Artsy fartsy

Last night, DJ Mother Nature took me to the ICA for the opening of a new exhibit by Catherine Opie, a photographer who is apparently known for images of football youth, lesbians of all ages and surfers. Sadly, none of those works were included in this collection, but the exhibition was still nice - mostly sunsets and Boy Scout jamborees and womyn.

I've wanted to visit the ICA since arriving to Boston, but it's so rare that I take time out to do cultural things. So, I'm grateful that DJ Mother Nature suggested I accompany him.

It's a very small museum, and I think the building was more interesting than the actual works of art within. Since it was an opening reception for members, there was very good people-watching. DJ Mother Nature knew several people, including an agressive and annoying lesbian and I actually ran into a former co-worker! It was nice to get out and about on the town and do something different. Or do something, period!

Sprockets

For those of us whose teenage years spanned the 1990s, Mike Myers means not only Austin Powers, but also a host of other characters like WayneCampbell, Linda Richman, Simon, and ... Dieter, the all black-wearing German dance party host whose absurd, minimalist dance show, "Sprockets," informed many of my impressions about what Berlin would be like. Until last night, the stereotype didn't really hold true, but Frannie organized an outing to the Kreuzberg neighborhood to witness a dance performance by Berlin choreographer Sasha Waltz.

Puppy and I arrived about 30 minutes early, so we walked around the gritty, industrial neighborhood. Loud techno music greeted us as we alighted from the S-bahn, so we walked toward the thumping beats and pseudo-Middle Eastern harmonies. We came upon a line of Berlin youth, all sporting extreme fashions like a stuffed animal hung from a bicycle chain around the neck, a metallic silver pom pom hot-glued to a shoulder, turquoise sparkle paint applied around one eye and a whole lot of black.

They were all waiting to get into some sort of outdoor rave where a DJ of some sort was driving these kids into a dance-trance frenzy. We couldn't see into the party, but from the kids' appearances, it was nowhere a sensible thirty-something like myself would be welcome or comfortable.

We met up with Frannie at the venue, some sort of converted building that fused the old and the new, and we were ushered into the dance performance area. And this dance performance was nothing short of what one would expect from a German avant-garde choreographer. The piece, called something that roughly traslated into "two country" was supposed to represent German reunification (or something). Over the course of 75 minutes, we witnessed:

* Two intertwined speedo-clad men who were torn asunder by a third man wearing a suit
* Three ladies wearing red velvet dresses stomping their feet and laughing like cackling hyenas
* A man who struggled with the dilapidated walls of a ramshackle lemonade stand
* A woman in something approximating a wedding dress flying through the air and standing on the other dancers
* A man in a tutu with an accordian strapped to his back
* A man who sang in falsetto (a castrato?)
* A segment during which coveralled men painted part of the set blue
* The tutu-man pouring water all over the set with a large, metal watering can
* A whackjob Asian lady who clutched a vinyl record while exclaiming, "Hello! I like it so much!" over and over again

Somehow, these pieces were supposed to represent something significant. For me, it brought on some confusion and amusement, but I didn't quite understand what it all meant.

Still, I appreciated the chance to witness German "dance" in all its glory, but more than that, I was pleased to witness a true German ovation - one where the audience seemed to clap forever, with multiple curtain calls. We clapped for approximately 10 minutes once the show ended. I can only imagine how long the audience would clap for something really spectacular!

Mama's boy

I spent 24 hours in California this weekend - just enough time to miss it, but not enough time to fully enjoy my home sweet home. Not only was it Mother's Day yesterday, but it's also my mom's 60th birthday in a few days, so my uncle hosted a very large, very creative, very delicious feast in her honor. He and my two cousins apparently planned the menu several weeks in advance and spent all day Saturday cooking.

During my short visit, I visited a Chinese painting gallery with my mother, sister and sister's boyfriend to look at paintings, one of which my mom planned to purchase as a gift to herself. They were all by a friend of hers who has been gaining fame as a Chinese painter in recent years. We narrowed down the selection to three and took them home so others could weigh in.

I also got to visit the local Starbucks with VALedictorian and catch up. The walk between my parents' house and the Starbucks is probably less than the walk between my apartment and my gym, but it still felt strange to traverse the distance on foot, instead of in an SUV like most suburbanites.

All in all, it was a nice visit, but way too short. I wish I'd had time to visit SF and see my friends, but I guess I'll have to save that kind of trip for another day!

Greening the thumb

Because Lil' Sis' Panda!!!! and Cousin Steppynose were in town, I went down South to meet up with my siblings and cousins for a reunion lunch. It was only one of the things on my "to do" list, which also included getting my car's oil changed and a car wash.

After lunch, I was driving Cousin Lotus back up to the city when we stopped at a cute little nursery. I intended to buy one succulent to fill a bowl that I wanted to make into a planter, but ended up getting a whole bowl of succulents in addition to the one I wanted. Plus, after talking to an expert on edible plants, I was convinced that I needed to get a big planter of different lettuces and some herbs including thyme, rosemary, chives and sage. Furthermore, I felt compelled to get some mint because it was so fragrant.

So, now I have a shelf of different plants on my back deck. I'm excited to have some greenery, but I really wonder how long it will last, given my poor track record with plants.

Artistic license

Yesterday evening, Puppy, Roommates A&J, Lucy Ricardo, Mahogany Sparkle, Lezzie N and I joined a big crowd of hipsters, gays and other assorted SF wildlife at an exhibit of photographs by our friend Rayza. The collection of photos was pretty small, but it was cool to see some familiar faces on the walls of the gallery. And of course it was just a good excuse to get together and partake in free wine!

During the reception, five women and one man - dressed in Old Navy tighty-whities and tank tops - shuffled along the perimeter of the floor, did weird gyrations in the window and hopped up and down on some chairs, all while making scary faces. I suppose it was an art installation of some type, but I didn't really understand what I was supposed to take from the experience.

Many members of the crowd watched with great interest and others, like myself, stood confusedly and scratched our heads.

Barack Opanda

Cousin Lotus alerted me to this very important art project.

Is mom wearing mom jeans?

Over the weekend, I caught a few episodes of Whatever, Martha!, a television show that recycles old Martha Stewart Living episodes in the style of Mystery Science Theater 3000. Only this time, the commentary comes from Martha's daughter Alexis and her friend Jennifer.

Obviously, they pick the clips that have the most humor potential - like when Martha makes manure tea or when she pretends to get pricked in the eye with a needle as an April Fool's Day prank on her staff. Alexis is kind of boring, but sports a magnificently dykey haircut, which is fun to see in different style attempts.

Her hefty friend Jennifer Koppelman Hutt is really the star of the show, as far as I'm concerned. Kitten believes it's too easy to make fun of her size, given that her last name is Hutt (as in Jabba the), but it is sort of alarming to see her sprawled out on a couch, critiquing Martha's appearance. She is, however, the funnier and more clever of the two hosts and is definitely good at making me chuckle once or twice.

Assembly required

I've been moving in yesterday and today, trying to get settled in my new home. Part of move-in-palooza has included the fun activity of putting together furniture. With each piece that I've had to assemble, an allen wrench has been included. It continues to amaze me that this tiny, L-shaped hexagonal tool can help create everything from a lounge chair to a dining table!

Butterfly in the sky

The spirit of this project is really neat to me. I don't envy the artist having to deal with middle-school students though, if my experiences as a 13-year-old are typical of what he had to endure.

Arts and crafts happy hour

Since Beetle was working happy hour yesterday, I stopped in to meet Blanca and his boyfriend for a little Saturday afternoon libation. To my surprise, things were already in full swing, courtesy of Vibrating Crackhead who was keeping busy with a vial of black glitter, scissors and a tube of glue.

Vibrating Crackhead sat at the edge of the bar, cutting out pictures of the bartenders (from a new promotional book courtesy of the bar's new liquor sponsor) and changing their clothes to blobs of black glitter. What was once a black-and-white striped tank top was now a black glitter corset! That head of slicked-back hair? A black glitter helmet!

It truly was a sight to behold, especially since Vibrating Crackhead would often lose interest, and contemplate his dinner menu for the night. Blanca was more than happy to lend a helping hand in creating a shopping list, which seemed totes appreciated.

For an old man you ain't bad in a fight. What are you, like 80?

Puppy and I caught the new(ish) Indiana Jones flick last night in the historic Castro Theatre. Apparently, it's been ages since a first-run movie played at the Castro so this is kind of a big deal.

In my opinion, the movie was exactly what it should have been. It was fast-paced, fun, over-the-top and oozing with cheese. It had your requisite bad-guy caricatures, archaeological mythology and impossibly close brushes with death. And even in his advanced age, Harrison Ford was fun to watch as Indy.

The only thing that I didn't appreciate was the whole Roswell angle. C'mon Spielberg, this ain't E.T.!

Such great sights

You can bet that while I'm in Delhi I'll make time to take in all the sights. Fortunately, our India-based team agrees with my philosophy so they've helped to build in some sightseeing into my work itinerary.

On the 1.5 hour journey to today's first factory, we drove by the qutab minar, a magnificent monument that people are no longer allowed to climb due to suicide attempts and accidents. While we were able to fleetingly enjoy this structure from our car, I would have liked to at least taken a quick walk around it. But that was not to be the case.

And on our way back into Delhi after the factory tours, we stopped by the Dilli Haat, an outdoor marketplace where vendors from all of India's regions sell local handicrafts and artifacts (or "art d'facts" as one sign proclaimed). I may have ended up with a few drawings even though I insisted that I wasn't going to buy anything.

I'm just here for lunch

This morning, one of our Indian social and environmental compliance auditors took me to a handwork center where workers apply beads and sequins to garments by hand. One of the things I like best about traveling for work is that I get to see areas of cities that tourists normally wouldn't get access to and I can see how real citizens of a community live.

We drove to the outskirts of Delhi where streets are narrow, there was mud and cow dung all over the unpaved roads and people lined the sidewalks. I'd never seen this much concentration of poverty before and it was kind of disconcerting. Stalls were open selling fruit, juices and other wares, but seriously filty and malnourished people were just out and about, going at their daily routines or just sitting there, existing.

We meandered through the streets and went up a narrow flight of stairs to a small room on the third floor of a building. In it, 21 men sat on the floor, diligently applying silver beads to women's tops with a red and white floral pattern. To me, the garment was kind of hideous so I was glad to learn that the product was not The Corporation's, but a competitor's.

I learned that this particular art of beading and sequinsing is done by men only. It's a trade that's been passed through generations and is considered an Indian handicraft. The effect cannot be replicated by machine, so many brands must rely on hand work to accomplish the effect.

Per each order, a group of men will be hired to work for the duration of time until the order is complete. Thus, depending on the size of the order, the number of workers in the room can range from 15 to 30. And during this period, they receive a wage per garment finished, a food stipend of 50 rupees per day (the cost of my ample lunch yesterday!) and they receive lodging through the night. For those craftsmen who are skilled enough to perform this task, it is apparently a good way to make money to support a family.

I'd never seen a hand work center of this nature before and it was quite a contrast to the garment factories I've visited. There's no production line, just a worker with a bag of beads and a garment stretched on a hoop. A television and radio were available for entertainment and they seemed content to be working.

The center's manager took us a few buildings down and we visited another one of his centers on the building's top floor. This one housed 15 men applying beads to the same product. After checking through this facility, we walked down a flight of steps and my co-worker asked what the other rooms in the building were used for. The manager responded that he didn't know because they belonged to other businesses.

Curious, my co-worker opened one of the doors and was startled to see a small cramped room in which about two dozen men were sewing shirts for a local Indian brand. One boy who looked like he was nine-years-old (he was probably 14 - all workers I've ever seen in factories look very young for their ages) and when my co-worker asked how old he was, he responded, "I'm just here for lunch."

Fortunately, this facility has no relationship to The Corporation, but it hammered home the plight that India's poor face. Poverty-stricken families send (or sell) their children to work and earn a wage. They depend on every able-bodied member of the family to contribute to the family's subsistence. Education is not an option for them and their concerns are immediate: putting food on the table for tonight.

It broke my heart to see such conditions since I'd only ever seen factories that The Corporation uses. And despite what people may think, The Corporation has one of the most rigorous social and environmental programs in the industry. The factory I visited later in the day was a stark contrast: orderly cut & sew lines, workers with age documentation and employment contracts, clean canteens that served healthy meals and protective equipment for each worker. We were given access to wage and hour records and we were allowed to interview random workers individually.

But regarding the handwork centers, we expressed concerns to the manager that his operations were in close proximity to facilities that would never be approved by The Corporation. We encouraged him to relocate his centers so that his work wouldn't be in the same building as a facility that clearly operated unethically and employed child labor. Even though the makeshift factory was not working for The Corporation, we want to make sure we distance ourselves from conditions we cannot approve.

By the afternoon, the handwork manager had consolidated his operations into one building where he could oversee working conditions and we were free to audit on an announced or unannounced basis.

I know we alone cannot change some of the horrible human tragedies that occur in the global garment industry, but I am glad to work for a company that is doing what it can, has been making continuous progress and is protecting the workers who make the products that The Corporation sells.

A teardrop on the cheek of eternity

Along with two co-workers from The Corporation, I went on a tour of Agra's monuments today. It was one of those tours organized through hotels that picks up guests from a number of hotels, fixes them up with a local tour guide who makes sure they see all the touristy sights and provides just the right amount of historical context.

The tour began at the early hour of 6:45am and we found ourselves in a large bus with a lovely couple from New Zealand and a fellow from Chicago, all traveling in India for work. After a two-hour ride, we stopped at a faraway hotel called the Country Kitchen Inn where we were treated to a little breakfast - a choice of "corn flaks" or an "omelatte" accompanied by toast with a fluorescent red jam and some stuffed paratha. Unsurprisingly, the best part of the meal was the paratha.

It was also at the Country Kitchen where we witnessed a waiter pouring tap water into Aquafina bottles. We thusly avoided the water and opted for tea and juices.

Then, it was back on the bus to traverse the two-lane highway to Agra. Upon entering the city, we picked up our tour guide - a rotund little man whose dental hygeine rivaled that of Austin Powers's. He led us to Akbar's Mausoleum, a giant structure made of red sandstone with white marble inlays. Its most notable feature, in my opinion, was a family of black-faced, long-tailed monkeys who approached visitors for food.

Then it was on to Agra Fort, a palatial structure also made of red sandstone with areas built in white marble. It was here that our guide explained that harem women used to dance from place to place. They apparently never walked and when they danced, they made music with their anklets.

After a buffet lunch, we reached what our guide kept referring to as, "the highlight of your tour" - the magnificent Taj Mahal. The monument is truly breathtaking. It was absolutely pure and perfect and beautiful and words cannot describe the experience of seeing it.

Our tour guide gathered the six of us around, positioned us to take "postcard" photographs and explained some of its history. He then hooked us up with a professional photographer who led us to two spots in the gardens. Our tour companions continued ahead without us, but my co-workers and I took the opportunity to pose for pictures. The efficient photographer had us move quickly from pose to pose (one leg on the bench, kneeling down, crossed legs) and yelled at people in the background who would otherwise spoil his shot.

All the while, a group of Indians started to converge around us. Each time one of my co-workers (a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes) posed for pictures, the Indians started snapping her photograph. And once our photographer left to develop his photos, the Indians all gathered around her to take photos with the blonde lady! It was highly amusing.

We spent a good 40 minutes walking around the Taj and enjoying its beauty. I would have liked to see the monument at sunrise, without the thousands of visitors, but I suppose I'll have to save that for another visit.

Afterward, we hit the obligatory arts and craft store where salesmen tried their hardest to push their wares on us. I resisted, mostly because I was a tired panda and wanted to get back to the hotel. Several hours and a seemingly interminable bus ride later, we finally arrived at 10:00pm.

I always leave these tours with mixed feelings. On one hand, I'm glad I saw the major destinations and it was convenient to have a guide explain some of the more significant parts. Of course, it's also nice to travel by air-conditioned bus and to take meals at spots where we don't have to worry about food safety.

On the other hand, it's always awkward being thrust into a group with people you won't ever see again. Small talk is fine for a bit, but it gets tedious and the silence during lunch can be brutal. I also dislike being on someone else's schedule and feel like I get a highly sanitized perspective.

That said, it was an awesome, but tiring day. And now that the weekend is over, I hope to do more sightseeing, but I know that The Corporation must come first.

You must buy I give you very good price

Two of my co-workers from The Corporation and I hit New Delhi to do some shopping. We hired a little car to take us to two destinations: a rug and pashmina vendor favored by Hillary Clinton and a market where goods from all regions of the country are sold.

The rug and pashmina vendor was a little old man from Kashmir who had framed letters of commendation from dignitaries such as Hillary Clinton (three letters!). He was dressed in flowing white pants, a white tunic and turban and had a long white beard to match. He was very friendly and enjoyed showing us the different kinds of cashmere pashminas available: hand-made of cashmere, machine-made of cashmere, machine-made wool, embroidered, plain, etc. It was dizzying to see all the different options, but you certainly could feel the difference in quality.

He also began showing my co-workers some very finely woven rugs: silk on silk, silk on cotton, silk on wool, wool on wool, etc. We soon became experts and identifying rugs by material and how tightly the knots were woven together.

Everything truly was beautiful, with rich colors and intricate patterns. We spent nearly two hours in the store examining his wares and negotiating prices. In the end, we left with four rugs and eight pashminas total.

Next, we went to The Cottage Emporium, a multi-storey marketplace where Indian crafts are sold. We wandered through all the different sections, admiring the metals section, the woodwork section, the tea section, the linens, the saris, the bangles, the furniture, the paper mache and the leather goods. Everything was being offered at very reasonable prices so Panda!!!! sort of went crazy, buying all sorts of fun Indian goods. I'm not quite sure how I'll get everything in my baggage!

This is like children’s theater for 40-year-old gay people!

I just saw the musical Xanadu on Broadway and I'm one delighted panda. It was such a fun, energetic, campy show - much better than the movie. The stage version is self-referential, doesn't take itself too seriously, sports two eye-candy leads, features dozens of disco balls and roller skates, pares the plot to its most crucial elements and turns up the homo factor. It was great!

What do you do with a B.A. in English?

It's like "Sesame Street" meets "Rent"!

VALedictorian, Leedle Zeester and I went to see "Avenue Q" tonight. None of us really knew what the show was about, except that it had puppets. Well, these puppets sang, swore, fornicated and pondered the meaning of life!

Watching puppets have very explicit sex and use vulgar language was very surreal, but it made for a pretty fantastic show. It was just what I needed for this mellow Friday evening.

It was very nice seeing Leedle Zeester, who was in town visiting whilst on break from pursuing her advanced studies in "The Real World" and "90210." I was glad to see that she's enjoying her program and is considering extending her studies and becoming a Dr. of the T.V.

And I'm glad that VALedictorian and I have our little theater dates throughout the year. It's sad that we don't catch up more often, but we're busy worker bees so I feel lucky to have any time with her at all!

Tonight's ingredient is...

Tonight, The Corporation U.N. will be holding its annual "challenge," aimed to "teambuild" and foster camaraderie. This year, we've planned an "Iron Chef" challenge, where teams will prepare hors d'oeuvres for everyone to share.

As one of the organizers, I was eager to dress up as the Chairman Kaga character, complete with shiny, sparkly cape, yellow bell pepper and menacing grimace. Well, it seems the boss-man wants to claim that role so Panda!!!! is relegated to a less "flamboyant" role tonight. I guess I'll have to be the sartorial dud Shinichiro Ota. Sad.

Bawdy art

Tonight, while shopping at the local grocery store for dinner ingredients, I spotted something a bit alarming. As a diligent worker bee for The Corporation, I'm all for brand loyalty, but this fellow I saw took the concept a bit too far. You see, Internets, he was wearing a Puma brand track jacket, a Puma cap and Puma sneakers. On top of all that, he had ... a Puma logo tattoo on his neck! Ick!

A few minutes later, my pals spotted a boy with his name tattooed over his eyebrow. I guess it was in case he forgot it someday...

Lez fantasia

While I'm waiting for Kitten to lick himself clean, I thought I'd reminisce a bit...

One night not too long ago, Roommates A and J, Lucy Ricardo and I were talking about Margaret Cho's brilliant song, "My Puss"Beetle, recently returned from an eye-opening trip to Thailand, was regaling us with a tale of a woman he encountered with very talented genitalia. It seems she could forcibly eject a banana from ... down there!

So, as an ode to Beetle's story and to the Margaret Cho song, we made up the following lyric:

"Your puss: shoot banana
My puss: Princess Diana"