.
Watching. #winecountryfires #napafires #NorthBayFires: image via Derek Moore @deadlinederek, 10 October 2017
Day 4 begins. Wine Country fires. #napafires #smoke: image via Karl Mondon @karlmondon, 12 October 2017
Not much of a sunrise this a. m. over smokey Santa Rosa: image via Ken McCallum @SRCityBeat, 10 October 2017
Smoke-filled morning skies highlight devastation in #SantaRosa, CA’s #CoffeyPark neighborhood. Death toll and number of missing is rising. – at Coffey Park: image via Justin Michaels @JMichaelsNews, 12 October 2017
#NorthernLNUCompex, Larkfield/Wikiup, the origin of #TubbsFire, Coffey Park and #Fountaingrove on Wednesday. @NorthBayNews @SantaRosaFire: image via Kent Porter @kentphotos, 11 October 2017
#NorthernLNUCompex, Larkfield/Wikiup, the origin of #TubbsFire, Coffey Park and #Fountaingrove on Wednesday. @NorthBayNews @SantaRosaFire: image via Kent Porter @kentphotos, 11 October 2017
#NorthernLNUCompex, Larkfield/Wikiup, the origin of #TubbsFire, Coffey Park and #Fountaingrove on Wednesday. @NorthBayNews @SantaRosaFire: image via Kent Porter @kentphotos, 11 October 2017
#NorthernLNUCompex, Larkfield/Wikiup, the origin of #TubbsFire, Coffey Park and #Fountaingrove on Wednesday. @NorthBayNews @SantaRosaFire: image via Kent Porter @kentphotos, 11 October 2017
Aerial views of destruction caused by the Tubbs Fire in Santa Rosa, California Photo Stephen Lam: image via Reuters Pictures @reuters pictures, 12 October 2017
Today's front page @NorthBayNews. Support local journalism. #SouthernLNUComplex @wildfiretoday #northerncaliforniafires #cawx: image via Kent Porter @kentphotos, 12 October 2017
Monday vs Wednesday #lakewildwood #LoboFire #lobofire #McCourtneyFire #WindComplex #NevCo: image vuia Melanie Blair @themelanieblair, 12 October 2017
Shorty
Haven't been able to breathe for days
months maybe years
the stairs seem to go on forever
DSCO426 [Paris]: photo by Pierre Wayser, 1 December 2015
Too Sensitive for Tinseltown: Walter Benjamin: A Map of Hell (1938)
Hollywood is the shame of this country.: image via Shane Bauer @shane_bauer, 19 September 2017
March 6. On recent nights I've
had dreams that remained deeply engraved in my day. Last night I
dreamed I had company. Friendly things came my way; I believe they
consisted primarily
in women taking an interest in me -- indeed, even commenting favorably
upon my appearance. I think I remember remarking aloud that now I
probably wouldn't live much longer -- as if this were the last display of friendship among people bidding one another farewell.
Plique-à-jour enamel setting, cloisonné enamel on gold: Guillaume Julien [?], Paris, late 13th/early 14th century: Musée National du Moyen Age, Paris (image by Jastrow, 2006)
The rooms were on the ground floor facing the street, from which one could look in through a large windowpane. I was on the inside. My lady had obviously already treated her teeth according to the technique that the exhibition was advertising.
Toothpaste with wood-texturing: Blender3D image by SoylentGreen, 2006
I've been suffering greatly from the noise in my room.
Last night my dream recorded this.
I found myself standing in front of a map and, simultaneously, standing in the landscape which it depicted. The landscape was terrifyingly dreary and bare; I couldn't have said whether its desolation was that of a rocky wasteland or that on an empty ground populated only by capital letters. These letters writhed and curved upon their terrain as if following mountain ranges; I knew or learned that I was in the labyrinth of my auditory canal. But the map was, at the same time, a map of hell.
Plique-à-jour enamel setting, cloisonné enamel on gold: Guillaume Julien [?], Paris, late 13th/early 14th century: Musée National du Moyen Age, Paris (image by Jastrow, 2006)
Later,
just before I awoke, I was in the company of a lady in Adrienne
Monnier's rooms. They were the setting for an exhibition of objects
which I can't quite recall. Among them were books with miniatures, as
well as plates and intricately wrought arabesques which were colorfully
overlaid as if with enamel.
The rooms were on the ground floor facing the street, from which one could look in through a large windowpane. I was on the inside. My lady had obviously already treated her teeth according to the technique that the exhibition was advertising.
She had polished them to an opalescent
shine. The color of her teeth ran to dull green and blue. I took pains to make her understand most politely that this was not the
correct use of the product. Anticipating my thoughts, she pointed out
that the inner surfaces of her teeth were inlaid in red. I had indeed
meant to say that, for teeth, the brightest colors are scarcely bright
enough.
Toothpaste with wood-texturing: Blender3D image by SoylentGreen, 2006
Wood-Texture, Band type: Blender3D image by SoylentGreen, 2006
Last night my dream recorded this.
Looping Particle Fire: Blender3D image by SoylentGreen, 2006
I found myself standing in front of a map and, simultaneously, standing in the landscape which it depicted. The landscape was terrifyingly dreary and bare; I couldn't have said whether its desolation was that of a rocky wasteland or that on an empty ground populated only by capital letters. These letters writhed and curved upon their terrain as if following mountain ranges; I knew or learned that I was in the labyrinth of my auditory canal. But the map was, at the same time, a map of hell.
Walter Benjamin (1892-1940): Diary Entries, 1938 (excerpt), translated by Gerhard Richter and Michael W. Jennings in Selected Writings, Volume 3 (1935-1938), 2002
As the so-called "Canyon No. 2 fire" raged over the Anaheim Hills, it caused eerie sights over Disneyland, with smokey skies cast in an orange hue.: photo by Bravo, 10 October 2017
One of the best. #johnwayne #hollywood #hollywoodwalkoffame #california #star #hollywoodboulevard: image via John Wayne Official @JohnDukeWayne, 12 October 2017
Lady in evening light, Moscow: photo by Julie Hrudova, 23 January 2016
Circus [Palermo]: photo by Giorgio S, 26 January 2017
Circus [Palermo]: photo by Giorgio S, 26 January 2017
Circus [Palermo]: photo by Giorgio S, 26 January 2017
#Bangladesh A woman is carried to the shore of the Naf river as hundreds of Rohingya refugees arrive by boat. By @paulaphoto Getty: image via Photojournalism @photojournalink, 8 October 2017
Monsoon rains cause more chaos as Rohingya scramble for aid by a local organization in a overcrowded muddy refugee camp. #rohingya: image via Paula Bronstein @paulaphoto, 7 October 2017
#Bangladesh #RohingyaCrisis "School a rare sanctuary for traumatised Rohingya children" #AFP photo @thisisindra: image via Aurelia BAILLY @AureliaBAILLY, 11 October 2017
#Bangladesh #RohingyaCrisis Refugees take shelter in the shadow at the Palangkhali refugee camp in Ukhia district. Photo @thisisindra: image via Aurelia BAILLY @AureliaBAILLY, 11 October 2017
#Bangladesh #RohingyaCrisis Refugees take shelter in the shadow at the Palangkhali refugee camp in Ukhia district. Photo @thisisindra: image via Aurelia BAILLY @AureliaBAILLY, 11 October 2017
#Bangladesh #RohingyaCrisis "In the chaos of Bangladesh's refugee camps, a baby is born" #AFP photo @uz_munir: image via Aurelia BAILLY @AureliaBAILLY, 12 October 2017
Smoke and flames turn the skies above Disneyland yellow in Anaheim, as deadly wildfires sweep through California: image via Reuters Pictures @reuterspictures, 11 October 2017
As the so-called "Canyon No. 2 fire" raged over the Anaheim Hills, it caused eerie sights over Disneyland, with smokey skies cast in an orange hue.: photo by Bravo, 10 October 2017
One of the best. #johnwayne #hollywood #hollywoodwalkoffame #california #star #hollywoodboulevard: image via John Wayne Official @JohnDukeWayne, 12 October 2017
“Abandon hope all ye who enter here” #HarveyWeinstein: image via Larry Elder @larryelder, 12 October 2017
Lady in evening light, Moscow: photo by Julie Hrudova, 23 January 2016
Circus [Palermo]: photo by Giorgio S, 26 January 2017
Circus [Palermo]: photo by Giorgio S, 26 January 2017
Circus [Palermo]: photo by Giorgio S, 26 January 2017
#Bangladesh A woman is carried to the shore of the Naf river as hundreds of Rohingya refugees arrive by boat. By @paulaphoto Getty: image via Photojournalism @photojournalink, 8 October 2017
Monsoon rains cause more chaos as Rohingya scramble for aid by a local organization in a overcrowded muddy refugee camp. #rohingya: image via Paula Bronstein @paulaphoto, 7 October 2017
#Bangladesh #RohingyaCrisis "School a rare sanctuary for traumatised Rohingya children" #AFP photo @thisisindra: image via Aurelia BAILLY @AureliaBAILLY, 11 October 2017
#Bangladesh #RohingyaCrisis Refugees take shelter in the shadow at the Palangkhali refugee camp in Ukhia district. Photo @thisisindra: image via Aurelia BAILLY @AureliaBAILLY, 11 October 2017
#Bangladesh #RohingyaCrisis Refugees take shelter in the shadow at the Palangkhali refugee camp in Ukhia district. Photo @thisisindra: image via Aurelia BAILLY @AureliaBAILLY, 11 October 2017
#Bangladesh #RohingyaCrisis "In the chaos of Bangladesh's refugee camps, a baby is born" #AFP photo @uz_munir: image via Aurelia BAILLY @AureliaBAILLY, 12 October 2017
In this Oct. 2, 2017 photo, newly arrived Rohingya refugee
Yosar Hossein, 7, carries his baby sister Noyem Fatima and walks
followed by his other siblings and mother Firoza Begum on a mud bank
leading to a Bangladesh army run processing center where they will be
allotted their camp, in Teknaf, Bangladesh. Barefoot and still wearing
his school uniform, the 7-year-old is among more than a half million
persecuted Rohingya Muslims fleeing neighboring Myanmar.: photo by Gemunu Amarasinghe/AP, 2 October 2017
A Rohingya boy’s struggle to reach Bangladesh: Gemunu Amarasinghe, AP Photos, 11 October 2017
TEKNAF, Bangladesh (AP) — Yosar Hossein struggles as he walks along
muddy paths and flooded creeks in Bangladesh, carrying his baby sister
on his back. Barefoot and still wearing his school uniform, the
7-year-old is among more than a half million Rohingya Muslims fleeing
violence in neighboring Myanmar.
Nearly two-thirds are children.
“She is very heavy,” says Yosar, who in the last two weeks has lost his father, his house and his country. “I don’t think I can carry her all the way.”
The exodus from predominantly Buddhist Myanmar is the biggest the region has seen in decades, leaving this corner of Bangladesh overrun with tent cities of desperate refugees.
It began Aug. 25, when the military responded to attacks by Rohingya militants with a brutal crackdown on members the Muslim minority. Soldiers and Buddhist mobs started killing, looting and burning down village after village.
Yosar’s mother, Firoza Begum, says their home in Rathedaung township was attacked just before dawn two weeks ago. They heard loud bangs and watched as flames swallowed almost everything they owned.
Yosar’s dad didn’t make it out, Begum says. He was shot dead as they tried to flee. But his mom and three younger siblings managed to escape. They walked for six days, together with two aunts and several cousins, eating whatever they could find, resting very little, until they reached the shore of the mighty Naf River.
They piled into an overcrowded wooden boat and headed to neighboring Bangladesh. But the journey did not end there.
The family continued for another day — on foot, inside rickshaws and on the back of a truck — Yosar still in the green-and-white school clothes he was wearing when he left Myanmar.
“I wore black shoes and black socks, too,” says the second-grader, who misses his school. “But I forgot to bring them when we fled our home.”
Finally, on Oct. 2, Yosar and his family made it to a relative’s house in Bangladesh.
He managed to carry his younger sister all the way.
Nearly two-thirds are children.
“She is very heavy,” says Yosar, who in the last two weeks has lost his father, his house and his country. “I don’t think I can carry her all the way.”
The exodus from predominantly Buddhist Myanmar is the biggest the region has seen in decades, leaving this corner of Bangladesh overrun with tent cities of desperate refugees.
It began Aug. 25, when the military responded to attacks by Rohingya militants with a brutal crackdown on members the Muslim minority. Soldiers and Buddhist mobs started killing, looting and burning down village after village.
Yosar’s mother, Firoza Begum, says their home in Rathedaung township was attacked just before dawn two weeks ago. They heard loud bangs and watched as flames swallowed almost everything they owned.
Yosar’s dad didn’t make it out, Begum says. He was shot dead as they tried to flee. But his mom and three younger siblings managed to escape. They walked for six days, together with two aunts and several cousins, eating whatever they could find, resting very little, until they reached the shore of the mighty Naf River.
They piled into an overcrowded wooden boat and headed to neighboring Bangladesh. But the journey did not end there.
The family continued for another day — on foot, inside rickshaws and on the back of a truck — Yosar still in the green-and-white school clothes he was wearing when he left Myanmar.
“I wore black shoes and black socks, too,” says the second-grader, who misses his school. “But I forgot to bring them when we fled our home.”
Finally, on Oct. 2, Yosar and his family made it to a relative’s house in Bangladesh.
He managed to carry his younger sister all the way.
4 comments:
Tom,
Enjoyed the aspects of reconstruction throughout this post. I see some striking parallels in Ed Sander's poem to Don Delillo's Libra--the juxtaposition of an alluring finity and surety in the numbers and accumulated evidence with the mysterious truth of what's being represented lurking somewhere offstage.
All Best,
Bowie
Thanks Bowie, swell to hear from you. (Where the heck are you by the way?)
Reconstruction is a thing each and every one of us is permitted to do, it's a free country.
There have been a few, this perhaps as credible as many.
There was Amiri B's, for example ("Who Killed America?"). A bit more emotional perhaps. Still emo does not always = wrong.
Ed is like the inexorable and relentless Jack Webb in Dragnet (Sgt Joe Friday). "Just the facts, ma'am."
At least he's still got his eyes on the prize (truth of the matter), and the prize definitely ain't Jill Whatsername's perk-and-booty bin. (Ah sad moribund little green-eyed, nose-pressed-to-academic-candy-shop-window Ampo where art thou?)
I guess all facts are now subject to being called alternative facts anyhow, but just saying.
The poem made me think about Cheney again. Didn't really enjoy that much, but still.
The gestic moment of the hand motion was the contact point with reality, I guess, for doubting-thomas me.
I have suggested to Ed (who had no response) that I suspect Cheney could not have managed all that pretty complicated business by himself. These doofus bluffers with loaded shotguns... Gotta give the other side a bit of credit as well. Which of those pilots would have been butt-stupid enough to shoot a fellow bird-hunter on some rich fake cowboy's ranch, after all. They prepped (instead) by doing boring stuff like analyzing the street plan of the medieval city of Aleppo. Sort of thing all those sneaky-cunning bad hombres are always doing.
As opposed to wantonly murdering perfectly innocent birds I mean.
When will we come to understand that the defeat of America in that decisive one-day war contained just enough historical justice to allow us, one day "down the road" (if there's ever the presently almost inconceivable luxury of a "one day down the road") to appreciate its meaning.
What the heck did anybody think was on the top floors of Tall Shitola Inc, there, anyway? Home offices of Little Sisters of the Poor?
Twas Murican heroes who invented the term "target rich environmment", for their own lovely uses, after all.
About De Lillo, though... the yarns from the losing side all kind of run together, after a bit.
Let's just make sure come what may never to say one word about those ultimate sneaky-cunning bad hombres, the Rohingya. What are they doing in here, anyway. Shoo now, pesky little beat, battered, burnt and raped by booddists Rohingya!
Also, it seems no one is taking much interest in HarveyWood here (I mean "here"), but as Little Walter was obviously interested (destructive psychic effects, the permanent bounty provided to humanity by that great high-minded industry), he might have been inspired or even disgusted, possibly appalled (maybe appalled wd be more pertinent to this smokefilled moment) to learn that, just in, that august body, The Academy Of Motion Picture Hypocrites has now ostentatiously declared (how else did it ever do anything) it's going to be Spitting the Egregious Offender Out Of Its Very Pure Mouth. "We were all so surprised... we never knew... he was always... I'm so confused". In fact, as Paul Klee invented the original Insufferable Twittering Machine (it said "Ka-Ching!" over and over), and Paul Klee was a hero to WB, Walter would have been either extremely ecstatic, or deeply crestfallen (always gotta be emo x-tremes, it's Hwd), to hear that, OMG, can it be true, the virtuous and I guess very deeply (?) wronged and of course ever so permanently scarred, almost even maybe as if "disabled" Rose McGoonsquad is, remind me again, oh yes boycotting Twitter. Like, tomorrow. For, I think it is, 45 minutes. Possibly even an hour. But she'll still be getting her DMs, mind.
Dunno how Walter would have taken that. One does not have to have studied the man long though before realizing that, no, he just wasn't made for these times, as Brian Wilson once said. And he did get out in time. As in, never go there. No Cameron Diaz maybe, but also no little brothers hypocritically stabbing you in the back to save The Bizness.
I've never been on Twitter by the way. Is it even a thing one can be "on".
Did miserably slink in bleak nighttime past its main offices a few times though, under the idiotic bird, the street was always torn open at night, pavement coverings peeled back to reveal stinking underground pipe work going on, raking stench of sewage hit you as you reeled past, you and the other indigent types unfortunate enough to be on the street at night in the city by the bay.
About those unmentionable Rohingya by the by, before they are once again swept from our view by the trailing garment of the Time Goddess, I've left out the accounts of many of the more deeply violated victims (Rose McGoonsquad count your blessings), mostly because they are simply unbearable to consider, but also because, as in almost every case hereabouts, the pictures tell the story.
Still, one's own rules get a bit wobbly at times. Now is one of those times.
Here is reporter Jeffrey Gettleman on the young woman in the red shawl pictured just beyond halfway down:
COX’S BAZAR, Bangladesh — Hundreds of women stood in the river, held at gunpoint, ordered not to move.
A pack of soldiers stepped toward a petite young woman with light brown eyes and delicate cheekbones. Her name was Rajuma, and she was standing chest-high in the water, clutching her baby son, while her village in Myanmar burned down behind her.
“You,” the soldiers said, pointing at her.
She froze.
“You!”
She squeezed her baby tighter.
In the next violent blur of moments, the soldiers clubbed Rajuma in the face, tore her screaming child out of her arms and hurled him into a fire. She was then dragged into a house and gang-raped.
By the time the day was over, she was running through a field naked and covered in blood. Alone, she had lost her son, her mother, her two sisters and her younger brother, all wiped out in front of her eyes, she says.
Rajuma is a Rohingya Muslim, one of the most persecuted ethnic groups on earth, and she now spends her days drifting through a refugee camp in Bangladesh in a daze.
She relayed her story to me during a recent reporting trip I made to the camps, where hundreds of thousands of Rohingya like her have rushed for safety. Her deeply disturbing account of what happened in her village, in late August, was corroborated by dozens of other survivors, whom I spoke with at length, and by human rights groups gathering evidence of atrocities.
Survivors said they saw government soldiers stabbing babies, cutting off boys’ heads, gang-raping girls, shooting 40-millimeter grenades into houses, burning entire families to death, and rounding up dozens of unarmed male villagers and summarily executing them.
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