Character Sketch

A sketch from Michael Arthur of playwright Tony Kushner and MSNBC pundit Rachel Maddow at the "Duets" event at Joe's Pub in New York City, via MaddowBlog.

From the New Yorker: "[My persona is] not a fake me, but it is a slice of me. Like, I am a person who has depression, and I don’t let depressed Rachel on television."

Televising the Revolution

One surprising result of my journalism studies is a shift in perspective when it comes to social media versus the mainstream press.

Today I was involved in a Twitter debate over the protest that's going on in Lower Manhattan. Hundreds of activists have gathered on Wall Street to protest economic disparity and the principle of "profit over and above all else".

The protesters are copying the Arab Spring by using social media like Twitter and YouTube to spread word about what's going on - and to mock or criticise the mainstream media for inadequate coverage. Jeff Sharlet, an author and political journalist who writes for Harper's Magazine and Rolling Stone, engaged with some of these criticisms.
 

 

St. Paul's Chapel

ABC News has obtained newly-released photos of the collapse of the World Trade Center on 9/11. There's not much I can say.

I went to New York City for the first time last October. On my second day there, I went downtown and saw Ground Zero for myself. I also stopped for a while in St. Paul's Chapel, the oldest church in Manhattan. It survived the attack and later served as a sanctuary for rescue workers and volunteers.


If you ever have the chance to go to this church, go. It's an amazing place. Love, grief and hope linger in the air and sink deep into you the moment you step inside.

On the postcard I picked up at the door as I left, there's a poem that describes it pretty well:

St. Paul’s Chapel
by J. Chester Johnson

It stood. Not a window broken. Not a stone dislodged.
It stood when nothing else did.
It stood when terrorists brought September down.
It stood among myths. It stood among ruins.

To stand was its purpose, long lines prove that.
It stands, and around it now, a shrine of letters,
poems, acrostics, litter of the heart.
It is the standing people want:
To grieve, serve and tend
celebrate the lasting stone of St. Paul’s Chapel.

And deep into its thick breath, the largest banner
fittingly from Oklahoma climbs heavenward
with hands as stars, hands as stripes, hands as a flag;
and a rescuer reaches for a stuffed toy
to collect a touch;
and George Washington’s pew doesn’t go unused.

Charity fills a hole or two.

It stood in place of other sorts.
It stood when nothing else could.
The great had fallen, as the brute hardware came down.

It stood.