And Spitzer will be ready to be president. I think he is going to be a terrific president. He is going to add an additional d to democracy. He is going to give democracy backbone. He is going to prove at the national level that people actually matter to the political process, big time. Spitzer's commitment to the ordinary people is amazing, it is sophisticated, it is pragmatic, it is in your face.
Obama might, will bring in universal health care, but Spitzer will bring what not even Obama could, namely publicly financed campaigns nationwide. His strong suit is democracy itself. When Howard Dean says people power, his is a rally cry, and that has been sorely lacking, and has been much needed. But when Spitzer says people power, it is people power 2.o, it is much more concrete.
Imagine statehood for DC. Spitzer has the backbone to be able to deliver something like that. Imagine all of the US is considered one territory, and constituencies to the House and the Senate are divided based on equal population. Imgine that. I think Spitzer could make possible such a thing.
The states already have their legislatures. The federal folks should be thinking national. Federal constituencies need not respect state boundaries.
Direct elections for president.
Spitzer's rectification of the Wall Street has been very pro-market. His acts have been to weed out corruption and inefficiency so as to help the market better serve people.
Universal health care is pro-market. I can't imagine a full blown information age without it.
Similarly democracy has to be taken to the ideal of one person, one vote. The suggestion is mathematical. Of all politicians in America, Spitzer has the backbone to deliver Democracy 2.0. I can't think of anyone else even remotely close.
FDR was also New York Governor. He also had a majority in the state Senate like Spitzer is about to get, something that has not happened after FDR.
The word that most comes to my mind when I think of Spitzer is the word substance. The guy is sheer substance. Sheer substance. Sheer guts. And for all that you would think he can't ever break into a smile. The truth is he can be out and out hilarious. First time I got to see him in person, he brought the house down repeatedly cracking up about his wild acts on - upon - Wall Street.
And for someone who was in his early 20s when he came to the US, the symbolism of a Spitzer in the White House does not escape me at all. Hopefully the Middle East will have seen a final map and a total spread of democracy before that, but if not, I mean. Who gives a f____ what happened 2,000 years ago. Or 200 years ago. Or even 50 years ago. Think today, think the future, and make peace. Give Jerusalem to me. I will be the monkey to the two cats fighting over a piece of bread. And give the refugees to America. Put up tents in Arizona.
One little tidbit. I was inspired to write this blog entry after listening to the Madonna clip on my MySpace page again and again for hours, literally. Erotica. Madonna is a major statement. I consider her a political inspiration.
I have avoided having to take membership of organizations in Manhattan. Heck, I managed that even when I was in the thick of the democracy movement in Nepal and I was getting invitations left and right from top notch Nepali organizations. Why would I join when I can simply penetrate each of them with my mailing list, now close to 8,000 strong? When Bill Clinton was Governor in Arkansas, it was said if you knew 1500 people in Little Rock, you pretty much knew everyone that mattered. I was telling Ian Martin - the UN Secretary General's point person for Nepal - recently, "you and I are part of that 1500" for Nepal.
Rupert Murdoch: "You don't join clubs. You stay an outsider. Politeness makes you numb." Words come later, often out of other people's mouths. Like my first good friend at college, Beth, asked me, if you speak so many languages, what language do you actually think in? The question shocked me. I don't think in language. Words are too slow. You think, and then, if necessary, if absolutely necessary, when you h-a-v-e to communicate, you then translate the thought into some language. My thought processes are like Picasso paintings, visual, abstract. Mathematical, geometric. Pure thought is delight. That is why I like children so much. In my past life I was an elementary school teacher. At malls sometimes I have made parents uncomfy by this instant connect I manage with little kids. A gentle wave, a simple smile. It is like they show in some movies, extraterrestrials posing as humans on earth can recognize each other.
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. The infinite sky is motionless overhead and the restless water is boisterous. On the seashore of endless worlds the children meet with shouts and dances.
They build their houses with sand and they play with empty shells. With withered leaves they weave their boats and smilingly float them on the vast deep. Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.
They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets. Pearl fishers dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships, while children gather pebbles and scatter them again. they seek not for hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets.
The sea surges up with laughter and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach. Death-dealing waves sing meaningless ballads to the children, even like a mother while rocking her baby's cradle. The sea plays with children, and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach.
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. Tempest roams in the pathless sky, ships get wrecked in the trackless water, death is abroad and children play. On the seashore of endless worlds is the great meeting of children.
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The sleep that flits on baby's eyes -- does anybody know from where it comes? Yes, there is a rumour that it has its dwelling where, in the fairy village among shadows of the forest dimly lit with glow-worms, there hang two timid buds of enchantment. From there it comes to kiss baby's eyes.
The smile that flickers on baby's lips when he sleeps -- does anybody know where it was born? Yes, there is a rumour that a young pale beam of a crescent moon touched the edge of a vanishing autumn cloud, and there the smile was first born in the dream of a dew-washed morning -- the smile that flickers on baby's lips when he sleeps.
The sweet, soft freshness that blooms on baby's limbs -- does anybody know where it was hidden so long? Yes, when the mother was a young girl it lay pervading her heart in tender and silent mystery of love -- the sweet, soft freshness that has bloomed on baby's limbs.
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When I bring to you coloured toys, my child, I understand why there is such a play of colours on clouds, on water, and why flowers are painted in tints -- when I give coloured toys to you, my child.
When I sing to make you dance I truly know why there is music in leaves, and why waves send their chorus of voices to the heart of the listening earth -- when I sing to make you dance.
When I bring sweet things to your greedy hands I know why there is honey in the cup of the flowers and why fruits are secretly filled with sweet juice -- when I bring sweet things to your greedy hands.
When I kiss your face to make you smile, my darling, I surely understand what pleasure streams from the sky in morning light, and what delight that is that is which the summer breeze brings to my body -- when I kiss you to make you smile.
This city would have you believe the night sky does not hold stars or the moon, but it is curiously susceptible to the onset of summer, like I felt at the DL21C event last night where Charlie Rangel showed: "I refused to run for Congress when George Washington asked me to."
Summer is in the air.
I remember thinking, if DL21C were to host an event like this one every week, or every two weeks, I just might join this organization. You also save money. It is $50 for annual membership. Or you pay $5, or $7 or $10 for an event. It adds up. But so far my reluctance for membership has taken the better of me than my instict to keep the costs down: they have plastic chairs at the Wal-Mart headquarters in Arkansas. Sam Walton is bigger than Bill Gates, measured in absolute dollar terms.
So this guy Walton decides he is plenty in debt, and there is an urgent need to expand, and so might as well take the company public. So he shows up on Wall Street, just like that. The receptionist finds out he is from Arkansas. So she takes him to see this lone soul at that bank who is also from Arkansas.
Sam Walton was 42 when he launched Wal-Mart.
Come to think of it, I might have forgotten to pay yesterday. I spotted the celebrity Pakistani family - first time I met them was the second time I met Delilah (Eliot Spitzer, Aliza Fatima) - from the door and headed straight for them. Spitzer is on record he is going to show for the youngest daughter's graduation. I have been to the family's home in Queens, once. The father is pro-Musharraf, I am anti-Musharraf. I kind of like Benazir Bhutto.
Next I spotted this guy who I first talked to at a McCauskill event. "Here, I just touched a Senator." It worked. Magic touch. The guy has met Bobby Kennedy in person. He now works at the same company as Dave Pollak.
And there was this Ethiopian group. My Ethiopian friends at college used to say, "We are not African, we are Ethiopian, we are more beautiful." Ethiopia does not have democracy, neither does Zimbabwe. I was waxing eloquent about what we did in Nepal, and "you can do it too." It worked great on the first person, we exchanged contact info. It worked great on the second person. The third person had just about had it.
"You got rid of your king?"
"Yes."
"We did that when we were students."
My Obama inspired haircut makes me look young, I guess.
I am no longer obsessed about Nepal, and Obama is on autopilot. Allows me to focus on my tech startup like a laser beam. I was not meant to be a politician. I find corporate efficiency way more fascinating than legislative lethargy. Politics has been a deviation for being a Madhesi in Nepal and nonwhite in America. Politics is my sport. I don't follow baseball or basketball, I follow politics and World Cup Soccer. It also keeps me sharp with group dynamics, which I need for my tech and biz work.
Somebody approached the richest Nepali on earth - the guy is in his early 40s, I know him, I took him around town in my cheapo car that died a few months earlier, he lives in the former Soviet bloc, my car got rearended and we were in the Bronx and the police took 45 minutes to get there since it was the July 4 weekend, Fernando Ferrer country, good thing it was an entry ramp to an expressway, otherwise he is used to moving around in caravans of cars, bodyguards and all - saying, "I hear you are rich."
"I am not rich. I am very rich," he said.
Of all the famous people I know, I most admire the personal life of Amitabh Bachchan. You might say Amitabh who? He just so happens to be the most recognized face on the planet. He has this amazing amazing marriage. It is like Al Pacino and Meryl Streep hooked up. One blight is Jaya gave up her acting career upon marriage.
First time I met Delilah was at the Bush State Of The Union Watch Party 2006. Everybody was facing the TV, but someone magazine cover beautiful was walking towards me, someone who had the confidence of someone who is smart, and is ambitious, the confidence of someone who has known a lot of love growing up. She took a right and walked by. She was holding her own with some major league politician, much older, I joined into the Africa Fund conversation after the speech was over: I was so into the speech, one woman sitting at the other end of the bench stood up and my butt lifted the bench, and she had a kick out of breaking my trance: you are not supposed to like Bush speeches in this town.
She was holding her own with Spitzer the second time I saw her. Look straight into the eye, and say it. Sheer confidence confronting a Governor who is sheer substance.
As the Bush speech party winded down, by the time the event was over, she had given her boyfriend a big hug. It was a breakup that was not even discussed. I have video memory of it, like of all snippets. I have a lag time that Kentucky and Indiana gave to me, a defense mechanism I am working to get rid of. Screw Kentucky.
Since there has been this face time, screen time tag. And the onset of winter. If you don't write back, maybe you are not into me. So I don't approach in person. But then there is that look in person, the creative tension. And also you ask, am I being improper? Am I just seeing things? You care enough to not want to intrude into personal space if it be unwelcome.
I spotted Delilah yesterday. I am here in life: IC| Autobiography. I am so glad to have written the autobiography. To say, this is who I am, this is where I am coming from, this is where I am trying to go. Business cards don't work for me. Two minute intros don't work either.
Just when things are looking like they might take off, finally I might have found an institution I like, since I am going to create it, I have had fears in terms of personal life. At one end is the workaholic, at another a string of failed relationships like that of, say, Larry Ellison. Both are unhappy extremes.
They say, to be happy in life you need two things: love and work. Work I have found. Love comes in the form of one person.
At the November 6 Victory Party, she was there with her father, I think. She has made me feel like noone else has since I moved to the city. But when I am in her presence, I end up wanting to talk about 5,000 different things - painful past experiences, lofty dreams for the future, the sheer excitement of just being in the city, the insecurities: Third World guy, near broke, living in Brooklyn, wild career path likely to get wilder, will be dizzying also with success, older - and so I get jammed, I end up saying nothing. I just look, stare, look away. And the caution borne out of some bad experiences in America's "heartland." Is this a no no? Out of bounds? That last is the weirdest, and so I have minced no words in my autobiography. That cloud will have to go away from the mind.
Emails go into ether. Face time gets stuck. Am I just seeing things? It is a chicken egg situation, this face time screen time thing. I feel confused, and alive, and wanting to show up for the next DL21C event.
How does this work?
41
Where dost thou stand behind them all, my lover, hiding thyself in the shadows? They push thee and pass thee by on the dusty road, taking thee for naught. I wait here weary hours spreading my offerings for thee, while passers-by come and take my flowers, one by one, and my basket is nearly empty.
The morning time is past, and the noon. In the shade of evening my eyes are drowsy with sleep. Men going home glance at me and smile and fill me with shame. I sit like a beggar maid, drawing my skirt over my face, and when they ask me, what it is I want, I drop my eyes and answer them not.
I am not a politician, I am an entrepreneur. The most misunderstood thing about me is that I am a politician. Not.
My freshman year at college, I was Mr. Instant Connect. I could just look at you, and I would have something very specific to say. I did not have to have met you before. Then I was pushed online. My social muscles atrophied. I am trying to get them back even as I work to invent my virtual corporation. A balance has to be struck.
My overriding dream has been a total spread of democracy. But the idea of an Africa Fund to invest in African companies feels like Me 2.0. That is what you have to get into after democracy. The wealth and jobs have to be created.
The movers and shakers of DL21C have something pretty solid going. You meet the celebs at their events. Pollak has easy ways of working the crowd, kind of like Denton.
I wrote to DL21C mover shaker Elizabeth Caputo, Indiana - there is a Jennifer Caputo, Chicago, at MYD - (Indiana and Harvard - that is a cocktail) congratulating for a "good event" weeks back. She wrote back.
"We are all your fans."
"You've got to be kidding me. I don't h-a-v-e fans. I am a nobody."
"We all read your blog."
So I gave her the McCauskill story. I do have a magic touch, don't I?
