It was the middle of January. It had rained all day, but the sun had finally broken through. There was a noticeable dearth of tourists in Piazza Venezia, even for such an offseason time of year. On the lookout for customers, the guys in gladiator outfits were more aggressive than usual, stopping anyone they could find who happened to be carrying a camera. (More…)
Of course it’s a fish auction. A tuna auction. Why does it feel as though everything in Japan comes off of a conveyor belt? Should I include the ocean? Don’t get me wrong. It’s part of the appeal. Nonetheless, it often feels as though at its very core, Japan will always be a factory, including its natural scenery. If it isn’t a Sony digital camera, or a Toyota Prius, it’s carefully arranged displays of tea leaves. Or, in this case, sushi to be. Row after roe, so to speak. Tsukiji Market, Tokyo, 2006.
University teachers are at the brink of becoming an endangered species in Arizona. Entire non-tenured groups of teachers have already received their termination notices. Thousands are disappearing. Gloom and outrage are palpable in the hallways and in online exchanges. (More…)
My Seattle starts here, on the corner of 20th and Jackson, more than twenty years after first arriving in this town. I’m not sure what to call my connection to Seattle during all those years. I was here, but somehow I hadn’t actually arrived. Then, about two summers ago, at this corner, in this building, possibly in the company of some of these people captured in this Google Streetview image, I felt my relation to Seattle, and the world beyond it, shift into a new mode. (More…)
On the taxi ride from Malpensa this morning, I learned a little history of our neighborhood in Milan. I asked the driver to take me to Piazzale Loreto. About 20 minutes into the ride, the driver filled me in on Loreto’s history, specifically regarding Mussolini’s execution, in April 1945. (More…)
Arizona has become the site of a little-noticed literary flowering: it is home to some of the best prison writing in North America. During the last two decades, Jimmy Santiago Baca, Ken Lamberton, and Richard Shelton have converted their experiences with Arizona’s penitentiaries into prize-winning books. No US state can claim a similar cluster of prominent prison writers. (More…)
While it’s possible to listen to Violet Cries without thinking about history, the forcefulness with which Esben and the Witch invoke musical forebears makes the exercise a little perverse. Not to mention that, unlike many artists who are assigned to the mental bin labeled “Goth,” the band doesn’t shy away from the burden of association. Asked in an interview to discuss the term’s abuse, they declared “that Gothic should be revered in its greatest forms” suggesting that, while this sensibility “lends itself to a sense of the dramatic and the ostentatious,” it need not be an object of derision. (More…)
On Friday night, Jennifer and I went out for dinner. Our destination was an Arab-run Tex Mex place on the other side of Piazzale Loreto, a block from the Egyptian consulate. In the year that we’ve lived here, it has become one of our favorite restaurants, even though it’s not exactly orthodox in its take on the cuisine. Nevertheless, its offered us welcome relief from pasta. (More…)
Everything is always behind a fence. Once you get access to the other side, exhilaration inevitably gives way to disappointment. What’s new seems old, not ancient. Contested is frequently a synonym for abandoned. If so many people want to live here, why does it always feel so empty? The Middle East isn’t supposed to be so cold. I don’t mean temperature, either. Northern Israel, October 2000.
The imagery is a bit harsh. However, it gets the message across. Driver safety sign, highway A9. November, 2010.