August 21, 2005
Real Voices, Real thoughts
Yesterday I worked all day fixing bicycles and then went to the Bell Museum for the 'Bike-in-at-the-Bell' event. It was cool. A lot of people showed up. I spent a lot of money eating two dollar slices of Spokes Pizza. I bought some for my friends too. They brought it by bicycle of course. Maybe they didn't expect it to be such a huge event because they only brought two pizza's the first time. It sold out quickly. The second time they brought six pizzas. The line was huge and they were quickly out again. Who would have thought? Their pizza is really good though!
Then I checked out all of the tables there, with various people representing their group. I chatted with them and grabbed some literature off their tables and made plans to contact a few of them later. Good stuff. In the middle there were a few people selling their home-made CD's and other things. I bought Katey and Gordon's greatest hits. Why them out of all the ones at the table? Energy. They had it and there was a reason I needed to hear and read their words. Katia had also written a few 'zines.' which she gave me to read. This morning that's what I did. I read them. I'll talk about this more in a minute because it relates to the subject of this blog entry: Real Voices, Real Thought.
They had live music there, which was both amusing, sad and good. I heard one person describe some of the music as "Fresh." It was fresh. I ran into other people I knew there. I saw a lot of bicyclists I've met over the past year-and-a-half. We were all sitting around on the lawn, getting our butts wet from the grass and listening to music, eating, talking. Then between 9:40 and midnight or something we watched bicycle movies made by local independent film-makers. Very cool and interesting.
We tore down our display and took it back to the bike shop and I decided to hang out at the Bobo club for a few and chat with some of the 'community' people I've met around there. It was fun. I showed David the 'Zines' I got and the CD, and he got all excited and talked about the 'Zine' stands in New York where they sell hundreds or thousands of these or whatever. He liked them and enjoyed reading them. I happened to mention I thought they were like blogs. That's when we dove into a murky pool of thoughts and anti-thoughts about the internet. David can't stand the internet and sees it as a cesspool of unliterates pretending to write and being phony. Don't judge David yet or get defensive about your blogs. It's all in a discussion that happened on the deck of a night-club after midnight when morning people like me should have been in bed, resting my athletic muscles. Instead I was there listening and trying to figure out logically why there was such a contradiction in his head. Not just one contradiction but many contradictions. And not just contradictions, but also sweeping generalizations where made and used for argument's sake to bolster his beliefs. For instance, people on the internet are poor writers and would never be published in a book. People on the Internet steal writers ideas and publish them for the whole world for free. The internet is filled with people looking at porn. The internet is full of 'garbage' and you can't find the 'real,' 'valid' information. People are hiding behind their anonymous screen names. I say, "Whatever!" It's too easy, just like these statements to commit the crime we detest so much: Not seeing the person behind the pseudonyms and the screennames and the rantings and the type-style, the network, monitor, keyboard the fingers that typed them, the minds that thought the thoughts. Who are these people posting their thoughts for the world to see or for themselves to read? No matter what medium, it's still real people and the internet is no less real than the real-life drama we see all around us. The drama unfolds at the bobo club as people hook-up, push each other away, celebrate each other's birthdays while drinking their fears under the table, with candles that relight when you blow them out. People laugh, and people cry. It's all about finding our voice and living. People want to be heard, recognized, treated like a equal human being that is alive, not marginalized, generalized, or classified.
Katia said in her 'zine,' "To everyone I say, 'you don't know me, you don't know me.'"
I'd say that's a real voice, a real person. yep. Loving each other is a willingness to look at people and not marginalize or talk down to them or classify them. You can rant all you want, but there you go. That's your voice. You want to be heard. You are a real person too, trying to figure out your life, or maybe you think you know what life is all about and everyone else is on crack. It's life. It's your life and you are speaking. It's a real voice and you have real thoughts. let 'em rip. I love you for who you are David.
Posted by carl1236 at August 21, 2005 9:47 AM | Love your Neighbor