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In Flight: April 2006

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Notes from a Barbed Wire World. Thursday, April 27, 2006. Militaries make bad apples. Militaries (and I don't care whether you're talking about the N.Z. military, the U.S. military or the Indian military because they have all committed war crimes) take those recruits and persuade them that because they have put on a uniform, deeds that were murder last week are virtuous and noble this week, so long as someone else says so. He goes on to argue that observe that training tactics that drill recruits into ac...

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In Flight: June 2006

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Notes from a Barbed Wire World. Monday, June 26, 2006. Like military intelligence, it is an oxymoron, though not devoid of (unintended? Isn't it a wonderfully macho phrase? Staunch. Robust. Muscular. Just look at those rippling core warrior values. Cor. The word choice will have been deliberate. Somebody thought about it, probably more than one somebody. A public relations officer somewhere mulled it over, showed it round the office. Asked their manager, "Hey. What do you think? Warrior. Not Soldier.

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In Flight: September 2006

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Notes from a Barbed Wire World. Monday, September 11, 2006. Alabanza. Praise the cook with a shaven head and a tattoo on his shoulder that said Oye, a blue-eyed Puerto Rican with people from Fajardo, the harbor of pirates centuries ago. Praise the lighthouse in Fajardo, candle glimmering white to worship the dark saint of the sea. Alabanza. Praise the kitchen radio, dial clicked even before the dial on the oven, so that music and Spanish rose before bread. Praise the bread. Alabanza. Praise the dish-...

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In Flight: May 2006

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Notes from a Barbed Wire World. Wednesday, May 31, 2006. For they surely cannot be called anomalies. Atrocities. Yes. We can most certainly call them that. This little tale is probably not exceptional many similar such may still lie like kittens in a creek, strangled and drowned at birth. Let’s pause for the high-kicking, all-singing, all-dancing chorus number now . . . It wasn’t their fault,. They weren’t to blame. They were all so young. It’s a crying shame! It was just a job,. They had bills to pay.

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In Flight: August 2006

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Notes from a Barbed Wire World. Thursday, August 31, 2006. We're here today, you die tomorrow. A little token for remembrance. The targets are the children, of course. The initial blasts may be for whoever is in the vicinity of the dropped bombs, but the little unexploded, sometimes brightly colored. Bomblets, that mimic food. Or are dropped 72 hours before a planned cease-fire? Those are for the children, so that they can keep dying or being maimed long after a war is over. Remember that you can't do an...

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In Flight: March 2006

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Notes from a Barbed Wire World. Saturday, March 18, 2006. On the Republic of Silence. I must begin with an apology: in this country I do not have a copy of The Republic of Silence to hand. Therefore I write from memory and since for me the reading of a text is inextricably bound up with who and where I was at the time of reading - there may be less of Sartre here and more of my recollection and interpretation of Sartre than is desirable. Nevertheless. What does he mean? Language mattered. Not for con...

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In Flight: March 2007

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Notes from a Barbed Wire World. Friday, March 09, 2007. Choking on the ashes of our enemies" is a phrase I've had in my head for a while, perhaps because I do bear grudges. There was a Yoko Ono piece - it was part of a book of performance pieces that I read a long time ago: a little book of instructions though not of the saccharine type. And I guess I've been thinking about that whole macrocosm/microcosm thing. Posted by dove at 10:58 pm. Thread Starters and Thread Pullers. Everybody Comes From Somewhere.

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In Flight: October 2006

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Notes from a Barbed Wire World. Tuesday, October 31, 2006. Tonight will be a dangerously in-between time. The leaves are still green on the trees but the evenings are cold and it is dark by five. Tonight will be a night for making sure no lights are visible to the street and leaving knocks at the door unanswered. Tonight the cat will stay inside no matter what. There are the dead and then there are the living, but how can they be told apart? I mean look at me. Am I the woman I once was? It’s all so shame...

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In Flight: February 2007

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Notes from a Barbed Wire World. Monday, February 05, 2007. How to break a silence. How to break a silence? Shatter it like glass? Crunch it underfoot like a snail trodden on by mistake? Pretend it didn’t exist, like a cat sidling back after a week (months? Spent tomming about the neighbourhood? The last is tempting, but doesn’t seem quite right. So. Sometimes things acquire their own momentum. I didn’t mean to be away this long. Outwaiting her requires three things: memory, indifference and distraction.