PeaceBang

Cordoba, Spain, Sunday

Hoy es Domingo! Y el lavandaria esta cerrado!
Today is Sunday! And the laundrymat is closed!

That´s the way it goes when you´re a stupid tourist who just walked about a mile along the river with her clothes all stuffed in a bag, chomping on a bocadillo (sandwich) and looking like a huge, bundled up dork, only to have to turn right around again and walk back the other way along the river, taking photos of the Mosque and looking like a huge, bundled up dork.

The women aren´t really pink complexioned here, which is why I am getting stared at by middle aged men and called ¨guapa.¨This is the explanation given by the cute little concierge of my hotel, who walked me part way to the laundry and bought me an orange juice. I thought ¨guapa¨might mean ¨funny, chubby tourist¨but it means handsome, only the feminine form. How nice.

Hi Again, PeaceBangers!
This internet cafe is very smoky and I have a slight cold, so let me just give you a few more highlights.

I went from Madrid to Seville and immediately felt like, oh no, I can find tons of drunken American college students in downtown Boston, as I can also find a bunch of rude waiters and shopkeepers. As for huge cathedrals, I´ve already seen many of the best. This place don´t feel so good to me. So I decided to tour the Alcazar (worth the overnight stay, will post photos when I get back) and get the hell out of Dodge. One thing you learn as a traveler is to trust your instincts. My instincts told me that I would find the Andalucian charm and Moorish/Jewish/Catholic spiritual and artistic convergence I sought in Cordoba, and here it is, along with all the charming people and architectural beauty you could ask for. So let´s strike Sevilla as a major disappointment, and move on.

Can we please start a food revolution in America and eat tapas all the time? Tapas is a brilliant thing. Imagine that you go to a great restaurant and they have two dozen delicious items on the menu and you can´t decide between them. So you say, ¨listen, how about give me a taste of these four things?¨ And they go and bring you four little dishes of wonderful items and you wind up paying about ten bucks for the whole thing, including a glass of wine. Sign me up for the Tapas Revolution!

I fell in love with a little boy at a tapas bar last night, who was busting out some MTV dance moves while his mama chatted at the bar and had a beer. He was about four years old and looked just like my brother did at that age, with curly locks and the most sparkling, naughty brown eyes, and an irrepresible expression on his punim.
We spoke the international language of Cracking Each Other Up with peek-a-boo and general flirtation for about a half an hour, and then I saw him in the bathroom. ¨My boyfriend!¨ said, in Spanish. He explained that he was waiting for his mama. ¨You´re a good boy,¨I said, in Spanish and then asked in English, ¨How did you learn all those hot dance moves?¨ He stared in awe. ¨You´re English!¨he said. ¨No, American,¨I said. ¨Like Madonna.¨

People are so lovely with their children here. They take them around as though they were just people, and there´s a wonderful family feeling. Spaniards are particularly good at strolling. It´s a whole art form called el paseo, and it´s a wonderfully stress free pasttime.

Madrid, Jan 19

Even though my luggage has yet to make it to me, I am just totally happy. This isn´t the most beautiful city at first glance, until you peek around a bit and spend some time with the people who are the most gracious and friendly I´ve ever encountered in Europe.

I heart Madrid.
You have never seen more charming businesses. More on that later, and I love the touches of Muslim culture everywhere.

The food far surpasses anything I ever found in Italy.
I love that I could venture out for dinner at 11:00 p.m.
And I love that the men are the most scrumptious I´ve ever seen.

Off to the Prado!
Loving on you from Spain!

Leaving For Spain

I’m packing for Spain, and leave in a few hours. Will try to blog from the road.

Being a Russian melancholic, I have to say this:

If my plane goes down or
a bomb goes off
or
a sudden attack of la grippe should slay me
or
Basque separatists decide to grab me
or
a bad mussels tapas doubles me over with such
pain I can’t remember my name
and am lost in the Spanish medical system forever

Just think
that it happens in one way or another to all mortals
and as far as violence goes and broken planes and such things
well, that’s mortal, too
and we live in a broken world
And what can you do about it but get out of bed in the morning and just keep the conga line going.

Can’t wait to tell you about the Hieronymous Bosch and Pieter Brueghel paintings at the Prado.

Stay tuned.
Zoom, zoom.

Peace. Bang.

Golden Globes Semi-Live Blogging

It’s Martin Luther King Day, and what better way to honor our prophet than by a big, stupid awards show?

Well, PeaceBangers, I couldn’t let you down. I preached my heart out yesterday about Martin’s legacy, and tonight it’s all about packing for Spain (I’m just taking a little duffel and a bigger roll-on duffel). I’m taking minimal clothes and maximum electronics, including my i-Pod in case I get lonesome for home tunes. Also four small bags of cosmetics. We have the hair stuff bag, the face stuff bag, the on-plane comfort bag (with aromatherapy wands, rosewater face spray, anxiety meds, etc.), and the make-up bag. But I did manage to cut my lipstick supply down to three.

Back to the GG’s:

Terribly directed. Just awful. The camera work is not just loopy, but the ceilings look low and the interior dark, and we’re getting lots of shots of boring, unknown people. When there’s no one in the house representing for the nominated work, keep it on Johnny Depp, for the love of God!

Sandra Oh just won for “Grey’s Anatomy.” She’s deliriously happy but she can’t find her way to the stage. She looks like a rat dashing through the maze for the cheese. This is most inelegant. Poor thing. Her speech approaches the overwroughtness quotient of Halle Berry’s for “Monster’s Ball.” Sweetie, it’s an acting award from the Hollywood Foreign Press. There’s no need to feel as though you’ve been set on fire. Unless you’re in the middle of a hot flash.

I don’t know what happened, but there are worms slithering out of Tim Robbin’s hairpiece onto his forehead. He ought to see a dermatologist about that.

Mary Louise Parker looks great in a poufy 50’s shaped dress with fabulous sky-high black pumps. She was just on the verge of making me officially insane with her excessively cute, rambling, “um” filled speech for “Weeds” (Best Actress in a Comedy) when she managed to whip out three or four totally coherent phrases honoring the memory of recently deceased actor John Spencer. Good save, Ms. Parker. You can explain the comment about wanting to make out with your co-star Elizabeth Perkins some other time. Way to go beating out the entire cast of “Desperate Housewives.”

Pamela Anderson looks atrocious and sounds atrocious. She’s totally out of her element, and can barely pronounce anything. Ick. Double ick. Actually, Double D ick. I’m sure the Go Fug Yourself girls will have cruel words about her black and white frock.

Emmy Rossum and Penelope Cruz are wearing flesh-colored gowns that just confuse me. Such beautiful creations, but you can’t tell where the dress leaves off and the girl begins, which creates the unfortunate effect that they have cowl-necked skin. And shouldn’t Penelope Cruz’s English be just a little bit better by now? She sounds like the Newest Discovery off the most recent flight from Madrid, for heaven’s sake. I love the sexy Spanish accent theeng, but I can’t understand a word she’s saying.

Emma Thompson looks smashing and glowy, but just bombed with a silly bit about “Pride and Prejudice” being young. Or something.

The co-writers of “Brokeback Mountain” won something, and the woman gave a gooey, written speech. Larry McMurtry actually pushed her to the side before thanking his typewriter, which has kept him out of the “dry clutch of the computer” for thirty years. Eloquent, Larry, but don’t think we didn’t see you push your colleague. I hope she throws her drink in your face later.

What’s with the pushing? Ryan Phillippe just pushed his wife Reese Witherspoon to the stage where she’s picking up an award for playing June Carter Cash in “Walk The Line.” (Update: Joaquin Phoenix just won for playing Johnny Cash) I hope Reese throws her drink in his face later.

Gwyneth Paltrow is gorgeous. My God, she’s femininity itself dipped in starlight. I stand shamed in my red flannel jammie bottoms and t-shirt before her pregnant luminosity, even if I mostly hate her dress.

Cynthia Nixon wins “Most Improved” for a beautiful hair-do and glammy make-up.

S. Epatha Merkerer, who stole my heart last year when she lost her acceptance speech down the front of her dress, stole my heart again just now by saying that she’s 53 years old and her role in “Lackawanna Blues” is the first starring role she’s had in a movie. Then she said that she was in the middle of a big hot flash, and thanked NBC for employing her for 16 years. Cut to nominee Cynthia Nixon making snarky side-long glance to date.

Mr. Ang Lee + Red Vines = Crazy Delicious!!

The cat is in love with me. She won’t stop patting me with her paw and gazing into my eyes. She’s so happy to be rid of the dog she’s beside her little striped self. Also, her diet is working and she’s looking very svelte. We’ll definitely have her in a bikini by June.

Virginia Madsen is a dish, but I hate it when an accomplished, veteran actress (who happens to have a smashing pair of golden globes of her own) feels that she has to comport herself like a Playboy bunny while she’s on stage with an accomplished, veteran actor like Harrison Ford, just because he’s a male and looks grizzled and patriarchal in a beard. Where’s the dignity, Ginny? Why are you holding his cocktail and posing like one of those girls on “The Price is Right?”

Catherine Deneuve is very beautiful. I’m saying that because you can get arrested anywhere in the western world for saying otherwise. She is so legendarily beautiful that the very sight of her champagne tresses brings men to their knees. Except that she looks really bloated tonight and her dress is too long and the sheer puffy sleeves aren’t fooling this chunky sister, who knows exactly what those puffs are meant to do: hide upper arm flab.

Isn’t it nice that John Williams won an award for his score for “Memoirs of a Geisha?” Because I’m sure that he doesn’t have about eleventy billion others.

Ooops. It was bound to happen: Bernie Taupin just dedicated his award for Best Song to Martin Luther King, who I’m sure would have been totally DOWN with a hillbilly rip-off of “My Heart Will Go On” theme song for a gay cowboy movie.

Anthony Hopkins just gave a swell speech after having been given the Cecil B. DeMille Lifetime Achievement Award. Gwyneth Paltrow introduced him as “the greatest actor of our generation” and people like Will Ferrell looked all reverent as they gave him a standing ovation. Listen and learn, Will.

Jumpin’ Jehosaphat! What happened to Mandy Moore’s hair!!? Looks like she was making out in the bathroom with Zach Braff and forgot to primp afterwards.

Ang Lee just won Best Director for “Brokeback Mountain,” cementing his reputation as Asian Man I’d Most Like To Date In the World Next To Chow Yun Fat. So talented, so cute, so modest.

These Lunesta commercials are making me sleepy. I’m going to climb into the sack. G’ night in PeaceBang Land.

It Was Amazing

Turning 40 was so fantastic I think I’ll do it again next year!

We had a benefit concert for hurricane relief at church last night and imported three wonderful singers from Baton Rouge. The concert was so amazing: a happy, warm, mid-winter delight. People were just grinning from ear to ear, and nobody wanted to leave the reception, where we chowed on jambalya, gumbo, and a cake with my baby picture on it. We were hoping for about 50 people, and the church was packed with close to 200. My own group, Sweet the Sound, was described as “breathtaking” and the reporter said that the hair stood up on the back of her neck when we began our first song. So that’s thrilling, and we’re making our first CD in late January/February.

We raised $3,500 more for hurricane relief and had a blast doing it. I had dreamed of a birthday celebration that could be philanthropic, cultural, and involve both church and friends, and this fit the bill perfectly. Some of us came back to the house for champagne and I even got some sleep before leading this morning’s very emotional service honoring the legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr. A woman who came to last night’s concert with her husband came back for church in the morning and thanked me for one of the most wonderful weekends of her life. All this with big tears in the eyes. So hey, when I’m in one of my inevitable depressions this summer, that’s a memory to hold close.

Mom and sis helped me take down all my Christmas decorations this afternoon, and the Lousiana gals came over and I made an impromptu dinner that turned out to be a wonderful feast. I’m a little amazed because I’m usually a very uptight hostess worrying that dinner will suck, running out to shop at several different stores and planning recipes and cleaning days in advance. Tonight I just decided to start cooking with what I had in the fridge and didn’t want to have go to waste while I’m in Spain for twelve days. So I threw together a kind of Cuban stew with pork, roman beans, sweet potatoes, green peppers and onion, with a spicy marinade I love. I made Spanish rice and skillet corn bread and my sister made sauteed cabbage, and we drank wine and had delicious dessert of vanilla ice cream drizzled with maple syrup and fresh fruit.

Mom and sis are still here padding around in the kitchen cleaning up, and Gordon the dog is here, too. It’s very, very good. We laughed so hard at dinner our eyes popped out.

Mom gave me very grown up diamond earrings. They are the prettiest white gold small horseshoe shaped hoops with tiny diamonds all down the front. I feel so elegant in them.

I realize this isn’t an interesting or eloquent post and I apologize, but it’s been an incredible season, actually, leading up to all of this. The summer was overly busy, and with the fall came beginning a doctoral program, burying my uncle, traveling to Lousiana, hosting Thanksgiving, dealing with a very busy Christmas season, etc.

I’m wiped out. Will try to be thoughtful later.

Could You Please Send Water?

I spoke at some length with Mrs. Belinda Williams of Allen Chapel A.M.E. Church in Baton Rouge tonight. She has just given birth to her thirteenth child, Malachi.

Belinda is as busy as ever, going every day to Rennaisance Village, a trailer park of 725 units set up right on top of each other and occupied by 2,122 people, a third of whom are children (and of that third, 235 of them are babies under the age of two).

She says that the psychological damage done by the hurricanes is becoming more and more apparent, with depression and despair rampant.

And yet she forges ahead, planning a summer program for teens to learn about fiscal responsibility, as well as a six-week program for single mothers, who drop their children off at no charge at the church at 7:30 a.m. and are free to seek a job until 4:30 p.m.
Last year, Belinda offered this program and 48 women participated. Out of that number, 39 of them obtained jobs and three began school programs (which they are all still enrolled in). I call that success. When I consider that Belinda and two of her daughters took care of over 70 children by themselves all day, I call that miraculous. Twenty-eight babies and 42 children between the ages of 9 and 17. I think to myself, “isn’t it illegal to supervise that many children with so few adults?”
And then I remember, oh, this is Louisiana. Those mothers undoubtedly think of Belinda Williams as a saint. Who else is going to watch their kids and give them this chance?

If you have a week or two to devote to babysitting this summer (the program starts in mid-June), let me know. I can hook you up with great local hospitality in B.R. It will be hot, but it will be a very worthy way to spend your day. I’m sure that older teens would be very welcome.

This is what they really, really need at Allen Chapel (which is a major distribution center for the trailer parks):

Baby goods (they distributed 600 bottles the other day, and they can’t get enough diapers and formula)
Medical supplies for the elderly (adult diapers, colostomy bags, diabetic supplies)
Water. Bottles of water. They can’t get it, Belinda emphasized to me that it’s a terrible, constant, pressing need. Can you believe that? I can hardly believe that. WATER? In the United States of America? This boggles my mind. Isn’t there a better way to do this than to send thousands of plastic bottles south?

There is a 13 year old, wheelchair-bound girl who is hankering for Harry Potter books and Maya Angelou books (and any others, ’cause she loves to read). If you’d like to get them to her, please let me know or I’ll do it when I get back from vacation.

Meanwhile, send water. I’m sure you can buy it online and have it shipped:

http://www.shoplet.com/office/db/NLE101243.html

Allen Chapel A.M.E. Church
6175 Scenic Highway
Baton Rouge, LA 70807

My New False Idol

I got an i-Pod.

I’m sorry, what did you say? Be with you in a minute… I’m downloading songs onto my i-Pod.

Bad Theology, Part I

Somehow I doubt that the one survivor of the Sago mining disaster has got a private, sound-proofed room in the hospital. So this ostensibly heart-warming story isn’t so charming when you think about the fact that he’s probably in ICU where other people are lying in extremis with their own distressed families keeping vigil:

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/01/07/national/07survivor.html

I’m sorry, but this kind of thing exemplifies the incivility of our society. You can’t blame the man’s wife for thinking like this: she’s in grief and doing whatever she can. It’s the hospital administration’s responsibility to say, “We’re so sorry, ma’am, but there are other people and their suffering families in this facility and they’ll be greatly disturbed by this racket. How about headphones?”

I cannot under any circumstances imagine “blasting” any kind of music for a loved one, even if their life hangs in the balance. Not when others are struggling for their own lives nearby. I hope the story is inaccurate. It hurts me to think of someone trying to recover from surgery or some other medical trauma to the sound of a thrash band. I even get upset in the ICU when nurses and doctors talk in loud, insensitive voices about their fun weekend when some one is struggling to die three feet away.

Meanwhile, Pat Robertson has decided that Ariel Sharon’s stroke was a lightning bolt from the Big Guy:
http://www.cnn.com/2006/US/01/05/robertson.sharon/

Explain this to me, Pat. You people like to talk about the one surving miner as a “miracle” case. You remain silent about God’s purpose for the 12 miners who died. But you’re real confident that it was God’s wrath that caused Ariel Sharon’s current condition. How does this work? Really harsh stuffjust randomly goes down for some people, like –*whoops!* — while the harsh stuff that goes down for others is the wrath of God? And you just magically know which is which?

If the 13th miner dies, will it be because his family didn’t pray hard enough, or because God hates Metallica? Or will it just be random really bad luck or fate?

Triumph The Insult Comic Dog Takes On "Star Wars" Nerds

From Brother of PeaceBang:

http://www.devilducky.com/media/2536/

I made the mistake of taking a sip of water halfway through, thinking it couldn’t possibly get any funnier.

Wrong!