It's been a morning of hippie-wrangling:

I skew left, obviously, but find it incredibly irksome when those on the left condemn "Americans" as if our nation of 300 million individuals is a monolith or as if they, too, aren't American.

Also, it's imbecilic and self-defeating to abdicate the "American" moniker to the far right.

How we approach death...

...says everything about how we approach life.

As horrifyingly often as we read stories like these...

...do they ever become comprehensible?

A gunman has killed twelve in Cumbria (northwest England). One was his friend. The other 11 were strangers he shot randomly. There are 30 different crime scenes so far and he is still at large:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/england/10219655.stm

[Update at 7:15 p.m. PST. Friends, neighbors and acquaintances of the assailant, who has since killed himself, report he was an outwardly stable and affable man. No discernible motive so far:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/england/10216923.stm]

It's futile, of course...

...to think this way, but the wrong ones are dead.

Re the newly launched criminal probe:

BP's legal fees are going to top the Vatican's.

We should call it the BP oil...

..."eruption".

Referring to it as a "spill" at this point is like calling pneumonia a "cold".

While remembering those who have served honorably...

...let's not forget to include soldiers with Gulf War Syndrome. Earlier this year, the VA finally recognized it as a real and pernicious physical illness.

One soldier's perspective:

http://www.cfids.org/cfidslink/2010/020304.asp

Gratitude and sorrow:

Between continued failed attempts to contain BP's spill, the Israeli military's immoral and stupid attack on the ship bringing aid supplies to Gaza, the gunman who killed 12 in a Pakistani hospital and now the tropical storm in Central America that's claimed 115 so far, the news today has been a fucking horror show.

I feel grateful for all I have and awful for those who are suffering.

Where's my parade?

This past week, I finished another chapter of final draft, had another pitch accepted and explained Twitter to both my parents.

Strange but perhaps fitting symmetry...

...that birth and death each result in lack of sleep.

In fairness:

Bumbershoot has amended its original and asinine plan re graphic design artists and the festival's logo. (See my May 24th entry.)

Update:

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/05/bumbershoot_abandons_logo_comp.php

And now, perhaps the most diametrically opposite links ever:

1) The Wall Street Journal's meticulously detailed account of the staggering ineptitude of BP and the Department of Interior's Minerals Management Service:

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704026204575266560930780190.html?mod=wsj_share_twitter

2) Bad Postcards, via actor and writer, Stephen Fry, who is a delight to follow on Twitter:

http://bad-postcards.tumblr.com/

Side note: when I worked in publicity at the Seattle International Film Festival in 1998 and Fry was one of the guests in conjunction with his lead role in the gorgeous and heartbreaking Wilde, he got my name right on the first try. There are still people in my building who mangle it.

Let's wrap this fucker:

If you haven't already, contact your U.S. Senators and urge them to repeal Don't Ask Don't Tell when the full Senate votes on it in June.

And House of Representatives? High fives on last night's 234 to 194 vote. Ponies and snowcones, Speaker Pelosi.

My new Seattle Weekly feature on the Inside Out Jazz Awards is online and on stands now:

Really enjoyed writing this one!

David Pierre-Louis, owner of Lucid Lounge and the event's organizer, is wholly invigorating. All proceeds are going to Haiti and I got to speak with the legendary Clarence Wilcox:

http://www.seattleweekly.com/2010-05-26/music/206-swing-at-inside-out-jazz-awards-show/

State Department, I'm on it:

Starting a fund to get Kim Jong-Il some Paxil and a blowjob in the hopes it will calm him down.

Who's in?

Today's "what the hell?" moments:

1) Bumbershoot, one of the best and most kaleidoscopic arts festivals in the nation, apparently sees no contradiction in profoundly disrespecting graphic design artists:

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/05/bumbershoots_logo_contest_has.php

2) Last week on Facebook, a forum in which I usually generate scads of comments, I posted that BP executives should, fittingly, be boiled alive in oil. No response. Zilch. I'm sorry: does someone have a better idea?

Fell asleep uncharacteristically early tonight and...

...awoke later with horrific nightmares.

No way to understand how relentless and all-encompassing grief is until you're in it.

Ayaan Hirsi Ali's new book, Nomad:

Compelling review of Ayaan Hirsi Ali's new book, Nomad, and an examination of the corrosive and misogynist effects of Islam--or any religion--carried to the extreme. From Tunku Varadarajan at The Daily Beast:

http://www.thedailybeast.com/blogs-and-stories/2010-05-22/ayaan-hirsi-alis-new-book-nomad-reviewed/?cid=topic:mainpromo1

Just received a small but fun accolade from Smith Magazine:

Sort of the literary equivalent of a Frango:

http://www.smithmag.net/sixwordbook/2010/05/21/broke-my-toe-watching-american-idol%E2%80%94the-best-six-words-of-the-week/

Friends; calzones; Woody Allen before he was openly pervy:

Capped off a stressful and sad week with dinner last night at Via Tribunali. Companion and I cracked each other up, ran into a writer friend I adore, too, and I scarfed a calzone the size of a baby who'd eaten its twin.

Will be writing all day and again tomorrow, but between Xander's death, several deadlines and having all the windows in my unit replaced yesterday as part of a building-wide project that's been run as smoothly as the Warren Commission, I will induldge in two more hours of respite.

Love and Death, which I've seen scads of times and was lucky enough to first view at a Woody Allen film fest my folks took my brother and me to as kids, and I will be nestled in bed for the next two hours. And my unopened box of Dilletante truffles might get deflowered.

Too late. It's a grown-up now, but I was suitably gentle.