a spoonful of theology

i didn't post it before because, eh- i don't know, i just didn't. but i'm posting it now cause a i like it. and i've been thinking about it for the past few days.
my friend mo emailed me something he'd posted on his blog about religion, and stuff. and i emailed him back.
both our thoughts are below:

from mo:

merry post-christmas.

merry post-christmas.
does the 26th have a color-name-day?
like 'green tuesday'?
ironic, sort of, that green connotes(or denotes? i don't actually know the difference
between connote and denote. i'm dumb. and i don't know how to spell 'connote'.
double dumb points for me today)both money and environmentalism.
in other news:
i was talking with a friend today about how most of the worlds religions are all
pretty similar as long as they're talking about how to comport yourself while you're
alive.
they go their seperate ways, however, when it comes to life after death and divinity.
simply(very simply)-
christians believe that life after death is a choice between heaven and hell, and those
who are saved go to heaven and those who are not go to hell.
buddhists believe that unless we become buddha's(enlightened beings)we are stuck
in the wheel and doomed to live in samsarra.
muslims believe that martyrs are met in a date-palm filled heaven and waited
on by doe eyed virgins.
and so on.
but as different as their after-life scenarios are they all kind of agree on how we should live while we're alive.
to generalize: they all state that we should be humble and decent and kind and treat our fellow people as
we would like to be treated.
so why not start a new religion that states as its credo: 'while you're alive you should be humble
and decent and kind and treat people as you'd like to be treated, ok? and after you die?
well, who knows? we sure don't. the universe is vast and nuanced and complicted beyond
our imaginings so it seems like the height of absurdity to make specific claims about what
might/might not happen after we die. also, lots of enlightened beings who might or might
not have been divine have walked(or sat)around on earth. there might be one true god
and one true path, or there might not. so how about we focus on the good things
upon which we agree and leave the rest to later?'
i know that sounds blasphemous to some, but wouldn't that be a good place to start?
cos right now all of the religions kind of smugly think that they've discovered the one-true-path
to salvation/enlightenment/etc. maybe, as the universe is complicated, they're all right?
maybe, but doubtful.
can you imagine a world without any post-life guarantees?
no more suicide bombers?
no more celibate priests?
seems like it might be worth considering, no?
maybe a religion that has a big question-mark on the last page of it's holy text, preceded
by the question: 'what happens after we die?'
i'm going to have a long winded p.s in case anyone wants to read it.
-mo

long winded p.s-
see, here's what bugs me. humans have over time proven that they love systems. humans
have also over time proven that they love to be on the winning team. 250,000 years ago
this made sense. if you had a system to find food in times of hardship you increased your
chances of survival. and if you were on the winning team you lived(often at the expense
of the losers)to perpetuate your genetic line. but these two things: systems and, for lack of a better word, tribalism, don't
really seem to make much sense when applied to religions.
most religions are based around some good ideas. but rather than have the entire
credo of a religion be: 'be nice, be humble, treat others as you'd like to be treated, and we
have no idea what happens after we die', every religion eventually builds up layers
and layers of beaurocracy and minutiae and hierarchy.
so when a religion purports to have the winning system it makes me ask the simple questions:
1-don't all religions purport to have the winning system?
2-aren't humans innately pre-disposed towards system creation?
3-aren't humans tribal and innately pre-disposed to see their group as right and all other
groups as wrong?
so i then want to ask the devout practitioners of different religions: doesn't your system
say more about human nature/inclination than it does about the validity of your system?
no true believers ever want to answer that question, be they muslims, christians, buddhists, alcoholics anonymous members, punk rockers, etc.
people love systems because sytems are clear and orderly and exclusive.
but life is not clear and orderly, and trying to establish the primacy of one system over
another is not just impossible, but also incredibly dangerous in that it leads to wars and discrimination and prejudice and suppression of thought/inquiry.
ok, my p.s is long-winded enough, i'll say goodnight now.

my (edited) reply:
nice. i like. and agree.
i am reading v.s. naipaul's 'among the believers: an islamic journey'. fascinating stuff. i sometimes wonder who i would be if i hadn't had a relatively diverse, rounded upbringing: if i hadn't lived two types of lives and had the benefit of compare and contrast. what would i be like if i had grown up in only one strict system of belief?
it must be quite different to be a mullah in qom, having been indoctrinated my whole life and being unable to see the contradiction of preaching of the ungodliness of, say america (which i also think is ungodly, but that's not the point), on televisions that were invented in the very county i vilify.
and yet i understand blind hatred, borne of great suffering. i imagine it must be reassuring to feel so divinely possessed, so blindly purposed and absolved of personal responsibility. it's just scary that we can convince ourselves to be so dedicated to things that might be questionable. but then i guess i find everything questionable. and that's probably more of a problem than an asset....
x.
al

Tahiti- day 6: gone fishin'

1. I took down all photos not relevant to Tahiti or being on the boat (with the exception of 'om,' which is permanently attached to my site for sentimental reasons) because the city pictures sort of broke the illusion of you being here with me (this applies to my myspace site).
2. Grapes are good.
3. I think I woke up at a time that qualifies as the 'wee hours' of the morning today.
4. I'll probably be offline for a while. I know- it pains me, too. Dad and I are heading over to Moorea today to meet up with Mikey on Scarlet for a three day jaunt into the wilds, because here's the thing: Tahiti, the main island, is not that exotic (unless you traverse into its magnificent interior where there are waterfalls and masses of green), so if you really want to get into nature, you have to get on a boat and sail. There are so many untouched places around here, most of which I have not seen, so that's where we're hoping to head. I have a feeling it will depend on Mickey's paramour- the New Caledonian I mentioned earlier, who will also be onboard- because he'll undoubtedly want her to be happy, and if she's not the running, jumping, climbing trees (...putting on makeup when you're up there. Yes, an Eddie Izzard reference. Can't help it; I love him) type, then we may just cruise and anchor off some serene beaches and sip cocktails instead, which wouldn't be half bad, either.
5. If any of you are in or going to Italy, namely Milan, I have a very nice man named Marco who wants to meet you. Oh- you have to be female, and looking for a relationship to qualify (Baci, Marco! :))

tahiti- day 5 (post script)

I like to say post script. It's kind of fancy; fancier than saying P.S. Okay, so my post script is this: Though I am able to get on-line fairly often (as Stacey so kindly pointed out when he said, and I quote roughly: "Git yur ass back on the beach lady," to which I responded: "What makes yur think my arse- [hmm... too British a colloquialism. Let's continue to run with 'ass']- my ass ain't on the beach writin' this, huh?"[for the record, it's not; I just wanted to sound as tough and cool as he did. I'm actually on the boat, but there's still water and sunshine here, and I think that's what he was getting at when he said 'beach' so it's almost like I made sense all along. Almost.]). Wait, what was I saying? Oh yes, post script. So my post script is that, though I am readily able to get online, I'm not able to put up much media (pics, videos, sound, etc.) because it's too heavy for my connection, so you're just going to have to let my purple prose paint a picture for you until I return to the States of Unitedness. Okay? Excellent.

Tahiti- day 5

It's 2:22pm. I'd say that's auspicious but it would have to be December 22 from me to think that, and it's Dec. 27.
Although I did fly here on the 22nd.
Hmmmm….

So a quick word about editing on in these posts: I don't really do it (case in point: on in). I just write and post. So the multiple spelling, grammar, and punctuation related errors? Yeah, you're just going to have to deal with them. Maybe that will be my new year's resolution- be more syntactically and grammatically correct and coherent for readers. Okay, I know I only have one- my mom- and she's Swedish so she doesn't really care (hej mamma!), but it's nice having a goal you know you can fall short of anyway, like going to bed at 11pm every night, or sticking with one hair color for an entire year.

That's about it for today.
Exciting, right?
I knew you'd think so; thanks, mom.
x.

Tahiti- day 4

Day four here in Tahiti, and it’s another clear, blue one.

I just finished reading Sex and the City. Though highly entertaining as fiction, it’s a little less so as non. If all relationships in New York are truly as quantified and superficial as they read on the page, then it might be time to start looking for a new place to call home: maybe LA, where I know a nice guy who just happens to be an ex-New Yorker.

I remain optimistic about men in New York though, despite evidence that should probably have me convinced of the contrary. Maybe I am still young enough, and thereby stupid enough, to have faith, or maybe I latch onto faith because my only other option- the conviction that it’s all doomed no matter how you look at it- is a bit glum for my taste. So I remain steadfastly optimistic, and yet unconcerned because I am too preoccupied with other aspects of my life to think too long and hard about relationships.
Until I go on vacation and read a silly beach novels.
And then start talking and writing about the one subject I have consciously remained mute on in my blog up to this point because honestly, who cares?
So enough about that.

In other news, I got a helmet today so I can ride dad’s scooter, our main form of transport, around the island. We had a car last year but it died. Scooters are better because they get around traffic more easily, and they’re more fun to say.
Scooter. Scooter. Scooter.
I could go on for hours….

My body is starting to recover from the last couple months of abuse and stress I subjected it to in New York. I inadvertently fell asleep at sunset last night, slept until 7am this morning, then fell back to sleep at 3pm this afternoon for an hour, consequently burning my right leg which was sticking out from the shadow of the awning I was under.
A small price to pay.

I’m not sure of the plan tonight. It may be another quiet one, which would be fine by me. Normally we’d probably hop over to see Mikey, my dad’s very nice thirty-something year old friend who sails the beautiful 65’ boat moored next to us. He, however, has taken off for Huahini, a nearby island, to woo the girl he’s been emailing for the past four months who’s from New Caledonia. She is one of many girls he entertains but the only one he likes to call a ‘relationship’ because he has ‘invested time’ in it. The others usually only last a day or so because they’re tourists.

New Caledonia still hadn’t called two days after she’d arrived. She was staying at her ex-boyfriend’s. ‘Four months,’ Mikey cried dejectedly before calling his ex-girlfriend to make plans for Christmas Eve. Then New Caledonia rang.
“Christmas Eve?” she asked.
He called his ex-girlfriend back and said something had come up. At least that’s what I imagine he did because New Caledonia ended up staying with him and he had a merry Christmas after all.
Which just goes to show that insanity is not necessarily confined to the city. We’re all a little crazy, everywhere.

sex and the city, pt. 2

a short film i was in a while back is online. it's called bleached and was directed by mr. nicholas corrao and starred the wonderful ben thomas, who was a blast to act with.

i play betty, the sweet but slightly insane, preverse love interest.
you can download it here if you like.

sex and the city

So as I said earlier, despite having always being a fan of the Sex and the City, the TV show, I'd never actually read the book, which came first, and had no idea that it originated from a column in The New York Observer, meaning that most, if not all, characters mentioned were based on real people.

I'm currently on page 94 and am simply amazed by the incredibly accuracy of Bushnell's observations and depictions of the NY dating world, the least reason of which is because I actually know many of the characters she names directly. Some of the other characters, the ones who asked that their names be changed, are so transparent that their identities seem more obvious than some of those who were comfortable being openly revealed. It's kind of like reading 289 pages of deliciously bad blind items on Gawker or E!, where Lindsay Lohan becomes Kitty Shohan, playing on the name or some notorious well-known behavior (like a predilection for going without panties). Other characters are just amazing amalgamations of people, or populations of people, like modelizers.
All of it is good fun.

Starting at the beginning with Chapter 1, Carrie says what I imagine each Manhattan girl has said at one time or another: "Every time a man tells me he's a romantic, I want to scream. All it means is that a man has a romanticized view of you, and as soon as you become real and stop playing into his fantasy, he gets turned off."
Touché.

The number one offender in new New York relationships? Over-eagerness/romance. Smart men know this; they don't try and bowl you over or sweep you off your feet. Those adages belong to a different time, or if not a different time, than certainly a different place. Don't get me wrong- I'm not anti-romance. What I'm talking about needs some distinction. I'm not talking about nice candlelit dinners, which women categorically love. I'm talking about looking deeply into a woman's eyes and telling her you've never felt this way about anyone before, after only your first drink together. I'm talking about taking her home to the parents and telling them that you've met the woman you're going to marry on your second date. I'm talking about telling a girl you got tickets to go to Caracas for a week the day after you met.

I'm not trying to be cynical about romance- I am actually a romantic at heart- but it's just a simple reality that no matter how excited you are about someone, you don't know them until you know them, and that will never be on the first date. Any feelings of love felt in the first week, therefore, are in my opinion to be fully enjoyed for the absurd and wonderful madness that they are (who doesn't revel in passion?), but are not to be taken too seriously. Time inappropriate seriousness is my first indication that it's time to start moving toward the door.

At another point in the book, an ex-boyfriend of mine, who I remember as being particularly dull (and I rarely ever think that of the people I've dated), was quoted saying some unexpectedly exciting things about his past, which left me wondering if it wasn't I who had been dull in a relationship which, needless to say, did not last long.
Relationships are strange this way; two people can be interesting- stimulating in intellectual, physical, and spiritual ways- and yet they come together and couldn't be more tedious or boring, as if their best qualities had managed to cancel each other out. Who knows? I guess it's just one of those unexplained phenomena, like the Bermuda Triangle, or UFO's.

Tahiti- day 3

It is Christmas, my third day here in Tahiti, and I am beginning to feel adjusted. Dad and I spent last night having Christmas dinner with last year's gang: Patrick and Claire, Dido and Marie, Geoff and Celine, Le Conte and Christine, Barbara and Fred, and Christine and Arno, who showed up for 2am drinks. As part of the evenings gift exchange, everyone brought one present to the party to be handed out and I ended up with a fantastic set of penis straws, while dad got a Dracula et les Femmes DVD.

Everyone was incredibly forgiving of my mangled Françoise, always made bolder and more sloppy by alcohol, and people gave me a hand by speaking in English whenever possible. After the past two nights of new introductions and constant revisitations of repetitive conversations, all spoken with an affected air of spontaneity in French, the sight of familiar faces was so entirely wonderful and welcome. I had no need to explain or proclaim myself, no need to smile through jetlag or fatigue. I could just relax, knowing that a few extravagant twirls of my full-length dress with them on the terrace was enough to be understood, to say how happy I was to see them.

It ended up raining last night after all, and the clouds have stuck around to day, bringing with them a nice breeze and natural sun parasol. Everything is shut today, which makes for a nice excuse to do nothing but lounge on the deck and watch bands of rain pass over Moorea. I continue to read Among the Believers and continue to be awed by Naipaul's grace and simple eloquence. His details are never extraneous, his sentences never too long, and his comma use is fascinatingly spare.

With that, I wish you a very Merry Christmas, if you celebrate that sort of thing, and if you don't, then have yourself a good old-fashioned nice day ?

Tahiti- day 2

I put three gummy worms, leftovers from my twelve and a half hour flight from New York, into my mouth, savoring the excitement of sugar on a lazy afternoon. I eat four more, then drown my remaining craving in a cold glass of water, sensitive to what my father might say if he saw me eating them.

A photographer, my father frequently comments on the bodies of women and girls we meet or pass in the local supermarket; how one is too fat, or another has remarkable legs, or an exceptional ass. It doesn't strike him as unusual or upsetting to speak to me like this, despite my having openly endured years of eating disorders after he told me, at age sixteen, that I was too fat.
I don't say anything, don't tell him that even though I have come to terms with my own body image over the past ten years, it still bothers me to hear him speak women this way, that it's impossible, no matter how I try, not to take it personally. I simply nod my head in casual agreement, hoping it's enough to stop the conversation.

I arrived here in Tahiti two days ago to spend Christmas and New Years with my dad onboard his sailboat, which I have only ever heard him refer to as his yacht. It's a beautiful yacht, a fifty-one foot Swan, black, with a 14-karat gold-leaf cove stripe, and a red boot stripe, though the gold is chipped now and the red is all but faded. My father has called this his home for the past five years, four of which have been spent moored here in Tahiti, though he has owned the boat since 1984.

Tahiti is gorgeous. Not perhaps in the way most people might imagine; it is certainly not without development and industrialization, and the unexploited corners once painted by the likes of Gauguin are now mostly relegated to the unexploited corners of the mind, but there is something special about this place regardless. Perhaps it's the complete physical isolation of it; I'm not completely sure. Whatever it is, it is unique, yet subtle; something I have really only come to appreciate the second time round, my first visit being this time, last year.

It hasn't rained once since I arrived, which is unusual I am told. "You must be a high-pressure system," my father jokes over lunch onboard Scarlet, the immaculate, sixty-five foot red Swan captained by his good friend Mickey and moored within swimming distance of us. Though there hasn't been any rain, there hasn't been much breeze, either, exacerbating the already high temperatures. When the heat becomes more than perspiration can cool- usually around one in the afternoon- I dive off the side of the boat into unspeakably blue waters. I swim for about ten minutes, against the current, never getting very far from the place I originally dove in by the stern, where the swim ladder is.

I climb back on board, wrap myself in a towel, and sit to read a book. I am left undisturbed until I hear the splash of a Leopard Stingray, named for the spots on its back. I never actually catch the ray in time to see it breaking the surface of the water, but always manage to watch it afterward as it swims swiftly back down to the sandy bottom from where it came. When I wake up in the mornings, I emerge from my cabin to see Moorea, a majestic island twelve miles to the west. This has become my favorite point in the day, a moment of silence and reflection before the lunches, the dinners, the drinking….

The island is my trusted companion, one of the few I have here. It can be trying and tiring as the only non-French speaker in my father's circle of friends, French being the official language of Tahiti. Though I am not entirely unfamiliar with it, it requires my focus, which is sufficiently lacking after a couple glasses of wine, to follow the conversation occurring over leisurely meals. I can concentrate for the first half hour or so, but then my mind begins to wander from the appropriate conjugation of vouloir, to the last sentences of my book, or what might be a nice mix of two audio recordings I captured earlier in the day.

People are kind to me here, trying hard to engage me in conversation the best they can by speaking slowly and over-pronouncedly, asking if I have visited before, if I like it. "Oui, j'aime bien Tahiti," I say, aware that there should probably be an article before the word Tahiti, but unsure of what it would be. We then smile and raise our glasses or light cigarettes, trying to fill the silence and bridge the gap between us.

Tahiti- arrival

HI FROM TAHITI!!!
it is freakin' gorgeous here. i arrived two days ago, and i am late posting (not connected to the interweb much here) but this is an entry from the plane that i wrote on the way over. i am still working on trying to post material while here but bandwidth is minimal so if i don't manage, i will start posting day by day installments when i get back because i am filming, taking pictures, and making audio recordings of virtually everything, to result in a little multimedia project.
so consider yourself as good as here.
and MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE!!!
x.
alexis

December 22, 2006
It's 12:15am Saturday, Tahiti time, 5:15am Saturday, New York time. I am an hour away from touching down in Papeete, sitting here listening to The Mars Volta's Vicarious Atonement and traveling at 488 miles an hour.

The flight has been a good one. I brought two Ambiens with me, in case I had trouble sleeping on the plane, but they were entirely unnecessary. I sat down and within the first hour, was asleep, only to wake up moments ago. This flight is 12 ½ hours, so I'm feeling accomplished.

I had a busy morning on my way to the airport today. I wanted to pick a few things up before taking off, but only managed to get my top priority accomplished- a trip to the bookstore to pick up holiday reading: V.S. Naipaul's Among the Believers, Adrienne Nicole LaBlanc's Random Family, and Candace Bushnell's Sex and the City (despite being a huge fan of the show, I've never read the book). At the airport, I was thankful to find a voice recorder, because I intend to do some interviews, capture some verite sound, and make little movies/collages/crazy, whacky audio docs.

Okay, going to land soon.
Tired.
Almost home.

West 4th

On December 31st, a minuet physical motion will align a big hand with a little one, pointing them directly toward magnetic north and marking the start of a new year. While waiting on the subway platform on my way home from work yesterday, I stood next to a man who, for the moment it took to compel his body forward with a mercenary scream, could find no reason for making it that far.

The man threw himself in front of the F train as it arrived at the station, locking eyes with the conductor in his the final moments before being swallowed by Newton's first law. He left behind a small, white plastic bag that sat, a silent witness, at the edge of the platform nearby. It was the kind given out at corner delis, and I imagined sandwich leftovers and extra napkins inside, but I couldn't look.

No one paid attention to the bag; it was lost in the crowd of people who gathered and called to the space under the second car where the man was lying, silent and unseen. I stood dumb, mute, my rational mind battling my disbelief; How could someone do that? Why? I left the station to call 911, realizing as I did so that the conductor probably already had. I called a friend instead.

Someone just jumped in front of the train. The paramedics haven't arrived yet. No. I don't know. No, I left; I didn't know what else to do.

I got back on the train this morning and headed for work. Women pulled compacts from their bags and checked to see that the makeup they'd thrown on in a dash from their doors had not been applied overzealously; men paced back and forth, reading their New York Times. All was ordinary. The sound of friction, though- the screech between the iron and the train as it came to a halt- seemed different, sharper, more metallic. I had to stop and cover my ears.

save frosty

hey all,

if anyone is looking for a nice, small gift for friends, co-workers, etc. i think this is a good one.
it's my friend's charity album and it's full of really wonderful, unique takes on traditional christmas music.
best of all, the proceeds go to a great cause.
hope you are all well and have a very, very happy holiday.
x.
alexis
___________________________


Global warming has our dear old friend Frosty in dire need of help!
A song, a film, and a movement...check it out.

"The Rumor Mill's Christmas on Clinton St." is a charity album available now on iTunes. Produced & arranged by J. Ralph with Arthur Pingrey, the record features outstanding performances by Angela McCluskey, Rain Phoenix, Rachelle Garniez, Leah Siegel, Nicole Renaud, Baptiste Ibar, and many other special guests.

www.stopglobalwarming.orghas been chosen as our primary charity recipient for this year, and we will be donating to them a portion of all album sales from "Christmas on Clinton St.


BUY THE ALBUM:
"Christmas On Clinton St"available at iTunes

WATCH THE MOVIE:
"Frosty The Snowman Melted by Global Warming" on youtube

DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT:
www.savefrosty.org

Wishing you love and happiness in 2007.

wait- money doesn't grow on trees?

Inspired by Corey's blog today, I have decided to reiterate a small fact that I find highly distrubing. I am linking Sean Wilentz's Rolling Stone article from back in April,where I first saw this statistic cited. There are, however, many less inflammatory reports that cite this same statistic because, sadly, it is just plain fact.

Here 'tis:

According to the Treasury Department, the forty-two presidents who held office between 1789 and 2000 borrowed a combined total of $1.01 trillion from foreign governments and financial institutions. But between 2001 and 2005 alone, the Bush White House borrowed $1.05 trillion, more than all of the previous presidencies combined.

Notice of my Impending Retirement

I would like to take this moment to announce that ten days from tomorrow, I will officially be retiring from 2006. I have really enjoyed my time here and will always remember all the great people and things I have encountered, not to mention the incredible company sponsored parties (remember Jim Dubois and Ethan Chandler's amazing karaoke moment celebrating one of 2006's mergers between B of A and MBNA? I love you guys. That was just priceless. Oh, and guys- don't forget to bring the salsa to game night on Sunday. Go Gophers!!).

After 356 days of hard work and much thinking, I have decided to take some time out for family and personal obligations, and to return to my childhood passion- fingerpainting. Will I be back again? I'll be honest; not likely. I am, however, considering an offer from our sister company, 2007, so I may at some point see you again. Until then, let me reiterate what a pleasure it has been.

Sincerely Yours,

Alexandra Stember
Human Resources Dept.

was that the earth that just shook?

Rumsfeld Memo Proposed ‘Major Adjustment’ in Iraq

By MICHAEL R. GORDON and DAVID S. CLOUD

Published: December 3, 2006

WASHINGTON, Dec. 2 — Two days before he resigned as defense secretary, Donald H. Rumsfeld submitted a classified memo to the White House that acknowledged that the Bush administration’s strategy in Iraq was not working and called for a major course correction.

Defense Secretary Donald H. Rumsfeld arrived at the White House on Nov. 13 to meet with the Iraq Study Group and President Bush.

“In my view it is time for a major adjustment,” wrote Mr. Rumsfeld, who has been a symbol of a dogged stay-the-course policy. “Clearly, what U.S. forces are currently doing in Iraq is not working well enough or fast enough.”

Nor did Mr. Rumsfeld seem confident that the administration would readily develop an effective alternative. To limit the political fallout from shifting course he suggested the administration consider a campaign to lower public expectations.

“Announce that whatever new approach the U.S. decides on, the U.S. is doing so on a trial basis,” he wrote. “This will give us the ability to readjust and move to another course, if necessary, and therefore not ‘lose.’ ”

“Recast the U.S. military mission and the U.S. goals (how we talk about them) — go minimalist,” he added. Mr. Rumsfeld’s memo suggests frustration with the pace of turning over responsibility to the Iraqi authorities; in fact, the memo calls for examination of ideas that roughly parallel troop withdrawal proposals presented by some of the White House’s sharpest Democratic critics. (Text of the Memo)

The memo’s discussion of possible troop reduction options offers a counterpoint to Mr. Rumsfeld’s frequent public suggestions that discussions about force levels are driven by requests from American military commanders.

Instead, the memo puts on the table several ideas for troop redeployments or withdrawals that appear to conflict with recent public pronouncements from commanders in Iraq emphasizing the need to maintain troop levels.

The memorandum sometimes has a finger-wagging tone as Mr. Rumsfeld says that the Iraqis must “pull up their socks,” and suggests reconstruction aid should be withheld in violent areas to avoid rewarding “bad behavior.”

Other options called for shrinking the number of bases, establishing benchmarks that would mark the Iraqis’ progress toward political, economic and security goals and conducting a “reverse embeds” program to attach Iraqi soldiers with American squads.

The memo was finished one day after President Bush interviewed Robert M. Gates, the president of Texas A&M University, as a potential successor to Mr. Rumsfeld and one day before the midterm elections. By then it was clear that the Republicans appeared likely to suffer a setback at the polls and that the administration was poised to begin reconsidering its Iraq strategy.

The memo provides no indication that Mr. Rumsfeld intended to leave his Pentagon post. It is unclear whether he knew at that point that he was about to be replaced, though the White House has said that Mr. Bush and Mr. Rumsfeld had a number of conversations on the matter.

Told that The New York Times had obtained a copy of it, a Pentagon spokesman confirmed its authenticity. “As it became clear that people were considering options for the way forward, the secretary had some views on the subject, and this memo reflects those views,” said the spokesman, Eric Ruff.

At the Pentagon, Mr. Rumsfeld has been famous for his “snowflakes” — memos that drift down to the bureaucracy from on high and that are used to ask questions, stimulate debate and shape policy. Mr. Rumsfeld’s Nov. 6 memorandum, circulated as part of the administration’s review of Iraq policy, is written in that spirit and with the same blunt aphorisms that Mr. Rumsfeld frequently uses in public.

Unlike the lawyerly memo on Iraq policy submitted last month by Stephen J. Hadley, the national security adviser, Mr. Rumsfeld’s listed more than a dozen “illustrative options” that the defense secretary did not specifically endorse but suggested merited serious consideration. “Many of these options could, and in a number of cases, should be done in combination with others,” Mr. Rumsfeld advised.

With Mr. Rumsfeld’s resignation, the options no longer have the same weight. In recent weeks, some have been discarded as the Bush administration tries to adjust its military and political strategy in Iraq. But others, like increasing the number of advisers attached to Iraqi forces, live on and have also been recommended by others.

Mr. Rumsfeld, who has presided over two wars and is one of the longest-serving Pentagon chiefs, is scheduled to leave when his designated successor, Mr. Gates, is confirmed by the Senate, expected later this month.

Titled “Iraq — Illustrative New Courses of Action,” the memo reflects mounting concern over a war that, as Mr. Rumsfeld put it, has evolved from “major combat operations to counterterrorism, to counterinsurgency, to dealing with death squads and sectarian violence.”

The first section of the memo contains two pages of options that Mr. Rumsfeld describes as “above the line” ideas worthy of consideration. Some that Mr. Rumsfeld found intriguing appear to reflect his long-held view that the United States should use relatively modest force in intervening in foreign countries to avoid creating a dependency on American power. That approach, critics have charged, left the United States unprepared to deal with the chaos that followed the ouster of Saddam Hussein.

Mr. Rumsfeld has frequently emphasized the difficulty of stabilizing Iraq and the need to turn over responsibility to Iraqi authorities as quickly as possible. But he has also been a forceful, even cantankerous, defender of American policy, often insisting his critics were unduly pessimistic.

On Oct. 31, just a week before finishing the memo, Mr. Rumsfeld told a radio interviewer, “I feel that we are making good progress with the piece of it the Defense Department has.”

One option Mr. Rumsfeld offered calls for modest troop withdrawals “so Iraqis know they have to pull up their socks, step up and take responsibility for their country.”

Another option calls for redeploying American troops from “vulnerable positions” in Baghdad and other cities to safer areas in Iraq or Kuwait, where they would act as a “quick reaction force.” That idea is similar to a plan suggested by Representative John P. Murtha, a Pennsylvania Democrat, a plan that the White House has soundly rebuffed.

Still another option calls for consolidating the number of American bases in Iraq to 5 from 55 by July 2007, a considerable shrinking of the American footprint. At the same time, Mr. Rumsfeld all but dismisses the idea of setting a firm date for removing American forces from Iraq, listing it as one of the less palatable ideas.

One of the more provocative options would punish provinces that failed to cooperate with the Americans by withdrawing economic assistance and security. “Stop rewarding bad behavior, as was done in Falluja when they pushed in reconstruction funds, and start rewarding good behavior,” the option reads. “No more reconstruction assistance in areas where there is violence.”

Some military officers have said that the idea of denying assistance in some areas ignores the fact that many Iraqis are afraid to cooperate with the Americans for fear of retaliation by insurgents.

Falluja has been the focus of reconstruction efforts following an offensive by Americans that crippled city services and damaged scores of buildings, leaving the United States few options beyond rebuilding or evacuating the city. Now, it is considered by the Marines to be one of the few relatively stable areas in the dangerous Anbar Province. Many of the other towns in the region have become even more hostile because the economic assistance has been minimal, leaving the residents feeling neglected by the authorities in Baghdad, military officers say.

Then, too, work on infrastructure that sprawls across the country, like the electrical grid and the oil pipeline network, cannot be limited to nonviolent areas.

“There is an element of throwing in the towel and effectively giving up on at least some areas of the country,” said James Dobbins, a former State Department official and director of the International Security and Defense Policy Center at RAND.

In any case, administration officials indicated this week that withholding assistance was not under serious consideration.

Reflecting exasperation with much of the American government, another option in Mr. Rumsfeld’s memo raises the possibility of using military reservists to “beef up” the Iraqi government’s ministries. “Give up on trying to get other USG Departments to do it,” he writes, referring to other United States government agencies.

Taking a leaf out of Mr. Hussein’s book, Mr. Rumsfeld seemed to see some merit in the former dictator’s practice of paying Iraqi leaders. “Provide money to key political and religious leaders (as Saddam Hussein did), to get them to help us get through this difficult period,” one option reads.

The list of favored options notably does not mention the “clear, hold and build” approach that the White House has touted as its strategy for waging counterinsurgency. That is a troop-intensive approach that calls for clearing contested areas with American and Iraqi troops, holding them with American and Iraqi forces and then carrying out reconstruction programs to win popular support. Nor does the list make the withdrawal of American forces explicitly contingent on improving conditions in Iraq.

The final page of the memo is a brief list of six “less attractive” options, which Mr. Rumsfeld describes as “below the line.” These include an “aggressive federalism plan,” an international conference modeled on the Dayton accords that produced an agreement on Bosnia and an idea that is currently being seriously discussed by senior administration officials: temporarily sending 20,000 additional American forces or more to Baghdad to try to improve security in the Iraqi capital and regain momentum.

Moving a large fraction of American forces to Baghdad to “attempt to control it,” Mr. Rumsfeld writes without further elaboration, would be “below the line.”

James Glanz contributed reporting from Baghdad.

ten reasons why it’s awesome to be me

1. The fabulous Upper West Side apartment I've been raving about? Turns out it's infested with bed bugs. Yes, the very ones as in: “Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
2. I get to steam and then wash EVERYTHING I OWN to eradicate them.
3. I get to search for yet another apartment.
4. I get to stay on a couch at a girlfriend’s this weekend and then upgrade to an air mattress on another friend’s floor next week, where I will stay until I find another home.
5. I am in finals until mid-December.
6. My old roommate might have thrown away our cable box, meaning a sizable penalty from the cable company.
7. I get to fill out my second change of address form in one month and just hope my mail eventually finds me.
8. I have numerous itchy welts from the late night carnal feasts of the aforementioned bed bugs.
9. It is supposed to start snowing on Monday, when I move to my second location.
10. I’m going back to Tahiti at the end of the month. Ok, that’s sincerely awesome.