toweringflat

So much of my social calendar this week will have been dictated by the six degrees of Facebook. In less than a week I have already racked up (pardon my French) 5 different meetings with many more friends via Facebook. I feel like a kid on sugar speed wondering which wormhole I will fall into next.

Just last week I met up with Katie K.  one of my best friends from Brown. We walked through the park and to the Met accompanied by her lovely three-month old ball of joy. I had not seen her since her wedding five years ago. At least one divorce or too have transpired since amongst our acquaintances. On Sunday I met up with a theatre compadre also from Brown. We met at Blossom for vegetarian eats and she brought me up to speed on many of the thespians I have not seen in over ten years. Frightening. They included such eccentrics as Becky who now goes by the name of Lavender Diamond. Her story alone on the origin of the name is worth hearing on YouTube, as well as Katie Eastbourne who once sang with indie-rockers Young People and has since struck out on her own and can be heard on myspace.

Tonight I am meeting up with a former boarding schooler to catch a little round robyn of digital culture talks at the first ever Ignite NYC. It starts off with an NYC soldiering championship, but I think we will make it just in time for the talks. We will hopefully be joined by artist-collaborator-at-arms Milena (gmail and not Facebook coordinated), as she just happens to be in NYC tonight, and hopefully my colleague Karin.  Phew. It starts to sound like a towering social pisa delicately orchestrated and held up by the invisible mesh cables of the internet.

My last night will be dinner with another Brunonian and his wife in Brooklyn. The last time I saw them was when I was applying to MBA school in Chicago and they kindly hosted me on their couch. How time flies. The offer eventually came from another windy city, Toronto.

It is worth noting that my need for social speed is also met with some weariness (and the need to focus on work, my real reason (?) for being here) which strikes me as quite normal for any backpacking traveler of the web. Meetings with friends and acquaintances needs to be tempered with time for just myself and conversations with the person I live with on a day to day basis in London.

My question is, does Facebook increase the chances that individuals will meet up with long lost friends? And when I say Facebook, I am really talking about the Twitter feature and the live updates, which seem to capture more attention than any of my emails. There is something about updates which draws attention in such a way to illicit a response. I am just not sure why...

The airplane still amazes me. I wake up in one city one day only to wake up in a second the next day. Especially when my two sleeping companions are London and NYC. I landed to rainstorms and lightning, and I have to admit I was hoping that this visit would bring me sunshine, but I may have to wait a few days. Here for a week, and I only get to spend some of that with my family, but it's amazing how Facebook revolutionizes communication and creates instant contact across geographies. I heard back from at least 4 people when I mentioned I was headed this way. This is when I do appreciate Facebook...

On a side note, Rob and I attended the Future of London two weeks ago, where were told that 98% of the city is privatized. So don't be surprised as you stop to snap a picture of the Thames if an officer stops you. The view is apparently not public.

Superman,
for most of the time we knew you
you sped like lightning
though sometimes you broke out in a dance.

I knew you almost little,
your heart beat on another planet
crooned to outer space swishy mermaids
while I drank my neon kool-aid radio romance.

One time you let me wear your cape to the senior prom.
I did backflips in my mind, finally, it was my time.
Lois and all the cheerleaders
would be beautiful but jealous.
Until I realized
you always carried extras for all your adoring fans.

You lifted crayon yellow buses and made sure the smaller children got to school.
You held the door open for all the older folk most of us so quickly forgot.
You never let the seasons slow you down when us kids didn’t stand a chance against ice, rain or snow.

Then one day
you didn’t show for the final little league game
and we just knew.
Even Superman
has a father
he must answer to
in green
exploding
light.

 

This morning as I approached the office and made my regular departure from M&S with banana and yogourt in hand, I felt Rob watching over my shoulder as I passed by a bearded fellow selling The Big Issue, and so I decided to stop and purchase a copy. The happy beard thanked me, and then asked me if I was American. This is a regular occurence for Canadians in Europe. Just the other night a taxi only took Rob, a Canadian friend, and I on as long as we promised not to vote for the current US administration. Rob had to tell him this was not possible as we were Canadian and almost went as far as pointing out that a third term was as likely as beavers not building damns, but restrained himself.

I told my bearded friend, nope, I'm Canadian. To which he tisked and observed that Americans were tighter than Canadians, and in general we were a sincere community of people. However, he was much agrieved by our treatment and clubbing of the seals, who in his mind deserved a better fate. I could not counter his point but offered that this did not represent the interest of every Canadian countryman.

He then remarked that from Northern Scotland and Inverness one could see the energy sparks fly every time a seal was clubbed in Canada. I had to conceal a smile, but could imagine the bright flare as he described it.

As a result he told me he had not bought Canadian produce since. I wanted to ask him what manner of Canadian produce he had managed to buy in the UK, but instead decided to wish him well and was on my way again with new copy of the Big Issue.

count jacket storms into the room

he fiddles with his faux moustache and pulls at imaginary threads in the air

 clarissa is impervious to his airs and grasps at her pearl choker

"delia, please bring me my powder" she whispers throatily

delia rushes to clarissa's side and opens up the silver box revealing powder

she holds it under clarissa's nostrils which seem to quiver and grow at the sight of the powder

 the count crosses the room to clarissa's side:

"what in damnation is going on in here?!??? where is my aide?"

he grabs an umbrella which he mistakes for his sword and exits left with a flourish of jackets and velvet pompadour

meanwhile...in a shady ornamented aspect of the building

the one legged aide is bus sprinkling flatteries on the duchess visiting from China

he strokes the slight beard he has grown for the occasion and pushes it towards duchess Mau so that she might be tempted by his wiles

the duchess lays a hand on his peg
and asks whether he might fancy a fox trot

to be continued...


 

I have to wonder whether in the wake of trying to save the planet, it is just a matter of time that the politically incorrect make their voices and opinions heard again. Some of the signs are there. The Tories look poised to resume their place in power in the UK. Apprentice star Allan Sugar becomes more and more comfortable with stating 'unpopular' views, some of which include his thoughts on women in the workplace. According to the G2 insert in the Guardian, the tv moonlighter has repeatedly challenged a law instituted more than three decades ago making it illegal to ask women whether they plan to have children, since it was deemed discriminatory and a negative opportunity for employers to weed out 'would-be' mothers.

As a woman in her thirties I am very concerned by the potential of this attitude becoming the norm. As the Guardian article goes on to point out in this kind of atmosphere, women are the losers, as post-pregnancy we are either depicted as neglectful for returning to work straight away, or 'soft' for staying home longer.

While there are some signs that our dilemma with the planet is leading some successful suits and ties to downscale their lifestyles for fear of the typhoons which may be coming, I can't help but wonder whether this new wave of enviro-asceticism and philanthropy is just a blip on the screen. How long will people be willing to forego their fast cars and worldy comforts, until they start missing the tug of silk at their necks?

And is there a relationship between our concern for the planet and the health of feminism and women's rights? I can't help but think that in some strange way, the inevitable backlash to eco-cities and greenism is somehow tied to the status of women. Somewhere in the ritual of blame our destinies seem connected. I hope I am wrong.