Tag: moby dick

New pieces and the surprise of apathy

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve had a number of new stories appear at the LA Weekly and Salon. It’s been exciting. I had a piece come out around the anniversary of MTV at Salon, “How MTV force rock starts to be sexy,” reflecting on the legacy of MTV and their branding. I also had a piece on Lyft and the taxicab drivers that was published at the LA Weekly about the battle over the L.A. Grid.  That same week, I wrote a piece on Moby Dick, Colin Hanks, Moby, and other celebrities not normally associated with classic literature. And just today I had a piece come out on Poesia Para La Gente and reading poetry in the L.A. Metro. I’m always excited to hear when people are bringing poetry to people in new  ways.

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But to me, the most exciting piece I had come out was my recent piece on the declassification of Area 51 at Salon. So far, it has garnered quite a bit of attention…good and bad. A lot of people in the comments hate the piece. They thought it was so obvious that the government was lying about Area 51 that the idea of outrage seemed naive and pointless. However, some people seemed to connect with my message: That the government is controlling what is real with misinformation, and our lack of outrage is frightening. It’s not whether or not we knew they were lying; it’s how we are reacting to it. Let me know what you think about the story.

Sailing Off the Coast of California

This Saturday, Heron and I went to Newport Beach where we met up with some friends.  We were going to spend the day on our buddy’s — let’s call him Kent — sailboat.  Kent has this beautiful boat, and he has been sailing most of his life.  Back home, my buddy had a great power boat, but this was my firs time on a sailboat.

Honestly, I was worried that I was going to get sea-sick, and I was even more worried that Heron would get sea-sick, too.  The waves were large, and it was a windy day.  As we drove through the harbor, Kent told me to head up to the middle of the boat and start pulling a rope attached to the mast.  To my surprise, I was lifting the main sail, watching the canvas spread out open at the top — the wind filling and catching.  It was amazing.

I kept asking Kent questions.  “What do you call that first sail?”  I learned it was called a jib.  “What are those dials for?”  “How fast are we going?”  At first, I worried that I might have been annoying, but Kent seemed like he loved to teach about sailing.  He knew what he was doing.  And to my surprise, as we pulled out of the harbor and passed the jetties, he told me to get behind the wheel.

Suddenly, I was Captain Joe — at the helm of the ship.  I couldn’t really figure out, at first, how to keep the boat straight, and Kent wanted me to do circles around a buoy.  I was amazed that every small movement of the wheel could cause such major shifts in direction.  I was navigating all right, until I took a few sharp turns, and the boom came swinging hard back through the cock pit, almost nailing Kent in the head.  Luckily, he was prepared for that disaster and kept his head low.  When that happened, I thought to myself, “I’m sure glad I didn’t do that.”  But then Kent said, “You’ve got to keep the boat straight.”  I asked, “What happened when the sail moved like that?”  “That was you,” Kent said.  “Definitely you.”  So, I was at fault.  Kent was nothing but encouraging however, and I stayed behind the wheel.   Continue reading “Sailing Off the Coast of California”