Strange phone calls as Bush's Social Insecurity Road Show Continues:

"The man who called was very polite and nice," says John Gasquet, owner of Empire coffee at 2 S. Main in Downtown Memphis. "He said he was special agent Something-or-other. He said that due to the fact that in some states the President had been to, there were issues of security regarding area businesses, he was calling businesses to tell them not to put up any negative signs in their windows that were negative toward President Bush. He said there were designated areas of protest and this would cut down on the possibility of problems."

This is pretty fucked. There's no telling who was making these calls, but this aught to be investigated. If if was really a fed, it's a big constitutional no no, and someone should at the very least take a fall. If it was someome (maybe an over-enthusiastic GOP Team Leader) impersonating a fed, then that's a crime and they aught to be prosecuted.

Apparently it's not just this one guy, but a number of other business owners in more than one state. I hope this is followed up on, because this is really honestly how the ugly phases of facism get started -- as opposed to the merely ominous phases of propaganda, doublespeak and groupthink -- so it would be nice if we could nip it in the bud.

As for me I'm enjoying a nice litle Sunday. I got some really tasty food to cook and I'm watching a movie and later on I'm going to try and write something legitimately artistic. Huzzah.

I'm dog-sitting a feisty little pup in the villiage. My own room with a view for a couple of days, but I'm all on my lonesome for a saturday night. Last night was a twister, a rendezvous with a girl who spars on my mental level and comes from the theater and who's pretty good lookin' to boot... but it didn't work out. My doing. I previously set the expectation that there would be bedroom fun too, but then I backed out.

Thing is, I knew I was backing out before I went in, but I wanted to see this person again and I'm not the type who can abide taking someone's phone number and not calling. Seems an affront to common decency. Still, it wasn't the right thing to do; but it wasn't the wrong thing either. Nothing amiss in asking someone to hang out and have a couple whiskeys and talk about life and at and what it all means. Seems an allright thing to do.

However, apropops my previous post, I don't think it's good for me to sleep with anyone at the moment, especially if I know I like talking to them too. It just adds layers to the confusion. So I never planned on going beyond talk.

Hopefully I'll sort out who I am and why I'm here soon, because going out and sparring and learning and feeling a tingle all down your spine is just a terrible prelude to going home alone and watching Big Trouble In Little China, fabulous piece of cinema thought it may be.

Having a great apartment to myself alone on a Saturday night seems like quite a waste indeed. Still, I'll enjoy having room for myself; eating ice cream in my underwear and not worrying about imposing on anyone else's morning ritual. Frank came over earlier in the afternoon and we killed my "cheap date" magnum of merlot. It had a screw top, cheap date that it was. It was nice. We talked about all things. We surveyd the world from the roof. We got Mamoun's falaffel and walked the dog, an adventure in and of itself. Later I ventured out for Grey's Papaya and to survey the action on these streets I used to frequent. They've changed and so have I, but the density and concentration remains. It's not quite my scene here on McDougal, but I can't deny that it's jumpin'.

Common threads, really. Romance, fitting in, places I've slept. I feel a bit like a broken record. Oh well. Now where's that ice cream...

Later on:
I closed it out watching Almost Famous with a pint of Chunky Monkey. It's a great movie for anyone interested in rock'n'roll and writing and love and truth and the way things aught to be. It makes me wonder about certain big philosophical things -- like anything good aught to -- and it makes me a little whistful and nostalgic for more innocent times, back when I was a more pure and shining being. Specifically, and in keeping with my theme of late, that has to do with romance.

It's an old saw, but I've gotten a little sad and jaded about the whole thing. It's always a possiblity (anything's possible), but my mind just isn't in that realm when it comes to my own personal transpirings. I can vividly remember a different era; hiding a rose under my jacket in the cold of Northampten, a quilted blanket and candlelight. Or maybe Bill Withers in the morning, or mangos on a roof, or hot tea and rain on a skylight. These are all things I can still feel powerfully if I recall them, but seem pretty fucking far off from where I roll in reality these days. More importantly, I don't have a grip on the ideals. I have no philosophy of love; no book; no inspiration. This is crippling.

There are other things I think are germane which are sparked by the movie -- things about information and access and trust and transparency -- but they don't much fit in with this bit of writing, so they'll wait for another day. I did get really nostalgic with all the post-hippy stuff. "Everything's happening" and all that jazz; the way the world can be enchanted. I miss that. I miss the everyday romance. Not necessarilt the stuff related to the sexes, but the way in which normal life, or heightened party life, can be a thing full of truth and beauty and challenge and wonder. It's never just about kissing or sleeping with someone. It's about the promise.

Now I'm getting incoherant. Time for water and then time for sleep. Tomorrow another thing happpens.

I liked the visual pun there: Dont Stop. Stopped. Anyway it's allright music if your taste ranges into the loungy end of electronic. I like it, and I like the band name. I also like what myspace music is doing quite a lot. It seems very empowering to artists.

That's it for me. I'm off into the night and the city.

Out at the fundraiser for Frank and friends' production of Eric Bogosian's Suburbia tonight. It was good fun with good people for a good script. I think GirlPosse.com does it justice when they say:

Suburbia is a great play, gritty, real, packed full of issues, and coated with fun. It addresses Third world poltics (Globalisation), racism, sexuality, AIDS, femmism, gun control, drugs, alcholism, depression/mental illness/youth suicide, sex, pornography, mateship, leaving home, art, and delivers a strong and powerfully positive message about the potential of the individual. I can't imagine another play ever so acurately capturing the void and confusing faced by todays youth as they drift out of school and into an uncertain future.

They had a raffle at the fundraiser. I won a prize, the "cheap date." That's a magnum of merlot and a box of condoms. Oh boy; just what I need.

All snark aside, I'm looking forward to the show. It's a great piece of writing and still pretty relevant if not quite as edgy as it was first produced. The party was fun; good to be back in that mix of folks. It makes me think that great things might be possible with community support. As they say in the commercials, "Where you at? The whole city behind us."

I used to consider myself a Romantic person. In some respects -- grand worldly and spirtual -- I still am, but in my own life's sphere this light has grown dim. I suppose my character remains the same, but without personal prospects its easy enough to become something of a sad old case about it. I could quickly become the kind of person who's susceptible to well-crafted commercials and low-quality romantic comedy. Perish the thought, but I feel it happening.

This page is now almost a year and a half out of date. What's the deal there, Koenig? I dunno. I supose I'm confused about what I want these days; don't really have any desire to be a guy who takes home girls he just kissed for the first time, but I'm no good at not kissing girls and sometimes they want me to follow them home, and at that point who am I to refuse them? At the same time, I'm in no position to be in a "real" relationship of any sort, scattered and flighty as I am. Yet part and parcel with that disillusionment with hookups, I long for substance. It's a catch 22.

Which is why I'm more or less convinced that Reason will not save me here. This is, in the end, a matter of the heart; that demands Romance, sputtering though my own engines of fancy may be. Trick of it is, I'm not really sure what that means in the context of my life. Time was I felt the tingle of possibility in every smoldering gaze, the power of all the universe in my sweaty bike-riding body as I stalked about the finer quarters of manhattan. Lately I'm restricted, cowed, hesitant. The spirit has no pasture in which to run free, even as I seek to unleash it.

And so it goes. In the area of love my life tends to be unconventional. The broad strokes are recognizable -- we're all human, thank goodness -- but the social minutae and specific bits are outside the mainstream. This is tough because I don't really have a model to follow; just groping my way along in the darkness like every other wannabe bohemian, hoping to strike something solid or rich or at least temporarily rewarding.

Cue up "Heart of Gold" and pour another bourbon, allright? I'll catch the rest of you tomorrow.

Update: Recommend the kos diary, get the meme going.

Update 2: It looks like I didn't break through. That's ok. I'll just work the idea up a little more. Here's another interesting angle: usury.

It's spelled W-E-D-G-E I-S-S-U-E:

Let me tell you something, ok? When Freepers sing Krugman's praises, and the king of righty bloggers comes down against the every Republican in the Senate there's something going on.

Oh, and the fact that Credit Card Debt (and that payday/title loan bullshit) constitute nothing less than 21st-Century sharecropping make reforming consumer credit the right thing to do. It's not just an electorial winner, it's consistent with your principles to boot. This wedge has your name written all over it. Do you want to pick up seats in 2006 or not?

It occurs to me that with a modest effort similar to what Matt and Bob and I did with There Is No Crisis we might actually get this on the national radar. I'd really rather the Chairman or someone of similar stature take the lead, but I'm not holding my breath.

The producers of my favorite Dark, Sexy, Politicial Sci-Fi show continues to impress me with their innovation: Battlestar Galactica Director's Commentary via podcast.

Personally I still probably won't ever download one of these, but the fact that they're On The Ball enough to do this is really quite something. Maybe there's a future in Hollywood after all.

On another note, South By Southwest (SXSW) is offering the entirety of their musical lineup via bittorrent. This is something the major labels will have had to sign off on, so it too represents a big step forward in Industry Thought. Bravo for that.

Where to make a fit? It was a long long weekend. Conferencing and shmoozing and plotting and scheming and parties and the L-train was out so I've done about 50 miles on the bike too. Heavyweight reggae Texas Hold 'Em -- Draft Posner -- several blasts from the past. Girls, girls, girls (in an exhausting way). My nails are bitten down to the quick and I really just want to get 18 hours of sleep, maybe play some videogames and eat some Chineese food.

But what I need to do is plan. Plan the week, the month, the year. What needs to be ground out? What's the next big move? Maybe head to a park and lie in the Grass because it's almost 60 degrees outside and it's going to try to snow at least once more before Winter is finally broken. Maybe it's a lot of phone calls. Maybe it's both. I want that vision though. Something to tie it all together.

What do you think of the title "Alternative Media Mogul?" I kind of like it. Possible conflicts with Folk Hero? I dunno.

See This Movie

And when you do, be prepared to laugh and to cry. Fucking seriously.

Democrats are going to be in trouble on this consumption tax idea. I'm sitting in a cafe in Williamsburg Brooklyn and the 1st-wave hipsters (the ones who may actually be artists and have gotten their shit together to start a cafe, for instance) are lovin' it. "Gets rid of the IRS. Gets rid of accountants. They do it like that in Canada..." So they think.

The only counterarguments I've heard are hopelessly wonky and complex. I get why it's a bad idea. Here's what I would say.

• A consumption tax is regressive. Working people spend more of their income on "consumption" than the wealthy. Even with large exemptions, this will shift the burdin of taxes off of rich people who can afford to put their income in investments and onto middle class and blue collar people who put their income into clothes, food, car, and other products.
• Do you really trust George W. Bush and the Republicans to rewrite your tax code? Do you really think they will close all the corporate loopholes? Do you really think they're going to set up a system that's fair to working and middle-class people? They're a party of millionares who don't believe in social responsibility.

That's all I've got, and it's really not that good. Need graphs and shit to really sell it. Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?