election night 2000, well, after the weeks of fraud and confusion, after gore’s concession, i looked out the window at the empire state building and thought, nothing is going to be the same. i had no idea how right i was.

election night 2004, i spent the first half of the night in shock, and the second half drinking whiskey. i thought, things are going to be the same for a while longer.

election night 2008, i looked out the window at the dark los angeles sky and felt the crisp, clear wind, and thought about the quiet smiles of the people at the voting polls, and once more i thought, nothing will be the same EVER again!!!

it wasn’t obvious. it was never obvious. but it was inspiring – artists and musicians composed new works. movie stars made short films. the best and the brightest of my friends hit the pavement and knocked on doors and dialed phones and never for one second did any single one of them take this moment for granted.

it was never obvious.

(steno: narrowing, contracting) + (teno: tendon) + [(syn: with)+(ovi: egg) == (synovium: the soft tissue surrounding your joints and tendons)] + (itis: inflammation)

It started about three months ago. After painting for several hours, my hand would feel warm and sore. I took ibuprofen. I stopped using my blackberry. I started painting less, taking longer breaks. Stopped writing email, stopped blogging, mostly stopped using a computer at all. My primary activity was limited to begging the secretaries of hand surgeons if they please could PLEASE find some time, within the next two months.

And then almost a month ago, I stopped painting. I could paint with my left hand, which was really much better than you’d think, but that was my only usable hand, and was usually too fatigued. For me, stopping painting was a lot like what people go through quitting cigarettes. It wasn’t pretty.

The whole time, I don’t know: Is it just a boo-boo, or is it a degenerative joint disease? At this stage of my life I’ve cleared out my calendar to pursue art full-time, really just discovered how much I love painting, and now I can’t even pick up a paintbrush. For the first time, self doubt hit me hard. Was this whole art plan a big mistake? I just bought enough paint and canvas for the next 3 months. Will I ever use it? Am I going to be able to paint again? How about put my own hair in a ponytail?

Monday of this week I finally saw a hand surgeon. Diagnosis: Stenosing Tenosynovitis. Trigger Finger. The short version is there’s some kind of extra tissue that built up on my A1 pulley tendon, and it became inflamed and painful. It’s probably the very best outcome I could have hoped for. The doctor gave me a cortisone injection, which inflated my finger like a water balloon, some reassuring words, and sent me on my way.

Tuesday of this week, I went back to one of my drawing classes. It was still too early to try and draw, so I though I’d observe. I left angry and early when I couldn’t take the sympathetic looks. Like I am a little bird with a broken wing, and everyone but me knows that I will never fly again.

Wednesday of this week, I searched the web for fellow artists who’ve gone through this, but I didn’t find very much at all. In later years Renoir had severe arthritis and couldn’t grip a brush. They’d tie a paintbrush to his hand so he could continue painting. For the first time, it seems like maybe it’s possible. Painting is in the eyes and the mind much more so than in the fingers. Though, as it turns out, the fingers really help.

Today, I did my own ponytail. I cleaned and refilled the hummingbird feeders. I did some laundry. And then I allowed myself 20 minutes to scribble out a funny little drawing. It’s something of a self portrait. I told Mike, I think it’s some combination of a rag doll and an autopsy. He looked at it and said, I think it’s you, stitching yourself back together.

I like that interpretation a lot.

Day One:

Day Two:

Day Three:

Day Four:

Each speaker talks for only 18 minutes, much less than my usual 3 hour pose.

I’ve been watching the speakers on TV in the “Simulcast Room,” so it’s a challenge to get a strong likeness down quickly. You’re totally dependent on a constantly changing camera angle. Patience is a virtue.

If you would like more details on the speakers, I recommend:
the official TEDblog, or the somewhat less offical list of TEDBloggers.

Monday was 14 days. I celebrated quietly, over a big steak.

Yesterday was 16 days. Being a card-carrying member of the .5% of the universe card, I said nothing.

Today, though, it’s 17 days with no symptoms, you know, other than that pesky daily 5AM anxiety wakeup call.

So my reasoning goes like this: if I’ve jinxed myself by mentioning the no symptoms thing, well, at the very least now I’ll have ensured my place in the annals of Anisakis history. Mmmm, annals.

Thanks everyone who particiapted in the Parasite Watch ’06. And cook your halibut right!

This is wonderful, wonderful, wonderful news.

Because we need someplace to put all those birds!

I participated (just the tiniest bit) in this bird count, so I’m really thrilled to see LA County won the title.

It is, as they say, a good start. But there’s a lot more work to do.

HB 4437 calls for a lot of things, and whatever your opinion on “the immigrant problem,” it’s worth reading the actual proposal. After reading through the bill, I’m actually surprised there’s not a section calling for RFID chipping of every person that crosses the country’s border. Perhaps they left the door open enough under the rubric of “Biometric data enhancements.”

It seems to me that what’s upsetting people the most is the F-word. Even if you believe in a hard stance against illegal immigration, you might consider the toll this would take on our courts. And I wonder, in these cases, what would truly constitue a jury of peers.

I dearly wish I had been in the thick of the protests today – I love nothing more than taking pictures at events like this, but today was a sick day. I made it out of the house this morning to bring my broken car to the mechanic. He’s what you might call a pink immigrant, hailing from one of those English-speaking countries where they have charming accents. On the way out, he wished me “happy uno de mayo!”

Before heading home, I stopped for lunch at a restaurant in Brentwood, Literati. I ordered my usual breakfast burrito, and the girl at the counter gave me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but we’re not serving breakfast right now.”

I pointed to the sign that promises breakfast all day.

“I’m sorry, but we are so short staffed today,” she said. “We’ve only got two people in the kitchen so we can’t do breakfast.”

I suddenly realized why this was the case, and said “WOW. That is pretty cool.” A huge smile came over her face.

The place was chaotic, and it was really fascinating to watch the reaction of the different customers. The north of Wilshire ladies (you know, the More-Important-Than-You set) don’t much care for waiting for their lattes, and I watched more than one lady undertake her very own personal protest march, right up to the counter to loudly demand her chicken salad for which she had been waiting over HALF AN HOUR.

My substitute sandwich took a long while to come out, but as I watched a nervous-looking white kid busing tables, I enjoyed that wait. I loved the thought that the guys who normally take care of those details were off doing something more important than folding my breakfast burrito: American citizens, participating in free speech.

That is more than pretty cool.

Excerpt (links added):

The dedication of Williams’ book “Life in Prison” casts significant doubt on his personal redemption. This book was published in 1998, several years after Williams’ claimed redemptive experience. Specifically, the book is dedicated to “Nelson Mandela, Angela Davis, Malcolm X, Assata Shakur, Geronimo Ji Jaga
Pratt, Ramona Africa, John Africa, Leonard Peltier, Dhoruba Al-Mujahid, George
Jackson, Mumia Abu-Jamal, and the countless other men, women, and youths who have to endure the hellish oppression of living behind bars.” The mix of individuals on this list is curious. Most have violent pasts and some have been convicted of committing heinous murders, including the killing of law enforcement.

But the inclusion of George Jackson on this list defies reason and is a significant indicator that Williams is not reformed and that he still sees violence and lawlessness as a legitimate means to address societal problems.

Right. Guilt by association. I can’t possibly argue with that kind of logic.

Gov. Schwarzenegger is contemplating clemency for Stan Williams. Stan Williams has been nominated for the Nobel peace prize five times, for his work on reducing gang violence and helping keep kids away from gangs. He’s also a convicted killer, who is scheduled to die on Monday.

I believe that he has a great deal to offer, particularly with his work to connect with at-risk kids and keep them from making the same mistakes as he has.

I’m really hoping for clemency. I signed an online petition to the Governor. You may or may not agree with my views on this, and you can feel free to let me know, but my conscience demands that I post this.

It’s a story we should all be aware of and I hope you will want to learn a little more about it.

Stan Williams bio:
http://www.savetookie.org/bio.html

The petition sent to the Governor’s office is at:
http://www.cm-p.com/pdf/executiveclemency.pdf
(Launches Acrobat)

The online petition I signed is at:
http://www.petitionthem.com/?sect=detail&pet=2240

(Currently at ~41K, they are looking for 100K.)