Son House Does "John The Revelator"

This is pure gold, in sepia.

Talking 'Bout My Generation

Went on KPFA last night to talk to UC Berkeley Professor and Music Historian Rickey Vincent about the events at Occupy Oakland on Wednesday with friends Justin Richmond and Charlie Stocker.

Our interview begins about 34 minutes in to this clip right here. It's available through the website for two more weeks, and I'll try to figure out how to get it from an archive after that.

A couple things that I think those in the movement (we in the movement?) need to keep in mind that we didn't have a chance to have an open discussion about on the show, is the importance of thinking critically within the left about our actions, and about what happened at Occupy Oakland and what's occurring at Occupy events everywhere.

At Oakland, a small contingent of people decided to occupy the Traveler's Aid Society without having an open, democratic and transparent decision about the move. This is dangerous, because many folks followed them without realizing that they didn't know whom they were following, or why. I'm not one of those who believes that police conspirators manufacture situations like this in order to provide proper provocation for their actions. But I am someone who believes that if we allow this to happen within the movement, we are not acting in accordance with its ideals. And that while I did see police getting ready to raid the camp before the situation at the Traveler's Aid Society got completely out of hand, it's indefensible that we put ourselves in such a compromising position to begin with.

While occupying foreclosed buildings may be a smart direction for Occupy to move in, if the democratic process is bypassed in order to get us there, we are not being faithful to the movement — are more importantly, we are not being faithful to each other or respectful of the fact that the power of out intellects together far outweighs and outlasts the power of our intellects alone.

Moreover, if we play off vandalism as an acceptable aside within the movement, we're not being faithful to it, but rather allowing a small contingent of people to overtake our image within the media, among policy makers, and internally.

The same goes for presenting ourselves as violently anti-police or anti-governance.

As a friend of mine noted, folks need to keep their wits about them in order to stay safe. We should celebrate our successes while maintaining awareness.

I think whispers of a dialogue about this have already begun, and that we should encourage murmurs as well.

First Experiences At (but hardly first thoughts about) Occupy

I've been walking around my everyday stops — campus, classes, home — today in a daze, a disconnected daze. I suppose that before I really jump into what I'm about to write, I should likely note that all the thoughts I'll be spilling here are raw and unprocessed. Going to classes, doing school work and "work" work today, I haven't gotten a chance to write at all about what I experienced yesterday, and writing is my usual method of understanding. So, here, I'll be writing to understand as well as to describe, and this is an important process. I'm firmly against disclaimers, but I'm posing this here paragraph as more of an explanation. Now, back to Oakland.

I arrived in Oakland shortly after four p.m. on Wednesday. A friend and I had raced to catch a bus from Berkeley, pounding the pavement in excitement. We caught the 1R, which had to be rerouted somewhere down the line because of the sheer mass of people in downtown Oakland. When my friend and I asked the bus driver about the best stop to get off at on the new route, he kindly let us know, told us he would love to be able to get off his bus and march with us.

Wednesday was my first direct encounter with the Occupy movement. My sister had gone and visited the Oakland site a couple weeks ago and told me excitedly about it. I had only been following the movement minorly in the news until quite recently. I'll admit that I was quite cynical about the movement — about the possibilities it held, about the determination and stamina of those involved, as well as a number of other issues that I'm still turning over in my mind — and decided that I really wanted to see it firsthand before deciding what I thought. I had to see it before I could think anything at all.

What I saw as I marched to the Port of Oakland on Wednesday amazed me.

The streets were so packed with people — behind me, around me, in front of me — that I am not sure I could tell where I was walking even if I were the sort of person who has a sense of direction.

An older couple told me that the marchers and folks gathered at Oscar Grant Plaza today were much more diverse ethnically than they had been just the week before — something I found particularly heartening. Two big concerns of mine (that have not been completely alleviated, but which I am feeling more positively about now) were the ethnic diversity of participation in the movement and localization.

Something that I feel is necessary if Occupy is to represent itself as a movement of "the 99 percent" — and that is necessary if it is to grow as a mass movement — is representation. The fact that I saw this yesterday was a huge relief for me.

Another major concern for me was (is?) the localization of the movement. By this, I mean, the question of whether those at Occupy Oakland are from Oakland, or folks from somewhere else who are occupying Oakland.

I know that this may be ironic of hypocritical considering that I went out to Oakland from Berkeley, and it's still something I'm trying to understand myself, but hear me out. The main reason why I'm concerned about this is gentrification. Oakland is quickly gentrifying — the North Oakland/Temescal  area is hopping in a way I don't remember it doing last year, when I first arrived in the Bay Area. Reading about issues of gentrification in Brooklyn, the way that well-intentioned "pioneers" moved into urban areas and transformed them into desirable living spaces for the well-off, has made me think more critically about the fact that intentions and consequences of actions do not always parallel on another. As good-hearted as we are, are those of us who migrate to Oakland from the outside doing the right thing or are we co-opting or adulterating a movement?

This brings up questions about the structure of the Occupy movement that are too numerous and detailed to bring up now, but that touch on ideas of localization of goals and actions and the way that they fit within the movement as a whole. The movement's still trying to figure itself out, so it's really amazing to be here on the fringes trying to figure it out as well.

Marching down to the port was spectacular. There was a distinct feeling in the air, an energy emanating from everyone there that I have never felt before. To say that I felt like a part of something ... that I felt connected to everyone there ... is to put it too plainly, is too prosaic.

Let me put it this way.

The port was like a great lung, drawing in great breaths of thousands of people, and softly breathing them out again in friendly little puffs. There is no other way to properly put it. The movement felt utterly organic in this way. When I arrived at the port, I could see from my perch on a bridge above railroad ties (I'll explain this later) that bodies stretched out in the thousands in front of me, and that more folks were still arriving.

It was incredibly beautiful to look behind me at the highway covered in bodies milling around, walking forward together.

Instead of cars, the streets were packed with people talking to one another, engaging in dialogue, shaking hands, exchanging stories and smiles. Suddenly, the streets were a place of convergence and conversation for people, rather than a pathway from compartmentalized place to compartmentalized place, all in the comfort of a car. To see another possibility for these streets was jarring in the best way possible, and gave me heart. I can't help but believe that this is what the street is made for. And that we should have the time to use them this way every day ... should have time to talk to one another and be merely human every day, rather than being merely their respective occupations.

There is so much more that I want to write, and that I will, but I've bitten off more than I can chew for now, so I'm just gon' post this up.

Down in the Valley (Week One)

I walked about all week long with song stuck in my head, singing it under my breath in the daytime and high over it at night. Gosh this song is unreal — it sounds so eerie, unearthly. Like it may be eaten by mountains or the singer may be gobbled by mountains, full of despair in a valley.

For some strange reason, I really wanted to draw a specific image I had in my mind; a man, tall, gaunt, lone with a big pack hanging with pots and pans and handkerchiefs that would clack as he walked. He has no face, no eyes and no tears, but he does have big blue boots, worn, from which blue paint leaks. Every step he takes leaves a mark.

I just heard Mississippi John Hurt's "You got to walk that lonesome valley" for the first time and while the melody and mood don't quite fit, the idea that "there's nobody here can walk it for him"fits just right. Sidenote: he's always wearing the same plaid shirt. What a man.

I couldn't draw this — goodness knows I tried. I just haven't got hands that can draw what's so clear in my mind. It's almost nightmarishly frustrating, but there you go. It didn't help that I was terribly intimidated by all the stunning art the rest of the class has created — I just feel I couldn't encapsulate the feeling I felt if I couldn't capture the picture in my head.

So I wrote a poem. I'm not quite sure I do the song justice, but there it is. I'm still working on scanning everything I create, but I'll have a scanned copy of it posted soon and transcribe it below once it's up.

Leadbelly's version is absolutely great, particularly because he was in jail himself and so he really made the song his own. He emphasized the jailhouse aspects of the song over the romantic aspects. It's stellar, but I guess I should say that I really identify Down in the Valley (at least the "traditional" version) with a woman's voice. I looked through some renditions of it and somehow this, suburban as it is, seemed to fit best:



I also found a song by a modern folk band called "Down in the Valley" that has no direct similarities to the original folk song, but is rather nice. There are some themes of incarceration and love which still stand:

The OED, In a Hegelian Sense

I recently read this New York Times article discussing Supreme Court Justices' increased citations of dictionaries — over 120 different ones — in order to come to and strengthen their court decisions. 


As you may know I love the OED, and the piece reminded me of something I'd fancifully written months ago — a Hegelian analysis of the idea that dictionaries serve to limit as well as broaden our scopes of language ... and thought I'd post it here.


Thesis: Dictionaries are a repository of factual information, letting us know which words are words and giving us legitimacy when we use the tome ("hey, it is real — I looked it up in the dictionary!"). They also tell us what they mean, or are said to mean, opening up worlds to us and giving us a clear way of understanding the intentionality behind what others are saying. They also give us ways to say things ourselves — a sort of grab bag of words to choose from.


Antithesis: This is sort of limiting. For all the doors it opens to us, it also puts up walls. Words or interpretations of words not legitimized by the dictionary are labeled false or incorrect. The dictionary is neither personal nor vogue: the dictionary is right, and does not give us leave to conjure up new meaning for ourselves. For all that the dictionary broadens our lexical horizons, it sets strict borders as well.


Synthesis: The OED! Oh, the beauty of the OED, which gives us meanings with the promise of malleability and the guarantee of expansion. It's a dictionary created to account for the transcience of a living, breathing, growing language like English ... why don't judges stick to the OED alone?

Plus Rien Ne M'Etonne

Tiken Jah Fakoly

Ils ont partagé le monde, plus rien ne métonne
Plus rien ne métonne
Plus rien ne métonne

Si tu me laisses la Tchétchénie
Moi je te laisse l'Arménie
Si tu me laisse l'Afghanistan
Moi je te laisses le Pakistan
Si tu ne quittes pas Haïti
Moi je tembarque pour Bangui
Si tu maides à bombarder l'Irak
Moi je tarrange le Kurdistan

Ils ont partagé le monde, plus rien ne métonne
Plus rien ne métonne
Plus rien ne métonne

Si tu me laisses l'uranium
Moi je te laisse l'aluminium
Si tu me laisse tes gisements,
Moi je taides à chasser les Talibans
Si tu me donnes beaucoup de blé
Moi je fais la guerre à tes côtés
Si tu me laisses extraire ton or
Moi je taides à mettre le général dehors

Ils ont partagé le monde, plus rien ne métonne
Plus rien ne métonne
Plus rien ne métonne

Ils ont partagé Africa, sans nous consulter
Il sétonnent que nous soyons désunis
Une partie de l'empire Maldingue
Se trouva chez les Wollofs
Une partie de l'empire Mossi
Se trouva dans le Ghana.
Une partie de l'empire Soussou
Se trouva dans l'empire Maldingue
Une partie de l'empire Maldingue
Se trouva chez les Mossi
Ils ont partagé Africa, sans nous consulter
Sans nous demander
Sans nous aviser

Ils ont partagé le monde, plus rien ne métonne
Plus rien ne métonne
Plus rien ne métonne