There are many things that are just ‘human.’ We all need to love. We all need to hope that there’s a tomorrow. We all need to laugh. We all have times when tears are all we have to express ourselves. And yet for all those things that we have in common; our cultures create chasms between otherwise amiable human beings.

Sometimes it’s a hegemonic encounter. As Masami Teraoka demonstrated in his series of drawings about the effects of American culture on Japanese culture; it can be more than jarring. It can distort or even destroy an ancient culture.

Then, there is the other problem of emigration. The newly arrived immigrant can find it hard to maintain those things that defined his/her culture. Often this becomes so difficult that assimilation is the preferred option. Then, the old culture becomes an artefact. Like a song that you can’t quite remember the lyrics to, it fades in and out of the assimilated person’s consciousness. After a generation or two, the old song is often lost. (more…)

I’ve been obsessed lately by thoughts that I had put to rest a while ago. At least I thought that I’d put them to rest. But, it’s a funny thing about bad memories; they keep hammering at the door of consciousness and won’t go away.

I consider the site of the former World Trade Center in New York to be sacred ground. There are souls that will be there until the earth has been consumed by the sun. Everyone who was vaporised, everyone who leapt rather than face the horror behind them, everyone who stood and died: they’re all there. They came down with the towers.

The mangled steel and broken concrete can be taken away, but the souls of those who died there can’t be moved. (more…)

Where does love go? How do you know when it’s gone? Since we’ve just been through the ritual of Valentine’s Day, it seems an appropriate time to ask that question. I, of course, have a theory. Of course I do.

I think all you have to do is look at how that person sees you. How can you tell that? Well, dig out those old photos. Here’s my theory: you can tell how a person feels about by how they photograph you. Trust me in this one. I’m a professional and I have a lifetime of experience.

Now, the picture here should have given the woman pause. She was on her honeymoon and her new husband took the photo. Now what was his focus? Yeah, it was that huge pipe; she’s a secondary player at best. It does not bode well. Of course, I have the advantage here. I know that less than 10 years later these two would divorce with such acrimony that they would never speak again.

So, dig out those photos. If you’re a little blip in his/her viewfinder, if he/she always seems to get you at a bad angle; then you’re in trouble, my friend.

The picture was taken at Boulder Dam in 1937.

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

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Okay. Settle in your seats, sip your lattes, and listen carefully because there will be a quiz later.

Rhetoric is a learned skill. Rhetorical eloquence is an art. George W. Bush is not a skilled speechmaker. He stumbles over words and garbles the easiest of sentences. However, it’s far too facile to convolute what he says with how he says it. A case in point is his recent State of the Union Address.

This speech was a masterwork of false dichotomies in the ‘If you’re not with us, you’re against us’ vein and misdirection. (more…)

Old photos are the worst kind of memory recall: they won’t let you lie. There it is in black and white or, more likely, in shades of grey. Inevitably, one must the face the reality that the photo presents.

This photo is of a woman who was a friend. Her name is Carol. She had been dating a friend of mine, John. She and I rented a flat on a street that no longer exists. (more…)