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    <p><font face="Boca Raton ICG">September</font></p>
                <p>&quot;-<i>the test of a first rate intelligence is the ability 
                to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and 
                still retain the ability to function.&quot; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;- 
                </i>F. Scott Fitzgerald</p>
    <p><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:12pt;">September 1</span></p>
<p class=MsoBodyText><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'>I<span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;"> fooled around with the site yesterday. I don�t know
why. Partly because my back and knee were buggin and I needed to stay off them.
I did some reading for school. We read a F. Scott Fitzgerald piece, about a
depression he went through. We also read a James Agee piece, in which he spends
two pages describing the father�s in his childhood neighborhood, watering the
lawn. The Agee was so tender and sweet. I can actually relate to the Fitzgerald
personally, but I read it after the Agee. And it just sounded so whiney! I mean
that�s how I sound most of the time, internal, depressed, disenfranchised. <span style="font-size:11pt; mso-spacerun: yes">&nbsp;<span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">Or at least when I get down. Imagine
remembering watering the lawn in great detail, the sound of the water pressure
changes, the arc of the water, the leaking water running down your forearm. You
have love life to be awake to such detail and to treasure it.</span></span></span></span></p>

<h1><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:12pt;">September 2</span></h1>

<p class=MsoBodyText><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt; mso-spacerun: yes">Michael 
&amp; John helped me do a garage sale yesterday. We 
                        lasted for two hours, and I made seven dollars. I'm 
                        really no good at garage sales. They were very sweet 
                        and helpful, and they're gonna try it again in their 
                        neighborhood in a few weeks. The traffic in my neighborhood 
                        is mostly tourists. Suzanne and her <a href="http://www.windchimewalker.com/mitchells5.html" target="_blank">kids</a> stopped by, 
                        which&nbsp;was great, and funny because we had already 
                        quit. And then Tony, visiting from Vegas, showed up 
                        with his friend, <a href="http://members.aol.com/steve4nlng/namegame/index.html#labels" target="_blank">Steve.</a> And we went to Mo's for a burger. 
                        It was a very social day, for me. And I only got into 
                        one extended political diatribe. (But Tony started it!) 
                        I settled in to a quiet evening of reading Joan Didion's,&nbsp;<i>The 
                        White Album, </i>which I've read many times, and each 
                        time I am blown away by it. She manages to communicate 
                        a breakdown without ever, really, totally acknowledging 
                        that it's happening. And she demonstrates how the personal 
                        and the political mooshed together in 1968. </span></span></span></p>

<h1><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:12pt;">September 3</span></h1>

                        <p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">Tony 
                        &amp; <a href="http://members.aol.com/steve4nlng/namegame/index.html#labels" target="_blank">Steve</a> 
                        came to <a href="http://www.glide.org/" target="_blank">Glide 
                        </a>yesterday, and after church, they, Michael &amp; 
John, Deb &amp; I went to <a href="http://www.themeetinghouse.com/home_flash.htm" target="_blank">The 
                        Meeting House</a> for brunch. My knees and back were 
                        aching, so, I came home and slathered my self with Arnica. 
                        I finally found a <a href="http://www.photo.net/photodb/user?user_id=185677" target="_blank">Kobi</a> 
                        photo that I could post on &quot;<a href="http://www.fatshadow.com/others.htm" target="_blank">the 
                        others</a>&quot;, and link to his lovely photos. </span></span></p>
                        <p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">I 
                        was half listening to <a href="http://www.pri.org/PublicSite/home.html" target="_blank">PRI</a> 
                        yesterday, and there was a discussion with a scientist 
                        in genetics about c loning and such. She was a lovely, 
                        intelligent woman. At one point she talked about c loned 
                        mice having a tendency to become fat. She made a joke 
                        about that fact ending  c loneing. Now, she wasn't garish, 
                        or crude and the audience didn't guffaw. It was just 
                        a group of &quot; nice&quot; folks, sharing a joke about 
                        fatness. If she had made the same joke about height 
                        it would have, at the least, sounded odd. At the most 
                        it would have been offensive. &nbsp;And imagine I am 
                        sitting in the audience. </span></span></p>
<p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">Imagine the people all around 
                        me laughing about never wanting to pursue c loning if 
                        it produces fat folks. Am I laughing? Should I be? Why?</span></span></p>
<h1><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:12pt;">September 4</span></h1>

<p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'>D<span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">ean 
                        arrived yesterday. He begins his internship with Deb 
                        today. He had to wake up at 6:00 which, for a seventeen 
                        year old, is a drag. I usually wake up at 7:00&nbsp;anyway 
                        and I couldn't sleep last night. The full moon was interrogating 
                        me with reflected light. It just comes right in my window! 
                         And I do the best writing while I'm laying there, not 
                        sleeping. Of course I forget it all by the time I get 
                        to my keyboard. I held Dean when he was a baby, and 
                        read him bed time stories when he was a little boy. 
                        Seeing this, very tall, young man is quite a trip.  
                        I'm happy he's here. &nbsp;We went to <a href="http://www.themenupage.com/Carta.html" target="_blank">Carta 
                        </a>for dinner and then shopped for groceries. We took 
                        a short walk to the <a href="http://www.fishermanswharf.org/" target="_blank">wharf</a>, 
                        so that he could see where it is but my knee started 
                        to give out. My&nbsp;knee is better, though. I put a 
                        link to <a href="http://www.jazzarts.org/diamond.htm" target="_blank">Dean's 
                        dad</a> on &quot;the others&quot;. </span>&nbsp;</span></p>
    <p><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:12pt;">September 5</span></p>
                        <p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;I 
                        love hanging out with people talking about stuff we've 
                        read. That's what we did in class last night. I know, 
                        it's serious business, we're there to consider craft 
                        and form and other writerly notions. But it was just 
                        so much fun! After a life time of pursuing rock and 
                        roll coolness, I am becoming a total geek. It's almost 
                        embarrassing to me to admit that I've read more than 
                        what has been assigned. </span></span></p>
                        <p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">Dean 
                        had good day juicing oranges and zesting lemons. He 
                        seems pretty happy. It was great to have someone here 
                        when I got home. And he brought home treats!</span></span></p>
<h1><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:12pt;">September 6</span></h1>

                        <p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp; 
                        Often, when I'm in school, I think of what so many have 
                        done, and do, to be educated.  People meet in secret, 
                         schools, hidden from states that would persecute them 
                        if they were discovered. And we, who can be in c lean 
                        comfortable class rooms, complain that the material 
                        was too difficult. I recently read an interview with 
                        Susie Orbach in which she spoke of woman in Eastern 
                        Europe who owned ragged, mimeographed, much passed about, 
                        copies of Fat is a Feminist issue. People are desperate 
                        for intellectual stimulation. In America, anti-intellectualism 
                        makes us dull witted and proud of it. I'm so desperate 
                        for intellectual stimulation.</span></span></p>
                        <p><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">&nbsp;And 
                        how, can we not say that slavery is a crime against 
                        humanity? In Durban, at the conference on racism they 
                        are debating this. Language had such power.</span></p>
<h1><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:12pt;">September 7</span></h1>

                        <p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">I'm still ranting about this Durban thing. This is the 
                        market dictating truth. Reparations has never made so 
                        much sense to me. I have supported the idea with out 
                        believing it would ever happen and with out really thinking 
                        about why I believed it. But, something about this debate 
                        on slavery, as well as the problems with admitting that 
                        things between the Israeli and the Palestinian people 
                        is racist, has centered these issues in terms of Capitalism, 
                        for me. &nbsp;If there were no cost to industry the 
                        conference would be a talk fest. But, there is money 
                        to be made. Oil concerns to be protected. And, back 
                        to reparations, even a token amount of cash would change 
                        the shape of things.  So, if we say out loud -- slavery 
                        was/is a crime against humanity -- someone would have 
                        to pay something for that crime. Not just government 
                        but industry. </span></span></p>
                        <p><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:12pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">&nbsp;S</span><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:12pt;">eptember 8</span></p>
                        <p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp; 
                        Dean and I spent the day at <a href="http://www.stinsonbeachonline.com/" target="_blank">Stinson 
                        beach</a> yesterday. I forgot sunscreen and am lobster 
                        red today. We took a ferry to Larkspur and  Adrienne 
                        picked us up and drove us to the beach. We took randoms 
                        bits of food, chicken satay, grapes, gouda, bread. It 
                        was great. It's good to spend a day staring at water. 
                         </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:12pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">S</span><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:12pt;">eptember 10</span></p>
                        <p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp; 
                        I read this panel on the front page of yesterdays paper 
                        in which the document from Durban was summarized. I 
                        don't know if the language was from the document but 
                        one thing was the recognition of both Palestinian rights 
                        and Israeli security concerns. That language says that 
                        Palestinians are a threat to Israeli security. It's 
                        a complex situation, the likes of which makes me want 
                        to throw up my hands, but I notice the frame in which 
                        Israelis are the dominant and accepted group and Palestinians 
                        are the trouble makers. And I notice that Israeli forces 
                        have big tanks and Palestinian forces have rocks. It 
                        seems hopeless and it has seemed this way for years. 
                        And I don't think it helps that a conference on racism 
                        was so silenced, or muffled.</span></span></p>
                        <p><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">S</span><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:12pt;">eptember 12</span></p>
                        <p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp; 
                        I am having trouble writing about yesterday. It is too 
                        vast. But I can say that the rush to find someone to 
                        blame is a worry When people are this angry and this 
                        sad it's easy to manipulate them. Already the drums 
                        of nationalism are being beaten. I want to hope that 
                        we can slow down and consider things, not just who might 
                        have done this but why. Nothing can excuse what happened. 
                        Certainly everything that can be done to insure that 
                        it won't happen again should be done. But I hope we 
                        can remain mindful. I spent the day listening to KPFA 
                        and watching&nbsp;CNN. Mainstream media is so hopelessly 
                        reductive in&nbsp;their analysis, so irresponsible with 
                        their language. My heart is aching. I send everyone 
                        my hopes for a true peace. </span></span></p>
<h1><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:12pt;">September 14</span></h1>

                        <p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;</span>I<span style="font-size:11pt;">�ve been involved in all manner of conversation. I find
that I need to be involved in the ones, where I know my politics and worldview
will be well received. I need the comfort of agreement. But in the
conversations, where my views may not be well received, or are not shared, I
have learned about myself. I have learned about my own capacity for aggression,
and my need to be right. If the people who flew the planes into the Trade
Towers and the Pentagon were Islamic fundamentalists, they believed that they
were doing, what they were doing, for the love of their people and their God. I
need to belong to a community, a people, and I need to have a relationship with
God. But, I need both to be inclusive, not exclusive. I am trying to be quiet
and listen. And not rush to react. I am trying to own those parts of me that may
be part of the cycle of violence. I would chose to work for peace.</span></span></p>
<h1><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:12pt;">September 15</span></h1>

                        <p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;It 
                        seems to be evident that our need for certainty, our 
                        inability to relax when things are unknown, has caused 
                        a frenzy of misinformation. &nbsp;Every day we read 
                        about things, that were reported the day before, which 
                        turn out to be not quite true. I am in an information 
                        frenzy. I move from the TV, to the radio, to the Internet. 
                        I check e-mail repetitively. I feel the need to know. 
                        We have been cast into uncertainty. In fact, we always 
                        live there, but now it is painfully obvious. I am struggling 
                        with the notion of getting back to normal. Normal may 
                        have been permanently altered. But we don't know how. 
                        </span></span></p>
<h1><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:12pt;">September 17</span></h1>

                        <p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;Yesterday, 
                        at <a href="http://www.glide.org/" target="_blank">Glide,</a> 
                        a woman from the choir led the prayer. She often does. 
                        When she was introduced we were reminded that she is 
                        a Muslim. The entire congregation c lapped. It was a 
                        long sustained clapping. She cried. We all cried. It 
                        was an very powerful moment. The church was so full. 
                        It was difficult because I am a bit nervous in crowds.</span></span></p>
                        <p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">But 
                        yesterday I spent time in more than one crowd. I went 
                        to an <a href="http://64.78.45.52/index_home.htm" target="_blank">event</a> 
                        in Presida park put on by <a href="http://www.medeaforsenate.org/biography.html" target="_blank">Medea 
                        Benjamin</a> and <a href="http://64.78.45.52/" target="_blank">Michael 
                        Franti. </a>It was comforting to be with so many folks. 
                        It's the most hopeful I've felt.  </span></span></p>
<h1><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:12pt;">September 18</span></h1>

                        <p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;A 
                        phrase I have been hearing and I am about to use is 
                        ... before&nbsp;all this happened we had planned to... 
                        go to Chez Panisse. I wanted Dean to see how perfect 
                        food, served in a warm environment can feed the soul. 
                        Last night, while we ate our perfect meal, I noticed 
                        how easy it can be to just forget. It's been a week. 
                         Commercials are back on the television. The fall season 
                        of new shows begins. Of course the news brings it back. 
                        But life goes on, and we must involve ourselves. today 
                        I listened to a Buddhist teacher speak about conscious 
                        consumption.  That's what I hoped we were doing last 
                        night. It was perfect food. Prepared with great attention 
                        to craft and quality. He also talked about all the toxic 
                        things we consume from culture. I keep thinking that 
                        people, who only get their info from the mainstream 
                        media are being fed war. </span></span></p>
                        <p><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:12pt;">September 19</span></p>
                        <p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp; 
                        I haven't been writing many of my tales from life in 
                        the fat lane, and there have been a few. It's not that 
                        it seemed unimportant, but I 've been too distracted. 
                        Last week on a bus, an elderly woman sat next to me. 
                        It may be a trial to sit next to me. There isn't much 
                        room. But she was a tiny woman. We were the perfect 
                        seat-sharing team. She seemed a little dotty. She said 
                        something about my fatness and said I needed to jog. 
                        I smiled and said, no, I don't. And then, someone who 
                        I have only recently met said I looked like I was loosing 
                        weight, and that was great!!! I sighed. But, yesterday 
                        I had a moment that really made me spin. I was sitting 
                        near the cafeteria, waiting for a friend, and a young 
                        middle eastern woman approached me. She was selling 
                         Herbal Life. Herbal Life is a vitamin company with 
                        a diet formula. I just said, thanks, but no thanks. 
                        And then I thought about how much I try to speak for 
                        diversity. And how the diverse-ness of my body is so 
                        difficult for people to accept.</span></span></p>
<h1><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:12pt;">September 21</span></h1>

                        <p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp; 
                        Deb, Dean and I went &nbsp;to <a href="http://www.sfzc.com/ggfindex.htm" target="_blank">Green 
                        Gulch </a>yesterday. It was so peaceful and beautiful. 
                        I thought, it is possible to be peaceful. We&nbsp;live 
                        on a planet where it is possible for the great destruction 
                        of 9/11, and the great beauty of the Green Gulch gardens 
                        to&nbsp;exist simultaneously. And that seems to be the 
                        trick. To contain the extemes and position in the middle. 
                          </span></span></p>
                        <p><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:12pt;">September 22</span></p>
                        <p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp; 
                         There is one fact, the plane hitting the building. 
                        As far as I know there is no image of the first plane, 
                        but we have the one of&nbsp;the second. It has been 
                        made, almost, pornographic in repetitive use by mainstream 
                        news. But when we saw it first, it was a moment of pure 
                        perception.  A moment too large to contain. A moment 
                        that silenced our easy narratives and left us stumbling. 
                        I have felt this kind of perception before, at the birth 
                        of my Goddaughter, on top of Haleakala, in a temple 
                        in India. Moments that suspended my inner babble by 
                        the nature of their overwhelming realness. But, they 
                        were happy, peaceful moments. When the narrative returned, 
                        it was a narrative of life. The plane hitting the building, 
                        and now the rush of narrative, mine and many others. 
                        And each contains a specific fact, a story of how the 
                        individual life has been effected. </span></span></p>
                        <p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">Lord, 
                        make me an instrument of your peace.</span></span></p>
<h1><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:12pt;">September 26</span></h1>

                        <p><span style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:AGaramond'><span style="font-family:AGaramond; font-size:11pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp; 
                         </span><span style="font-size:11pt;">Clear Channel 
                        is a company that has 1,200 radio stations, 247 of them in the nation's 250 largest radio markets. They 
                        dominate the Top 40 format and control 60% of all 
rock-radio listening. The company has ordered its stations not to play a list of 150 songs. 
                        The list includes &quot;Bridge Over 
Troubled Water,&quot; &quot;Peace Train,&quot; and John Lennon's &quot;Imagine.&quot; No songs by Rage Against <BR>the Machine will 
                        be aired. It boggles the mind. Listening to Cat Stevens 
                        is seditious. </span></span></p>
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