241/365

woke up without an alarm,
the air thick with threats of a storm,
gave my mother some advice
that felt relevant and adult and needed,
wondered if my own kids will some day
guide me through ambiguous stages.
followed up on helping a friend’s friend,
an afghani refugee stranded in a warehouse
outside the airport in tehran, concussed and paranoid,
wondering if he accepted the call that might get him out.
locked into in a book about the attica prison riot of 1971
and fiddled with the opening dropped d intro of drown.
fought the nap energy seeping into the room
by going for a short run in the rain, no music
but the splat of the puddles and drops from the trees.
made a grapefruit cocktail in a coupe glass
and read how the word julep is rooted the persian word golab
which means rose water and that margarita is daisy in spanish.
excited to embark on these cocktail seminars.
dinner. tv. bed.
another sunday
in the books. 

104/365

she’s a slow reader,
she told me so herself
at the start of the year.
quiet as a prayer
deliberate in her actions
aloof in disposition.
it seems one of the
louder more insecure
boys was putting her down
to lift himself up
in that ever so charming
masculine way
that boys use
to cover the holes
they can’t explain
in their egos.

her austere manner
best not be confused
with fragility.
she’s tough
this one
in her unflustered way.
steady like a metronome
one page at a time
one book at a time

thinking.
growing.
learning.

“i was really impressed
by your fast draft
pre-assessment essay.
you really got to the heart
of the book and articulated
your thoughts on theme clearly.”

she rarely smiles
her body language
seldom described
as secure.

but all it took
was a dab of attention,
a compliment,
a whisper in class,
a gentle reminder,
a reflection she may have missed
of who she really is
when none of us are watching.

we teachers
build and breakdown
kids in the subtlest ways.

here is another reader
in the making.

63/365

i’ve left small pieces of myself
across time in every book
on my book self
in the guise of folded pages,
circles and stars and exclamation points,
highlighted words, lines, and passages,
like a trail of bread crumbs
into the forest
of my past, present and future—
waiting for the day
your adamantine curiosoty
coupled with my counsel
leads us both to a place
that feels familiar.
i bequeath you
these texts
weather worn
and well traveled.
out beyond ideas
of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field.
i’ll meet you there.

11/365

I learned about manufactured consent by reading Noam Chomsky;
Naomi Klein taught me about corporate globalization and capitalism;
Reading Abbie Hoffman illuminated theater and social activism;
Eugene Debbs taught me socialism;
Bertrand Russell philosophy;

Reading about Che and Ho Chi Min and Ghandi
taught me about revolution and resistance;
Harvey Milk and Allen Ginsberg unraveled queer power,
Edward Said introduced me to Orientalism

Better understood the American War in Vietnam through
Bao Ninh and Jonathan Neale;
Stephen Kinzer and the coup in Iran;
Unpacked empire with Arundhati Roy;

Howard Zinn taught me how to be American;
Thich Nhat Hanh how to search for peace;
bell hooks and Kate Manne- feminism
Mumia Abu-Jamal and Malcom X- race;

Books on movies, TV shows, bands and food;
Books on religion, drugs and evolution;
Books on heroes and villains,
Crime and justice
Education and running.

And that’s all just
a fraction of the non-fiction shelf.

Never let an uneducated unread person
vilify your literacy.

There is no education more valuable
than the one you can find on your own
in the pages of a book.

The world is not complete
until you’ve read around it.

Rest and Healing

Today was a great easy day. Work up at 10:40, laid around the pool with friends. BBQ lunch. Had a beer. Played video games with the kids. And now sitting here, thinking about December and survival.


It’s been twelve years since the Tsunami in Thailand. It’s been almost twenty five years since Jason’s accident and late December always has me wrestling with mortality, yes more than usual.


I can’t complain really, so I won’t.


My ankle is healing- wore a shoe yesterday. I drove for a bit and I was able to swim today. I am getting mobility back and the pain is less and less each day. It is still pretty stiff and hurts if I put weight on it weird, but the process is coming along.


I have been purposefully politically disconnected this week. Who can handle it when you are trying to be happy? I am resting these days and the rest feels great.


Kind of nervous about how the entire house will handle the X-Box, but the kids so far have been better than me. Kaia has sleep-over tonight, so I said an hour of Star Wars Battlefront and then in her room for down-time before bed. She and her friend are now cracking themselves up doing mad-libs.


Me on the other hand, I’m wondering if I will give the X-Wing fighter a try, try to get some morphine for the people in The Division, or maybe open the whole thing up and buy Madden 2017 and completely revert to adolescence.


Or maybe I will try and finish up The One and Only Ivan, one of the saddest and cutest books I’ve ever read. The night is slow and easy and not much happening tomorrow.


This is my 361st post this year. Five more and something new...

Football Student

The day started with football. Well breakfast and then football.


Marin had to go to school to work on a paper that is due for her class all day, so the girls and I were home all day. Although, my ankle is slowly getting better, I am not quite ready to drive, so we were house-bound for most of the day, but no worries because there was a crucial Raider game to watch and we were stoked. Well Kaia and I were, Skye lost interest after the first drive and succumbed to playing with dolls and eventually some screen time in the other room.


Kaia on the other hand was like a sponge. I mapped out a few diagrams to make sure she had a better understanding of the game and before long she was mapping each drive. Saying things like, “we can’t have another turn-over this time.” Or, “Oh my god that sneak up out of nowhere hit was awesome!”


She quickly understood downs and yardage and showed a basic understanding of field position, and even how the offensive line is crucial to a running game. We talked about the role of each position and eventually got to discussing pulling guards and putting pressure on a quarterback. It was a good first game.


What was even better was how involved she was with each play throughout the game. We were on the edge of our seats in the fourth quarter; her cheering, enthusiasm and pure joy after the win made it that much more amazing for me. Cannot wait to watch the last few games, the playoffs and who knows? Maybe the Superbowl with her. She may need a Raider shirt of her own. I’m on it.


The rest of the afternoon was pretty mellow. Lunch. Some reading. Three hours by the pool. The girls played really well together while I read and even took a tiny nap poolside.


Mairin was home for a quick dinner at Bergs, before she was back to Starbucks for more work. We’ve got the mid-seam finale of Walking Dead cued up, and I'm a bit nervous what Neagan might do.


We were supposed to be in Thailand tonight, but some idiot broke his ankle and so we cancelled the trip. The sun, the sand, the ocean would have been great, and I am super bummed that I forced our whole family to stay here, but at the end of the day we need rest, healing and some time to just do what we did today. Not much on the agenda tomorrow either.


I think I am a few days away from driving which will be a nice step forward. Speaking of steps, the limp is less, the pain more stiffness than pain and the ankle scab all but gone. The human body is an miraculous thing.


The Raiders are in the playoffs for the first time since 2002. Hoping they can win the last two games, win the AFC, have a bye and see the Patriots late in the playoffs. To beat them in the AFC championship game, would be a dream cone true. But I am getting ahead of myself. We need a win against the desperate Colts next week. I wish the Raiders played more than one time a week. It feels too long to wait until next Sunday to see what happens next.

A Series of Ruts

I took Kaia out on the skateboard again today. We were properly padded up this time to encourage slightly more aggressive skating and to avoid injury. Which is a good thing because she took a pretty hard fall. The board slipped out from under her and she went full horizontal and landed on her elbow and hip. It had to hurt. She cried. I hugged. We sat and waited away the pain. And then, just like that we were back at it.


She is getting much better. She’s still a bit stiff and unbalanced, but she is getting the hang of it slowly. We need a good smooth place with a slight incline. The tunnel was okay, but not the best. Looking forward to getting her back out again soon. The time has come for my long board purchase. I will be a bit more aggressive about buying my board so the two of us can cruise East Coast Park together soon.

…

Ran tonight. A healthy and comfortable 8km. It is all coming back to me. Felt mentally okay and the legs and lungs felt good. I am looking at signing up for another 10km at the end of May and maybe the half-marathon in Cambodia in December. Gonna push my distances in the coming weeks no matter what. My accidental break is over. Time to get back into the routine.

…

I’ve been in a s series ruts since the April break. I think I have been so looking forward to the summer that I have not really been living in the now. Last night, I finally found out why. My reading life was comatose. I wasn’t reading anything. I realised that if I am not reading something fun, thought provoking, gut wrenching or just simply interesting than everything else in my life feels dull and uninspired.


I came to this epiphany last night in bed as I started Carrie Brownstein’s book called Hunger Makes Me A Modern Girl. For those of you who do not know who Carrie is- she is the singer and guitarist of the punk(ish) band Sleater Kinney and the writer and star of Portlandia. She has also appeared on shows like Transparent. And as if that wasn’t a resume enough, now she can add bad-ass writer to her CV. I am only 56 pages into it so far, but it has gotten me so fired up about life, art, music, being an obsessive fan and more. The prose is tight and her insights are powerful.


It doesn’t matter if you are a fan of her music or her acting or not, this book is for anyone who loves the idea of music and art as salvation. For people who believe in heros and fandom and the power of music to transcend any and all of life struggles and pain. This book is for anyone who has ever been obsessed with music to the point of it acting as your best friend, counselor or priest.


I am so excited because this book has finally kick started my reading life and I can feel the loosening of the other ruts that may have calcified since April.

…

Stumbled upin the hashtag #GiveElsaAGirlfriend. How cool would it be if Disney of all people could move beyond the heteronormative stories we tell children? I would love to have the conversation about Elsa’s girlfriend with both of my kids. I am not holding my breath that one of the largest corporations in the world will make this move, but I hope we are moving in that direction.

…

The three day weekend has come to an end and that is fine. It was well spent. Hung out with friends, with my kids, my students, in nature and at restaurants. Saw movies. Took naps. Ran. Drank. Wrote and Read. Now it is time for some Game of Thrones and a new week up ahead.


Bring it.

The Universes They Found

We were talking about counter-arguments today in class. More accurately we were talking about how it is important to acknowledge alternative interpretations to your claim and/or your evidence when writing a Literary Essay.

I showed the kids how they could use thinking prompts like, “while some might argue...they forget that in the text it says... or “ Some people might interpret this to mean...But clearly...because...." It was a simple lesson, with a simple example and the kids were quickly ready for independent writing, and I was ready to start my daily rounds of conferences.

I sat with Isabella, one of my better readers and writers, to discuss her thinking about Jack’s leadership qualities from Lord of the Flies. She was easily able to articulate her thinking about how Jack was actually scared from the start of the novel and that is why he needed to control everything- in order to compensate for his own insecurities. It was a solid claim and she had adequate evidence. She told me that she was thinking about alternative interpretations. We used one of the prompts and she was quickly able to see how acknowledging these other ideas actually strengthened her own position. It was a quick and clean conference.

One of the things I have been working on as a teacher is to remember to start or end my conferences with a compliment. So I said, “You know Isabella? I am so proud of the deep thinking you have been doing with this book. And today, your ability to quickly find alternative interpretations to your great claim and use a prompt to get to where you needed to go was pretty impressive. Keep up the great work. You are rocking this essay.”

You should have seen her smile. Although she was sitting down, it felt like she jumped to get back to her work. She was determined to nail her thinking down in words. And as I was walking away, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her actually pump her fists as if she had just scored a goal in soccer. And I think we both knew that she had scored a goal.

Later when the class was back together and on the carpet, I acknowledged her excitement. I reminded the kids that this type of thinking, reading, and writing does not come easily. And when we take the time to build the skills and do the thinking, we will all have those moments when our thinking is clear and our ability to articulate it is even clearer, and when we have these moments we have no choice but to pump our fists and get excited. The mood in class was electric today as twenty-two kids wrestled with their ability to unpack the universes they found in the pages of their books.

…

Some days, Mondays and Wednesdays in particular, I come home and accomplish my goals. I get all smug and brag a bit about how I ran. I wrote and I read. Well today was not one of those days. After getting home, I laid on the bed to “rest my eyes” just a bit. Seconds after I began my rest, I fell into a deep deep sleep. So much so that when Mairin woke me up ten minutes later to grab some take-out sushi, I had drooled so much that there was a damp patch in my beard. Gross? TMI? Perhaps, but it happened and I thought I should tell you. I actually had to wash my face and beard carefully to make sure all the saliva was gone.

It is safe to say that I did not run after that. I just basked in my own laziness and guilt for veering away from my routine. I also decided that I would not work on my book tonight either as I had some last minute report card comment corrections to make (Don’t ask. It really is over now)

So it was a lazy day or a rest day or a necessary day, I don’t know. I do know that this daily writing thing is not negotiable and this piece is almost done before 9pm, which means I will be in bed and reading my book for a long long time tonight and maybe that is what needs to happen on this Wednesday nigt in late February.

…

I put Skye to bed and went in to check on Kaia. She was sleep but still awake. This is what I said, “Hey sweety. Just wanted to let you know that I am sorry that I have been a bit distant for the last few days, weeks actually, since I got back from Kenya. I was really tried last week and I had so much work with these reports that I feel that I have been ignoring you a bit and this makes me sad. I miss you so much and I wanted to tell you that I love you so much and I am sorry that we haven't had a chance to really hang-out or talk or bond or anything.”

She was beaming and smiling and looking at me in the eyes. It was as close to magic or heaven as I ever need to get.

“So anyway...let’s make some time this weekend to catch up and hang out and spend quality time together, because that time we spend together is the most important thing to me. I love you. I hope you know that.”

“I love you too daddy. Thank you.”

Just like that. She said thank you. I told my nine year old how I was feeling in the simplest most honest way I could and she acknowledged what I said. She smiled and hugged me and said thank you. It was a beautiful moment.

…

“Is this any good?” Aditya, not one of my strongest readers, but a kid who is putting in the time and starting to “get” books, asked me holding a copy of Catcher in the Rye.
“Good? It’s a dreary tale of teenage angst and woe. It is the story of every teen age boy I have ever known. Myself included. It is a classic and one of my favourites.”
“Do you think I would like it? Is it challenging?”
“The language is unique and takes a while to get going, but I think you should give it a go. There’s a lot to it and I think you should explore what those ideas are all about.”
“But there’s no blurb.”
“Start from the first page and see where you end up.”

For the rest of the class, I watched him as he was absorbed by Holden’s voice. I am not sure if he will “get it” or even like it, but he was already taking notes on Holden’s “sensitive” nature when reading time was done.

I love my job. Here was this kid about to start a journey that could change his life. Books can do that you know? I am a gate-master to potential life changing experiences for some of these kids. Or he might abandon the thing a few pages in. Who can tell?

I love the challenge of finding the book for the right kid at the right time. It is a kind of magic. A magic I do not take lightly.

Self Is A State Of Flux

One of my favorite things to do is to drive around in the car, by myself, blasting music. This has been a love of mine since the first time I took my old 1972 VW Bug out for a spin on my sixteenth birthday. I love music infused cruising even if it is just to pick up a few burgers for dinner or running quick mundane errands.

I like to imagine that I'm the lead singer of whatever band I am listening to, and I am on stage performing the song currently playing to a massive crowd. I secretly wish that I had a massive speaker on the roof so I could broadcast my amazing musical taste for all my fellow drives.

Sometimes our mediocre stereo speakers thump painfully as the bass pushes its limits. I air guitar on the steering wheel and air drum on my lap. At any given time, a stranger may look over and see me in full scream or banging my head. I’m not much of a dancer, but on rare occasion, usually when Childish Gambino is the song du jour, I can be seen shaking my shoulders and waving my arms in a way that might be construed as dancing.

...

I read a lot. Books, although not many in the last few weeks, but I read a lot. Tweets, Facebook updates, articles, news, song lyrics, student work and menus. I read on pages, websites, and flimsy scraps of paper. I read on the toilet, in the car and in my bed. On the couch, the beach, by the pool, and standing in line. I read walking around and standing still. I read for fun, for work and to alleviate boredom. I read to learn and I read to teach. I read as an excuse. I read to procrastinate and to do work. I read paintings, photographs and films and street ads and signs. I read faces, moods and body language. I read to myself, my students and my kids. I read poems, stories and play scripts. I read reviews and Op Ed pieces. I read ignorant comments and hyperlinks. I read for inspiration, frustration and motivation. I read when I’m happy and when I’m sad. I read what I write and then read it again, missing the typos and the grammatical gaffs. I read cartons and recipes and warning signs and fortune cookies. I read subtitles and rolling credits. I read instructions and many many other things.

...

I let the ants out tonight because no sentient being should ever be imprisoned in any kind of cage for any reason.

...

“We’re doing it. We’re doing it everyone! We’re creating a beautiful piece of art” I shouted to no one in particular during our Lit Mag activity as I looked around and saw twenty middle school kids invested in the creation of this thing for no other reason than that they love words, and they want this magazine to exist. It was a beautiful thing.

Never underestimate the intrinsically motivated student, unconcerned with school or learning, but inspired by the passion of creation.

...

I needed a new face today and captured it in a sun soaked alley. A new iteration of this tired old self. Absorbed ego pushing out from the inside for something resembling authenticity. Not quite right again. How can we be ourselves when each second our cells are busy dying and being reborn?

It feels like the thoughts trapped in these words are closer to my real self than the blood and guts and hair and skin. No amount of selfies or avatars seems to get close to a clearly articulated self. Have you seen me lately?

Lesson Learned:

• Cars + Loud Music= Joy
• Reading is good for the soul. 
• Give students a chance to create things they love. 
• Self is a state of flux. 

1. What weird things do you do in your car?
2. Write an I Read poem. 
3. What captures the real you best? 

Home. Dinner. Supergirl. A Shower.

12:48 am.
Today started at 5:45 am.
I can barely remember…
Mentor class= fitness Friday: bull rush on the field.

In class- looked at symbolism: personal, textual, and cultural.
Talked about snakes and the Garden of Eden.
Read and discussed: The Lord of The Flies, Les Miserable, Half A Yellow Sun and The Outsiders.

(Right now I’m listening to These Day by Nico on Spotify and it is perfectly rad.)

Seventh grade.
Non-fiction.
Gather your thoughts and back it up with evidence.

After school. Emails. Drinks in the lounge. Sangria. Chips

Home.
Dinner.
Supergirl.
A shower.

Dave’s birthday: Mojitos. G&T. Cranium. Prosecco. Scotch. Cards Against Humanity.
Laughs.
Friends.

Now:

Bright Eyes whispers in my ears.
Nothing left to do but close my eyes and sleep toward tomorrow.

Lessons Learned:

• Give your students a chance to run when they want to run. 
• Hard work feels good when you love what you do. 
• Friends have a tendency to make you feel less tired. 

1. What do treat do you students love? 
2. What work do you find satisfying? 
3. What do you love to do with your friends?

Literary Shenanigans

“There is something wrong with you!”

I can’t count the number of times my wife says that to me on any given week. Day? It's usually after one of my eccentric obsessions reveals itself, before burrowing back into the depths of my...Want to use the word soul, but realize that such a word is far too trite, but I am too lazy to think of a better one, so I will leave you to do it dear reader. Please humor me...
 
I am not here to argue with her. There are indeed more than several things wrong with me, most often at the same time. The older I get, the more I realize that I have borderline OCD tendencies. I'm definitely somewhere on the spectrum. And I am okay with that. This post is but one example. You tell me-- something wrong with me or am I on my way to becoming a cuddly old man?

I take my relationships with media (books, music and film) very personally. When I read an author, listen to a band, or watch films by a director or writer I respect,  I like to swim deep. If I experience something profound and life-changing, I will often consume everything the artist has ever done. I will research their life online, make connections to their influences and hopefully tangle myself in his/her web. Because let's face it, we are little more than nodes in complicated webs of meaning and beauty. I love my media. I am my media.

Recently, I was desperate for a book at the airport, and I found a collection of essays and speeches by Jonathan Franzen, who happens to be one of my favorite writers writing today. I have read everything he has ever published and can't state more clearly how much I love his worldview and mastery of language. Not withstanding the time he stuck his foot so far down his throat with the Wharton debacle, when Franzen speaks, I listen.

cc licensed ( BY NC ) flickr photo shared by Intrepid Flame 

In his latest collection Franzen writes on three topics: writing, birds, and David Foster Wallace. I was intrigued my the last one. Of course Infinite Jest has been a satellite in my orbit for years, but I knew (know) very little about it or Wallace. I didn't even know he was a suicide. Like most popular books, I let Infinite Jest spin ad infinitum until something or someone would shed a brighter light on it, forcing me to read it. Franzen was said beacon.

Here is where the weirdness begins-- I couldn't find Infinite Jest in Jakarta. And since I do not want to do any research or learn anything more about Wallace until I read his seminal work, I have been mired in a state of anticipation and excitement, like a racehorse all saddled up, raring to go, but trapped in the gate and forced to chew on the bit and watch the dust. I haven't read any wikipedia articles or watched any youtube clips on Wallace. I have chosen to leave him alone until I read Jest. That is not true. I saw and bought Pale King, his last novel, before leaving Jakarta. I also ordered Infinite Jest, which my in-laws will bring to me in July.

Problem is that after I bought Pale King, I discovered that it was never actually finished, furthermore after speaking with Ari, I found out that it was left in the room in which Wallace committed suicide. Can you see my dilemma?

I cannot start my Wallace experience with Pale King trumping Infinite Jest. There has to be an order right? Seminal work> research> bizarre final novel/suicide note> other works. Mairin thinks I am crazy.

"This is what you stress about?"
"Ari understands." I mumble.
"Of course he does."

To make matters worse, I was at the bookstore today, a massive Kinokuniya in Singapore, and obvisouly they had Jest, Pale King and everything else Wallace has ever written, but now I have to wait till July becuase the book has already been ordered and shipped. These events make me anxious.  I just want to get lost in Infinite Jest and Wallace and go for the ride, but alas I cannot

So what do I do? I've decided to start the work of another author, one that I've been terrified of since college. But first another short story! What? You're busy? Really? What else do you have to do?  Come on, finish this. It's not like you are reading a 15 page New Yorker essay. It is a blog post for goodness sake. Defy what they say about modern day attention spans. Back to my story...

Back in nineteen-ninety-something I was taking a Post-Modern lit class at San Fransisco State. A class in which the professor doused us in difficult, unapproachable texts and dared us to admit we were lost. I was young and often drunk and not really paying much attention. Despite my lack of attention,  I did discover Barth and Nabokov. True, I gave up on Pale Fire, but at least I was introduced to Lolita.

But Pynchon, oh Pynchon. What the hell was that? It was clear that I was not smart enough for Crying of Lot 49 at the tender age of twenty-something. Not while working and partying full time. Pynchon has haunted me for years. I am thirty-eight now. I was so much older then, I am younger than that now.  I decided today that it is time. I cavalierly scanned his shelf and randomly chose Vineland. Just like that, I will dive into Pynchon while waiting for Wallace. Bold move you say? Wildly irresponsible you say? I agree, but I am ready for some literary shenanigans. 

Sidenote: I also grabbed The Fight by Mailer, a book I have been wanting to read for years. I have been making my way through the Mailer catalog as well. Even reading his terrible Jesus book.

Do you think so much about books? Is there something wrong with me?

How To Create Readers

Every night before our girls go to bed, either my wife or I will read to them. Kaia is currently immersed in Judy Moody, and Skyelar is discovering the wonders of "potty" lit. After we have read their stories, I will usually lay in the bed with them as they settle down and fall asleep. I use this time to read my own book.

cc licensed ( BY NC ) flickr photo shared by Intrepid Flame 

Tonight as Kaia was teetering on the edge of consciousness, she looks up and asks, "Daddy? What is your new book called?"

"Everything is Illuminated." I say. 

A few seconds pass.

"I like the cover. What happened to the tiger book?"

"I finished it."

A few seconds pass.

"That was fast!"

"It was really good. I stayed up late reading it."

A few seconds pass.

"What does illuminated mean?"

"Lit up. Full of light."

A few seconds pass.

"Like the sky before it turns night?"

"Yes. Sweety. Just like that."

A few seconds pass.

"Like my skin when the lamp is on it?"

"Yes.. Exactly."

A few seconds pass. She is asleep.

People always ask me how to get kids to love reading. The answer is easy. Show them that you love it. Do it. All the time. Get excited about books. I always talk to Kaia about my books. Look at this cover. Look how thick this one is. I love this one. She asks me what they are about. I always tell her. I talk to her about books and stories as if they matter, as if they are the most important things in life.

Because they are.