I find this too frustrating not to point out…so I’m posting a letter to the editor from the Director of Mizna (whose site I am the web master of), regarding this week’s City Pages cover story:

To the editor,
I find it quite ironic and telling that you would print this extended cover story of “scary Arabs” in Minnesota, yet continue to ignore the story of the local Arab community which is rich and full of artists, scholars, and hard working people of all walks of life. Your story coming out on July 4th weekend furthers the insult in creating an “us” vs. “them”. In fact, our local community organization Mizna is a forerunner in the country in Arab American artistic and literary expression. Yet, Mizna has been battling with the City Pages for two years now to get you to cover or even list our events accurately or timely. In addition to producing the only journal of Arab American literature in the country, in the past few months alone we have presented several ground breaking well attended events which you have ignored or mislisted. On March 13 we hosted international oud virtuouso Simon Shaheen (whom you mislisted), on March 27 we brought in Def Poetry Jam superstar Suheir Hammad (this event you did not print at all), and from June 3 - 13 we produced the play With Love from Ramallah and you did not mention it in your paper until the second week of the run. In each instance, we were either not listed, mislisted or given barely a write up. Yet, your story of the scary Arabs in Rochester gets an indepth cover story with stereotypical observations of Arabs, interviews with people who do not understand the culture, a limited and stereotypical look at the topic, and no interviews with local Arabs whatsoever.  How are you different from Fox News??

Kathryn Haddad
Executive Director
Mizna

Couldn’t have said it better myself. Sigh.

Not surprising…but incredibly sad.

“If America hadn’t gone totally junk culture, totally commercial, bookstores like Ruminator wouldn’t have any trouble at all,” Bly added. “David would have done just fine at the tail end of the 19th century. You can’t sell Shakespeare to someone who comes in looking for a discount paperback copy of ‘Reagan’s OK, You’re OK.’ “

I’ll admit…I’ve been a part of the problem more than the solution, what with borrowing books from friends or libraries, buying them at Half Price Books, or, ack, getting lured in by the ridiculous discounts offered by online retailers. But Ruminator (née Hungry Mind) was a local landmark that will surely be missed.

Thanks so much to all the well wishers, online and otherwise. This has been one of the better and busier birthday weeks in recent memory. But 31? Can’t say much about that odd number…other than it’s prime (just like me, yeah).

Years before the husband was the object of my affection he was my co-worker, as was our mutual good friend Dave. Frequently the three of us would go out to lunch together, sometimes to a St. Paul favorite…the now closed kosher restaurant, Old City Cafe (apparently unrelated to the brand now sold in stores). One of our favorite items…vegan pizza with falafel topping. I’d nearly forgotten about this, but as we were heading to Dave’s last night, with the intent to make pizza, the husband suggested we throw on some falafel. Mmmmmmm, tasty. It was just like old times. Except that we are no longer co-workers. And the then single Dave is now married to the lovely Huey-Ling. And I’m mom to the little man…and married…to the husband. But other than that, just like old times.

Some randomness for this Wednesday morning…
Unlike Paul Ford, I am not embarrassed by my geekery (in fact, I was thrilled that he used one of my favorite books as an example). At an early age I decided to embrace my inner dork, to flaunt it even. I thought it better to court the inevitable ostracization than to wait in fear of it.
For those of us who missed David Byrne’s performance last Friday, we have a small consolation prize. Tonight True Stories is playing at Stevens Square Park.
Tomorrow night, looking forward to seeing The Magnetic Fields, at long last.
Friday, my father and I will have another shared birthday. When I was a kid he would always take the day off from work so we could celebrate together. When I entered the working world, I made sure to do the same. But these days life is complicated by too many contingencies and Friday will find us both working. At least I’m going to bring him some donuts first thing in the morning (shh, don’t tell).
Some tentative plans for this weekend. A girls’ night/day out at some point. And though I have mixed feelings about this light rail business (not light rail itself, but the route), I’m going to take the little man for a free ride. He should get a kick out of that.

Just a quick shoutout to the little man’s fairy godless-mother.

Happy Birthday! The week of our celebrations has commenced, and knows nearly no end. Photo recaps to come.

We took a brief break from the city this weekend and went up north. As it turns out, not only did I marry a lovely man, the deal was sweetened by the unexpected bonus…of extremely pleasant in-laws, who happen to have a great getaway spot. We all headed up Friday afternoon and came back down late Saturday night. Time was spent relaxing, snacking, goofing off at the rec center (the husband may be a pinball wizard, but I would have whooped his butt with the foosball…if the table hadn’t been out of commission), riding rented paddleboats down a man-made river, reading, playing trivial pursuit, and bbq-ing. And it was time well spent (click here to see the pictures to prove it).

Speaking of time…I can’t believe this much of it has passed, but it was five years ago today, with the little man kicking away in my belly and standing on my bladder, that I became landed gentry. I closed on my house June 20th, 1999. In some ways it seems like yesterday, in other ways a lifetime ago. I guess it really was the latter…the little man’s.

Instead of doing something productive last night I frittered the evening away a: lost in a good book that I’d had on hold at the library (not really a waste of time in my opinion); b: being drawn into the Plain Layne mystery (debatable); and c: playing around with this portrait illustration/icon making tool (via ljc fyi). Could have spent more time tweaking the nose, but at least the little man thinks it looks like me. That sort of testimonial probably isn’t much better than “my mom thinks I’m cool” but he did point to it and announce “it’s mommy” with no prodding/coaching whatsoever. Honest. Then again, when I was reading Bruce Campbell’s excellent autobiography, If Chins Could Kill, he kept pointing to the picture on the cover, thinking it was the husband. I wish. I mean, er. Never mind.

Oh how I heart NYC. I realized that today marks exactly one year since I returned from my last visit there (reviewing my account of that trip has a. got me all wistful; b. caused me to correct a few typos; and c. made me realize I didn’t take nearly enough photos). Unfortunately I don’t know when I’ll have the chance to go back. But there are always many compelling reasons to do so. Like all the awesome veg-friendly restaurants. Or Sunday afternoons lazing about in Central Park. And interesting events, like the benefit show, held earlier this month, for the Brooklyn Superhero Supply Company featuring They Might Be Giants and hosted by Sarah Vowell. Or another upcoming event there, with music by David Byrne and readings by Robert Coover, Susan Choi, Dave Eggers, Elissa Schappell, Rick Moody and host Jonathan Ames. Or 50s-style bingo at the 6th & B Community Gardens. Or the Siren Music Festival at Coney Island. That’s not to say the Minneapolis/St. Paul area is without merit. There is much of interest going on here as well, albeit on a smaller scale. Tonight sees the continuation of the Stevens Square Park summer music and movies series with Beat Street (Beat Street Breakdown— RUAHHH!!!), and there’s more where that came from (I’m especially looking forward to seeing The Owls in Loring Park). Also, hoping to take the little man to his first Drive-In sometime soon, while we still have a few of those around. And next month They Might Be Giants will be performing here, for free, at the kid-friendly Day of Music at Orchestra Hall. I’ve already registered for this year’s Mama Gathering, the first time it will be held in my own backyard (unfortunately it’s the same weekend as Duluth’s Green Man Festival). So I’ve got plenty of ways to keep busy in my hometown…but that won’t necessarily keep my wanderlust in check.

I did not, by any stretch of the imagination, inherit my Father’s artistic ability. I’ve been told I have a good eye when it comes to taking photos, but I can’t draw to save my life. My Dad, however, can paint a portrait that looks like a photograph…while I have to stick with stick people. So it seems especially foolish that, out of all the assignments at Learning to Love You More, I have accepted #32: Draw a scene from a movie that made you cry. Wish me luck.