"Mad" Miles Blog

["Mad" Miles]

Oye Waccoons,

Barry split the following off from a post I wrote commenting on the changes in functions here on the revived site. He's been encouraging me to put my off topic, personal remarks, in a blog here, and I hadn't initiated it. So, he did it for me. A fait accompli. So, now I have a blog on waccobb.net. We'll see how that goes...

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WARNING: The following six paragraphs, mostly short, are about recent social events on waccobb.net. If you're tired of my mishigas, read no further! But as I wrote to Barry several days ago, I am category(ically) impaired.

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If I've run off Gonzo, that was not my goal. I've reviewed the thread he started, as I did in the course of participating there. Perhaps I was too forceful in asserting that a wholesale abandonment of our industrialized food system, is not feasible and that the proposed alternatives, on the thread and in the public discussion in general, do not seem to me, to be viable replacements.

I know that's not a popular view in the alternative food culture. But it's what my understanding of how things work nowadays leads me to.

If I've been the bristling boar threatening newly arrived rivals, which I hope isn't the case, I apologize to all waccoons. In my defense, I don't like being called arrogant, or possessive, or long-winded.

We live in an instant gratification culture. I've noticed the emphasis, especially on facebook, where the standard is for short, pithy, ambiguous, ironic expression. In spite of my self image as a cutting edge, radical bohemian, I suppose I'm old fashioned in this matter.

I resist the dumbing down, the abbreviation, the reduction of thought to a few short phrases, in our culture. I like discursive, contemplative and meandering prose. As long as it's clear to the average reader, and gets back to the point after tangential explorations.

I suppose I'm swimming against the tide, and a lot of people aren't going to like it. Oh well, opinions differ. If I was editing for remunerated, mass publication, I'd spend more time paring down my prose. But in this medium two to five editing rereads are all I'm going to do.

Now, to waste lots more time on Facebook! Thankfully, the heat has broken and my favorite weather has returned. Another area in which I'm a contraire.

Thanks for reading ev'body. And thanks for ignoring my rambling, if it's not your cup of tea.

(Course, whoever has read this far, probably doesn't fit the audience I intend the previous sentence for!)

["Mad" Miles]

A couple of weeks ago I wrote this letter to the editors of the North Bay Bohemian, in response to their article about the Prison Education Project. My letter was/is long, they haven't gotten back to me, so I'm publishing it here.

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8/23/10

Dear Editor(s),

I have just finished reading Ms Schuessler's, article "Prison Break" about the Prison University Project at San Quentin State Prison. PUP is an extraordinary program that deserves much credit and all the support it can get. But as a teacher who worked for the California Department of Corrections & Rehabilitation, at San Quentin from March of 2007 to the end of last February, I'd like to mention some facts that are not evident in the article.

PUP is a non-profit, volunteer post-secondary education program. In February of last year 50% to 75% of correctional educators in the entire state prison system were laidoff or took clerical jobs with the state at significant pay cuts. 40% on average. They no longer teach in prison, even if quite a few of them work there shuffling paper.

The remaining teachers have been retasked to work in "streamlined" and "efficient" programs which increased their student load significantly, 30+ students before, 130+ now. The incredible amount of paperwork required in corrections means that teachers will spend even more time updating their students education files. Instructional work is supposed to be supplemented by inmate teaching assistants and volunteers.

Half the inmate population at San Quentin, about 2.500 men, is in the Reception Center. That's where you go when you're newly in, or back in. Many of those men cycle through in a few months and are back on the street. (Parole violators, youths sent for 90 day observation, i.e. scared straight, if you don't act out.) The rest, after being "classified" (i.e. determining what security level to keep you in) go to mainline (regular) prison at one of the 33 institutions around the state. A few even transfer to the mainline yard at The Q. Many mainline inmates are serving relatively short terms, between one to five years.

San Quentin is known as "Disneyland" and "The Program Prison." That's because its location allows many well-meaning volunteers to show up in the evenings and weekends to teach, counsel and otherwise lead various education, self-help, drug rehab and religious classes and groups. Most of the other CA state prisons are in rural areas where the pool of available volunteers is extremely limited, and the wealth of good will found in the Bay Area, is, in comparison, pretty much nil.

The men in West Block, one of four Reception Center cell blocks (the department prefers the term "housing unit") no longer receive any educational services. Other than a grade level reading test called CASAS. The average reading level among state prisoners is at the 6th grade. So, half of SQSP's inmates don't get near PUP or similar programs.

If they do get "endorsed" (assigned) to the mainline yard at Quentin, the chances of them making it up to the top of the waiting list for college classes with PUP are... Do the math, about 2,500 mainline prisoners, account for those with GED's, approximately 60%, 150 places in the college classes.

Correctional Education and Rehabilitation programs were gutted last winter. Those programs are not going to be replaced for the foreseeable future. PUP and the other non-profit programs at The Q are great. But don't kid yourself. There is very little education opportunity in prison. Other than the informal kind from your cellee and your car. Education was sorely limited before the cuts, and a lot of lip service was paid to good values that covered up the reality of program flaws.

Now, there's at least 50% less with a corporate efficiency model that every educator that spoke to the Assembly committee meetings last Fall and Winter said, will never work. Half of us are still there, the ones with seniority to avoid the cuts. And they're doing their very best for their students.

Mad props to PUP, they do great work. I'm on their mailing list and when I was earning a comfortable income, I donated money to them. But even the directors and volunteer instructors, would have to admit. They're a drop in the bucket.

Prison is a weird place, creepy and depressing. But the resiliency and optimism of most of the inmates I got to know a little, is inspiring and sometimes even miraculous. They deserve better, and we deserve to have them ready to succeed on the outside, if only for selfish reasons. As it was, and especially is now, the ones most likely to get out, are the vast majority of the ones least likely to have access to education while serving their time. That's the reality. And if we know what's good for our society, we'll change it.


R. Miles Mendenhall
Ex-Correctional Educator, Unemployed Teacher

Robert E. Burton Adult School (aka The Education Department)
Bridging Education Program
Maintenance Vocational Building &
5th Tier West Block*
SQSP/CDCR
3/17/07-2/25/10

* The "Penthouse Suite"! Only rooms with a view, outside the walls, in Reception. My students were soooo lucky.

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So, that's the letter. Now it's seen the light of day.

Ironically, on Saturday I received a notice from the Personnel department at the Q telling me I could apply for a teaching job but that I was 1/161, meaning there are 160 people ahead of me in the line eligible for that one job. So the "reemployment eligibility" I've been granted is, well, a bureaucratic fiction. Don't you just love bureaucracies? I know I do!


P.S. Regarding the issues in Post #1 of this "blog", can you say troll sockpuppets? That's all I feel comfortable writing here...

[kpage9]

"In my defense, I don't like being called arrogant, or possessive, or long-winded."'

interesting defense. got some holes in it.

kp

["Mad" Miles]

"In my defense, I don't like being called arrogant, or possessive, or long-winded."'

interesting defense. got some holes in it.

kp

Kathy,

That statement was made in the context of explaining the tenor of my reply to Gonzo. The matter is moot, in that Gonzo turned out to be a fake persona made up by a troll.

You're quoting of it/me, and then obliquely disparaging it, without acknowledging the context in which I was speaking, it also a bit irritating. Just what were you trying to say? Were you trying to be funny? Snarky? Both?

What's your point?

[kpage9]

I wasn't trying to be funny....the statement jumped out at me as I was scanning back thru the thread, and IT struck me as a little bit funny. You are usually so precise and careful with your words--this one was a real exception. Gratuitous of me.

Kathy,

That statement was made in the context of explaining the tenor of my reply to Gonzo. The matter is moot, in that Gonzo turned out to be a fake persona made up by a troll.

You're quoting of it/me, and then obliquely disparaging it, without acknowledging the context in which I was speaking, it also a bit irritating. Just what were you trying to say? Were you trying to be funny? Snarky? Both?

What's your point?

["Mad" Miles]

The Great Handcar Regatta of 2010


Or What I Think Of Steam Punk Culture


A Completely Unsolicited Opinion, With One Notable Exception


OK, first off. I’m no one to judge. (Skip this and the next six paragraphs if you have no interest in my credentials as an “Art Critic”. Especially if you’re not interested in my biography with regard to Art.) I’m not an artist, I’m a Left political activist and unemployed teacher. And I write a good bit on the internet. Mostly on waccobb.net about politics, restaurants, movies, ideas and life stuff in general. I’ve hung out in the Arts scene off and on for most of my adult life. I like artists. I love live music. I’m a solo club / festival freaky deaky dancer. Some guy at Earle Fest on Saturday, complimented me with just, “You’re a dancer. That’s good.” And told about some guys U-Tubes but I didn’t write down the name and my detail/fact memory sucks.

I was intrigued in 2008 when the first Handcar Regatta was organized. I’d never been to Burning Man, due to the heat, dust, distance, my distaste for Electronic Dance Music and long-term self-selected poverty. I did attend an intimate art event structure burn on the Newport Peninsula back in ’79 or ’80 in the OC. Some of my favorite parties at UCI were the Studio Art openings.

My great-grandmother aunt and uncle-in-law were/are accomplished artists. My aunt is retired from an academic career in fine ceramics at a Chafee College in Southern Cali. My brother and father are excellent artists who did not take that career path. My niece is matriculating at the School of The Art Institute. Phil Lieder’s Art History lecture survey classes were fave’s of mine as an undergrad.

I was involved with a photographer artist in the late 80’s for a minute. I wrote a theory buzz word laden introduction to her show at Tony Fitzpatrick’s gallery in the South Loop. The one before his walkup gallery of the last two decades. I regularly attended Milly’s Orchid Shows in Chicago in the early to mid-nineties. One of my alternate reality fantasy careers is Graphic Designer, or Film Director. Choices, choices.

Haven’t been hanging in the Santa Rosa art scene, cause I’ve been busy and preoccupied. Been meaning to, we always think there’s more time… I did make an A Street art walk back in ’07 and wrote about it.

Last year I skipped the Regatta cause it was unbearably hot. Based on reports, I’m glad I did, with only a slight amount of residual regret for a few days after.

This year, I went to the Progressive Festival in Petaluma for a couple of hours and checked in with my peeps, who I hadn’t seen there for the last two years, due to work fatigue from correctional educating and getting up at 3:55 a.m. For the last six months I’ve been a man of leisure and comfort, without the wealth. Went with a buddy who I also hadn’t seen but once in some four or five years. Shared difficult but important information about the campaign to economically isolate Israel for its crimes against the Palestinian Arab, Druze and Bedouin peoples. Then we headed up to Santa Rosa for the Handcar Races.

(I almost deleted the above before publishing. It’s all about me. Who cares?! But I wrote it to establish my bona fides. Think of it as my Art and Social Criticism CV, although it is only tip of the iceberg. My mention of the circumstances serves to show my mental state upon arrival.)

Got there around 5:00. Tons of folk on a very warm day. Having fun. Schmoozing, drinking cold refreshments both alcoholic and not. Mostly young, but not all. Black and variations on black being the dominant fashion color scheme (nothing really changes!). The general motif is SciFi fantasy, meets late 1800’s to early 1900’s. Jules Verne meets Mad Max. Red also was favored and red and black was a popular combo. Hey, I’m a leftist, made me feel at home. Those with the sense evolution gave a chicken, wore a lot of white, or carried parasols. Don’t get me started about the usefulness of a black parasol in the sun!?

I understand the concept of the fantasy role play; in a slightly alternative universe, technology continued with steam, and the Victorian era got freaky, the Wild West frontier never closed and make it up as you go along, just be cool, interesting, creative, stylin’ and weird.

Circus, Carnival motifs abound. The standard male costume seems to be inspired by side-show muscle men graphics. The female, some version of London during the Industrial Revolution and Deadwood whore gear during the Black Hills gold rush.

Hey, in 1981, my mother asked me why my new girlfriend dressed like a prostitute. Torn fishnets, thrift store stiletto heal black patent leather shoes, tight black cocktail dresses, lots of makeup with an emphasis on red and black. Spikey multi-colored bedhead hair. I was insulted on Zan’s behalf. But I couldn’t argue with my mom, she had a point. Times change, then they don’t.

I like spectacle, play, whimsy, fantasy, life affirming jouisance. Here’s the rub. Just like the Ska, Mod, Rockabilly revivals of the late seventies among hip youth. Just like Punk in its various transmogrifications, just like Metal, Prog Rock, Country, whatever, There’s a uniform.

Uniforms creep me out. Grew up an Army Brat, Boy Scout. Slacked through high school marching band to get out of P.E. Just spent three years teaching at San Quentin, plenty of uniforms there, on everybody but the “Free Staff” like I was.

In 1980 one of my lunch buddies at the Census processing center in Laguna Niguel asked, about the punk fashion I and a couple of other work buddies were sporting, “Why do you dress to call attention to yourself?” He wore the standard SoCA uniform work casual of the day, and was on leave from the Army. I swear he was a spook! (Intelligence agent, not the racist insult.)

It made me think. As someone who wants to organize as many people to take action to do what we can agree needs to be done to fight the power, etc. it’s important that I can relate to every day people. And in college I’d worn my own self-selected uniform. Your post-sixties styling hippy garb. I had a favorite which was Sears patch pocket slightly bell bottom blue jeans, white or khaki surplus army dress or uniform shirts, the white ones with French cuffs, sometimes no collar (for a button on formal collar) and sometimes pleated fronts for formal dress, unironed of course (from the El Toro Marine Air Station “Nearly New” shop) , chucka boots or Indian buffalo hide sandals, a black suit vest with an enamel red star pinned over my left breast. Long hair, beard. Wore that almost everyday. It was a uniform. Eventually I got bored with it and I also realized how I was setting myself up for typecasting and stereotyping. That’s not cool.

So seeing people gathered to celebrate sculptural kinetic art, while sporting a wide variety of takes on what essentially is a retro fantasy uniform, was entertaining, but also a bit unsettling.

Yet, celebrating hand made objects, mechanical skills of metal work, leather work and costume design, creating a made up reality for pleasure and whimsical fun. Nothing to complain about there. As far as that goes…

There was a debate/argument about this year’s theme, on facebook that I only saw the tale end of in the last few days. A local activist and musician who I have a great deal of admiration for raised the issue of the racial overtones, connotations of this year’s theme. The organizing character has returned from India. Colonial India, The Raj.

Any idea that that period was all beer and skittles, something to celebrate and emulate, in this or any alternative universe, raises some questions about White Privilege culture, politics and history. The artist organizers of the regatta, met this critique in the final days of preparations, too late to change themes. And they were wiped out from fifteen hour days working as volunteers, who were also spending their own money on the machines, objects and organizing of this Art Festival. So, things got tense, quickly. The resolution, such as it is up to this point, has been calmer and an invitation to sit down and civilly discuss these issues has been issued.

I was amused by my friends pondering of how to construct a steam powered guillotine and asking if coming as a Thuggee/Tuggee would be in keeping with the spirit of the alternative British colonial universe conjured up by the producers. Even without the colonial “white man’s burden” connotations, the period being whimsically celebrated here was not fun times. Serious exploitation of labor, women, everybody. Don’t believe the hype.

Still, in the face of looming post-industrial economic and environmental collapse, a culture that retains the skills of hand work manufacture and basic technologies which only require fire and machined metal, probably isn’t a bad thing to keep alive. And if it’s done with style and élan? All the better, for the worse…

Look, I’m not trying to be a buzzkill here. Just reporting thoughts and observations. It looked like a great party. I got there after the races, as it was winding down. Saw the video of the rowing, wire pully speedster. Now that’s a handcar. There may have to be classes within the handcar class to account for different applications of physics. But I’m sure that’s already been considered, if it isn’t already part of the adjudication.

So maybe every skeptical thing I’ve said here was simply a result of my perspective being shaped by heat, a busy social and cultural weekend (as well as Earle Fest I went to Celtic Fest Friday evening, with a companion.) and my own leeriness about playing adult dress up. I play adult dress up every day, even when I don’t go out. Perhaps there’s something I just don’t get?

Plus I didn’t get to hear much of the free music, except for Hub Bub Club starting their final parade. They’re great, but my three years in marching band, suffering under the martinet Ralph Kindeigh, came drifting back. Just a little bit…

I ran into a number of people whom I haven’t seen at all during my last three or so years of work and self imposed social hibernation. Maybe it was just too much, too soon.

I keed, I keed. An extraordinary spectacle and celebration of creativity.

I’m not a heartless crank who thinks art should subsumed to the service of politics. But in perilous and deranged times like these, I fear that playing by pretending to be somewhere completely outside of our current space time “reality” is more escapist than prudent.

Still people have been doing that my entire adult life (and long before, and long after, no doubt) and I try not to be a humorless drone incapable of celebratory pleasure. What were we celebrating in Rail Road Square on Sunday? (For my answer, see my concluding paragraph.)

Oh yeah, the exception from my sub-subtitle. Near the end of the day Riggy Rackin asked me what I was going to write about it and said he looked forward to reading my opinion. You’re probably sorry you asked Riggy! I might not have written anything if you hadn’t.

Much credit and gratitude to the producers and volunteers who made this years’ and the previous two Great Handcar Regattas possible. Obviously a great deal of intelligence, craft, skill, design, creativity, hard work and Love goes into it. In a world of fear, isolation, manufactured pap entertainment and consent, it’s a rare thing to see. As a celebration of whimsical fantasy, kinetic sculpture and community creativity it’s a pretty amazing event. Thank you for your work.


P.S. Many of the general things expressed here could also be applied to other festivals in our region, and around the world. And I love festivals! I just love stopping powerful social forces bent on our exploitation and destruction even more. Or at least symbolic events that remind us and them about what is going on. With music, dancing, costumes, handcars, curious objects and strange behaviors! I did call the 2002 Bohemian Grove protest the “Fat Cats Festival & Parade”, when I, with the help of many others, organized it.

I’ve already commented on waccobb about my frustration with conflicting events. I really do mean it when I say the Handcar Regatta, Progressive Festival, Sol Fest, Earle Fest and Celtic Festival should, if they’re going to take place the same weekend, happen in the same general geographic area. Within walking distance of each other, with different “lands” and stages. Yeah, I know, conflicting egos, different people making money, both profit and non, perceptions and paranoia. Coordinating separate organizations. Herding cats. It’ll never happen. But it should!

A fallback plan would be for these producers/organizers to consult with each other, divvy up the calendar, and avoid these scheduling conflicts. But even that common sense suggestion is probably but a dream.

I can dream can’t I? That hasn’t been banned by any new security laws has it? From appearances at the Handcar Regatta, I suppose it hasn’t. That might be the relevant political message I seem to need, before I can relax and have fun. "Dreaming is still possible." Maybe now, I get it.