EExactly 15 years ago, I went down to Woodstock II, which should have been titled: "Corporate Music Fest." Woodstock II was a television ready anniversary event in a culture that loves to celebrate the passing of time.

 

So in honor of that, I dip back into my journal from August 1994, and dedicate this column to thoughts on memory, music, money and Woodstock II in Saugerties, NY.

 

A few months after I graduated from college, I got fired from one of many temp jobs, this one from a bank credit servicing center. My boss, the wife of a bass player in a local rock-n-roll jam band, told me I wasn't "vanilla" enough. What am I rocky road? Mint chocolate chip?

 

An executive I met in another temp job needed someone to cut a stack of kiln dried scrap wood into 18" pieces for his wood stove. So this recently divorced guy with a sweet mansion in the country paid me $8 an hour cash to cut two metal banded cords of sawmill shavings - 3/4", 1" and 2" thick sticks of hardwoods - maple, ash, cedar and oak - with a dull chainsaw.

 

I sawed until my arms wanted to go on strike. But I earned enough to go to Woodstock. A ticket for the three day festival cost $144. I went with a friend from college and his buddy from Australia.

 

From the journal: "Even at the first rest stop out of New York City at 3:30 in the morning, I felt tense. By 5:30 a.m. we were sitting in a massive line, waiting to get on a bus from the parking lot to the festival site. We showed our tickets, and they checked our bags for guns or drugs. They missed the ounce of weed I was carrying. Oh well. People started throwing things in the sky - bananas, frisbees, beer cans, footballs, tennis balls, socks. Other people wanted to tip over the mobile security trailer. "

 

After the security checkpoint, we boarded a school bus to go to the concert site, which put us in a location where we were at the mercy of the forces running the show. I spent $104 on food and souvenirs. At least $40 of my expenses was turned into scrip money - Woodstock coined its own cash. Unfortunately, I couldn't use the scrip for the $200 I spent on weed that August weekend.

 

Woodstock scrip money.

From my notebook: "Expensive food and its own money based on American currency, all for the benefit of corporate paymasters. A thriving black market of alcohol ($6 a can, $50 cases of beer)."

 

I know my expenses because I tracked the cost for three days of peace, love and music in my journal. My notebook explained: "The hippies cash in. I tire of being the hippies' slave children: to their fears and unresolved doubts, to their nostalgia trips, to their money making schemes, pyramids and bad television, to the apathy and their lack of faith, to their unresolved sexualities. A bequeathment of gifts I could do without."

 

Shortly thereafter, in 1995, Pearl Jam's Eddie Vedder and punk rock legend Mike Watt came out with the song "The kids of today should defend themselves against the 70s/it's not reality/just someone else's sentimentality/it won't work for you."

 

Corporate entertainment giant Warner Brothers figured out that the original Woodstock in 1969 was marketable as a movie, and the movie made a bundle, thus stadium rock was born.

 

So if the first Woodstock marked a rite of passage for a peaceful community that, in essence, dictate what the market would sell, Woodstock II demonstrated that the market was in control.

At Woodstock I, police and national guardsmen helped provide free food, breakfast in bed for 400,000, as wavy gravy said. At Woodstock II, the corporate community demanded its wages for your sustenance.

 

Woodstock II story and photos, continued...

 

A Brooklyn man recently discovered that his ringing cell phone turns on his oven.

 

The New York Times reported how the oven turned on inexplicably, and started fires. Then, he sleuthed the cause to his cellular phone.

 

A number of studies recently have hinted that on some level, cell phones have impacts we cannot fathom. I find myself discomforted by the buzz buzz/clicking interference noises that cell phones exert over radio and computer speakers.

 

Cellular phones emit radiofrequency energy. This low-frequency, non-ionizing RF energy is a form of electromagnetic radiation, of a different class than x-rays, which are high-frequency and ionizing, according to the U.S. National Cancer Institute.

 

Furthermore, the National Cancer Institute says that "Studies have not shown any consistent link between cellular telephone use and cancer, but scientists feel that additional research is needed before firm conclusions can be drawn."

 

Scientists are studying to see if cell phones cause tumors. Now suppose for a minute that some scientists prove that radio waves emanating from cell phones cause tumors.

 

There have already been preliminary studies – funded by the industry more than a decade ago - suggesting a link between cell phone radio waves and cancer.

 

Imagine that beyond reasonable doubt, researchers independently verify in peer-reviewed laboratory studies that talking on a cell phone for an average of two hours a day, five days a week, during the course of 15 years, will cause fatal cancer, be it brain, testicular, ovarian or eye cancer.

 

What are the chances that this information will ever reach the general public? It seems like we have been down this road before.

 

How long did the cigarette companies hide the fact that nicotine is highly addictive and that chemicals in tobacco cause cancer? How long have we been fighting the global warming battle?

 

Are Cell Phones Cancerous?...(continued)

 

Saturday afternoon fun - exam study break. I thought today was the anniversary of the UN Declaration on Human Rights, it's actually December 10 - and I'll try make a special post for that.

 

I wanted to interview Congressman John Conyers, the chair of the House Judiciary Committee from Michigan in honor of the day, especially considering that he was in Hamden and Quinnipiac U. today speaking about the UN Declaration's 60th anniversary. But his press flak Jonathan Godfrey at 202-225-3951 never returned my numerous calls or emails.

 

Thus, we celebrate a different anniversary today - the completion of the Washington Monument, which at 555.5 feet tall, some conspiracy theorists consider to be a symbol of occult and Illuminati power in the United States New World Order business.

 

It is too fun to pass up today, when I am immersed in wealth transfer law in studying for a trusts and estates exam for Tuesday night.

 

Plus, the picture I have to illustrate this illustrious Monument features none other than the great punk rocker and marijuana activist David Peel. Someday I'll find the interview I did with him for Patti Adcroft's magazine 506 class and post it.

 

I met Peel at the base of the Washington Monument after Clinton's Inauguration in 1993 - a fantastic sunny day that I wrote about for a satire magazine at SU called Seriously. One day I'll post that, too.

 

Clinton's Inaugural was back when you could stroll right up to the base of the monument without passing through six degrees of security and submitting to metal detectors and what not. I doubt Obama's presidency will eliminate that security business. The five of us who trekked down to DC from Syracuse for the Inaugural made the monument our rendezvous point because of its visibility and accessability.

 

At the base of the monument, there was Peel, a unique character to say the least. I got his number, because he seemed like an interesting interview for a class assignment, or something. I met him that Spring.

More on David Peel, GG Allin, and Trusts...

 

T-minus 30 days and counting until 2009. T-minus 24 days and counting until X-Mas. T-minus 18 days and counting until exams are complete, and I have only three semesters left in Law School.

 

I live for countdowns. Advent calendars, page a day calendars, all subtle ways to mark the passage of time. When time does pass, I hope to fill it with interesting activities.

For instance, this past Saturday (t-plus two days ago?) I hit the Tara Donovan show at the Institute of Contemporary Art in Boston, as I mentioned I might. Her work is stunning - plastic and processed materials dropped into recurring patterns.

 

She mimics nature's math, like the Fibonacci series writ large. Imagine dozens of stacks of a clear plastic drink cups stacked up in a 20 by 30 foot rectangle, so that the millions of cups look like snow drifts. Or styrofoam cups fastened together to resemble clouds, hanging from the ceiling.

 

The best part of the exhibit wasn't the optical illusion created by millions of drinking straws stacked to make an undulating 25-foot tall honey-comb wall hanging. It was the people watching. Saturday at Boston's ICA was Play Date - bring the kids.

 

Listening to parents dialgoue with their children about art is as interesting as the art itself - parenting, I imagine, is more art than science.

 

Parents took the opportunity to check out not only Donovan, but the ICA's permanent collection and the four finalists of the 2008 Foster Prize, an annual award for Boston's most promising artist.

 

My favorite Foster finalist was Rania Matar. Her exhibit featured images from Lebanon, some before the Israeli invasion in 2006, and some after the destruction wrought by the bombing.

 

Her photographs - both black and white and color - capture daily life. While some document the comings and goings of every day people, other detail minutely the wreckage from the Israeli bombardment - scraps of papers, doll parts, and broken dishes. The captions ignore the political context from which the damage arose.

 

I loved "Rocket Hole" (posted above) from 2002, a child's sandal is barely visible under a gaping hole in a wall, caused by an artillery shell. The wall is pockmarked by bullet holes. Through the opening caused by the rocket, Matar reveals architecture across the street.

Happy December - More on Matar...

 

Brilliant idea that Oxfam beat me to: Somali Civil Society. With all the talk about the pirates in the Gulf of Aden, I began to get curious about how the daily life of Somalians is without government.

 

I wanted to go to Somalia on a fact-finding mission. But I have that law school stuff, and a job, and lots of debt before I can consider traveling again. So we wait.

 

And earlier today, I wrote about Obama's soft changes. It's all about tone, and how much does it say that Obama volunteered at a soup kitchen today with his family. Since I've been in law school, I've done so little volunteer work.

 

I tell myself that blogging, going to school, trying to keep my debt to a manageable level and waging my lawsuit is sufficient public service, because when I get out I will fight for justice with more tools. That I need to be in school to improve my ability to push levers of social change.

 

But it seems insufficient, that I am getting mine, I will have a nice dinner with my parents and sisters. That my wealth - however minimal - is protected. I don't have an answer. I don't think volunteerism is enough, though. We must assume Obama understands Eisenhower's warning - that every dollar for the military industrial complex is a dollar robbed from a hungry child. So why isn't he speaking more clearly on it?

Tara Donovan: Amazing artist who won a MacArthur Genius Grant. She has a show in Boston going on now. My sister is in town from Savannah, and we may go check this out. The toothpick cube Donovan made is pretty amazing. Makes me think of like what Frank Gehry might do if he worked with styrofoam cups instead of steel.

 

This has been a bit of a family week. My sister said I surprised her twice today, because a) I have the Dixie Chicks on my iPod (Traveling Soldier is a great song) and b) I said that I am conflicted on Obama because he is giving voice to concerns that I have, and defusing critics on all sides of the equation.

 

In reading some of the stuff I have written about Obama since the beginning of the year, my opinions have veered wildly on him. I think it will be a fun retrospective at the end of the year to highlight my most contradictory thoughts. It seems like nuance is probably the best word to apply to Obama - he challenges us to think.

 

Funeral: My great uncle Dino died this week. He was my maternal grandmother's only brother, and he lived a long (86), happy life, although his wife (Aunt Mary) of 52 years predeceased him by a few years, and those years were sad and difficult for him.

More on Church, Uncle Dino and the horror of war...

 

Has it really been five years? I remember the immediate dissociation upon hearing the news: "No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no."

 

It's not something I ever imagined I would have to confront - we are immortal, right? Car accidents don't happen to my friends. No no no no. The agony seared, burned, hot iron on pale flesh.

 

The bonds connected then severed. No no no. I don't want to deal with it ever again. But I know death will knock at my door again, taking someone I love.

 

Time heals all wounds, but it can't close massive gaping holes left by the absence of a close confidant. One lesson I have learned: don't ever take a good bye for granted.

 

When I part company with friends, when I'm leaving a bar, a restaurant, or their house, when I'm leaving work, and I say, good-bye, I mean it. I recall what I can when we part ways, as if it were the last time I might see the person.

 

Because if the next time I see them is when they are laying in a casket, I don't want to have left anything undone.

 

So until next time, loyal readers, godspeed and arrive safely.

Link ...

 

Found, Garbage Pail Kids, in Chill Will's detritus before he moves to Key West.

 

Link...

 

Montreal calls. Here's a summer reggae break. Enjoy the hell out of your weekend.

 

"Rally Round" by Steel Pulse

 

"Enjoy Yourself" by the Specials

 

Link...

 

Independence Day is universal. All people want to be free. So I liberated this photo from the old print photo archives at the Waterbury Republican-American more than a decade ago, when I was but a cub reporter.

 

I figured my good readers might enjoy this picture. Remember, Thomas Jefferson was 32 when he wrote the Declaration of Independence.

 

Link...

 

Websites I like and am adding as permanent links:

 

Scary Bunnies - For the Hartford Lovers, the Hartford Haters and Everybody Else

 

Beat Bike Blog - they're even getting free schwag now. Hopefully, some of it will go the alley cat we are scheduling for July 26, 2008. Save the date. Hartford.

 

1,000 Friends Connecticut - an effective smart growth group.

 

Mira! Hartford - musings, photos and video clips from Helder Mira at Rabbit Ears Media.

 

Kung-Fu Monkey - Your monkey's kung fu is not strong, so says the tagline. Writer John Rogers has one of the great all-time posts, and his links are awesome, as are his Warren Ellis references. And I dream of being a television writer when not in law school

 

The Angry Arab News Service- listen to the other side for a while.

 

And it's Memorial Day. Send any soldier a package of love and care.

 

G ood thought: I am going to kick major ass on my law school finals this semester. I have been working and studying hard. Law school is opening doors for me. Hopefully someday I can get paid to think about the Constitution.

 

Bad thought: Law school sucks. The grind is killing me. It is outrageously expensive. I have limited time for friends, for blogging, for bicycling, for anything other than property law, the 14th Amendment and the National Labor Relations Board.

 

Good thought: Cornell West is awesome.

 

Bad thought: Media that keeps his message from being heard hurts us all.

 

Good thought: The City of Hartford is willing to invest heavily in employee development. The Courant recently revealed that the city will spend $60,000 for a two-month business management course at Harvard University for a lucky city worker.

Link to more good and bad thoughts...

 

H ope springs eternal. You wait all winter long for this one day. Sometimes it snows. Sometimes it rains. Sometimes traffic on the George Washington Bridge makes you miss Joe DiMaggio hoisting the World Championship banner. Sometimes Mark McGwire goes yard into the black seats in centerfield on Rivera in the top of the 11th. And the Yankees can't muster anything in the bottom frame, and you go home sad.

 

Sometimes, the sun shines gracefully on the Bronx, and you watch the players line up on the infield for the first pitch, and you sing the National Anthem. Sometimes you sit on the third base line because your dad got box seats and took you out of school for the special day. And in the bottom of the ninth, the Yankees have the bases loaded against the Rangers, and pinch hitter Bobby Murcer hits a grand slam to the cheers of 57,000.

 

Yep. Some days it's heaven to win. When people ask why I am a Yankees fan, it's because of moments like that when I was eight years old. The brand imaging got me as a youth. Thurman. Reggie. Lou. Goose. Lousiana Lightning.

TO More story and photos...

 

Don't get too drunk. Here's a photo from the Carrick-a-rede rope bridge in Northern Ireland. I have to get back to studying.

 

 

I t's too nice out to be in front of the computer. Get outside and live a little. But first, do yourself a favor. Power yourself up a big bowl of super sugar cereal, pull up a chair and dig into this classic Tom & Jerry number.

On the same YouTube page where this is, tons of other Tom & Jerry live, too. But this is among the best.

Link...

 

I have a dream. And I’m not stoned. I want to rent 2,000 square feet of ground level retail on Pratt Street, and in giant green neon letters above the storefront, advertise "Marijuana."

 

You’ll walk in, buy a coffee, a cup of tea, or a fruit smoothie. After you’ve wet your whistle, you can step to the other counter, where your friendly host will show you the evening’s supply of weed. Once you’ve selected an indica or sativa, you can retire with a few friends into comfy chairs and blow bong hits in peace.

 

Yep, I’m openly advocating the legalization of herb here in Hartford. Conservatives like Bill Buckley have been encouraging this for years.

Link...

 

Kurt Vonnegut gave the commencement address to the class of 1994 at Syracuse University. I was stoned and hungover in the audience (as a proper graduate should be). Luckily, Syracuse sent us all a register of graduates with the text of the speech.

 

He died yesterday. So, in honor of the passing of his great imagination, I will offer snippets of his speech.

 

It begins: "Four score and seven years ago," Woops. Wrong speech. Seriously, he said to us bright eyed graduates:

 

"There are three things that I very much want to say to the Class of 1994 in this brief hail and farewell. They are things which haven't been said enough to you freshly minted graduates nor to your parents or guardians, nor to me, nor to your teachers. I will say these things in the body of my speech. I'm just setting you up for this.

 

"First, I will say thank you. Second, I will say I am truly sorry - now that is the striking novelty among the three. We live in a time when nobody ever seems to apologize for anything; they just weep and raise hell on the Oprah Winfrey Show. The third thing I want to say to you at some point - probably close to the end - is, 'We love you.' Now if I fail to say any of those three things in the body of this great speech, hold up your hands and I will remedy the deficiency."

Link...

 

The Man in Black - some lyrics in honor of his Feb 26 Birthday - (and Victor Hugo, and my grandmother Nonne, and my friend Scott, and local guitar maestro Daniel Salazar, and Michael Bolton, and Erykah Badu, and Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayep Erdogan, and Jeanine's Dad, and hey, whaddya know - me too!).

 

Well, you wonder why I always dress in black,
Why you never see bright colors on my back,
And why does my appearance seem to have a somber tone.
Well, there's a reason for the things that I have on.

I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down,
Livin' in the hopeless, hungry side of town,
I wear it for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime,
But is there because he's a victim of the times.

Link...

 

W ay back, last fall, when Thornton for Governor ruled my existence, a crew of Green campaigners joined a team of Trinity College students for the Connecticut River Watershed Council's 10th annual Source to Sea cleanup at the Park River over by New Britain Avenue in West Hartford.

I wrote a column about it way back when, but never really followed up and described what we ended up doing.

In my mailbox today, I saw the CRWC's newsletter detailing the trash hauled from the mighty Connecticut by 1,685 volunteers at 68 locations from northern Vermont to southern Connecticut.

Yikes is all you can really say when you read the list.

Link...

 

Y ou say it's your birthday - hey it's Rubi's birthday too!

So for my sister who took me to my first concert (Simple Minds, 1986, the New Haven Coliseum), who helped me sail the East coast and who embroidered "Free Speech" on my tie for my Jan. 30 court date, I offer some birthday wishes:

May the goddess of ideas bless her with evolving and exciting new ideas every day for the needlepoint a dollar a day project

May the muse of graffiti bestow upon her adhesives and string with which to communicate her message, seen at Rubistudios.

May the construction work in her house finish soon.

May Billy Joel be wrong when he says Straight-A students think too much.

May the food be tasty, the wine rich and the chocolate sweet, and may rainbows always come her way. Link...

 

P rison houses people. Human beings live behind those walls and Trinity College professor Judy Dworin has applied her dance instruction skills to help the inmates communicate with those of us on the outside.

The Judy Dworin Performance Ensemble, in collaboration with the a cappella group Women of the Cross will perform “Time In,” an exploration of the chronological experience inside and out of jail, at Central Connecticut State University's Torp Theatre on February 1 and 2 at 7:30pm. Tickets are $10 each, and I can’t wait to go see it.

In honor of her work, I did a short Q&A with her.Link...