i may not be ‘in’ rochester but that doesn’t mean i’m not from rochester. vote for Rajesh Barnabas on november 2nd and build a different world with him. there’s no one with more integrity or excellent ideas.
saw ‘the french dispatch’ last night and was mostly indifferent to wes anderson’s cinematic habits: the ‘mixture of vintage tchotchkes, droll repartee, and houndstooth,’ the predictable camera work, the silences and knowing looks, the offering of large swathes of data and eccentricities floating freely throughout the film. couldn’t help thinking how white men have the power, privilege, and dollars to make their private obsessions profitably public.
i couldn’t sink my teeth into the film, an apparent homage to the new yorker, until the last story. until jeffrey wright.
in spite of the outlandish story he’s telling, he exudes such charisma, warmth and intelligence that for the first time, i felt invested and engaged. my husband leaned over and whispered how wright was channeling james baldwin (the closing credits confirmed that inspiration). it made sense. something elegant and recognizable. the heart of the film. hope he gets the accolades he deserves and many more movie roles.
an unforgettable evening in brooklyn last night, celebrating the launch of “documentary cinema in israel-palestine – performance, the body, the home” by my brilliant friend shirly bahar. delicious palestinian food by ayat, music by laura elkeslassy, ira khonen temple, zafer tawil and dan kurfist, poetry by mariam bazeed, qais kamran, and halah abdelhadi, and a wonderful reading from the book by shirly.
“bahar offers a nuanced reading of the cinematic documentary corpus emerging from israel-palestine, as well palestinians’ and mizrahim’s different and unequal yet interrelated forms of oppression and racialization under israeli rule. while pain sets them apart, the documentary representations of pain of palestinians and mizrahim invite us to consider reconnection by focusing on the very relational nature of pain.” outdoors, in a cozy backyard in williamsburg, filled with friends and powerful energy – one day soon palestine will be free.
the house is coming along, slowly but steadily. those who blessed us with their presence in our pittsford house will recognize some of the objects and colors. i’ve always loved shadows and reflections. this is a perfect embodiment of what it feels like to stand in our living room.
when i first came to the US, many years ago, soon after i got married. on a visa, with every intention of returning to pakistan after my husband’s medical fellowship. who knew.
Laleh Khalili: “Colin Powell’s justification of the Iraq war in 2002/2003 was only one of the more recent times he lubricated the machinery of imperial warfare. In 1968, he covered up the My Lai massacre when he was assigned to investigate a whistleblower report on the massacre.
He was a national security advisor during Reagan’s Dirty Wars in Latin America, oversaw the Panamanian invasion, and whose Powell doctrine about the maximum use of force left smouldering remains of incinerated soldiers in its wake in the 1991 US invasion of Iraq.“
grateful for these fleeting moments of beauty. the way autumn light, burnished to a warm gold, hits the kitchen window and these fresh apples from a farm nearby. the way this table runner, with its wonderful colors and texture, came out of a cardboard box even though i have no memory of its provenance. feeling blessed this morning.
the house is finally painted – just this morning! cannot wait to take out objects i love and begin to decorate the house. one of the first things i set up as soon as i found a clean flat surface is this beautiful piece of art by my beautiful friend sarah. makes me happy every time i see it.
this song by one of pakistan’s best-loved artists is such addictive fun. first of all, any friend of mangoes is a friend of mine. it’s the king of fruits and the utmost south asian sensorial experience (hot mango chutney makes me think of brooklyn’s B K jani and their ‘mango jani’ – a spicy, sparkling mango drink concoction). secondly, i love that the song is mostly in punjabi, a beautiful language with a rich literary and musical tradition that’s invisibilized by urdu (the state’s national language, the language of culture and erudition, and all that). let’s not even talk about the long shadow cast over punjabi (and other regional languages) by english and its elitist colonial legacy. so, yes to punjabi and its colorful, spirited, humorous culture. finally, the singer/songwriter/director/producer meesha shafi is part of the #metoo movement in pakistan. she accused ali zafar, a popular actor/musician, of sexual harassment and ended up being sued by him for criminal defamation. so there’s a lot she’s saying here without really saying it and more power to her for hitting back. enjoy:)
reading anne carson’s ‘autobiography of red.’ no one uses language the way she does. suffused with imagery, unfettered, astonishing. here are a few examples from the beginning of the book:
burrowed himself down in the red dawn jelly of geryon’s dream the sound of the horses like roses being burnt alive not a bee moved up geryon’s spine steps off a scraped sky and into the blind atlantic morning the red world and corresponding red breezes went on, geryon did not
“Autobiography of Red is a verse novel by Anne Carson, based loosely on the myth of Geryon and the Tenth Labor of Herakles, especially on surviving fragments of the lyric poet Stesichorus’ poem Geryoneis.”
so my story about moving from rochester to long island during the pandemic was published in a book! u can read it if u scroll down – link in comments. it’s called: musings on moving (in corona times)
west meadow beach, famous for its sunsets. walkable from our house (just a mile away). our first potluck in setauket w many of our neighbors. we won a bridal wreath in the raffle. and then there was the beach.