Linguistics and Logistics

Posted on January 5, 2007 by Varg

“Murder rates are up all over.”
New Orleans Police Assistant Superintendent Steven Nicholas
Times-Picayune – Dec. 2006 cite

â€œI donâ€™t think crime is out of control by any means. I think we have a very good handle on it. Weâ€™re not the Wild West and there are cities that wished they only had 150 murders.â€
New Orleans Police Superintendent Warren Riley
New Orleans City Business – Dec. 2006 cite

â€œWe have deliberate acts (of violence) in every major city in this country. It is unfortunate that this happened at this time.â€
New Orleans Police Assistant Superintendent Steven Nicholas
Times-Picayune – Nov. 2006 cite

Anyone see what I’m seeing?

The first step in solving a problem is admitting you have a problem. It seems that the NOPD brass feel as though everything is normal here in Care Forgot.

It’s not.

We’ve got leaders whose language is very telling. They seem helpless, begging even. Where are the fucking mavericks? When is someone going to stand up and take responsibility for what’s happening?

If the local police can’t even admit that homicide is out-of-control how the hell are they supposed to subdue it? If they see our murder rate as “normal” what is their motivation to bring it down?

The linguistics they are using aren’t in sync with the logistics I’m reading about. Murders in New Orleans are at least four times the national average, in no one’s mind other than the NOPD brass could that be considered normal.

1 thought on “Linguistics and Logistics”

Josh Murphey says:

January 5, 2007 at 9:47 pm

For the last time in my life I am truly fed up. I am tired of complaining and waiting for things to change. Our time has come to demand more from our leaders and fellow citizens. We must force change. REVOLT.

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Rejoice!

I say that a lot. I sign many pieces with it. I do this because I believe our lives are a true happenstance. A brilliant occurence from nothingness. We are so rare. We are so unlikely. And simply being born isn’t enough. From there we must survive, endure. So each morning, after our Sun departs and is reborn again. Please, for the sake of your ancestors and the Universe in general, hoist that cup of joe up and say, “Rejoice.”

Ours is a soulful existence. No matter how many McMansions, polyester fabrics, auto-tunes, modified foods and social networks we surround ourselves with, we are all still native, passionate beings made of ancient matter. We are organic and we have soul.

Wood also has a warm, soulful quality. Wood has a memory. It retains smells, traumas, events. It even has a calendar. This is why I have chosen it as my medium, for its old soul. I like to think the wood in my work is in its third incarnation. First a tree, then a home and now art. If you have a room that needs a little soul, get a piece. A room can never have enough soul.

My inspiration and subject matter comes from many sources, among them: Humanism, old ballads, trickster tales, flora and fauna, science, myths and folklore, stringed instruments, brass bands, amber spirits, lady vocalists, general relativity and quantum mechanics. Some of my pieces are there just to make a short, simple statement about what’s important in life. Some are more diffuse and abstract in meaning. A personal drama, an enduring line from a poem or novel, a poignant song lyric, the legacy of an important person, a fleeting thought … these are the subjects of my art.

I use hearts often because they are a very abstract way of depicting the human soul without also employing the very subjective human form. The symbolic heart is an apt representation for a person’s experience and essence. A body can immediatly conjure happiness, sorrow, youth, age, anger, bliss. These emotions can get in the way. Sometimes it’s simply about the experience.

I am the son of a sailor and a social worker, the grandson of a gypsy, a dancer and a nurse. I spent my youth moving from port city to port city, watching a lot of road go by and reading World Book Encyclopedia. After my parents settled down on the Gulf Coast, I was a miscreant youth, destroying cars and taking the wrongs things too seriously and the right things not serious enough. Eventually I began replacing my imagination with experience.

I will use any salvaged wood but prefer swamp cypress and longleaf heartwood pine.

I despise waste. Particularly the waste of organic matter. Trees are magnificent. They were here before we arrived and they’ll be around after we are gone. I’m making an effort to save as much wood as possible. Creating art is fun too. But beyond communicating with folks, but beyond making money ad providing for myself, beyond rescuing flooded parts, beyond reveling in the ethereal aroma of heartpine that hasn’t seen the light of day in 400 years, beyond all that, I am trying to make a simple comment on waste.