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September 30, 2005
ugly
ox
if you've been reading awhile, and you have a high capacity for retention, you might have seen a trend forming... over the course of this year, i have been more easily moved, even to the point... you know...
it's very easy and very hard to describe, if not explain. a song, a lyric, an image in a television show/one the news/in a dream/in my mind, a thought... and my throat tightens, and i feel, in a phrase i've used more than once, "the warm intrusion of tears..."
tonight (last night, now), i stopped by book people for a book called "the 3am epiphany" (more on that later today). i've been in good form lately - light, back to more of my joking self, i think. i was with mike and amelia earlier - is that what you're seeing?
i rapped with one of the employees on the second floor, was having a good time. he took me to the books about writing, i found the last copy of the book, went smiling down the stairs, and stopped on the landing.
there was a box of ugly dolls, and one looked at me. i knelt down and picked him up.
when i was a kid, i did not have a proper teddy bear. i don't cite this as some horrible abuse, or even some bit of traumatic negligence - it was a simple oversight, just the way things panned out. i did have one of those freakish bunnies with a human face. i think i loved it at the time, but looking back, it creeps me out.
margo knew this, and bought me a teddy bear once. he is mr. bear. there is a constellation of memories and thoughts associated with him. i never let him lie buried in a box, he does not go unloved, but there is an uneasy emotional distance between us, furthered by the fact that he wears a necktie. bears should not wear ties.
tonight, i picked up the uglydoll named "ox." he has one eye, and his tongue sticks out. he is worn, slightly nappy, a horrible shade of green, and rather flat.
i looked at him, and again with the damned tears. i hugged him for a moment, then realized i had to look a bit mad. part of me didn't care, but i looked at him and put him down, because that is what we do, when we're all grown up, and so far away from home.
Posted by Rob at 12:33 AM | Comments (1)
September 29, 2005
unheard
so, here's the latest revelation: no matter how much i can understand the language of music, i can't speak it. i can fake it well enough, my knowledge of the sound and rhythms, even the vocabulary, making me a superior faker. but i don't know enough of the grammar.
i spent the weekend at acl fest, which only reinforced the heart-wrenching, almost self-destructive desire to create. lately, i've listened to so much incredible music, a lot of aimee mann and death cab for cutie and the mars volta. i wanted to turn my increasingly redundant writing towards the lyrical, wanted to write something as beautiful as the things i've heard.
i stayed home from work monday, pre-planned, and i sat, finally, at the keyboard. i know the sounds. i can bang out a chord, and find a limited number of chords that work with it, a progression that is right. but as much as i can genuinely rend expression and tone and dynamic to my playing, the melody and structure itself don't come from my heart. i'm just playing with the handful of useful phrases i know, ladening them with the emphasis and intonation of emotion, but they still come up short. it's not the music that i love. it's nothing i feel worth attaching my words to.
so the keyboard is for sale. i could learn to play. but i'd be doing so now, at 36, amidst everything else i've taken on. i still believe in my ability to write words that can take a life of their own, even in music, and mean something. i believe in my voice - still, only a handful of people have really heard what it can do. maybe only some high school kids in a small audition room, with one guy playing a peter gabriel song on guitar, and me losing all inhibition and fear and finally singing out.
but the keyboard is not the path. i can do other things with the money. i might get another someday, when i have the time and money to devote to the lessons and practice that will make me fluent in that language.
it makes me sadder than you might imagine. true love, for me, has only been marked by its congruence with music. it is the one constant, from my earliest memory, stretching into my future.
right now, music is like some beautiful woman i've gotten to know, come to love, can understand perfectly, but ultimately, can't talk to. i can't speak her language, can't tell my story to, or release my heart to in any way that she'd understand. it's just another sort of loneliness, just another failure on the ever-growing pile.
but i'll find other ways.
Posted by Rob at 10:44 PM | Comments (0)
September 28, 2005
take that, aetheists!
l'assclown est triste...
finally, proof that there is a God!
or at least a mechanism of randomness in the universe that finally got off its ass and did something worthwhile...
Posted by Rob at 12:28 PM | Comments (1)
September 26, 2005
acl, day one
for three days, i saw some great music at acl. and yeah, some not-so great, and some that i could tell was great, but that i just didn't care for. kinda like cyndi crawford - yes, i know she's hot, and she seems nice enough, but she just never did anything for me.
the quick run-down...
day one, i got there early enough. i rode down with... well, with a date, sort of. no, a date, i suppose. ok, the whole reluctance here is looking back. even on friday, i knew it wasn't there, though, wasn't what i wanted. i'd probably been ignoring that a little bit for a while.
anyway.
friday, she came to my apartment, and we rode our bikes down to zilker park. when we got there, it was, in its own, more arid way, like the fields o gettysburg must have looked before they were drenched in blood and corpses and debris. the grass was still green, and, you know, in existence. the air was hot and clear, though filled with rita's last veiled threats, whispered in strong gusts of wind and feathered clouds moving contrary to the direction of the puffier clouds below.
the cost of compromise, the lesson i thought i had thoroughly learned last year, hit me again this year. we arrived a couple of hours late, which allowed me to be tortured not only by the last couple of minutes of what seemed like a blazing set by kasabian, but with the entire steve earle set.
i expect to catch shit for this. i have respect for the guy, and yes, i'm opposed to the war, and yes, i'm opposed to the bush administration. but i didn't go for the message in it's blinding, all-or-nothing, cindy sheehan should be made a saint entirety, and the music just didn't do much for me. unfortunately, among many of my friends, this is the equivalent to "if you don't support the war, you don't support the troops" mentality. my date ate it up. i nodded.
during the set, my date saw her ex-husband, apparently for the first time since their divorce, and announced she was going to go ruin his day. given the fact that he left her in a midlife crisis spasm, i was all for this. from a distance, the exchange looked civil, and it was not until later that i learned that the words "fucking" and "dickless" made numerous appearances. i was incredibly amused; she was ridden, and rendered silent, for the rest of the day with guilt. i proposed the idea that she hadn't said anything that he didn't bring on himself. i also offered the option of her apologizing to him for timing and tone of her attack. she opted instead for going to confession.
i had heard a clip of "mates of state" that sounded promising, a band consisting entirely of a man and a woman and their keyboards. i would later hear my own opinion repeated by almost everyone i talked to - absolute crap. harsh vocals over muddy keyboards, no melody, like some horrible junior high version of bad new-wave music.
we next went to check out the iguanas. the promising-sounding mindy smith had canceled, as many bands had due to hurricane rita's ripple effects, and she was replace by a band called "the iguanas." a new orleans musician had assembled an all-star cast, which supposedly included "members of peter gabriel's band."
no one was able to tell me who that might be, until one of my date's friends said that he had heard that it was peter gabriel's saxophone player. the problem is, peter gabriel has no saxophone player, at least not since his second or third album in the late 70's or early 80's. there was the horn section that played on a couple of songs on "so" in 1986. i don't think that counts.
the iguanas amounted to little better than a competent tejano band. one song did stand out, however, because the chorus at first sounded like, "tengo cinco novias que no tengan un novio." to the best of my weak-assed spanish, this translates to, "i have five girlfriends who don't have a boyfriend."
this seemed to me a great line, but it eventually became obvious that the lyric was something completely different, and far less interesting.
we grabbded our first food of the show - the fish taco's from roy's, which were excellent. pretty simple, really - some cheap-assed cod, with a light but spicy breading, with a chipotle aioli sauce and shredded cabbage, in a corn tortilla. my own cooking tends to be narrow-minded and straight to the point. i wield spices and sauces like crude bludgeons. but i could tell that in this case, the cabbage's bitterness was canceled out by the spiciness of the fish's breading, leaving everything in perfect balance. all for $5.
we heard a bit of nic armstrong and the thieves, who were good enough, and then i found myself at robert earl keen.
yes, i share a first and second name with him. yes, he has a good song about a transvestite hank williams sr. but i can now safely say that that's as far as my interest level extends.
the tide began to turn, though, when i broke away from keen and the date to check out soundteam, who really rocked. i was able, for one of the few times over the weekend, to get close to take some potentially interesting pictures.
i also found i had messages. one friend had arrived at the festival. the client in the divorce case was calling, asking if i could still come to new braunfels and do the prove-up next week. damn.
and then a call came through, a response from a hopeful voicemail i'd left that morning. she would be leaving early sunday morning, but would love to go to breakfast saturday morning before i took off for day two of the festival. she said to call her when i got home, even if it was late.
minutes later, i found the first gem of acl - thievery corporation.
thievery corporation were one of the acts i had really looked forward to. i had first come across them on the wholly amazing "garden state" soundtrack. but i was completely unprepared for the sheer energy and passion of their show. it was one of the shows that most closely approached last year's show by the roots, that had made the whole weekend worthwhile.
the date said it was "like three bands in one," and she was right. the band, actually just two white d.j.'s, were joined by reggae singers, sitar players, hot brazilian chanteuses, and other singers, all of whom were able to completely electrify the crowd and get it bouncing.
then, it went back downhill. again, i have all the respect for john prine, who will no doubt be remembered as a songwriting legend, though i don't really know any of his songs. i spent the hour watching his strange overbite, and looking for any signs of lower dentition. i saw no such signs.
but it was time to stand and not be distracted by, you know, good music. i watched the people go by, and something was different. more specifically, i watched the girls go by, and something was different. i saw, but didn't long for, them. i kept thinking about the girl i was going to breakfast with the next morning.
this is not something revolutionary. this is, you know, the way it should be. but whether it's accurate or not, regardless of how it turns out, it's something i haven't felt in a lot of years.
we took a break for food again, getting a couple of cold chicken and avocado wraps from maudie's, a totally filling and yummy bargain for $5. we sat and ate in chairs in the volleyball pits, which acl organizers had cleverly "repurposed" as a children's play area, lyle lovett and blue october colliding weirdly in our ears.
we closed out the night with the black crowes. it was, i think, the fourth time i've seen them, and was a sort of tribute to the biggest single hearing-loss event of my life. my friends and i had third-row, dead-center tickets for the crowes in the early 90's at the now-demolished convention center. for days afterwards, we called each other, asking each other in loud, fearful voices, if their ears still rang and hurt, too.
i was amazed at the show. i was amazed that chris robinson could still sing like that. i was amazed that he could be married to kate hudson.
eventually, the date asked if we could leave. on the way out, i learned that she really only liked music that she knew. she also didn't like instrumentals. really doesn't like jazz.
more and more, all i could think about was breakfast.
we got home, and hugged, reprised the end-of-the-night kiss, and all i wanted to do was go in and get on the phone.
after the call, i felt myself smiling, and there was nothing i could do about it.
Posted by Rob at 08:04 PM | Comments (3)
376 days
so, when i was a kid, i was enamored with events, and by that, i mean the big events. to me, the most interesting ones were when worlds, even universes, collided, promising at once a sort of upending of the natural order and a new, greater unity. most of them happened on television.
when the "love boat" stopped at "fantasy island" - that was huge.
then, of course, there was "battle of the network stars." wonder woman, jill munroe, captain apollo and radar all on the same show? sadly, they were not in costume, and they went by the more mundane names of lynda carter, farrah ("i'm still married to the bionic man and not entirely insane yet") fawcett-majors, richard hatch, and gary burgdorf.
(incidentally, i once dated a girl that loved m.a.s.h. to the extent that she had actually written an episode of the show. sadly, this was a good 12 years after the show had gone off the air. not being a fan of the show, i did not read much of it. still, she reminded me a bit of a female version of radar, though substantially less hairy, and i despise myself a little for not loving someone like that more.)
these days, there is little on television to sate that desire. things have gotten all the more nasty between the networks, and they are also beginning to realize that they are but weak second fiddles to shows that air on cable television.
opportunities are being missed. i'd tune in to see christian troy of nip/tuck in a three way with grace and jennifer garner. i'd watch bald dude from "the shield" in a cage match with vincent d'onofrio's annoyingly jacked-up character on that half-assed derivation of "law and order."
as such events on television became less frequent, i began to pay more attention to and even wish for, similar events in my own life. i long for the kind of events where universes collide, legends merge, laws of nature are rewritten, and new unities are created.
i suppose there have been moments. standing out in the dust and heat of the austin city limits music festival, devoutly wishing that robert earl keen would just stop already, i realized that it was around acl fest a year ago that i began this blog thing. i hated that i had missed taking note of the anniversary, just as i hated failing to mention to friends that july 21 was the third anniversary of the last breakup, and the last time i was in anything like a serious relationship.
the first blog entry was on september 16, a year ago. tonight, i find myself at fado's, the man coming around again (johnny cash on the ipod), the same spot in the corner, but a notebook computer instead of the battered green notebook, a $1 lone star rather than a $5 lager and lime. so much is the same: the fragile balance in my mind, maintained by depakote and its new friend, lamictal; concerns and worries visited on me by the career and poor financial choices i've made; and the other "L" word, maybe more the opposite of love than hate.
but things are different. hope comes less from blind faith than from catching sight of things on the horizon. i feel something i haven't felt in a long time, something taking root in my heart. i have a greater belief in what i can and can't do, with my mind, with my job, with my body, on the basketball court, in my heart, with my voice, with words.
maybe my own event, the battle of all the things i have been, and am, is coming to a head, is happening now. instead of being on their own little shows, in their own little potions of time, in their own universes, all those me's are making cameos in the story that is my life today.
i don't know if i'm making sense to you. i don't know if this is just how i feel tonight, i don't know what i'll feel tomorrow. but, maybe it's just a matter of feeling like this today. tomorrow will be what it will be.
Posted by Rob at 07:14 PM | Comments (0)
September 14, 2005
once, and again
fairy godmother, are you out there?
did you know me so well that you know what it all means, what will mean something to me, something that will mean something besides what you meant to me so many years ago?
'cause i'm lost. i've been trying, trying to live the normal life, do and want the normal things. i never can get past feeling like i'm just acting, reading lines, moving from mark to mark.
i'm sorry. but you tethered me to this world. you gave it all context. with you, i was at my best, and headed for better.
the other day, so many years later, i thought of the latest round of dating, thought of where those paths could lead, and i thought, maybe this is how it ends, maybe this, finally, is the end of that dream. the dream and memory of you.
i'm sorry. it shocked me, after all these years. and yes, it's late. and yeah, i've been drinking. but i'm just here in the place i've been in lately, anyway. it's that place that even in my sober, waking hours, i realize is clear of the distractions and denial, life without the stiff upper lip. maybe it's not fair to you - it was never your responsibility. maybe not destiny, just a chance, maybe my best chance. maybe it was yours, too. maybe not.
i always thought i got a few steps farther than my dad did, past the heartbreak of our lives, him never moving past my mother, me finally moving past you. maybe i was wrong.
please, forgive me. just remind me that you're out there, and maybe that it wasn't just a delusion, wasn't just a dream.
Posted by Rob at 11:09 PM | Comments (0)
this is ok, because it is.
i'm a little freer tonight.
i finally walked away from the bit of outside work that has hung over me for so many months. i still feel the remorse and guilt for not finishing it, not being able to give someone the benefit of finishing a divorce case involving a house and two kids for $200. but the guilt, luckily, but sadly, almost, is easier than the burden.
i walked away from that, then walked to waterloo records. every album cover called out to me, promising something new, promising connection to someone, something greater, maybe better. i bought the new albums from the like and death cab for cutie.
i'm sitting now, with a lager and lime, listening, really listening, to the songs. i want to write. i have the keyboard for sale, but i want to keep it, i want to make something, something as simple and beautiful as what i'm hearing.
i need you so much closer, i need you so much closer...
it's loud, overwhelming everything else, and i think i know and feel the sound, the loudness taking little bits of my ability to hear, so much of which is already gone, but that's ok. it's just the cost. right now, all i hear is the music, the chords, the words, and it overwhelms the people, and the noise of the world, and most importantly, all the things i've been feeling, until it becomes what i feel, something beautiful.
the two girls are back in, the girls i met months ago when i used to work here on the weeknights. i was torn, finding both of them attractive and interesting. turned out i wasn't the same for them. it bothered me at the time.
they've sat next to me. it's a small bar. one of them, julie, turns her back to me. it's ok. it hurts that old part of me, the boy from high school, that wanted things. but right now, it's sort of ok, because it's just the way it is.
i'll sit and wonder, of every love that could have been, if i'd only thought of something charming to say. this is the sound of settling...death cab for cutie - the sound of settling
i've been dating. a lot. and nothing seems to stick. it's sort of baffled me. something i thought i wanted so much, i can't seem to not run away from.
i don't know if i'm waiting for the lightning to strike, in some sort of romantic suicide. i know less and less what feels right, and what's just there at the end of the night.me.
lately, i wake up in the middle of the night, my arms around my head, a little too distraught to cry, though sometimes i yell a little. i don't know if my roommate sleeps through it, or just decides to not embarass me by mentioning it.
but that's ok, too. i rock, i squeeze my head to try to make it stop, then i fall back to sleep. sometimes i sleep, and i dream of memories, and i dream of hopeful futures, until i wake up again.
i'd rather have it this way, in a way. there's comfort in knowing what is, and what is not, because then faith and hope mean something. they mean something other than what is - some salvation, some deliverance from this here, this now.
sorry for the rambling. i'll stop now, and share what i'm hearing:
love of mine, someday,you will die. but i'll be close behind i'll follow you into the dark. not blinding light, or tunnels to gates of white, just our hands clasped so tight, waiting for the hint of a spark.if heaven and hell decide
they both are satisfied,
illuminate the "no"'s on their vacancy signs.
if there's no one beside you when your soul embarks,
then i'll follow you into the dark.in catholic school,
as vicious as roman rule,
i got my knuckles bruised
by a lady in black.
i held my tongue,
as she told me, "son,
fear is the heart of love,"
so i never went back.if heaven and hell decide
they both are satisfied,
illuminate the "no"'s on their vacancy signs.
if there's no one beside you when your soul embarks,
then i'll follow you into the dark.you and me, have seen everything to see,
from bangkok to calvary,
and the soles of your shoes
are all worn down.
but time for sleep is now.
it's nothing to cry about.
cause we'll hold each other soon.the blackest of moons...
if heaven and hell decide
they both are satisfied,
illuminate the "no"'s on their vacancy signs.
if there's no one beside you when your soul embarks,
then i'll follow you into the dark.
death cab for cutie - i'll follow you into the dark
Posted by Rob at 08:20 PM | Comments (0)
September 13, 2005
if i knew now what i knew then...
the frustrating fiascos at work continued today. over the past few days, i've been pushing to finish drafting and sending notices for 18 cases to go to settlement conference. i was already a bit annoyed, because usually, each of the three attorneys should only have to do about 10 each. but for reasons it'd be better not to go into, there was slack, and i chose to pick it up.
i got them done today, only to find that the cases hadn't been completely copied, and that the boss had found some sort of problems, and he might cancel the settlement conference.
suddenly, a microwaved lunch and water was no longer an option.
so, i'm back to fado's, a yummy guinness bbq chicken sandwich, and a lager and lime. it feels good. i walked in, duncan saw me, and by the time i saw him, he was at the little cubbyhole that i love, with a menu and a warm smile. i sorta feel back at home in a way, back to the better parts of my life almost a year ago. yeah, there were bad and tricky bits, but i actually have some nostalgia about the time, too.
work was good. i was a good employee, and there was strong hope that the texas dental association and the legislature would do the right thing. i still had my friend heather at work to talk to and go to lunch with. i had a goal, a sense of purpose to running and exercise. and, importantly, i walked around with a camera and a notebook. my spare time was spent in places i was comfortable at, and in search of, well, beauty.
there was no second job, no f-ing divorce case or criminal case or anything hanging over my head.
i'm working to get clear of those things again. i need things to be simpler. i need to be simpler. there are, really, so few things that matter, and i got away from believing that and knowing that.
i have good food, nice people, a lovely harp and lime juice, and u2 is playing.
maybe sometimes it's ok to move backwards a little...
Posted by Rob at 12:53 PM | Comments (1)
September 09, 2005
get off yer ass
OK, people, so there's some misinformation flying around out there, but I went to the Red Cross office yesterday, and it turns out they're desperate for volunteers, particularly for night shifts at teh convention center. this is a good way to get closer to finishing the terms of your probation by knocking off some hours.
You can download an application at the central texas red cross web site
fill it out, run it over to the red cross office, and they'll sign you up.
i think i signed up for the wacky midnight-8am shift sunday morning, if'n anyone wants to join me...
Posted by Rob at 10:30 AM | Comments (0)
September 08, 2005
john grisham - porn king
so, felipe and i were talking today, and felipe mentioned "the pelican brief" in a lewd fashion to refer to, you know, his stuff. it then occurred to me that some of john grisham's popular titles are actually useful euphemisms for, you know, our naughty bits.
follow:
the firm
the client
the chamber
the rainmaker
the brethren
the broker
and my favorite - the king of torts
i think, as part of my continuing slide into eccentricity/madness, that i'm going to start referring to my own naughty bits as "the king of torts" and "the brethren."
i have it on very poor authority that grisham's next book, about a legal scandal in ancient norway, will be titled, big, throbbing manhood.
Posted by Rob at 03:49 PM | Comments (2)
September 05, 2005
low speed collisions
the impact was odd. the sound of sheet metal sliding laterally and destructively against a solid object, say, a 4" tubular thick-gauge steel pipe rooted into the asphalt, is an oddly calm one. the metallic essence of the experience, particularly the first inward pop, is dulled, the metal's desire to resonate transferred and dampened into the parking lot's foundations.
i didn't react. i heard my roommate gasp, out of the corner of my eye saw her look over at me for what she believed would be the inevitable reaction.
it didn't come. i shifted into reverse and rolled back, quietly, as if the event called for no comment at all, as if i were simply pulling out of a space i had decided was too small.
i had spent the day... i had spent the day... the day was spent.
i got up at 6:47am. i was supposed to meet janay and tiffany to run at town lake at 7:00. i was so tired i ached, but it had been weeks since we had run together, and i needed it. we could have been running, or biking, or shelling pecans, or playing russian roulette for all it mattered - i needed to see them again and be back in that particular routine again, one of the least stressful, healthiest routines in my life right now.
we ran six miles, ate, then the day deccelerated. i went home, showered, turned on cnn, and watched the coverage of the hurricane's aftermath.
i called the austin red cross, hoping to volunteer, knowing that i was going to need the distraction, for there to be some point for the next few days. they said they had enough volunteers for the time being. ditto for the food bank.
i watched all day. at times i cried, but at times, i was damaged beyond tears not by the death and loss, but by what i saw of humanity.
i saw politicians and journalists exploiting the event for their benefit, grandstanding, pointing fingers, while people were dying.
i saw survivors, poor people, black people, some doing what they needed to and should do to survive, or even do at least a little better than survive. but i saw some doing worse. i heard the outcry against the looting and the shooting, some reasoned and balanced, but many following the chain of causation from "criminal activity" just to "black," and stopping there.
i heard the apologists, some asking for reason, and understanding, and fairness in judgment, but many drawing the chain of causation from "criminal activity" all the way to "oppression," with no nod to the area of personal responsibility, of right and wrong, that lies in between.
i've always been torn, disheartened, and angered by these failures of ours, by the death of intelligent, genuine, meaningful discourse about our most important issues. it's only gotten worse as our divisions have become more bitter and vast. to conservatives, the nuances don't matter, and i'm just another liberal. to many of my friends, the overwhelming majority of whom are liberal, nuances in my beliefs and perspectives make me a sell-out, a Bush apologist.
so, on saturday, i was lost. unable to go pull someone out of the water, or even to lift some boxes, to make me feel alive, like there was a point to me, even just for a little while. i couldn't get what i was feeling into words. and i didn't have, or was finally successfully ignoring, so many of the other obligations that have for so long kept me distracted by being overwhelmed. i couldn't even imagine anyone or anything that would give me any comfort.
i just watched, and there was nothing more to do.
and yes, on top of all of that, the bottles were empty, too - the little amber plastic bottles. when they're somewhat full, i'm unquestioning. i take them. when they run low, i begin to question. i had an appointment friday for a required appointment, but i questioned the need, and i thought about the $135 it would cost for the appointment and the refills. i canceled the appointment.
i pulled the bottles out of my bag and set them on my nightstand, and they were suddenly so pointless, seemingly meaningless, whether empty or full. when i open one and put it to my ear like a seashell, i don't hear the ocean, only whispers.
so, i was already numb when my roommate came home. i think i was already creeping her out, saying very little, not making eye contact. but she started eating one of those pre-packaged conglomerations of cold cuts, processed, pasteurized cheese, and crackers. i offered to buy her a real dinner at the burrito place down the hill.
i drove because she had been at work all day and i figured she wouldn't want to walk.
the parking space looked small. i saw the low rock wall surrounding the tree next to the space, but forgot about the metal barricade bar in front of it.
i turned, and some part of my brain thought i might hit the rock wall. my brain had a response, and it spoke that response silently just as my car made contact with the metal.
my roommate looked at me when it happened, kept looking at me nervously from time to time as we got our food, and all the way home. but there was just nothing to say, nothing that would, nothing that could possibly, matter.
Posted by Rob at 11:12 PM | Comments (0)
September 02, 2005
misinformation
probably part one of many. there's a lot of crap flying around the internet, as usual. i've now gotten the email below twice. emergency food stamps are being made available, but i have no information on the method yet. overall, the email is bogus. if you get this, please don't redistribute it, and "reply to all" to let folks know it's not true.
p.s. - thanks for the info, karen
the bogus email -
Please pass to anyone who needs help . . . .
Do you know anyone in Texas as an evacuee from any of the three states
Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama? If so, the Texas Department of Health and Human Services will give them 2 months of Food Stamps with no questions asked. All they need to show is a driver license. This agency will also give you information and locations where they can receive FREE GAS. Also, if you are housing anyone from one of these states you can call FEMA at (800) 621-3362 file a claim and receive assistance for your help. This is valid information directly from TDHHS.
Below is the site to find a location near you
http://www.tdh.state.tx.us/
Posted by Rob at 02:32 PM | Comments (0)
September 01, 2005
and now for something completely serious...
I only have a second. Actually, here at the dental board, we're working on our own Katrina-related issues. You don't really think about dentists and dentistry at a time like this, but then, we find there's a lot of things we don't think about.
Watch this space. There's a lot to talk about, and, I hope, a lot to do...
If you hear about a way to help, and it's verified info, post it up here as a comment. A couple of us are looking into going to San Antonio to volunteer, maybe get some good manual labor going.
In the meantime, some random info:
Katrina phishers go trolling
By Frank Barnako, MarketWatch
Last Update: 12:40 PM ET Sep 1, 2005
WASHINGON (MarketWatch) -- The Federal Bureau of Investigation is looking into reports of fraudulent online solicitations of funds for hurricane relief.
A spokesman for the FBI warned of e-mails making bogus appeals for support, a practice known as phishing. Read more at Wikipedia.
"The important point is that [people] initiate contact on their own," the FBI's Paul Bresson told the Washington Post.
Web sites with names such as katrinahelp.com and katrinarelief.com have been created. They refer visitors to another Web site that purports to solicit funds. There is no way, however, to know who is getting the money. A survey by MasterCard International found that after last year's tsunami in South Asia, 170 scam sites appeared soliciting money for supposed relief efforts.
Bloggers solicit relief help
Publishers of almost 800 Web logs have signed on to a day of blogging for Katrina, a spontaneous effort supported by prominent bloggers Glenn Reynolds of Instapundit.com and N.Z. Bear.
The list of participating bloggers, and their chosen organizations, is available at http://www.truthlaidbear.com.
Napster Inc. (NAPS) also has announced that it is selling a compilation of New Orleans-related music and will donate 100% of the profits from sales. Tracks include Fats Domino's "Walking to New Orleans" and Louis Armstrong's "When the Saints Go Marching In."
Posted by Rob at 03:36 PM | Comments (1)