So, I've transcribed 93 pages of the screenplay, am nearly done with that part of it, although the work's not yet done (thankfully, plenty of time until deadline). I think it'll probably be 90 pages long when I'm finally done with it, upon revision and tightening it up. Since one page = one minute with screenplays, that's more than enough time, as I see it. I'll do what I can to tighten it all up, once it's all transcribed.
I'm drafting a lot of notes for the next book, while I'm also currently working on one (which is still nearly all written longhand, unfortunately -- I haven't yet gotten a Netbook).
Very sunny today, although chilly, too. Brrr! Yesterday was downright cold, but I think that's just the vagaries of weather here.
B1 got his report card yesterday, and did very well -- 6 A's, 4 B's. His teacher had nothing but good to say of him. He's such a sweet, good boy. Genuinely decent. We jaywalked the other day, and he said "We shouldn't jaywalk, Daddy." and I said "I know, but the bank's right across the street from here, it's not a busy street. Normally, I'd never do it, but we're RIGHT THERE." and he said "I know, but I just don't like breaking the law." Oh, my. My Lawful Good son. Such a sweetheart. I wonder how that'll stack up against the world at large, how that'll play out. I hope he never loses that sweet heart of his.
B2 is a wilder child -- he's sweet, but he's wild and wicked, too. He likes stirring the pot. He absolutely loves chaos -- you can see it. I'm a fan of chaos, myself, up to a point, but B2 is a maelstrom when he really gets going. He's also incredibly scrappy -- he seems to have gotten my fighting instincts, only wilder. Good lord, yes. I try to gently offer some moral guidance for B2, but he's still pretty resistant to it, when it suits him to be. Although he is keen to join in on things, and I can sometimes hoodwink him into being responsible by going to work on something and his desire to join in brings him to me where if I asked him to do something, he'd just blow me off.
Oh, and this should've been the theme music for my bus ride this morning.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Holy Shit
One thing I notice a lot on Facebook is how people who likely self-identify as "Christian" are so often hard-hearted little souls who snarl angrily about the poor and the needy. It galls me that me, the resident atheist, apparently has a bigger heart than these supposed Christians. And when I see it over and over again, this stew of hatred and anger and malice and lack of empathy (to say nothing of sympathy) from folks, it bothers me more than a little. The jester in me wants to comment to these people "What Would Jesus Do?" when they go on one of their little tears, although that would likely just be "Oh, Dave's being a smartass" kind of thing, even though I'm really calling them out a little.
I'm busy teaching my sons to be kind and compassionate (with B1, it's hardly something I even need to do -- he's kind and sweet and sensitive and already has more moral sense than most of the adults I know), and I see these other people who purportedly embrace Christianity spouting hate and venom, and I think "My poor sons are gonna be sharing the world with these hard-hearted people's spawn."
It is haunting and frustrating and makes me sad. I'm kinder-hearted than most people probably actually think -- behind my sarcastic, snarky, cynical exterior, I'm fundamentally kind. I routinely give to the poor and the needy, and I'm reflexively empathic to the suffering of others. In a purely philosophical, Judeo-Christian ethical sense, I am more Christian than most of the Christians I know.
My least-Christian quality is that I don't hurt those who don't deserve to be hurt -- sorry, but if smacked in the face (literally or figuratively), I will smack back -- I'm far too Celtic to truly turn the other cheek, although I'm far more forgiving than I ought to be, and I never start anything, but I'm sure to finish it, if provoked -- I don't believe in initiation of force, but I do believe in self-defense, and that applies in a variety of settings, whether physical, emotional, mental, social, or spiritual. I do believe in Live and Let Live as an atheistic detente with the world around me. I won't hurt you if you don't hurt me, but Tit for Tat definitely is part of my character.
Anyway, it just bothers me to see hate and vitriol flung by people who've clearly been drinking the Christianist Kool-Aid and spew that kind of partisan venom at the poor and the weak and the needy. C'mon, people. It's very, very American to do that, really -- like to think that Christianity is more "God helps those who help themselves" than "Love one another." Or that Christ was somehow this oily entrepreneur, this venture capitalist for the soul, instead of a genuine spiritual radical who embraced the weak against the dictates of the strong and the powerful. Yet this obvious theological point seems lost on so many people.
As I've long said, I think Christianity came to America to die -- Europe bled itself dry of religiosity in countless wars, and our young country gleefully embraced (and distorted) Christian theology to its own end. Clearly, the nearly communist doctrines of actual Christianity are entirely un-American, so I wonder just what kind of Christianity those folks are embracing, precisely -- a "Christianity" where the strong kick the weak in the teeth, where the rich are free to enjoy the fruits of others' labors with impunity, where the powerful ride roughshod over the poor, where the bold inherit the Earth (standing on the backs of the meek, mind you).
The hostility people felt toward the health care reform is only one symptom of this spiritual sickness -- that reform was very, very mild (and, shhh, very conservative and pro-business) -- but those venom-spewers (good "Christians" one and all, for sure) got seething mad about it. And I looked at it and said "It's giving health care options for people who didn't have them. If Jesus saw that, He'd approve -- if anything, He'd say it didn't go nearly far enough to help the helpless." But noooooo, they lost their minds over people getting health care!
It doesn't bode well for this century, truly, that these cockeyed crusaders are busy taking swords to whetstones to "save this country" when, in truth, they are going to destroy it. And under the banner of "Christian values." Holy SHIT, people. The reactionaries a century ago realized that religiosity was the perfect shield for them to hide behind, and they surely are. We are seeing their foot soldiers marching under that banner of moral certitude and righteousness, while pursuing an agenda of anger, fear, and hatred. Yeah, good things will come of that, Lord knows.
I'm busy teaching my sons to be kind and compassionate (with B1, it's hardly something I even need to do -- he's kind and sweet and sensitive and already has more moral sense than most of the adults I know), and I see these other people who purportedly embrace Christianity spouting hate and venom, and I think "My poor sons are gonna be sharing the world with these hard-hearted people's spawn."
It is haunting and frustrating and makes me sad. I'm kinder-hearted than most people probably actually think -- behind my sarcastic, snarky, cynical exterior, I'm fundamentally kind. I routinely give to the poor and the needy, and I'm reflexively empathic to the suffering of others. In a purely philosophical, Judeo-Christian ethical sense, I am more Christian than most of the Christians I know.
My least-Christian quality is that I don't hurt those who don't deserve to be hurt -- sorry, but if smacked in the face (literally or figuratively), I will smack back -- I'm far too Celtic to truly turn the other cheek, although I'm far more forgiving than I ought to be, and I never start anything, but I'm sure to finish it, if provoked -- I don't believe in initiation of force, but I do believe in self-defense, and that applies in a variety of settings, whether physical, emotional, mental, social, or spiritual. I do believe in Live and Let Live as an atheistic detente with the world around me. I won't hurt you if you don't hurt me, but Tit for Tat definitely is part of my character.
Anyway, it just bothers me to see hate and vitriol flung by people who've clearly been drinking the Christianist Kool-Aid and spew that kind of partisan venom at the poor and the weak and the needy. C'mon, people. It's very, very American to do that, really -- like to think that Christianity is more "God helps those who help themselves" than "Love one another." Or that Christ was somehow this oily entrepreneur, this venture capitalist for the soul, instead of a genuine spiritual radical who embraced the weak against the dictates of the strong and the powerful. Yet this obvious theological point seems lost on so many people.
As I've long said, I think Christianity came to America to die -- Europe bled itself dry of religiosity in countless wars, and our young country gleefully embraced (and distorted) Christian theology to its own end. Clearly, the nearly communist doctrines of actual Christianity are entirely un-American, so I wonder just what kind of Christianity those folks are embracing, precisely -- a "Christianity" where the strong kick the weak in the teeth, where the rich are free to enjoy the fruits of others' labors with impunity, where the powerful ride roughshod over the poor, where the bold inherit the Earth (standing on the backs of the meek, mind you).
The hostility people felt toward the health care reform is only one symptom of this spiritual sickness -- that reform was very, very mild (and, shhh, very conservative and pro-business) -- but those venom-spewers (good "Christians" one and all, for sure) got seething mad about it. And I looked at it and said "It's giving health care options for people who didn't have them. If Jesus saw that, He'd approve -- if anything, He'd say it didn't go nearly far enough to help the helpless." But noooooo, they lost their minds over people getting health care!
It doesn't bode well for this century, truly, that these cockeyed crusaders are busy taking swords to whetstones to "save this country" when, in truth, they are going to destroy it. And under the banner of "Christian values." Holy SHIT, people. The reactionaries a century ago realized that religiosity was the perfect shield for them to hide behind, and they surely are. We are seeing their foot soldiers marching under that banner of moral certitude and righteousness, while pursuing an agenda of anger, fear, and hatred. Yeah, good things will come of that, Lord knows.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Public Service Announcement
Q: Do you know what all of these actresses have in common?
Winona Ryder.
Neve Campbell.
Selma Blair.
Katie Holmes.
Natalie Portman.
Camilla Belle.
A: If you answered "they're all brunettes!" You'd be WRONG! That is not what they all have in common! Rather, the answer is: They all suck -- they're non-acting actresses! "Hacktresses," if you will! All of them are distractingly boring and wooden in any role they play in any movie they star in. They are a flock of albatrosses sure to sink any film they're in, if directors aren't careful. I imagine if all of them were put in one movie (I don't know, like "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants III: Dude, Where's My Pants?" there might be some rift in space-time, killing us all with boredom).
Seriously, start a drinking game if you want, and any time
Even in the above stills, you can see the doe-eyed inertness they represent.
Winona Ryder.
Neve Campbell.
Selma Blair.
Katie Holmes.
Natalie Portman.
Camilla Belle.A: If you answered "they're all brunettes!" You'd be WRONG! That is not what they all have in common! Rather, the answer is: They all suck -- they're non-acting actresses! "Hacktresses," if you will! All of them are distractingly boring and wooden in any role they play in any movie they star in. They are a flock of albatrosses sure to sink any film they're in, if directors aren't careful. I imagine if all of them were put in one movie (I don't know, like "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants III: Dude, Where's My Pants?" there might be some rift in space-time, killing us all with boredom).
Seriously, start a drinking game if you want, and any time
- You CANNOT guess what emotion they're trying to portray in a scene, take a drink.
- You catch them attempting to act, too, take a drink.
- They unconvincingly try to portray some occupation or lifestyle in a scene, take a drink.
Even in the above stills, you can see the doe-eyed inertness they represent.
What's more?
I have nothing worthwhile to share today. It's been sunny-but-cool lately. The birthday weekend blew, nothing fancy. I just played with the boys, mostly, did a little transcribing. I'm trying to get the various writing projects done, but need to carve out more time for them. And I really need to find a job in the Loop. I'm sick to death of Hyde Park; I miss working downtown.
I really don't want to do freelance editorial work. Urk. This weekend, B1 has a camping outing with the Cub Scouts. I have to remember to pack cold-weather gear aplenty, because I'm sure it'll get frickin' cold! I nearly froze during last year's spring camp-out (shivering at the memory -- seriously, it was the coldest I've ever been, I think). I also have to rent a Zipcar or the like to get out to the campsite. While I don't miss the pain in the assery of owning a car in the city, there is a bit of PITA in renting, too.
I need to start making lists, just to get things all done. It's so easy to get distracted.
I really don't want to do freelance editorial work. Urk. This weekend, B1 has a camping outing with the Cub Scouts. I have to remember to pack cold-weather gear aplenty, because I'm sure it'll get frickin' cold! I nearly froze during last year's spring camp-out (shivering at the memory -- seriously, it was the coldest I've ever been, I think). I also have to rent a Zipcar or the like to get out to the campsite. While I don't miss the pain in the assery of owning a car in the city, there is a bit of PITA in renting, too.
I need to start making lists, just to get things all done. It's so easy to get distracted.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Flicks
I got the "Justice League" movie (direct-to-DVD) and was pleasantly surprised by it -- much of the Bruce Timm-directed production team was involved with it, despite the different animators, and the result was very solid. My boys LOVE the movie, and I've watched it a couple of times, think it was fun, well-done. Not treading new ground, storywise, but it was marvelously well-executed and fun. A lot of in-jokes for comic book fanboys and -girls, but it was a compelling work, and I look forward to seeing what else Bruce Timm and company turn out. They have making good animated superhero stuff down pat!
"Push," an ostensibly SF paranormal thriller (involving superhumans) had some arresting images and at least a theoretically usable premise, but it didn't fully cohere the way it needed to -- the whole didn't equal the sum of its parts, and one of the characters (played inertly by Camilla Belle, who appears to have taken the Katie Holmes School of Acting to heart) is a big drag on the overall story. It could have been a good thriller, but I think it got out from under the creators of it, and didn't fully deliver. I think my favorite sequences involved the Screamers/Bleeders, who had a sonic scream attack...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwaiD8ZVYOU
Although the precognitive Watchers were also interesting. Surprisingly, Dakota Fanning did a good job in her role as one of the Watchers (although she was distractingly hunchy -- is that just her being "in character" or does she always have such rotten posture?) She's kind of a pint-sized Kate Hudson, and her relationship with lead character "Nick" (played by Chris Evans) was more convincing that the cobbled-together love interest Evans was supposed to have with Camilla Belle's wooden character (who reminded me of Selma Blair's "Why Is She In This Movie?" role in HELLBOY).
"Coraline" is the latest Neil Gaiman triumph -- and I say that as a bad thing -- I'm not a fan of Neil Gaiman's work. He's just too British for me, too affected, too something. Some people love his work, his dark fairyland, gothic-infused mentality -- the same folks who worship Tim Burton worship Neil Gaiman as their Tolstoy. But it doesn't quite ring true for me -- his work doesn't reach me, and I can't exactly say why. Something about his writing style, his sensibility, something. The technical achievement of the movie outweighs the larger themes of it, in my view -- a movie that's fun to watch but which doesn't particularly deliver the goods. I just kind of watched it, enjoyed it after a fashion (despite the constant, cloying British eccentricity routinely demonstrated by the supposedly American characters in it).
"Push," an ostensibly SF paranormal thriller (involving superhumans) had some arresting images and at least a theoretically usable premise, but it didn't fully cohere the way it needed to -- the whole didn't equal the sum of its parts, and one of the characters (played inertly by Camilla Belle, who appears to have taken the Katie Holmes School of Acting to heart) is a big drag on the overall story. It could have been a good thriller, but I think it got out from under the creators of it, and didn't fully deliver. I think my favorite sequences involved the Screamers/Bleeders, who had a sonic scream attack...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwaiD8ZVYOU
Although the precognitive Watchers were also interesting. Surprisingly, Dakota Fanning did a good job in her role as one of the Watchers (although she was distractingly hunchy -- is that just her being "in character" or does she always have such rotten posture?) She's kind of a pint-sized Kate Hudson, and her relationship with lead character "Nick" (played by Chris Evans) was more convincing that the cobbled-together love interest Evans was supposed to have with Camilla Belle's wooden character (who reminded me of Selma Blair's "Why Is She In This Movie?" role in HELLBOY).
"Coraline" is the latest Neil Gaiman triumph -- and I say that as a bad thing -- I'm not a fan of Neil Gaiman's work. He's just too British for me, too affected, too something. Some people love his work, his dark fairyland, gothic-infused mentality -- the same folks who worship Tim Burton worship Neil Gaiman as their Tolstoy. But it doesn't quite ring true for me -- his work doesn't reach me, and I can't exactly say why. Something about his writing style, his sensibility, something. The technical achievement of the movie outweighs the larger themes of it, in my view -- a movie that's fun to watch but which doesn't particularly deliver the goods. I just kind of watched it, enjoyed it after a fashion (despite the constant, cloying British eccentricity routinely demonstrated by the supposedly American characters in it).
Movies
Over the weekend, I watched (on DVD), "Justice League: A Crisis on Two Earths," "Push," and "Coraline." I didn't get around to catching "Kick-Ass" as of yet. I'll offer my comments on the above movies in a few. Gonna make pancakes for the boys this morning.
Friday, April 16, 2010
The Day of Cosmic Comedy
Today's my birthday!
According to "The Secret Language of Birthdays," today is The Day of Cosmic Comedy, which is actually pretty appropriate, for those who know me. I laugh early, and I laugh often, I laugh with, and I laugh at. I can get very nearly anybody to laugh (except for supreme assholes, fussbudgets, and sourpusses, who get annoyed at my sense of humor). The name of this day amuses me, too, because I often joke about how the Cosmos is having a laugh with me.
Some famous birthday fellow travelers: Charlie Chaplin, Peter Ustinov, Henry Mancini, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Ellen Barkin, Herbie Mann.
According to "The Secret Language of Birthdays," today is The Day of Cosmic Comedy, which is actually pretty appropriate, for those who know me. I laugh early, and I laugh often, I laugh with, and I laugh at. I can get very nearly anybody to laugh (except for supreme assholes, fussbudgets, and sourpusses, who get annoyed at my sense of humor). The name of this day amuses me, too, because I often joke about how the Cosmos is having a laugh with me.
Some famous birthday fellow travelers: Charlie Chaplin, Peter Ustinov, Henry Mancini, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Ellen Barkin, Herbie Mann.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Holding Back the Years
This is the song I was alluding to the other day -- the original "Holding Back the Years" by the Frantic Elevators (who?) -- the punk band Simply Red singer Mike Hucknall was in before attaining Blue-Eyed Soul superstardom with his syrupy remake...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-L8hlgkGmo
I love this original. It is beautiful and forlorn and wistful, and has more than a trace of a Bowie vibe to it. It's funny to me, because I've mocked the Simply Red tune for almost as long as I've paid attention to music (as symptomatic of what, exactly? I don't know what -- Spandau Ballet's "True" conjures up almost the same kind of loathing in me -- is it sentimentality? Faux-new romanticism? I don't know), but the original is a very impressive song.
It is striking to me, just how a slightly different arrangement can lead to such a rich reward, how a slight change can create such monumental improvements in something. Of course, Hucknall ladled on the soulful treacle on this beautifully barren original and parlayed into a massive hit for him, but the original is amazing.
So, I put this song up as the last tune of my 30s, to show how the same song can yield such amazing results (and improvements) with just a little tweaking. It'll be that way with my life from now on. I don't regret my past -- so much of what makes me who I am comes from that past, but I'd be lying if I didn't think that while I experienced great things in my 30s (largely centered around fatherhood and my two wonderful sons, and also finally, truly getting serious about my writing), I feel that my life has only just begun. It's a cliché, the whole "life begins at 40" idea, but maybe there's some truth to it.
A chapter of my youth is closing, and a chapter in my adulthood is beginning. I've felt some amazing, life-changing things in the past decade, and feel that, for the first time in my life, I'm being truly who I am, for better or worse! Onward toward 40. I face it without regret or fear or sorrow. I'm hopeful and I'm happy.
Anyway, enjoy the tune. I know I sure did.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-L8hlgkGmo
I love this original. It is beautiful and forlorn and wistful, and has more than a trace of a Bowie vibe to it. It's funny to me, because I've mocked the Simply Red tune for almost as long as I've paid attention to music (as symptomatic of what, exactly? I don't know what -- Spandau Ballet's "True" conjures up almost the same kind of loathing in me -- is it sentimentality? Faux-new romanticism? I don't know), but the original is a very impressive song.
It is striking to me, just how a slightly different arrangement can lead to such a rich reward, how a slight change can create such monumental improvements in something. Of course, Hucknall ladled on the soulful treacle on this beautifully barren original and parlayed into a massive hit for him, but the original is amazing.
So, I put this song up as the last tune of my 30s, to show how the same song can yield such amazing results (and improvements) with just a little tweaking. It'll be that way with my life from now on. I don't regret my past -- so much of what makes me who I am comes from that past, but I'd be lying if I didn't think that while I experienced great things in my 30s (largely centered around fatherhood and my two wonderful sons, and also finally, truly getting serious about my writing), I feel that my life has only just begun. It's a cliché, the whole "life begins at 40" idea, but maybe there's some truth to it.
A chapter of my youth is closing, and a chapter in my adulthood is beginning. I've felt some amazing, life-changing things in the past decade, and feel that, for the first time in my life, I'm being truly who I am, for better or worse! Onward toward 40. I face it without regret or fear or sorrow. I'm hopeful and I'm happy.
Anyway, enjoy the tune. I know I sure did.
Meteorology and Public Anomie
Apparently a meteor shot over the Midwest last night, roughly around the time I went to bed. I missed it, but the pix of it over Madison, WI looked impressive...
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/36559622/ns/technology_and_science-space/
I'm kinda peevish that I missed it. I was pretty tired, though, and guess I conked when this sucker flew over! I think meteors are maybe good omens, contrasted with comets, which are, historically, seen as bad omens. So, there you go.
Today's my last day of being a 30-something! Woo hoo! I thought of that at the Mission of Burma show Saturday, like "Wow, this is my last show as a 30-something." (I think Guided By Voices in 2001 was my first show as a 30-something).
Tomorrow, I'm taking a day off of work, and going to get my hair cut, gonna take care of the boys, gonna get groceries, gonna make myself a birthday cake (DIY! DIY!) and will catch "Kick-Ass" and maybe go out for a round of drinks in the evening. Nothing fancy. Low-key, compared with my 39th birthday celebration bash at the tiki bar last year, but for me, that seems right -- like the last 30-something birthday should have more weight than the first 40-something birthday, I dunno. Just feels intuitively right.
This weekend, I'm taking B1 to his soccer game Saturday (with B2 in tow), and am going to finish transcribing the screenplay (and then the odious task of noting the plot and ensuring that the plot points flow smoothly, all of that -- screenwriting leaves you no wiggle room on that -- every plot point must matter, so I need to map that all out and get it right. I may tape it to the wall or something, so I can see it all in one place -- index cards, that kinda thing. My boys'll love that, I'm sure, and'll start taping things to the walls. I just know it. Oh, and I'll get the boys' and my bikes spruced up and ready for biking season. I'm looking forward to that.
I think I may represent a kind of retrograde conception of manhood to the younger set. It's kind of funny with me, at work. I'm a strongly progressive soul, and am definitely more of a libertine than many of the people I work with (although I think maybe they don't realize it, because I'm "old") -- but it's funny, too. Most of the people I work with on a peer-to-peer basis are 20-somethings, not Gen Xers, and I think I'm very different from them. Like socially, and normatively, they speak a different language than I do. I think I'm harder-edged, more cynical, more sarcastic than they are. They are more pack-oriented, less comfortable going it alone. It's kind of weird. It reminds me of how, say, a Brat Packer or a Mod might've seemed to a group of hippies -- like retro and strange. I think that's the case.
I think the advent of texting and other technological means of corresponding has adversely impacted communication -- the younger folks are less adroit conversationalists -- less to say, and less interesting things to say. It's kind of curious to observe in action. Easily distractable, short attention spans, not much patience, and other things that I think result from changes in the way people communicate. Not only do I not really talk to them; I kind of find myself not wanting to, either. And it's not even anything personal -- it's just a kind of odd emptiness in human interactions I see that wasn't quite there before. Maybe X was the last conversational generation -- the last generation where you actually had to talk to people around you, versus relying on texting and other media to do the talking for you.
It's not necessarily a value judgment -- it's just a reflection on how things have changed. And I think conceptions of masculinity have changed, too. I think perhaps in the 90s, classic conceptions of masculinity were subverted (I think unintentionally), and many guys went "emo" because appearing too strongly masculine was perhaps seen as threatening. It's funny, because I'm not a macho guy by any means -- I'm quietly masculine, strongly sexual, but not overbearing in that regard -- but, compared with the 20-something guys I work with, I'm like a bull (haha, or a woolly ram, perhaps), snorting and stomping. At some point in our culture, being masculine was somehow seen as a bad thing. Being very alert and socially aware, I'm conscious of that, not wanting to stomp on coworkers' toes. Maybe it's part of being a Big Guy(tm) -- like there is an implicit threat in being a Big Buy that can appear threatening to people in general, I'm not sure. But I feel like where it never came up with my Gen X peers, I kind of see that vibe with the Gen Y people I work with. Being a strong individual in a pack-oriented culture, too, might be part of it.
Maybe it's because of the gradual outing of gay culture in the 90s and the rise of Emo or something, younger guys weren't really left with any workable model of manhood to put to use, and so they either stay permaboys, or else just kind of flounder. Like I notice in the parlance, the 20-something women habitually refer to guys as "boys" and themselves as "girls" -- there is almost a pejorative connotation with "man" and "woman" in language these days. Like a self-consciousness, where the women are girls and the men are boys -- or maybe it's simply a side effect of an infantilized culture where nobody really has to grow up.
I'm not entirely sure. It's just something I've observed. Almost none of the 20-somethings I work with are in long-term relationships, almost none of them have had kids -- while they claim to want a proper relationship, the idea of parenting seems horrifying and alien to them, the idea of a relationship seems to strike them as too much work for too little payoff, quite beyond their expectations of life. It's a curious thing to observe, from my vantage point of a Gen X parent of two who's getting divorced, surrounded by Gen Y people who likely haven't even given a stray thought to even marrying anybody, let alone raising kids or divorcing somebody.
How is a future built in a world like that, full of alienated people who just randomly bounce off one another like pinballs? Where seemingly obvious ideas like "conversation" and "dating" and "relationship" and even "love" seem quaint and unfamiliar and alien and perhaps even threatening? In a bizarre way, it feels like the final triumph of the consumerist culture, to the final detriment of mankind as a social animal. I just wonder where these people will be in another five years, what they will do, and what that'll mean for the larger culture.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/36559622/ns/technology_and_science-space/
I'm kinda peevish that I missed it. I was pretty tired, though, and guess I conked when this sucker flew over! I think meteors are maybe good omens, contrasted with comets, which are, historically, seen as bad omens. So, there you go.
Today's my last day of being a 30-something! Woo hoo! I thought of that at the Mission of Burma show Saturday, like "Wow, this is my last show as a 30-something." (I think Guided By Voices in 2001 was my first show as a 30-something).
Tomorrow, I'm taking a day off of work, and going to get my hair cut, gonna take care of the boys, gonna get groceries, gonna make myself a birthday cake (DIY! DIY!) and will catch "Kick-Ass" and maybe go out for a round of drinks in the evening. Nothing fancy. Low-key, compared with my 39th birthday celebration bash at the tiki bar last year, but for me, that seems right -- like the last 30-something birthday should have more weight than the first 40-something birthday, I dunno. Just feels intuitively right.
This weekend, I'm taking B1 to his soccer game Saturday (with B2 in tow), and am going to finish transcribing the screenplay (and then the odious task of noting the plot and ensuring that the plot points flow smoothly, all of that -- screenwriting leaves you no wiggle room on that -- every plot point must matter, so I need to map that all out and get it right. I may tape it to the wall or something, so I can see it all in one place -- index cards, that kinda thing. My boys'll love that, I'm sure, and'll start taping things to the walls. I just know it. Oh, and I'll get the boys' and my bikes spruced up and ready for biking season. I'm looking forward to that.
I think I may represent a kind of retrograde conception of manhood to the younger set. It's kind of funny with me, at work. I'm a strongly progressive soul, and am definitely more of a libertine than many of the people I work with (although I think maybe they don't realize it, because I'm "old") -- but it's funny, too. Most of the people I work with on a peer-to-peer basis are 20-somethings, not Gen Xers, and I think I'm very different from them. Like socially, and normatively, they speak a different language than I do. I think I'm harder-edged, more cynical, more sarcastic than they are. They are more pack-oriented, less comfortable going it alone. It's kind of weird. It reminds me of how, say, a Brat Packer or a Mod might've seemed to a group of hippies -- like retro and strange. I think that's the case.
I think the advent of texting and other technological means of corresponding has adversely impacted communication -- the younger folks are less adroit conversationalists -- less to say, and less interesting things to say. It's kind of curious to observe in action. Easily distractable, short attention spans, not much patience, and other things that I think result from changes in the way people communicate. Not only do I not really talk to them; I kind of find myself not wanting to, either. And it's not even anything personal -- it's just a kind of odd emptiness in human interactions I see that wasn't quite there before. Maybe X was the last conversational generation -- the last generation where you actually had to talk to people around you, versus relying on texting and other media to do the talking for you.
It's not necessarily a value judgment -- it's just a reflection on how things have changed. And I think conceptions of masculinity have changed, too. I think perhaps in the 90s, classic conceptions of masculinity were subverted (I think unintentionally), and many guys went "emo" because appearing too strongly masculine was perhaps seen as threatening. It's funny, because I'm not a macho guy by any means -- I'm quietly masculine, strongly sexual, but not overbearing in that regard -- but, compared with the 20-something guys I work with, I'm like a bull (haha, or a woolly ram, perhaps), snorting and stomping. At some point in our culture, being masculine was somehow seen as a bad thing. Being very alert and socially aware, I'm conscious of that, not wanting to stomp on coworkers' toes. Maybe it's part of being a Big Guy(tm) -- like there is an implicit threat in being a Big Buy that can appear threatening to people in general, I'm not sure. But I feel like where it never came up with my Gen X peers, I kind of see that vibe with the Gen Y people I work with. Being a strong individual in a pack-oriented culture, too, might be part of it.
Maybe it's because of the gradual outing of gay culture in the 90s and the rise of Emo or something, younger guys weren't really left with any workable model of manhood to put to use, and so they either stay permaboys, or else just kind of flounder. Like I notice in the parlance, the 20-something women habitually refer to guys as "boys" and themselves as "girls" -- there is almost a pejorative connotation with "man" and "woman" in language these days. Like a self-consciousness, where the women are girls and the men are boys -- or maybe it's simply a side effect of an infantilized culture where nobody really has to grow up.
I'm not entirely sure. It's just something I've observed. Almost none of the 20-somethings I work with are in long-term relationships, almost none of them have had kids -- while they claim to want a proper relationship, the idea of parenting seems horrifying and alien to them, the idea of a relationship seems to strike them as too much work for too little payoff, quite beyond their expectations of life. It's a curious thing to observe, from my vantage point of a Gen X parent of two who's getting divorced, surrounded by Gen Y people who likely haven't even given a stray thought to even marrying anybody, let alone raising kids or divorcing somebody.
How is a future built in a world like that, full of alienated people who just randomly bounce off one another like pinballs? Where seemingly obvious ideas like "conversation" and "dating" and "relationship" and even "love" seem quaint and unfamiliar and alien and perhaps even threatening? In a bizarre way, it feels like the final triumph of the consumerist culture, to the final detriment of mankind as a social animal. I just wonder where these people will be in another five years, what they will do, and what that'll mean for the larger culture.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Speaking of Punk
There's a song I'm going to post on my birthday (Friday) that just seems so right. It's ironic for me, because it just shows how powerful a slightly different arrangement can be -- a different chord here or there (I lack the language to really explain it, it's all intuitive, but is so different, so much better). It's a wonderful tune, one that I had historically maligned -- not the version I stumbled into (which kills), but the better-known one (which I still loathe). Just funny how much power a song can have, if done slightly differently. I'm chomping at the bit to post it, but I'm waiting until Friday. It's hard to be patient.
Like, OMG!
This should be a law of pop cultural physics, it holds so true: if somebody says how "punk rock" something is (or, worse, "punk rawk") -- that person is a poseur (and in this day and age, far and away from Punk's unmarked grave, it's even more poseurish to be a poseur that way, like to even feel obligated to observe how "punk rock" something is).
Every time I've seen somebody marvel at something (or someone) and say "Oh, X is SO PUNK ROCK." That person who says it is invariably the most scenesterish, hipsterish poser type. They just are. I've observed it a number of times in the long span of years -- the tendency to observe how "punk rock" something was came about really in the mid-90s; before then, stuff was either good or it sucked -- no punk worth their safety pins would even make that observation, because you'd just know intuitively. There wouldn't be the need to narrate it, couch it, and otherwise claim it like that for some kind of unearned legitimacy. I remember working with a coworker who once exclaimed (without irony, for once, as he was a consummate hipster) "I'm punk rock! I pogoed to Superchunk!" That alone is worth a cockpunch, just on general principles.
There is a Zenlike art to it, to the intuitive knowledge of it and the anarchic spirit of it, and the people who try to lay claim to that are wusses in sheep's clothing. Lead, follow, or get out of the fucking way.
It matters because that fauxthenticity (yeah, another of my words) percolates far beyond Punk's long-dead corpse, and into the realm of proper art.
In other news, I'm very disappointed that The Urban Dictionary didn't accept "Daffodildo" as a new word. Wusses. They would have, back in the day. God, I hope they didn't purge "Cuntquistador" from their dictionary. Whew. No, they didn't. That's one of my greatest additions to the English language (along with "Errorgasm," "Gliberal," "Crapdusting," "Chickchismo" [apparently a UD Word of the day in '06], "Driveshaft," and "Vaginocity," to name just a few -- I have many more in there).
Every time I've seen somebody marvel at something (or someone) and say "Oh, X is SO PUNK ROCK." That person who says it is invariably the most scenesterish, hipsterish poser type. They just are. I've observed it a number of times in the long span of years -- the tendency to observe how "punk rock" something was came about really in the mid-90s; before then, stuff was either good or it sucked -- no punk worth their safety pins would even make that observation, because you'd just know intuitively. There wouldn't be the need to narrate it, couch it, and otherwise claim it like that for some kind of unearned legitimacy. I remember working with a coworker who once exclaimed (without irony, for once, as he was a consummate hipster) "I'm punk rock! I pogoed to Superchunk!" That alone is worth a cockpunch, just on general principles.
There is a Zenlike art to it, to the intuitive knowledge of it and the anarchic spirit of it, and the people who try to lay claim to that are wusses in sheep's clothing. Lead, follow, or get out of the fucking way.
It matters because that fauxthenticity (yeah, another of my words) percolates far beyond Punk's long-dead corpse, and into the realm of proper art.
In other news, I'm very disappointed that The Urban Dictionary didn't accept "Daffodildo" as a new word. Wusses. They would have, back in the day. God, I hope they didn't purge "Cuntquistador" from their dictionary. Whew. No, they didn't. That's one of my greatest additions to the English language (along with "Errorgasm," "Gliberal," "Crapdusting," "Chickchismo" [apparently a UD Word of the day in '06], "Driveshaft," and "Vaginocity," to name just a few -- I have many more in there).
Hemingway on Hyenas
Saw this blurb in a SLATE piece on hyenas, and it made me snicker. Ernest Hemingway on hyenas...
"Hermaphroditic, self-eating devourer of the dead, trailer of calving cows, ham-stringer, potential biter-off of your face at night while you slept, sad yowler, camp-follower, stinking, foul with jaws that crack the bones the lion leaves …"I love it, especially "potential biter-off of your face at night while you slept" -- bahaha! I imagine him drunkenly penning that, trying to get just the right flow. The above feels like a grumbly trail of invective -- it makes me want to describe various people I know in pithy sequences of description like that.
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