Nonogirl Radio

L.A. Summer

There is one word for a weekend like this: JOY.

From celebrating Visual Communication's 35th anniversary and their ongoing commitment to promote intercultural understanding through media to Tony's amazing Hart House party to driving my pimped out Mustang with Sirius sattelite radio to catching up with family and friends from high school.

This weekend was pure JOY.

Podcasting

Alternet picked up my podcast article off Pop and Politics.

Boo! because it's two months old (light years in techy-time) so my info is kinda outdated, but Yeah! because they have a larger readership, which generated intersting posts (along with a bit of flattery).

The Mission

I made the right decision on Monday when I sold off my Shellac tickets and biked down to Mission Cultural Center for El Tecolote's closing.

The gallery was alive with black and white images of lowriders, day of the dead skeletons, carnival bare skin, and protesters spanning generations. But it was the masterful Q&A between Dr. Loco himself (Jose Cuellar) and author Luis Rodriguez that filled my evening with inspiration and hope.

Rodriguez is most known for his experience surviving gang life in Los Angeles. His writing and his actions are about bringing about personal change and he opened the evening honoring men who died on the way to the men's group he just attended.

A journey followed from Mexico to Los Angeles, from mill life to gang life, from generation to generation. Although my story is Asian American, the parralells to plantation life in Hawaii are very similar.

I'm so thankful that El Tecolote, at 35 years old, remains true to their original mission: to provide a vehicle of information and organization to the Chicano/Latino communities of the Bay Area, articulating it's social, cultural, political and economic needs through ongoing and timely coverage of issues.

Congratulations and keep up the fight!

Henry Jacobs

What do THX 1138, the planetarium, Japan Airlines, and KPFA have in common? Henry Jacobs, a man with an off-beat sense of humor, which Joel Rose deftly illuminates.

The intro to the piece drew me in with the mysterious story of found tape. What followed was a series of audio where Jacobs breaks from media conventions: he invents experts for his radio show, he creates public television PSAs for serious causes like working overtime, and he develops a listening studio full of speakers (similar to today's surround sound).

It shouldn't be surprising that he did much of this work here in the Bay Area.

National Museum of the American Indian

When I visted the National Museum of the American Indian last October, I was unaware of its newness and controversy. The museum is rooted in a philosphy of self determination (that people can best represent themselves) and a message of survivance (that Native Americans continue to live and develop in spite of colonial atrocities). Instead, I was moved by the displays: the use of technology, the collaboration with tribes to tell their story, and the concurrent representation of historic culture with contemporary life. For the sake of time management I was told, "Robynn, you can't read everything!"

But some critics call the museum self-celebratory. Other say there needs to be a stronger critique of colonization to provide a context for the survivance.

This piece provides a well organized, comprehensive view of the differing perspectives.

1491

My friend who had been self-educating himself on Ethnic Studies 101 showed me an article documenting the rich social, cultural, and natural environment that existed in the Americas before Europeans arrived. I read the article and thought, "No duh."

But I guess it was new scholarship because that was over three years ago but this Sunday, I heard about a book out called 1491: New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus by Charles C. Mann all about how populated the Americas were and how evolved the societies were. Now I'm dying to know if the author of the article and the book are one in the same...

Dinosaur Jr.

Before the show, I realized they are one of my favorite bands. That late '80s/early '90s melodic rock. J's crooning. The way the songs vibrant cranked up loud!

But I've only seen them in their post-break up configurations: J Mascis with whatever backing band, J Mascis solo, and J Mascis and the Fog. Each version was amazing. I wondered what having Mr. Sebadoh back in the band would mean.

Are they doing it for the money and barely tolerate each other on stage? Would they battle over crowd banter and song introduction? Would Lou cut a song short because J noodled too long?

Ends up that they're too old for that ego-driven kid's stuff. J's long hair is all gray and witch-like. Lou's got a beer belly and looks like a rock-n-roll Ira Glass (Lou Barlow image in the center from flickr). And WHY(?!) did Murph have to play drums with his shirt off revealing a body similar to Charlotte's divorce lawyer on Sex and the City?!

I found it hard to "feel it" even though I was right there in the pocket, just in front of the stage, where the energy is the highest. Maybe it was the bouncing sorority girl with her goatee'd boyfriend, or the over protective boyfriend starting fights with an excited fan, or the young'n trying to strike up a conversation with me in the middle of the set. I didn't connect with the music and worried that I should have saved the money I spent on the Pixies and Dinosaur Jr and gone to see Prince instead!

And then about half way through their first set, it happened. My brain let go of my body, the music wrapped around my soul, and I was in it. There was just the music and a bundle of chi in the body formerly known as Robynn.

Blowing it off

There are several good reasons to blow off working my night shift of projects. Lately, I've stood steadfast in spite of offers to rock shows, film screenings, and an open house at the new Kearny Street space. But tonight, I rode down to Valencia celebrating rich relatives.

Right as I was contemplating my study break dinner, my real estate cousin called asking for a good Mexican/tapas place in the Mission. "There's Limon," I said, "But it's hard to get in."

The next thing I knew, I was downing sangria with a fish head staring right at me.

Good Eats

Recommended by Rommel:

• Nepenthe in Big Sur (his mouth watered for the sweet potato pecan fritters and the Ambrosiaburger)
• TJ's Gingerbread House in Oakland for "down home with sass and class" as oakland.com says (be sure to check the menu and order ahead of time)

The Power of Voice

I sleep in, so most of what I see are replays. A plane crashes into a building. Specks that look like building debris (but the pit in my stomach knows the truth) fall from the upper floors. The building collapses. People scurry through the street in a cloud of dust. These images are etched in my mind on September 11, 2001.

But as a radio person, the recorded dispatches from the fire department are even more vivid and haunting.

Friday's story on All Things Considered paints a painful scene wrought with confusion and miscommunication. The mayday messages fade to a deafening silence. A pleaful request for support from the army demonstrates the magnitude of the disaster where NY FD were respectfully in over their heads. A call from a fireman pinned under a vehicle and is eventually rescued offers one moment of relief.

In this next story on Weekend Edition Saturday, the reporter does more interpreting of the scratchy tape for us as he focuses on the failure to communicate eminent collapse to over 100 fire fighters in the north tower. Amongst the static-ridden communications, silence is the biggest enemy as the radio relay system may have failed or the system may have been over-extended after the first tower fell. The story ends dramatically, citing an oral history from a fire fighter recounting when the crowded radio frequencies opened up. Messages made it through because there weren't a lot of survivors.

I applaud the production of these two pieces. More than the repeated images that resemble violence from Hollywood movies, each panicked voice from victim, each confused voice from the rescue system, and each transition of overwhelming white static to dead silence creates a powerful, personal account of those two hours.