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Friday, November 13, 2009 | by nathan

Ford

Ford

I saw this on my walk to work one morning this week. I see a lot of wheel caps littering the side of NW 23rd street as I walk to work in the morning, but I really liked the look of this one, all spindly and mechanical and futuristic. It sorta looks like it might’ve come off a hover bike or something. Even though I’ve never owned a Ford (though I totally covet an Escape Hybrid), I dug the logo in relief so much that I flipped the photo in post so it would be a little clearer.

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Thursday, November 12, 2009 | by nathan

…and BOOM goes the dynamite.

Get ready, this is a LONG ONE. With lots of dramatic CAPS LOCK. About POLITICS. And RELIGION. Because I’ve HAD IT.

(last chance. Please feel free to escape to a better website now).

So, I don’t shop at Wal-Mart under any circumstances whatsoever. I’ve explained some of my reasons for not shopping there, so I won’t elucidate them here. But here’s the thing – I don’t call what I’m doing a "boycott." I don’t church it up; I just don’t shop at Wal-Mart, and that’s the end of the story.

So it annoys me greatly to see that a Facebook group has sprung up encouraging people to "boycott" one of Oklahoma City’s best locally-owned places, Flip’s Wine Bar and Trattoria, for basically no reason whatsoever.

The story goes back to the unscrupulous firing of a gay teacher, Joe Quigley, from the Oklahoma City Public School system, and the failure of Gail Vines, an owner of Flip’s and a member of the Oklahoma City School Board, to vote to reinstate him once the Board was ordered to do so by a judge who found Mr. Quigley to have been wrongfully terminated.

Sorry if that was hard to follow; basically some of the gays are all up in arms because Gail didn’t vote the way they’d have liked. And normally I’m all about people putting their money where their mouths are and not patronizing businesses whose owners, staff, or policies violate some strongly-held belief or item of conscience. But seriously, you guys, Gail Vines is one of the least homophobic people on the planet. Her vote not to reinstate Mr. Quigley had categorically zero to do with him being gay; I can absolutely promise anyone that. I don’t know what the reasons were, but I don’t get the sense the boycotters do either.

To accuse Gail Vines of being a homophobe is sort of like accusing Orly Taitz of being sane, or the Jonas Brothers of being talented. Gail Vines goes to my church, Mayflower, which is literally the most liberal church in the entire state. Anyone with even remotely homophobic tendencies wouldn’t be comfortable there. To call this boycott a part of the great fight for GLBT equality is, to put it bluntly, bullshit.

Let’s boil it down: some group of people, in this case The Gays, saw a perceived slight and got all up in arms without having – or, let’s cut the crap, NEEDING - all of the facts.

It’s so typical of America today. One group or person does something that isn’t right in line with the beliefs or agenda of another group, and immediately, there go the alarm bells. Here comes the yelling. Here comes the faux outrage, wherein we get all mad and frothed up about something and then go back to our wonderful lives that are, at best, minimally impacted by the thing we’re all so pissed off about.

The worst part is, I think that when we do things like this we’re just playing to the Great Palace Lie that we ARE these labels that society, or, more to the point, The Advertising Industry, slaps on us. The Gays are a Group That Can Be Marketed To, and so – oh, you’re gay? Here’s a Britney Spears CD, some body glitter, a charge card from Hollister and a whole raft of political opinions you have to cling to without question. Please read from the script.

Oh, you’re a Christian? HOW INCREDIBLY GREAT FOR YOU. Here’s a chain of stores that sells unneeded crap made by underpaid workers in the Third World, and marketed just for you, an entire music industry to call your very own, for GOD’S SAKE YOUR VERY OWN CANDY TO EXPRESS YOUR FAITH, as IF candy could ever really do that, and an whole raft of political opinions you have to cling to without question. Please, just read from the script.

You guys, no one cares about helping you express anything about your truest identity. They’re taking your "identity" all the way to the bank. Britney Spears could give a crap about gay rights. For that matter, so could Bill O’Reilly. There’s money in what they’re doing, or else they wouldn’t be doing it.

We like to tout diversity in America. You know why? Because diversity allows us to divide ourselves up and to make doing so look really holy and just. We divide ourselves into easily-targeted groups for advertisers and politicians, and then we take offense when the people in the other marketing niches disagree with us or do things differently than we do.

Oh, and the people who think they flipped the system, who DON’T FIT INTO SOCIETY’S BOX, thankyouverymuch, with their ironic mustaches and thrift store t-shirts, oh, we’re the worst of all. I can tell you this from a zillion Flaming Lips concerts and outdoor music festivals where all the people loudly decrying the evils of corporate America sport identical uniforms of non-conformist clothing available at retail outlets near you, and they all have iPhones and went to suburban high schools and got to spend a year after college bumming around Europe on daddy’s dime.

Then the politicans, on both sides of the aisle, they line us up and yell at us that the people in the other marketing niches are DESTROYING AMERICA and are unrepentantly evil and must be, themselves, destroyed. It’s like America’s just one big cliquey high school, and we’re all sitting at different cafeteria tables, all looking exactly the same and thinking we are one and each as unique as snowflakes, and just SHOUTING at each other. HERE AND THEY’VE GOT ME DOING IT. BEHOLD MY CAPS LOCK KEY IN THE NAME OF UNIVERSAL HEALTHCARE.

All of this is to say, this Flip’s boycott is yet another example of identity politics spinning wildly out of control. We are told that our stupid marketing niche – gay, or Christian, or Latino, or country, or urban, or whatever – defines who we are, and any perceived threat or insult to that identity must be met with swift and unyeilding resistance. We’ve turned into a nation of Sue Sylvesters; we shout as loud as we can until we get what we want, we play the aggrieved minority when it serves our purposes but could give half a flip about other aggrieved minorities when they get in our way. We claim our Constitutional rights are being trodden and compare ourselves to Martin Luther King, Jr., all in the name of getting to trod on someone else’s Constitutional rights. WE ALL DO IT.

To quote Tina Fey, "All God’s children are terrible."

So, what’s the point here? For me, the point is that I want us all to categorically refuse to play this game. I want us each to throw out the script, quit playing to type and stop being so ticked off about things we’re not willing to invest the time to understand outside the echo-chamber of pre-marketed media we know is just going to tell us what we want to hear. I’m losing my faith in America because I’m beginning to realize that we’re a country where the people who get what they want are the ones who yell the loudest. I’d like this to stop, but I’m under no idealistic assumption that it will. But I do refuse to play; it’s like Charlie Brown and the football – if you agree to play, you’ve already lost. I’m not going to argue about politics on the internet – who was it that said that’s like jerking off to your own photograph?

Things won’t ever get better as long as we’re organizing bullshit "boycotts" of people we don’t know for reasons we don’t really understand. But as I already said, I’m pretty much losing faith in the political system to make things better anyway. So here’s what I’m going to do instead: I’m going to go with my church to go feed the homeless every other Saturday from now until Jesus comes back, or until we as a nation decide that it’s entirely unacceptable that some people don’t have a place to live or enough food to live on. Because I used to think that, no matter our philosophies on governance, liberal or conservative or otherwise, there were some things we could all agree on, for instance, that it’s entirely unacceptable that some people don’t have a place to live or enough food to live on. I see now that isn’t true, and it breaks my heart.

There’s NOTHING we can all agree upon, nothing so sacred as to hold us in one accord, if someone, somewhere, can make money off of getting us to fight about it.

I’m going to give money to organizations I believe in. I’m not going to let anyone yell at me or call me names. I’m going to try my hardest not to yell or call anyone else names, either. I’m not going to join some random, ineffectual "boycott" for reasons I don’t understand against a woman who doesn’t deserve it because some overly-sensitive and under-informed members of my marketing group perceived some slight against us. And I’m going to try my hardest – and I’m going to fail, but that’s Okay too – to get up every morning, and go to bed every night, saying the only prayer there really is: "Thank You. Thank You. Thank You. Thank You. Thank You."

It's Not Right But It's Okay, Living In America, This I Believe Comments (9) |

Thursday, November 12, 2009 | by nathan

North Carolina Public Radio

North Carolina Public Radio

Another photo from the American Tobacco area of downtown Durham, North Carolina. I think it’s incredibly cool that North Carolina Public Radio offices in an area commonly trafficked by hip, young urbanites, because frankly, a few of the hip, young urbanites I know could benefit from a little more NPR and a little less ClearChannel in their lives. But, I mean, in a nice way.

Daily Photo, North Carolina Comments (2) |

Wednesday, November 11, 2009 | by nathan

Third Floor

Third Floor

This was taken in downtown Raleigh. It is, of course, heavily photoshopped, as the walls around this outdoor staircase were a lovely shade of slate gray, but then I thought, hey, how great would they look with a little urban green? And voila – photoshop! I think it’s nicer, don’t you?

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Tuesday, November 10, 2009 | by nathan

Sweepin’ The Clouds Away

You need to a flashplayer enabled browser to view this YouTube video

It’s weird to me to think that Sesame Street is 40 years old today, especially since I’m almost 30. It’s weird that in my lifetime I’ve gone from being raised on PBS shows like Sesame Street, The Electric Company and Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood to cable, to internet, to … now. Because I remember when we had five channels and only rich people had VCRs. BEHOLD MY ADVANCED AGE.

That aside, I am, like many people raised from the 1970s onward, indebted to and grateful for the crazy experiment that is Sesame Street. Latter-day hippie Jim Henson created something truly unique and transformative. Who hasn’t seen Stevie Wonder’s performance of "Superstitious" from the fictional New York neighborhood:

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Possibly my favorite Sesame Street memory, however, is a personal one. Jim Henson died just before I started the fifth grade, and for our spring concert near the one-year anniversary of his death, our elementary school music teacher thought it would be the BEST IDEA EVER to have a Sesame Street-themed concert, with 150 or so fifth graders singing songs from the show.

Now. As adults you might think "Oh how sweet!" Let me tell you something: as ten-year-olds, we were MORTIFIED. We were super-serious TEN YEAR OLDS, HELLO, and if we were still watching that show (which, cut the crap, some of us were), or any children’s programming at all, we were doing it in SECRET, thankyouverymuch, and most likely we had long since abandoned it for super-important adult shows like 90210, The Simpsons, and Fifteen on Nickelodeon (holla if you remember that one!) 

We were FIFTH GRADERS, fergodsake, and far too old and important and grown up to be singing baby songs from a baby show. We were HORRIFIED. Our rehearsals were a string of unmitigated disasters. Our parents cooed and teared up to think how adoringly cute we were going to be. Our siblings taunted us endlessly. Our music teacher all but had to attach us to a cart and whip us like Iditarod dogs. We were like Sam I Am – we would not sing it in the rain, on a train, not on a boat, not in a moat.

I don’t remember any group of ten-year-olds ever being less invested in something, but come the day of the concert, we all showed up, sang as well as we could, had our photos taken, were told we were "cute" about a zillion times, and then breathed a sigh of relief that it was finally, finally over and we could get on with our super important adult fifth-grader business.

All that is to say, when I found this clip on YouTube, I got a tinge of nostalgia that has yet to go away:

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I Have A Story, Idiot Box, videos Comments (1) |

Tuesday, November 10, 2009 | by nathan

American Tobacco

American Text

This is the outside of one of the buildings at the American Tobacco Historic District in downtown Durham, North Carolina. The whole area is very, very cool – it’s something akin to what Oklahoma City’s Bricktown aspires to be but isn’t, quite. This is my second post-college trip to the Triangle area of North Carolina, and each time I visit it I become more fond. It was largely this area that contributed to North Carolina going blue last year, and between our lunch at American Tobacco with my childhood friend Erica, the driving tour of Raleigh that my friend Dylan gave us, and breakfast with my college roommate Mark, I’m warming brightly to the Triangle, despite the presence there of two of my least favorite schools, like, EVER. Aforementioned college roommate now attends Duke, BUT I GUESS WE’RE NONE OF US PERFECT.

Daily Photo, North Carolina Comments (2) |

Monday, November 9, 2009 | by nathan

I Saw The Mountains Waking With The Innocence of Children

Appalachia

As I mentioned previously, we journeyed to my former home of North Carolina this past week. We didn’t get to hang any in my old stomping grounds of the Piedmont Triad, but we had a grand old time in Raleigh/Durham for the 36 or so hours we were there. We also had an excellent flying experience with Southwest, whom I would recommend to anyone and who I wish would relocate their hub from sorry old Love Field to Will Rogers International in Oklahoma City.

While we were there, I found out that a humongous rockslide had closed I-40 through the Smoky Mountains along the North Carolina-Tennessee border. As a college student I drove that treacherous patch of I-40 more times than I’d have liked, and I can say that it’s utterly terrifying. The curves on the interstate are something out of a car commercial, and one frequently sees fallen rocks and jackknifed 18-wheelers littering the sides of the highway, while alternately dodging said 18-wheelers who are using that particular area to make up time by doing 90 or more miles per hour down steep grades and through hairpin turns. It’s awful. Every trip to and from college I had to stop on the other side of the mountains and catch my breath. It always meant I got to Winston-Salem (or, if I was headed home, to Nashville) much later than I’d have liked, but I always needed about an hour to decompress after that drive.

Any rate, I totally dig this picture. I never get good shots out of the windows of planes, but I did on this trip. It meant that I had to accidentally pour scalding hot tea down my leg as I was doing so, but I guess that’s just the price you pay.

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Monday, November 9, 2009 | by nathan

Weekly Reader – 9 November 2009

The Bitter Tears of Johnny Cash
"In July 1972, musician Johnny Cash sat opposite President Richard Nixon in the White House’s Blue Room. As a horde of media huddled a few feet away, the country music superstar had come to discuss prison reform with the self-anointed leader of America’s "silent majority." "Johnny, would you be willing to play a few songs for us," Nixon asked Cash. "I like Merle Haggard’s ‘Okie From Muskogee’ and Guy Drake’s ‘Welfare Cadillac.’" The architect of the GOP’s Southern strategy was asking for two famous expressions of white working-class resentment.
"I don’t know those songs," replied Cash, "but I got a few of my own I can play for you.""

Steak House – Or Gay Bar?
Being a gay guy from Oklahoma I’m no stranger to the double entendre required when naming establishments of … let’s say of a certain sort. I am speaking, of course, of steak houses, which are on occasion so homoerotically named that one might confuse them with homosexual gathering establishments. See how well you do!

Ever Dream This Man?
It seems that this site is either viral marketing or a giant hoax, but even so, it entirely creeps me out and makes me wish I’d come up with the idea. The horror story, the screenplay, they practically write themselves.

Buildings … OF THE FUTURE!
A cool story and poll at HuffPo that talks about some plans for buildings that are currently being discussed. I’m a particularly big fan of the "dragonfly" in NYC and the submerged hotel in a filled-in rock quarry in China, but I seriously doubt we’ll ever see any of these.

Weekly Reader Comments (0) |

Friday, November 6, 2009 | by nathan

OMG U GIZE!

Apologies for the lack of blogginess for the last week or so. We had a whirlwind and very chaotic – but very, very wonderful – trip to North Carolina the first half of this week, but I seem to have caught some kind of demon cold that is slowly devouring me from the inside and will soon leave me a hollowed-out shell for its demonic host, not entirely like the thing that turned Fred into Illyria on Angel. I think I caught it from some virulent little Trick-or-Treater last weekend. Stinky little petrie dishes. Also, in my absence I ended up with a heaping plate of work that I’m trying to whittle down; I hope to do that by the end of the day.

ALL THAT IS TO SAY.

I’ll be back as soon as I get to feeling better.

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Friday, October 30, 2009 | by nathan

The Resting Soul of Galileo

I hope all you Okies can pick up the Oklahoma Gazette this week; it contains what I think might be the best piece I’ve ever written for the publication – a farewell ode to Galileo Bar & Grill in the Paseo.

I started going to Galileo after my inglorious return to Oklahoma City in 2002, and have loved everything about it ever since. I love the artwork, the beer, the staff, the food, and especially the ambience. Because the Gazette is a strictly third-person publication, I wasn’t able to share my own personal memories of Galileo. So, here are some vignettes.

In the winter of 2002 I took my little book of scribblings to the open mic poetry reading. I listened to everyone else read, frantically searching through my book for something decent; everything suddenly seemed like crap and I grew a case of cold feet. Also, I ran into a boy I liked there and was so worried about impressing him that I worried my writing would scare him away. That was one of the stupidest things EVER, but there you have it.

In the summer of 2003 I sat on the back patio at Galileo with a group of well-connected Oklahoma progressives who had responded to a posting on Meetup.com; we were there because we supported Howard Dean and were soul-sick about the Bush administration. David Walters and Miles Tolbert spoke eloquently, and we all left with a sense of purpose and determination. Later, we all had our hearts broken when John Kerry earned the nomination, and even worse when Bush was re-elected.

In 2004 my friend Dylan came to see me, and we took him to see K.C. Clifford play a show at Galileo. The show was excellent, the crowd was raucous and into it, but a knot of hippie girls insisted on standing directly in front of our table, effectively blocking our entire view of the stage. When we politely asked them to move, they turned and sneered at us in a way that suggested we might be imminently devoured. Peace and love indeed. Whatever, we still had a fantastic time.

In 2005, at another K.C. Clifford show, I asked my friend Laurie what she thought of the possibility of me getting together with this guy Brian I’d been hanging out with a lot. She loved him to death and gave me a look like "OH MY GOD ARE YOU FREAKING SERIOUS GET OVER YOURSELF AND GO OUT WITH HIM." Some months later, in that same restaurant, at a table a few feet away, I asked him to marry me. I have an audio recording of that entire evening; if my house ever catches fire I’m grabbing Sam and those CDs before I run out of the house.

We had my 25th birthday party at Galileo. My family got me a wonderul Indian quilt from Craig’s Emporium and I drank sloe gin fizz all night. It was another K.C. Clifford show, and she sang me "Happy Birthday" from the stage and dedicated "The Wish Song" to me.

When the first Equality Ride came through Oklahoma City, they parked their big gay bus down in the Paseo and shared their stories with the assembled crowd, stories of finding Jesus in the midst of the crazy struggle with capital-letter topics like Sexuality, Alcoholism, Drugs and God. I looked out into the crowd, most of whom had just come down for dinner, and saw some tears, and even more expressions of dawning understanding and compassion. I spent the rest of that week smiling my head off.

IN 2006 my friends Jon and Tish were racing through OKC to make it to our friend Faith’s wedding in St. Louis. They called asking where they might find some good fast food. I told them to forget the fast food, and directed them to exit the interstate at NW 23rd, and to meet me in the Byron’s parking lot. I called over to Galileo, got a couple wraps and some hummus to go, and delivered it unto them. They called 20 minutes later to thank me profusely.

At yet another K.C. show, the Bluehouse were invited to the stage mid-set to serenade the crowd with their kickass rendition of "Heard It Through the Grapevine." Another time, a dude had a seizure just a few minutes before showtime, right in the front door of the restaurant. Finally, at yet another show, K.C. was struck with a case of the giggles mid-song when a woman in full belly dancing regalia strolled, nonchalantly, just a few feet past her as she sang. Her giggles proved infectious and soon the entire restaurant was laughing.

Also in 2006, on my last day as an intern at the Gazette, a job and an opportunity that changed my life forever, the editor and one of the news reporters took me out to lunch at Galileo and told me I had a promising future. JOKE’S ON THEM! No, seriously, it was a wonderful day.

This past summer, after a Dr. Pants show at CD Warehouse, pretty much the entire show crowd met afterward at Galileo, where we pulled several tables together outside and gabbed until the place closed. It was the last time I ever went there; I wish I’d have known – I’d have ordered a sloe gin fizz and a K.C. Calzone (named, of course, after Mrs. Clifford).

That place has formed such a nexus of activity and history in my Oklahoma City life since 2002. There’s a new place opening in the space on December 1; it’s going to be called Picaso’s on the Paseo. I don’t know if it’ll be good or not, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to bear going in there, but I say let’s all go and raise a glass to what was, and what will be. In the meantime, though I will probably be murdered for doing so, I’m posting this photo, which my friend Todd sent to me as I was researching this story. It’s a photo from one among countless dinners at Galileo wherein we laughed, drank, philosophized and generally just enjoyed one another’s company. It’s possible this photo is from winter 2002, but I’m not sure.

Galileo, 2002?

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