The Breaking Time

Poems for Friday: the Approaching Hour

Full moon over Los Angeles, by Marcio Watanabe

Hello there, readers. I know we've been on hiatus here for some time, as I was first writing every waking moment and then romping around the Los Angeles area for a long-awaited break. Contrary to popular reports, I was not engaged in journalistic derring-do or running gun battles in the Bradbury Building. Really.

However, Along with some much-needed de-stressing time, I got to geek out on art deco era civic architecture and the irreplaceable thrill of exploring a new area. I got to meet Zoetica and the famed Vivacious G in person, finally see an old friend and push my own boundaries a bit. Of course, by the end I wanted more time and there were things I wanted to do that I didn't get to, but at its core, except for a bout with nasty illness at the very end, it was everything I could have asked for and more. Thank you to everyone for your amazing hospitality and general awesomeness.

After that much-needed mental cleansing, I've returned looking forward to more writing and no longer quite as frustrated about a number of stalled pieces. More here, and soon. In the meantime, it is Friday, and so you lovely, patient people get a poem. Here's a classic from William Carlos Williams:

You Communists and Republicans!

all you Germans and Frenchmen!

you corpses and quickeners!

The stars are about to melt

and fall on you in tears.

 

Get ready! Get ready!

you Papists and Protestants!

you whores and you virtuous!

The moon will be bread

and drop presently into your baskets.

 

Friends and those who despise

and detest us!

Adventists and those who believe

nothing!

Get ready for the awakening.

 

Intermission, with oysters

Yum

First off, a special thank you to Adriel Hampton and Tim O'Reilly for the kind words via Twitter about my Durable Infection post. That's set off some interesting insights and brought in some new readers. I should offer a welcome to anyone reading over this blog for the first time. For those of you who left comments or sent me your thoughts on the piece, I'd also like to thank you: I'll respond in the next few days and try to give them the attention they deserve.

Because amidst the President arriving in Asheville, I was traveling the opposite direction, to a long-planned mini-vacation in my homeland, the North Carolina coast, where I plan to devour plenty of tasty seafood (including my personal favorite, raw oysters) and relax. Much as a part of me misses the energetic chaos, you have to occasionally set journalism aside, just for a bit, to stay sane in this job.

Posting resumes on Monday. Have a lovely weekend everyone.

Never Stop Gripin'

Mountain Xpress, where I labor in the news trenches, is fortunate to have some fantastic cartoonists working for it. I've praised Jonny Cantrell's work in this space before. Brent Brown is also an excellent satirist, and today he's crafted this gem, which gets to the heart of the sorry, sorry state of broadcast media:

Poems for Friday: Plastic Bag

Fuck knows I love me some good Werner Herzog jokes. But occasionally he steps out of the darkness and reminds us of exactly why he casts such a long artistic shadow in the first place.

So it was that I came to the end of this week and realized that the above brilliant short film by Rahmin Bahrani, and narrated by Mr. Herzog, was the most stunningly tender piece of poetry I've encountered in some time. So enjoy, and remember: it's a wide world out there.

(Via, with many thanks, Coilhouse)

Poems for Friday Saturday: Man in the Moon

Yesterday I was beset by a ton of work, much general busy-ness and the first migraine I've had in 5-6 years. Thus beleaguered, I asked you, dear readers, to suggest a poem for The Breaking Time's Friday tradition.

And you didn't let me down. I got a lot of good suggestions, many of which I'll use in weeks to come. Thank you all. One in particular, however, seemed just right, and I regret that I wasn't able to get it up until today.

So my special thanks to the wonderful, poetic and talented Vivacious G, who suggested this perfect piece from Billy Collins.

He used to frighten me in the nights 


of childhood,


the wide adult face, enormous, stern, aloft


I could not imagine such loneliness, such coldness


But tonight as I drive home over 


these hilly roads 


I see him sinking behind stands of winter trees


And rising again to show his familiar face 


And when he comes into full view 


over open fields


he looks like a young man who has fallen in love


with the dark earth


a pale bachelor, well-groomed and 


full of melancholy


his round mouth open


as if he had just broken into song.

Question Time at The Breaking Time

Go ahead. Ask me anything.

I like questions. I adore questions. Questions and I have flirted, romanced and downed shots of tequila before waking up on the floor together in a barely sunlit haze. My incessant tendencies in this direction have led to much new knowledge, some close scrapes and a career in journalism ("No way, you're paying me to ask people about tough topics? Sweet!")

On a more serious note, I continue to believe that questions — and the willingness to consider difficult answers — are one of the best scalpel blades we have to cut away the layers of reality until we are wiser than we began.

But as much as I like asking questions, I also like answering them, or having a good one dance around in the brain for awhile until it triggers all sorts of new ideas. Back when I actively wrote on livejournal, I would periodically invite my circle of readers to ask me any question on their minds. It remains, to this day, one of the more fulfilling things I've done online.

Fortunately, formspring allows me to do exactly that in a sleekier, fancier fashion. Why I'm putting this up here, readers, is that while I welcome questions about my personal life or grand topics, I also want to take this opportunity to ask for your input about The Breaking Time.

I've written here for over a year now, and a lot has happened in that time. All the slick "how to" guides for blogs advise the writer to pick a specific niche, become an expert and not stray too far outside those lines.

Fuck that.

I believe in eclecticism. I believe that everything ties together enough that political dogfights, government reforms, grand ideas, bloody history, soul-searing art, personal stories and forgotten literature all have their place, along with any other topic that jumps out of the wordwork and demands our attention. I chose "There is no They" as this site's motto for a very specific reason, but I might also add Terence's perfect thought: "I am human; nothing human is alien to me." That's what I shoot for, however haphazardly.

I plan to continue writing here for a long time to come, but I also want to change, be it a redesign, some better features or honing my writing style (or all of the above). At the end of the day, I'm just one brain and one set of eyes; I screw up plenty, miss even more. 

So let me know, here or over at the convenient question box. What do you want to see? What do I need to improve? What should I leave well enough alone?

Rant, rave, quietly suggest, but let me know. I've been stunned by the intelligence of the readership here on more than one occasion. I appreciate the hell out of all of you, and here's to the next steps down the road.

Poems for Friday: Screaming softly into 2010 edition

Take it away, Ms. Palmer

God, was I ever in trouble. After a deliciously tiring New Year's celebration, I settled down to pick a poem for today. I wanted something appropriate for the day. As it turns out, a great many poets, including some very good ones, have turned their talents to writing tributes to the changing of the year. There's a whole slew of them from the late 19th century in particular.

Unfortunately, those poems are actually pretty awful, or they just didn't strike the right chord. So, in desperation, I put the call out on Twitter for help. I got answers. Thank you Madeline Ashby for recommending the above pitch-perfect Amanda Palmer song. On a side note, this past year marked the first time I had ever seen her perform live, playing "Creep" on a ukulele in the middle of Malaprop's, of all places.

Thanks also to Rita King and xutraa for pointing me to the right poem. Since last year (that's 2009, natch) Kate Sherrod has written a sonnet a day. This is a task that puts my bitching over not being able to find a poem per week into sharp perspective. Today's is particularly appropriate. Enjoy, everyone. It's another year and we're still alive.

Now, really it is just another day.

The sun came up, we woke, we ate, we washed,

We greeted those we saw - that is to say

'Tis arbitrary, New Year's Day, b'gosh.

It has to happen sometime, lest our brains

Be overwhelmed with keeping track of time,

That piles up endlessly, that ever gains

Until we all are lost amidst the climb

Towards a summit none of us will see.

So, yearly we declare "let's start again,

Let's clean the slate, let's say today will be

An origin, and not just more, again,

Of what we've had a-going for so long."

But not forget the old stuff, per the song.

Off to Gov 2.0

Government buildings are always more awesome when they loom.

Mid-day tomorrow, I'll depart Asheville on one of those new-fangled flying machines. I'll be heading to Washington, D.C. for the Gov 2.0 conference. Preparing for that is one of the reasons that this space has been relatively quiet lately.

It promises to be a whirlwind few days, with a lot of interesting ideas, people and experiences. Truth be told, I don't know entirely what to expect. But I know it won't be boring. I hope to come out of it with some better ideas of my own, as well as offer some constructive critiques and opinions on the cooperation of government and technologists that this conference seems to be heralding.

Thank you to everyone who answered my call and sent me your thoughts about how government helps and hurts your personal life. The answers ranged from the micro to macro levels, from "it gives my child health care" to worries about the end of the middle class and the collusion between government and corporate power.

I'm thinking about all of that, believe me, as well as plenty of thoughts I haven't space for. I'll do my damndest to bring all of that together and try to do something useful with it.

Keep an eye on this space too. Time permitting, I'll try to put my thoughts and questions up here.

Also, if you're reading this and happen to be attending, don't hesitate to contact me at the e-mail provided here. I'm always interested in good conversation.

Best,

David Forbes

Old media vs. New: the knives come out

Now it gets vicious.

Oh my, so many dynamics of interest here. 

First off, Nico Pitney, along with the Atlantic's Andrew Sullivan, has pulled off an excellent journalistic feat over the past few week in covering the Green Revolution. Namely, they managed to quickly get knee-deep into breaking raw info. While they put the necessary caveats to the tide pouring in, they have also done their best to verify much of the information and add needed context and analysis to an extremely complicated event. Both have also used their own contacts inside Iran to help make sense of the situation on the ground.

In short, they did journalism. Pitney has never hid his leftist views (nor Sullivan his conservative ones), but he's done good work by just about any standard. Any budding journalist should be studying both bloggers for a small primer in how to blend new methods with old school contact-working. While I've written about the value of journalistic objectivity, writers like Pitney and Sullivan do excellent work, even if their affiliation is known ahead of time.

Then comes in Dana Milbank and the guard-dogs of tradition, who went apoplectic when Pitney got the second question from President Obama at a recent press conference. All of a sudden, Pitney gets accused of collusion, even though the question was solicited from Iranians and was a good, razor-sharp one. On top of all that, Pitney later characterized Obama's response as dodging the question -- hardly the views of a plant.

Look at the video above. The first item mentioned is that calling upon Pitney violated the established pecking order of White House Press conferences. Not the "collusion" that's later shifted to as his main sin. That crossing of privilege, I think, is really the issue here. Milbank's disgust is blatant, and hard to understand in any other light. 

Doubly interesting is that Milbank is essentially a glorified gossip-columnist who occasionally dabbles in reporting; he's got much more in common with stereotypical off-the-cuff blogger than a Murrow-style truth hound. However, he works for the Washington Post, not some johnny-come-lately blog, dammit. He has a tie! That used to count for something!

Of course, Pitney could have conducted himself in a more dignified manner, but his ire is understandable. The guy's just poured his heart and soul into some great reporting about Iran, and gets clucked at by a national media establishment that's fallen flat on its face time after time. At some point, it's worth bluntly calling bullshit.

At its core, this is a turf fight. What's changed is that this time Pitney is at the table too, instead of the usual media inner circle doing the sniping at a distant target. That, in itself, is an acknowledgment of how the landscape's changing.

Of course, as interesting as all of this is to those of us in media land, at some point the general public (in all its various fragments) will say Jesus, why won't you all shut the fuck up already and get us the goddamn news. They'll be right.

Asheville: Beer City USA

Bruisin Ales' beer monk approves

That's right, in a poll held by micro-brew legend Charlie Papazian, Asheville, North Carolina (pop. 80,000) has tied Portland, Oregon (pop. 600,000), to take the title of Beer City USA. From the Mountain Xpress:

Asheville and Portland, Oregon, will share honors as Beer City USA, according to beer guru Charlie Papazian.

After thousands of votes were cast in the online poll, the two cities scored about 6,000 votes each, according to Papazian, who posted the online poll at www.examiner.com.

Papazian, who founded the Association of Brewers and American Homebrewers Association, wrote that more than 16,000 people from 46 countries cast ballots between March 18 and May 7 for their favorite Beer City USA in the first such online poll. In a seesaw polling battle, the voting was close right up to the end. Papazian said the poll, while not scientific, was “indicative of the efforts put forth by various communities.”

One thing that a poll like this indicates is the degree of beer culture and networks that exist in various areas of the country. It helps to bring to the forefront that beer culture, beer community and beer enthusiasm are relevant forces in the quest for access to better beer. ... I saw an effective mobilization of beer communities in several areas of America,” Papazian wrote.

As the voting deadline neared, Asheville blogs and Twitter-ers rallied their friends and social networks. The Orange Peel on Thursday pledged to host a celebration if Asheville won.

Full disclosure. Xpress publisher Jeff Fobes, my boss, will be co-sponsoring that celebration.

Also, during all that effective mobilization, things got heated. While there were plenty of barbs from the Asheville side, a particularly special breed of viciousness bubbled forth from Portland partisans. Some choice comments on the original thread included referring to our fair city as "Assville," implying that our love of beer simply included an enthusiasm for warm Coors combined with incest and lastly, questioning how we got the internet in the first place (hint: it involves machines).

This further cements Portland's reputation as a hotbed of tolerance, intellectualism and diversity. 

In the spirit of hospitality, I would invite them at any point to visit one of Asheville's many breweries or beer joints, sample a tasty beverage and repeat their remarks, preferably as loudly as possible (with better grammar, one can hope), to the assembled drinkers. I might personally suggest the excellent Wedge Brewery, especially due to the proximity of railroad tracks, abandoned industrial facilities, and a large river.

Sniping aside, I wonder if this might finally strain the much-touted (at least here) tie between the two cities. Maybe we'll have less Portland émigrés shift here in the future, and general negative feeling will cause outgoing Ashevillains to pick a different place to move to.