Ethnic music for an ethnic Yankee

   The feeling of being a part of something bigger than me (such as a small group of people, or society as a whole) is often followed, or preceded, by feeling apart, as these feelings of acceptance are usually tenuous and fragile. I feel like I want to belong, but inside there seems like a sizable chunk of me that regards belonging as frightening and despicable, and that side is always ready to assert itself in most any situation. This is often apparent to me in my tastes in the arts, and in music in particular.
   Much of what I like in music is from other countries than my own, usually in languages I am unfamiliar with, and from cultures that are foreign to me. This music is generally called 'world' music these days, but for me that term implies an inclusive world, and the world which I live in often does not feel that way. I prefer to think of this music as 'ethnic', because I relate to that term; while I was born in the United States as a white male, I was also born Jewish, and although I am not religious, I do feel 'ethnic' in relation to other white people. Growing up in New York City (an area with the largest Jewish population in the world outside of Israel), I still felt a sense of being different, and was at times at times referred to by my friends, albeit jokingly, as "Jewboy". My Jewish friends and I would often refer to each other in a similarly derogatory way, owning that sense of ethnicity much in the same way that it seems to me that some African American people do by using the 'N' word.  In fact, I could just as easily say that I feel 'ethnic' in the world in general, in that I often feel that sense of specificity that seems to be implied in the word 'ethnicity'.
   I assume then that my love of Rebetiko music from Greece, my enjoyment of the Romanian singer Maria Tanase, and much of the music from such African countries as Madagascar, Mali and Zimbabwe plugs into my sense of 'otherness', yet also in some way feels familiar to me. It's as if I share the culture behind these musical forms. By being both a 'Yankee' and a foreigner within my own country and myself I can become most comfortable.

Jewish Yankee Ron Bloomberg

                                                 

Updating my present

   I don't have a lot of specific memories of my childhood, just bits and pieces that I try to put together to help me understand how I came to be the ways I am today, and perhaps what I might wish to be more like in the future. I try to jog more memories and feelings loose in multiple ways, including through psychoanalysis, making art, taking walks in nature, and writing on this blog. All are ways that I try to better see what I have experienced, whether I am conscious of those experiences or not. I find that as I am able to recall more things, no matter how minute, the more a sort of story line starts to form, and my past begins to appear more sequential.
   I have found that expoloring the different kinds of music, clothing and design styles from my childhood and early teenage years helps me to remember things I have long suppressed or forgotten, and often lead me recall other images, thoughts and feelings from my past.
   Some of the things I am currently exploring are wacky packages, slow soul music from the 1970s, and earth-toned colors.

That's me in the lower left corner with my sister and some cousins. I must be 

around eight or nine years old here, which would make this around 1972.

A supportive world

   I have quite a few pairs of shoes for a man, especially for a man that dresses as casually as I do. Owning somewhere in the neighborhood of 22 pairs, all of my shoes are basically variations of the same style; an oxford or ankle boot with a moccasin toe design in either suede or leather. If all my shoes are so similar in their design, and possess so little variation, then why do I have so many pairs, and why do I continue to spend time thinking about possible other pairs? It's because shoes represent for me both a real and emotional sense of well being, and signify being comfortable and supported when I am around the people of the world (in other words, not alone).  I say around, and opposed to among those people, because I often feel a sense of anxiety when I step out my apartment (and the feeling of safety that I have there) into a world which often feels chaotic and dangerous, and where I feel more surrounded by, rather than with other people.
   I have for many years purchased basically the same style of footwear, but over the past few years I have been more limited in the actual shoes that I am able to buy, as I now have plantar fasciitis (that I need to use an orthotic shoe insert to treat), as well as having had an ankle surgery which requires that I have a great deal of cushioning in the soles of my shoes. The moccasin toe design of my shoes, a shoe style that I have always liked aesthetically, has also become important to my shoe needs physically, as this design generally allows enough toe space for my orthotic inserts to fit comfortably. Perhaps because of these limitations imposed due to physical necessity, I sense a decrease in my ability to choose, and maybe this translates to a kind of desperation somehow. I react to this by trying to figure (or design my way) out of this psychological cage by getting the perfect shoe, a shoe that will alleviate my feeling of repression and fear, and make me feel like I am comfortable in the world. I want to feel that my foot, and perhaps my entire sense of self, is wrapped, and that my contact with the world (through the soles of my shoes) is a gentle one.

"The Coat II" by Philip Guston

The color green...wet.

   Most days of the week during the times of the year when it's light outside at seven in the morning, I go for a walk around Stow Lake here in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park. I enjoy starting my day this way, it's a good form of light exercise, and there are very few people around so early, which allows me to relax more and experience the natural world in a way that I find more difficult when there is a lot of human activity around me.
   At this time of day, in this part of the city, it is generally somewhat to quite foggy, and the moisture and early morning sun highlight the plant life here in an always soothing, and sometimes remarkable way. There have been multiple times that I have been walking the one mile path around the lake that I have experienced the colors as I come around a turn as if I am seeing them under the influence of hallucinogenic drugs, and well, I haven't done any of those in many years, and I'm pretty sure that I've never had a "flashback" on them, anyway. What I do believe is that the combination of being quite relaxed, and at the same time open to the colors around me allows me to experience them in the way that they actually are, unclouded by all the garbage normally tinting my vision. I know it sounds very spiritual (and that makes me kind of uncomfortable), but I do believe that is what happens.
   The colors that most move me on my walks are the greens of the early morning, and the way the color is saturated by the morning dew and fog. It's a shame that the dews and fogs which usually cloud my vision aren't as beautiful to me.

                 

     

George Harrison

The image below is culled from a video clip from youtube that I have been watching pretty regularly for the past five months or so, usually when I am in bed before going to sleep for the night or taking an afternoon nap on the weekend. This is the time, most often, that it feels like my mind begins to slow down, and I can think the most clearly. When I do decide to look at videos at these times, the one that I usually watch is a live version of the song "Awaiting On You All' by George Harrison, from his 1970 album, "All Things Must Pass', and appears to be about, as are many of the songs on the triple album, Harrison's spiritual quest at that time. The main chorus states:

By chanting the names of the lord and you'll be free

The lord is awaiting on you all to awaken and see.

The still image shows Harrison between the two lines of the first chorus in the song, and he appears to be concentrating on the music, but to me, it also represents the emotional pain that I imagine Harrison to be feeling, as his quest always struck me as a search to escape his own demons. Perhaps this is far-fetched and too personal a feeling on my part, but that's how it looks to me. Being well known for his interest in Eastern religion from his time with The Beatles to the time of his death from cancer, he always seemed to be looking for a method of escaping from the bondage of self, and in an interview he gave on The Dick Cavett Show in 1971, in response to questions Cavett posed about famous rock stars overdosing on drugs and alcohol, Harrison states that he imagines that they were all are probably looking for "some deep love or something like that". He then states, "if you can get straight, really straight, it's much higher", but then says, "I'm somewhat in the middle".

I relate very much to Harrison's quest for inner peace, though my search for that calmness exists solely in the world around me, though it is still of the spirit. When I am happy, I don't think much about self imprisonment, but when I am nervous or agitated, I am very much aware of how impossible it is to escape my own body. 

The song "Awaiting On You All" was released in 1970, when I was six (I would be seven in one week), and is a time which I have very few recollections of (more of the pain that blocks those memories in another piece), but I will say that my parents marriage was becoming very messy, and  George must in one way seem like my father to me, suppressed (by his band members), and in another way, like me, still trying to find my own voice. Watching this video allows me to index that time from afar...just the way my subconscious likes it.

Still from "The Concert For Bangladesh" (1972), directed by Saul Swimmer

When I woke up this morning, I felt compelled to write this piece, although I have been thinking

about writing again for some time. When I saved the first draft this morning, I noticed that it was one year to the day since I wrote the last time.