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Monday, October 31, 2011

I'm a Work of Heart


In this segment entitled, "Getting to know your friendly, neighborhood Blog-host" I'll be dishing out plates full of backstory on Saboteur Academia's Fearless Leader AKA... me.

Born July 24th 1986 in Glendale, California. Youngest of 4 brothers. Grew up in the suburban sprawl they call Orange County. I called it living behind the Orange Curtain. My childhood neighborhoods were predominantly White, Christian, and Fucking Suburban Wastelands. Mother & Father divorced when I was 6, and in that classic 90's psychobabble trend I was diagnosed with ADHD soon after. Prescribed Ritalin and visited more counselors than contained within a psychiatric textbook. (UCI even studied me as part of "breakthrough" research into childhood development.) Other highlights include anti-Semitic bullying, reading Animorphs, gymnastics classes, belated Bar'Mitzvah, sporadic paternal presence, first sexual experiences with ironically Catholic Latina girlfriends, debate team, chess club, marching band, membership with 3 semi-professional gaming teams, various relapses of Mother's cancer (contracted when I was 2) until her death circa March 2003. I was 15. The last years of her life I recall functioning as combination cook, bedside nurse, and rehab counselor to an older brother addicted to Mom's prescription medication.

If you were to ask someone how they'd characterize me between age 6 and age 17, they'd probably say I was a smart-ass annoying nerd. Skinny and pale like Macaulay Culkin with glasses, a crooked tooth (even to this day) and a habit of saying whatever the fuck I felt like. It'd be an understatement to say I didn't have many friends. Whatever. So it goes.

Friday, October 28, 2011

A Prose Poem


***Author's Note: separate the art from the artist.***

S.B.

Heartbreak is a curious thing. Wounds healed over. Scar tissue grown and then faded. Still, I get melancholic at 4 AM with a flat soda reading old poetry. Past flames seem to burn as bright as the sun during my hangover, and I wonder where she or her is. I wonder and shake my head with the bitter aftertaste of another swig from the glass. What roads would've led to other avenues? And is there any hope in remembering a past I can't change, not even for all the beautiful sentiments of a literary novel? But then failure slips out of eyesight for a moment, eclipsed by the good times eating fast food and talking about Japanese anime...

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Reactionary Conservative Ignorance Strikes Again


Apparently our friends on the crazy-end of the political aisle have begun a new Tumblr dedicated to a concept called, We Are The 53%. Basically, it's an amalgamation of photos of statements made by random blaming poor people for being poor, for being lazy, for being in debt, and that everyone just needs to stop making bad choices.

Because yeah... the 99% TOTALLY caused the economic recession by providing unsound financial advice, giving out bad loans, defrauding employee pensions, lobbying for corporate loopholes, corrupting our political system, deregulating industries so they could engage in unrestrained greed, shipping jobs overseas while getting tax-breaks AND tax-incentives for being a supposedly "American company", and have generally avoided paying their fair share.

No, wait, that was actually the 1% people who did all that. Whoops! I'm sorry, but I guess you're wrong.
 

Saturday, October 22, 2011

Trollock


Recently on my blog a commenter by the name of Asher has been making the rounds -- and not just here, but over at Abagond's place too. While initially it seemed he was interested in genuine conversation, his comments eventually devolved into ranting hyperbole.

This led to my moderating his comments and kicking him off my blog.

However Asher, apparently is unable to simply slunk off into the vastness of cyberspace without attempting some pithy comeback. This came in the form of an email sent to me, which I will now post for you (with commentary).

Friday, October 21, 2011

My Awkwardly Fumbling Steps


Not to trouble you with love, I mean
those adolescent dreams of great, of greater,
or of greatest loving, let alone
the crumbly personal kind—compared with, say,
the public good or harder thoughts of death
obliterating thoughts of love, or after-
thoughts of love outgrown or love undone;
and not to be ironic either, not
to forget we come into the world alone
and leave it so; and not to be claiming more
than you can give, uncertain as I am
what I require: something like love, I guess,
whatever it is we've done without so long,
so faithfully and with such tenderness.


By Leonard Nathan

Cheers

Thursday, October 20, 2011

The Hazards of Occupation


Let me state upfront that I support the Occupy Wall Street movement. As a self-professed culture-jammer a la Adbusters, as a social-Democrat cum moderate Independent, and as a goddamn revolutionary activist wannabe, I believe that only through direct action can change be achieved.

I believe that the 99% need to take back their country via a new economic policy in which the rich are taxed consummate to their use of our collective resources, in which the Middle-class can exist comfortable, and in which the poor are given the same opportunities as the rest of us by relieving them of the crushing economic burden they are now carrying on behalf of the top 1%.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Positive White Identity


This is a new idea I'm developing in the wake of recent events discussing anti-racist issues which, for me, is as much a personal conflict as a form of activism.

See, I am White, and yet I cannot fully embrace myself as a White person because Whiteness stands for so many oppressive things: hegemony, racism, and particularly undeserved privilege at the expense of other races of people.

So how do I reconcile this? How do I affirm my Whiteness in a way that doesn't support White supremacy or White nationalism? (Because both disgust me.) How do I love my race, which is such a fundamental part of my identity in this country, when the reality is that there are so many reasons to hate it, and by extension hate myself for being White?

Now, I do not want to engage in self-hatred, nor do I want to make myself colorblind to the reality of my skin-color by refusing to acknowledge or identity myself as White.

So what do I do? What do any of us White people do?

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Bird Lives



In my heart, in my soul, in the very tips of my fingers graced to press mother-of-pearl key to gold-plated brass along my Yamaha 62 Mark II. Every artist ever born pales in comparison to the artistry of him, who I view as the quintessential -- beautifully flawed, tormented but singularly talented.

Charlie "Yardbird" Parker... you are why I still pick up a saxophone, dare to press my lips to the mouthpiece and blow.


Cheers

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Undergoing Maintanence


ZSA will be experiencing slight fluctuations to our par-sec ratio as we tinker with the flux-capacitor and polish our Dylithium crystals.

In addition to a new look, ZSA has updated our comments section with new stipulations, and a link in the form-box to our guidelines. Please be aware that I am always trying to be a better blogger, in addition to being a better person. I appreciate your patience in both respects, and hope ya'll enjoy the new changes!


Cheers

On Being (An Anti-Racist)


My latest foray into the depth of cyberspace has left me with a long, drawn out sense of uncertainty regarding my own identity. White. Jewish. Male. Straight. Able-bodied. Whatever. Check boxes as you like...

And suddenly I feel a whole lot lot more confident in human stupidity. My own, and that of others.

After reading through the comments and links to my one of my recent posts, I began a slow process of lurking, reading the reactions to my disagreement with Abagond -- who wrote no less than 2 posts based on it (possibly 3) each one as precarious as Jenga blocks -- attempting to digest the multifaceted shit-storm I created which has reverberated throughout my corner of the blogosphere.

Shoot, even the out & out racists are coming from the woodwork to defend me, ridicule me, and otherwise distort reality until it resembles something like a pretzel doing gymnastics.

Monday, October 10, 2011

Love is Like a Box of Chocolates & Bruises


"Love means never having to say you're sorry."

Do you believe that?

I do. I'm one of those hopeful/hopeless romantic types. I actually believe in unconditional love; the kind that means when your girl (or guy) calls you at 4 AM because they had a bad dream about spiders, and even though you have to get up in two hours for an important test, or meeting, you'll drive over to check under the bed for any eight-legged freaks just because... they asked. And you love them.

I call it... limerence.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Am I / Are You / Are We Racist?


As an anti-racist, I'm often active in the blogging community to discuss those issues. Recently, I found myself embroiled in a long debate occurring at a blog I used to frequent, Abagond's. The topic is, "The Hearts of White People". Naturally, as a White person, I thought I'd comment.

But as I read the post, two things stuck out to me. 1) the author, Abagond states that White people have hearts of stone, and 2) guesses that we suffer from a psychological disorder. And that this explains why White people are racist.

At that point I decided to do more than comment.

***Author's note: the thread, and subsequently this post have been updated as events have continued. Please take that into consideration.***