prelude to an urban tribe.

sentimentality is the sin of the memoirist.
-ethan watters, urban tribes

freedom at last.

i find more truth in this quiet disclaimer.

it was a night made infamous by painted nudes. literal living art (though, isn't it all?). but this is what caught my attention that night on first fridays in richmond.

the s.i. newhouse school of public communications opens its third building this year, with chief justice john roberts dedicating the multi-million dollar expansion. the words to the preciously delicate first amendment roll across the concrete. a testament to the power of communication, regardless of craft, form or vehicle. these words, well, they remind the young minds inside exactly of the freedoms we're supposed to inherit as citizens. i suppose. but i'm a cynical little communicator, skeptical of the true freedom of the press. when kings hold the castle gates closed from different points of view.

i stepped into an auditorium in august 1999 as an optimistic journalist ready to change the system. i said i valued the days (cherished maybe) when news was solely that, not orchestrated entertainment digested in ticker-tape blips. but access changes opinions. and experiences alter realities. do dollars fuel everything we do? what value does culture play in the creation of entertainment? or that age-old media question: does culture define our entertainment, does entertainment define our culture, or is some parasitic relationship pumping the engine?

probably a little from column a. a little from column b. or, really, whomever or whatever can pay the rent.

into the stampede.

the tale of three blogs. and since course requirements ask for a new entry every week relating to culture, it seems best to start a fresh one. to do only that. which means i'll multi-task, blog-style.

so on this strange night when i'm elated and exhausted - fueled by the sounds of a downloaded "daria" episode and a rerun of "the simpsons" downstairs - i'm searching for an opener on culture. or a quote or an icon. a marker (or a maker) of my culture. of who i am. of what i belong to. what's my culture(s)?

"If you can see in any given situation only what everybody else can see, you can be said to be so much a representative of your culture that you are a victim of it."

S. I. Hayakawa (1906 - 1992)

it reminds of what katherine w. said one night. tell them what they don't already know. find a new insight. learn. ask questions. find the heart. the words, the language, the symbols, the ties. tell the story of the people you meet and, as they taught me in syracuse, weave it with respect.

i guess that minor in cultural anthropology might come in handy now. we'll see.