insist that violence is never the answer. I read about this on CNN and felt compelled to leave a comment, which I don’t usually do. This is what I wrote:

“For Mr. Gibbs to state so categorically that “violence is never, ever” the right answer while the United States is engaged in a foreign war that has resulted in thousands of lost lives on all sides is blindly hypocritical. It’s a conflict of statements that must be faced in a developed society with a true ideal of peace. That is, if we assume that our ideal society would be a peaceful one, and that this ideal society is one we all seek. There may be a fundamental belief in our country if not the world that human beings are incapable of true peace. A cynical outlook on violence such as Mr. Gibbs’ is perhaps a symptom of such a belief.”

It dawned on me that our collective goal is a truly peaceful worldwide society where no one dies except by accident or natural causes. I would assume there would be no more war, etc. But it seems like no one actually believes this is possible, including myself. I’d never really thought about it before.

http://mirror.wikileaks.info/

I did read George W. Bush’s book, “Decision Points,” because I was very curious. Of course, I have to take what he wrote with a grain of salt (or several), but one could say that about any biography or any book in general, right? So anyway, I read the book, and it was very boring, but I did find it worth reading, and it was, indeed, enlightening, for one big reason: George W. Bush was willing to admit his mistakes. He didn’t try to convince me that he was a great guy who happened to be misunderstood. I came away from the book believing he was a mediocre president in a very tumultuous time. His presidency was a disaster, but not because he was evil (the world “evil” is so pathetically superficial, at least as it refers to actual events. In reality, “evil” is not scary. It’s like someone saying I’m going to Hell because I don’t believe in Christ. I don’t believe in Hell, so this means nothing to me. Well, I don’t believe in “evil” either). It’s because he wasn’t up to it. He couldn’t make the decisions he had to make in time. He didn’t make the right decisions when he did make them. He’s just a man trying to do his best, and he failed because the presidency, particularly in the past decade, has been more demanding than ever. For this reason, we would have been better off without him (though there is no real reason to think Gore would’ve been any better. Or Kerry for that matter. Fuck both of them.). I respect his book because I don’t think he shied away from this. Whether he was lying or not, I didn’t come away thinking he was a corrupt person. I just thought he was a failure.

Of course, for conspiracy theorists, it could be suggested that Bush and his handlers are being wily foxes by taking the lesser of two evils. Those being, either he was a corrupt war criminal, or he was just inadequate. Bush might prefer, if he had to choose, not to be considered a war criminal. So he would admit bad decision-making, but not criminal decision-making. We’re beyond the looking glass here, people.

Anyway, that’s what I got out of it.

The other day I met Jimmy Carter. To wash the taste of Bush (tee hee) out of my mouth, here’s a picture of me with Carter.

current music: “sinister kid” by the black keys

I’ve had a strange feeling recently that Austin is this dead place in my life that I never want to be in again. This might be bad because there’s a possibility I’ll live there again in the not too distant future. I feel like I’ve done everything I want to do there and, if I lived there, I’d get bored in one week. Oh, well, there’s the Alamo Drafthouse! That’s really great, right? Well, I’ve done that shit already. Oh, how ’bout the Trail of Lights? Right, that’s gone. And even if it wasn’t gone, I’ve done that a handful of times, too. I feel scared of Austin a little, I’m not entirely sure why. Because I can’t get away from it entirely, I suppose, and when I think about it these days a slight shiver travels up my spine. Pretty strange for the Colossus of Austin.

Current music: “Black Mud” – The Black Keys

If nothing else, I will say that I am currently living in Washington, DC and finding it invigorating if also strange and boring.

Alright, well, current music: “All I Want for Christmas Is You”  - Mariah Carey

!!!