Allen pointed me in the direction of this (which I am presenting without commentary as it speaks for itself): FEMA Rap

V.S. Naipaul’s novel Half a Life is the story of Willie Chandran and his desire to erase the mistakes of his father, who married his mother not out of desire for her but because he wished to do something of substance with his life. The marriage was one of circumstance, not love and though Willie wishes to break this chain of events, what he does more than anything is follow in his father’s footsteps. He does not act of his own accord, but follows others, latches on and allows the waters of fate to drift him here or there. It is not until the end of the book that Willie does make a break for himself, but even then it is to go and live with his sister. He is still relying on the women in his life to show him who he is.

Fascinating to me was how this book was told—moving back and forth between first and third person as different layers are revealed. In the beginning, the boy Willie hears his father’s story in first person. Then the majority of Willie’s young life is told in 3rd, until finally, in Germany, he tells the remainder of his story to his sister in 1st person. So, in the end, revealing his story of hope and shame, Willie once again reflects his father.

Now that’s what I’m talking about–Vacation is Over… an open letter from Michael Moore to George W. Bush:

Friday, September 2nd, 2005

Dear Mr. Bush:

Any idea where all our helicopters are? It’s Day 5 of Hurricane Katrina and thousands remain stranded in New Orleans and need to be airlifted. Where on earth could you have misplaced all our military choppers? Do you need help finding them? I once lost my car in a Sears parking lot. Man, was that a drag.

Also, any idea where all our national guard soldiers are? We could really use them right now for the type of thing they signed up to do like helping with national disasters. How come they weren’t there to begin with?

Last Thursday I was in south Florida and sat outside while the eye of Hurricane Katrina passed over my head. It was only a Category 1 then but it was pretty nasty. Eleven people died and, as of today, there were still homes without power. That night the weatherman said this storm was on its way to New Orleans. That was Thursday! Did anybody tell you? I know you didn’t want to interrupt your vacation and I know how you don’t like to get bad news. Plus, you had fundraisers to go to and mothers of dead soldiers to ignore and smear. You sure showed her!

I especially like how, the day after the hurricane, instead of flying to Louisiana, you flew to San Diego to party with your business peeps. Don’t let people criticize you for this — after all, the hurricane was over and what the heck could you do, put your finger in the dike?

Well, I have to say, I thought it would be a cold day in Hell before I ever said good job to a mainstream news organization, but CNN is doing an excellent job of covering the crisis in the Gulf Coast.

They are keeping the heat on.

They are not letting up on the few government officials who will come on television to speak (and those officials are few and far between) and say what they’re doing (and it seems what all of those officials are saying is the same thing–something along the lines of, “Help is on the way.” Yeah, right.) And they are playing again and again the mayor’s passionate and desperate plea for help (which if you have not heard, seek it out and listen to).

Yesterday, I saw Harry Connick, Jr. on the streets of New Orleans, speechless, bereft, and ready for action. Where is the president? The vice president? Any member of the cabinet? Where are the senators and congresspeople?

Where is the government?

Oh, that’s right–President Bush flew over the area a couple of days ago–on his way home after vacation. And he’s going to tour Gulfport or whatever today.

And have a press conference.

And there’s nothing that comes more in handy when you are starving and thirsty and people are dying around you–than a press conference.

BRING THEM SOME FOOD. BRING THEM SOME WATER. GET THEM TO SAFETY.

Meanwhile, here’s some stuff we can do:

If you are within a 400 miles radius of those areas devastated by the hurricane, please click here and see if you are able to help: http://www.hurricanehousing.org.

Donate to Second Harvest–100% of your donation will go to victims of Katrina.

New at Ink Pot–you will not want to miss: Alice’s Restaurant: Chu Lai Beach, 1969— by the incomparable Sue O’Neill

News from the fine folks at Me Three:

Please join us on Friday, September 9th as we celebrate the New York release of Me Three #2 with a “Sneak Preview Party.” Yes, that’s right, the party is taking place a week before the official release, which means you’ll be able to get your copy of the journal before it even exists, or something:

Friday, September 9th, 2005
Hi-Fi
169 Avenue A (btw 10th and 11th)
8pm (the bar offers 2-for-1 drinks until 8, so if you want to show up a little early, feel free!)

This party will also provide everyone with the opportunity to welcome back editor Sarah Stodola and say goodbye to editor Mark Grueter, so it’s really three parties in one, and you can’t really beat that at eight o’clock on a Friday.

Also, you can order a copy of Issue #2, which ships on 9/15, by clicking here.

Michelle Cameron is not only extremely talented, she is also most generous. She has done me the honor of highlighting me in her Circle of Friends this month–click here to read: Myfanwy Collins.

Thank you, Michelle!

Well, not meaning to change tone so quickly here, but I’m just delighted to announce an excellent new blog by the always fascinating and fabulous Ellen Meister–check it out, you will not regret it–not by a long shot: Diary of a New York Lady

I’m guessing most of us have done what we can from our computers and bank accounts to help out the folks who are desperate and hurting on the Gulf Coast of the US. I know people have lost their homes and stuff and that is just rotten, but I can’t get out of my mind the babies out in the heat of the sun, waiting for water and rescue. I wish I had a helicopter or some such device with which I could get them all to safety.

It is terribly hard to watch and yet important that these scenes are being broadcast because people are suffering and we must keep pressure on the government to know that it is more important to send aid to these folks, than it is to send others to war.

Put our tax money to use this way. Help these people. Get them water. Get them food. Send them help.

For some reason Allen and I have a pet tiger. It seems perfectly normal to me, except when the tiger kills a man or otherwise comes across human flesh and starts eating it. Then I tell Allen that we need to set it back loose in the wild. We are reluctant to do so but eventually decide to set it free in the woods. Allen drives me and the tiger up near a ski resort (there is a lot of snow on the ground) and drops us off and drives away. (I don’t know why I’m left with the man-eating tiger but it made sense that I would be in the dream).

For some reason, we let the tiger keep the person (or parts of the person) he killed so he is lying on a snowbank, partway off the road chewing on this and I’m standing on the side of the road, getting ready to leave. Suddenly, I see that the tiger is looking at me–not outright, but that he has noticed me as potential prey (this is a scary thing–we were once at this place called “The Grizzly Discovery Center”–it’s not a zoo–I loathe zoos–rather is it rescue and education center for wolves and grizzlies that cannot go back in the wild because they are a danger to humans. Anyway, they had a pack of wolves behind a fence and you could climb up on these platforms and look down on them. The wolves mostly ignored the people but when a small child would move quickly, their eyes would be right on it. It was chilling. Sorry for the digression).

I am terrified and scan the road for cars. None are coming. The tiger moves a bit closer. I start to walk. I walk, stupidly, down the hill (stupid because the last thing you want is for a big cat to believe it’s bigger than you are–although who isn’t smaller than a tiger? Or to give it the advantage of being above you) but there is nowhere else for me to go.

The tiger charges. I run.

Just then a car comes along, the driver sees what’s happening and comes to a stop between me and the tiger. I get in and we drive away. I tell the woman about the tiger as we move into a snowy valley. We pass some sort of large museum/shop for ropes and knots (!?!?!). She’s very interested in this place so she drops me at a honky-tonk so that she can go back there. We say goodbye.

When I enter the bar I’m with my friend A. (she and I were best friends through grade and high school). I’m desperate to call Allen. The bar is filled with men and they are all ignoring us. I do not tell anyone–except for A. who seems to know all of the details–about the tiger. First I want to call Allen. I have to slide my credit card through a strip in order to make a phone call on the pay phone. I keep doing it incorreclty in my nervousness. Finally, I get through but reach an answering machine. I do not leave a message.

Just as I realize that I should call his cell phone, a man comes along to use the phone. He says I have all day but he needs to get through now. He says something about nightfall and I realize that if people are outside at nightfall they’ll be killed by the tiger, a nocturnal hunter. The man has one of those big, long old-lady wallets and it’s filled with pictures of his kids. He shows the photos to me. I’m worried that he’s going to get killed by the tiger. I don’t want him to but I still don’t say anything.

When he is making his phone call, I see a flash of orange in the parking lot. The orange thing is the tiger, I think, and I watch as it latches onto the neck of a goat. There are a dozen children dressed as shepherds and other farm animals around. I yell, “There it is!” Everyone looks at me like I’m crazy. Just then I notice that it isn’t the tiger but a person in a fox custome. The goat is fine. They are all part of some pagent.

I pretend like nothing is happening and do not mention the tiger. The phone is free. Just as I am making the phone call to Allen’s cell, I wake up.

What do you make of that????

some upcoming events:

September 7th: Word by Word, Conversations with Writers features NEA Chairman and Sonoma County Poet, Dana Gioia, and Lynn Freed (who will be at the Sonoma County Book Festival). That’s 7 pm (pacific). To listen in streaming, simply visit www.krcb.org and click listen or wait a week for the show to be archived at: http://www.pcmg.tv/krcb/wbw/wbw.htm

September 10th: Literary Blog Panel: What is a blog, why are writers using them, how can you start one? The ultimate urban transplant himself and fabulous writer/radio commentator Colin Berry and Jordan Rosenfeld, are co-moderating a panel on the literary blog (and will be happy to discuss blogging in general) at the Sonoma County Book Festival. Joining us will be Martha O’Connor, author of The Bitch Posse, and Michelle Richmond, author of Dream of the Blue Room. Find them at 4 pm on September 10th in the Cultural Arts Council Gallery, at 529 5th Street. Visit www.sonomacountybookfair.org for more info.

Also, don’t forget–Creating Space: A One-Day Law of Attraction “Play-Shop” for Writers on Saturday September 24th, 11 a.m. to 4 p.m.

Having spent a good deal of my life in a coastal area (city, even) at or even below sea level, I cannot even begin to imagine the horror that it is to have been through not only the storm of yesterday but the aftermath of today.

Anyway, for what it’s worth, my thoughts are with all of those souls down there on the Gulf Coast who are suffering.