The buzzing in my head The ringing in my ears is So elaborate. But I love that sound.
First of all, apologies for dropping off the grid post-Oaxaca. In particular, apologies to our hostesses at the Peace House in Oaxaca; I haven't forgotten you all and have a bit of writing about our time with you, on deck, mostly awaiting some editing and formatting. We sort of hit the ground running in DF, and never really stopped, so it was all I could do just to get the videoblog edited and uploaded, before we hopped our plane to SF. Everything north of the border... Well, yeah. That's why I've really not posted here in a while.
Apparently, I've lost all real ability or motivation to properly write, cause I don't seem to do much of it, and Denman's been tearing it up over at his blog , providing belly laughs for all comers. My output here is a joke, by comparison.
Truth is, I've been trying to keep on top of the other mediums I set out to utilize with this site: video, photography, and a few other items I'll keep under wraps for now (some of which involves writing on subjects -- and in ways -- I've meticulously avoided; hence the slow pace). It's also a bit overwhelming, being here. At the moment, we're in Oaxaca City, staying at a house dedicated to various forms of solidarity work in the region. To say that what these people do is humbling kinda fails in a rather major way. I had to force myself to ask one of the women for a sort of geographic rundown of the 2006 uprising, so that we can go see some of that before we get on the bus to DF. I say "force myself", because I just couldn't imagine her being bothered to humor it. Here, I'm rather compartmentalized and extracted from my normal activities; I'm far more conversant in the points at which I'd meet these people, at home. Momentarily, I scrape by in the common language, and (at first glance) appear more a tourist than anything else. Given the understandable skeptical gaze cast on that demographic (particularly those of the activist variety), authentic bonds are more difficult to forge, even with other americans.
But the atmosphere was softened some by the outing Denman and I made to a market in the centro, to procure basil for a pesto I offered to cook everyone, last night. On our way back, the sky opened up with a force that would send reasonable people scrambling for the family ark. The downtown was flooding as we sprinted across the Zocalo. So, we grabbed a cab back to the house, and proceeded to juggle food prep and leak management, while the valley below Panoramica del Fortin began reflecting city light like a river. As folks made their way home from meetings, organizing, etc. amidst what I'm sure were near flash-floods, we were able to offer up dinner. I relished the opportunity to be useful, and offer that gratitude in some manner other than speech.
Hopefully, the time we've got before boarding the bus tonight will prove productive.
a funny thing happened on the way back from breakfast...
on 04-28-2008
Namely: A near-police-riot broke out, albeit briefly (and oddly), just off the Zocalo here in Oaxaca. Denman and I had set out today to visit a few of the sites central to the 2006 uprising (events that we're hearing may see something of a sequel in coming months) , and shoot footage of them both for stills and for video purposes. We'd staked out the Zocalo, the University, and an area of Panoramica del Fortin where some of the worst repression the city has ever seen took place. Instead, we found ourselves standing front row for the occupation of the Instituto de Ciencias.
The buzzing in my head
Apparently, I've lost all real ability or motivation to properly write, cause I don't seem to do much of it, and Denman's been tearing it up over at 
