headlines: writer haters and composing an unembedded journalist

Dear Readers,

 Back after an extended journey across the waist of this continent and deep under the girth of constant need which surrounds my mind, I am back. 

April 9, 2007

–the  front page article on derek wolcott in sunday’s nytimes book review could have been good but it wasn’t.  it so wasn’t.  why when a nobel laureate author of color gets reviewed is the gist the heart the message, “[sniff] [nose upturned] well…wolcott can be good.”  period, punto, end of story that’s the whole article.  why even cover the man, and when was the last time another author got put on blast with such a lukewarm reception??

–edward wong continues to write from iraq with a empassioned and non-numb angel at his side, bless his heart.  wong’s co-authored front page article today once again painted a 3 dimensional picture of young soldiers and generations of iraqi’s, resilient the lot.  he writes in a way that points to pointlessness, that highlights the dashed dreams of brown, black, and white in war.  wong has almost single-handedly re-invigorated my in-terest in learn-ing a-bout th-e w-a-r.  and that’s real.  and that’s big. 

–in music news: a couple of recent articles have led me to conclude that the classical orchestral u.s. based scene is undergoing a rather unusual changing of the guard.  positions as coveted as a lotto jackpot (first chair, conductor) seem to be open, allowing in new, younger, international musicians.   a young oboe player from china takes first seat in the new york philharmonic.  after practicing in his closet for months.  after living with 16 other young musicians in a one room flat.  after all that.   a 26 year old man takes an astounding role as conductor of a high profile orchestra.  and in the black and white picture of him which accompanies the article, see the bird-like carriage of his arms as he conducts, a willingness to fly in the union of multiplicity, conductor of a whole flock, each with a different sound, bring the troops home, leave their homes alone, the flock, the roots back home. 

 stay tuned for more from political poet naxal.

 peace.     

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