February 1, 2005

• It's my pleasure to tell you of a new xanga blogger - sowhynot.  He's my friend, the one who was with me when I encountered the 27 year old woman and whom I shall remember forever because of the wonderful quote he offered me about arrows in the ass of a pioneer (a recent blog, but I don't remember the date offhand).  He's witty, imaginative, smart as all get out, a true nerd (remember, to pearlbamboo, herself a nerd, this is a high compliment), with a gentle and compassionate spirit.  Enjoy. 

  Here are pictures 2  months old of my fraternal twin grandchildren, Willow and Gunnar, born on August 11 to my elder son and his wife.  I'm not completely comfortable with the idea of children's pictures on the internet so will have these up only for a couple of days.  The little girl looks suspiciously like I did in my baby pictures, the little boy like his mother's family.  It's truly fascinating to see my son, he of the long green mohawk and many holes in his ears, who was raised without a father, who's father never figured out much about being a father, take to fatherhood like the proverbial duck to water.  

  Iride, I'm thinking of you here.   In this photograph they are only a few days old. 

  Those of you who've been reading for a while may remember Joe of  the corner store.  He appears in the posts from May  4, 5, 9 and 17; June 5 and 25;  July 2;  August 16 and October 9, 2003.  (There is at least one more, but I haven't yet had the time to dig it out.) 

  He's all properly certified learning disabled now and I'm going to make some phone calls tomorrow to help finalize arrangements for him to start his GED, something he never in the world believed he could ever do.  The vocational program I got him into last year dispatched him to various physicians, only to find that his blood pressure was so high that he was almost hospitalized on the spot.  That's under control.  He was also found to have diabetes (he's 37...).  Unfortunately, his doctor told him last week that he already has nerve damage in his feet and legs from what was probably a long history of undetected and untreated diabetes.   That balances out a little by the fact that he's in the first job of his life that pays him more than minimum wage and has saved enough to finally get himself a studio apartment of his own. 

  It takes a lot of courage to do what he's doing for himself, the 9th grade dropout with a learning disabilty so severe that he reads approximately 3rd grade level and that laboriously.  All those nights we spent talking at the store...  his hunger for knowledge was clear when he dared to let me see it.  I am very happy indeed that he is determined to get for himself that which the fates and the system tried mightily to deny him. 

  In another development, Acie Cargill is interested in transforming some of the material from that series of posts about the nights I spent talking tot Joe while he worked at the corner store - which I call variously, depending on my mood, "Eine Kline Nachtmusik,"  "The Love Songs of Pearl and Joe" or "Chicago Nights"-  into a cd's worth of songs.  I don't know if we can pull this off or not but I must admit that the idea intrigues me very much.  I like his musicianship, his sensibility, his willingness to deal with hard subjects  Given all that he might just be able to make it work, and do it well.  I know I've posted this URL before, but if you don't know this man's music, you can find mp3 clips of it here.  www.aciecargill.com.  He's truly a musicians' musician.

  Someone else who read two of the "Chicago Nights" series wants me to edit them to be read aloud and then programmed in some way or another, he had several ideas which I've not explored yet, on Chicago's public radio station.  That also catches my fancy.  There is at least one more piece from that series I can write, still stored up in my head. 

  "Chicago Nights," like everything I write, is not fiction, but an account of my experience.  I couldn't have written it without Joe, without the chemistry we shared.  I go to that store almost every night since he left.  There is no chemistry there now, nothing to write about any more, at least not there.  I'm going to buy Joe a little cassette tape recorder in a couple of weeks and, since he can't read what he was the inspiration for, I'm going to make him a tape.   I'm sorry that we didn't find the damage in his legs and feet earlier, but I did the best I could and now at least he does dare to dream....  

  I've lots more to write about my "other world."  It's not all what you see in the newspapers and TV, not all about crazed Muslim terrorists.   Yes, there are those, but one really shouldn't stop there.  I may never make it back, so in writing for you all, I'm taking myself on a visit as well.  

  I'm feeling the need, the want to write, after a long empty spell - there's Mughul architecture, the fabled Moghul gardens - Shalimar, who doesn't know the name of that perfume, named for the Moghul garden in the Vale of Kashmir - I've been there.  Then Moghul miniature painting, and that of the Punjab hill schools, which stops my heart sometimes with its beauty.  Calligraphy and how it's used to ornament buildings, since Islam forbids representational art.   About the hereditary religious leaders of shrines in Multan, the time I spent with them, taking notes, asking 10,000 questions, their giving 10, 001 patient answers.  

  Then there's the piece I've long wanted to do on how western designers during the 70s drew on Kashmiri motifs for inspiration.  I've just enough stashed now in pictures to show the relationship, I think...   

  Maybe for a couple of days I'll tack up the pictures of my old lovers here, then make them disappear before a webspider comes crawling and captures them for a search engine. lol

  Meanwhile, here's some eye candy.  I found these photographs of this kamiz, or long over-shirt, hiding on an old memory card.  It was given to me by my friend who plotted such perfect revenge against the head of USAID. 

  It was from her dowry.  She gave it to me with apologies, as she had worn it and didn't know whether or not it was an insult in my eyes to give me something previously worn (now, I specialize in selling previously worn clothes on ebay...hummm).  It's made in the baluch style, with the long pocket in the front on the skirt, and was embroidered by women who are tenants on her family's lands. 

  I think it's truly wonderful, and for those of you who were around in dear old hippie days, it may call up images from then, for the style was freely adopted during that time.  

   

   

   

   

  The photograph, I see, really needs to be redone.  It was taken almost three years ago when I was just getting acquainted with digital cameras and photoshop.  This closeup shows the detail and colors relatively well. 

  The little shiny things are pieces of mirror, very characteristic of embroidery done from Rajasthan west of Delhi, through the area north of bombay and on into Sindh where Karachi is located and then north and west into baluchistan where my friend is from. 

  Originally the little mirrors were meant to deflect evil spirits away from the wearer.   They are marvelously ornamental, and some day when I have a chance to do photographs, I'll show you the group of clothes I designed  using them in embroidery patterns derived from the borders of Mughul miniature paintings and other traditional sources.   Yes, I will do that. 

  Meanwhile, here's one of those pieces I designed and had made for myself.   You can see immediately why I need to do new pictures.  LOL.   Now that I have a mannequin, it should easier.  Of course, all that experience with the cameras won't hurt either.  

  The closeup is better, a little.  

  The women who did this embroidery worked in a protected workshop and could take pieces home to do so that they weren't vulnerable to complaints from men in the family.  The workwomanship is exquisite and their execution of the shadings I wanted was always perfect.  It was a challenge to use the handloomed fabric and the block print designs in western style clothing.  

   I loved the challenge and was always thinking and planning out what my next effort would be.

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  pearlbamboo

    ©2005

  • 11:17 pm
  • 4 Comments