I haven't posted here in months and I don't plan on reviving anything at the moment. However, I did resuscitate my other blog, Quietly Take To The Ship, as a home for a new poetry project called The Bower Bird.
The beloved Spaceship was sent to the hangar as I prepped for grad school and I haven't had the time or energy to drag her back out again. It will probably stay that way for the foreseeable future unless summer has other plans. We'll see. In the meantime constructing a bower of thoughts will be my primary focus and you're welcome to keep abreast of my progress. I have no idea where I'm going with it, only how I'm going about it.
Heh heh, I said "breast".
Showing posts with label words. Show all posts
Showing posts with label words. Show all posts
17 March 2010
30 March 2009
I Found the "[pre]" Tag
Man, sometimes I can be such a pleb. Aside from the fact that my poetry is probably mediocre at best, I stopped posting my work because I was getting frustrated trying to format lines and spaces in Blogger. A few months back when this problem started to become a headache, I searched around but only found other poets' and editors' laments about the obstacles to properly formatting poetry online. Perhaps most of those complaints were old because, sure enough, today I discovered there's an html tag, [pre], that retains preformatted material. Not sure how I missed it all the times I spent looking for tags that would help me format poetry, but it definitely exists and is definitely helpful.
So as I continue to await word on whether or not I get into a master's program in the fall, I've resumed posting my better* work over at Quietly Take To The Ship.
*—I may be a curmudgeon, but I'm no Philip Larkin
So as I continue to await word on whether or not I get into a master's program in the fall, I've resumed posting my better* work over at Quietly Take To The Ship.
*—I may be a curmudgeon, but I'm no Philip Larkin
02 January 2009
The Cleansing Sting of Economic Collapse
The other day I was shelving books at work and came across Marshall Berman's All That Is Solid Melts Into Air. It was the subtitle, "The Experience of Modernity," that actually caught my eye, as I tend to gravitate toward any work that demonstrates a willingness to explore our epoch's deepest paradoxes. During my short stint at The New School For Social Research, we had to take a core curriculum class called, "What Is Modernity?" Since then I've been endlessly fascinated with definitions of modernism, postmodernism and the debates between adherents and critics of both. (Personally, I'm of the belief that "postmodernism," or the postmodern condition," is merely a minor stage of the "modern" era, but I don't have the room to explicate all this here.)
I wasn't sure what to expect from Berman's book, since it's shelved in the Literary Criticism section, but flipping through I immediately had to sit down and start reading (a luxury I actually have at work). Part One focuses on Goethe's Faust as the premier work that spans the fissures out of which the modern era has grown. Unfortunately, I've never read Faust, though as soon as I have time I'm doing so. Most people are familiar with the terms "faustian" or "a faustian" bargain, but Berman points out that all too often those terms are used poorly and in situations that don't quite fit the allegorical mold. Anyway, that's not what I'm writing about at the moment (though with some more time to think, maybe I will in the future).
While I was intrigued by Part One and stormed through it, I was really looking forward to reading Part Two, which revolves around The Communist Manifesto. I can't tell you how many times I've read this work, and my own copy (in The Marx-Engels Reader) is highlighted and marked up beyond recognition. Berman's take on it is fascinating, and now I'm going to have to read it all again. He describes it as the first true work of art of the modernist period despite the fact that it is all but ignored when works of Marx's contemporaries—like Baudelaire, Flaubert, Kierkegaard, Dostoevsky—are discussed.
Berman notes that Marx was stunningly prescient in envisioning the course of the bourgeois project. In fact, Marx, more than any of capitalism's cheerleaders, makes the case for the world-altering power of capital and its never-before-seen ability to liberate people from the binds of previous social and religious systems. Capitalism was (and is) notoriously unstable, though while Marx saw this as virtue, it was a facet that the major proponents of the emerging system kept shushed in the corner, out of the spotlight.
To this day you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone writing about the transformative glories of capitalism with the same poetic gusto with which Marx wrote. However, Marx believed that this transformative power, this era in which "all that is solid melts into air," would lead to continuous revolutions and the rise of a new kind of man. As capital must always expand, it must always destroy to clear room for newer, more efficient methods and products and ideas. This was the major paradox of Dr. Faust's activity in the world as well as something the Futurists would embrace just prior to WWI ("We want to glorify war - the only cure for the world"). Capitalists have always been the world's truest nihilists in this regard.
Still only in section 2 of Part Two, Berman touches on Marx's "theory of crises." Here, suddenly, the theoretical, the allegorical, the metaphorical all peeled away to today. Berman's words from 1982 display Marx's words from 1848 which mirror 2008. (Call it synchronicity, coincidence, whatever, but when I got home and opened my Marx-Engels Reader, my bookmark was on p. 445, the second page of Marx's "Crisis Theory". This book has been in a box for months.) This is what he writes, on page 103:
Here we are in the midst of a growing worldwide economic depression. And you know what? Millions of people are frightened, but I'm not. People are scared because they've tried to build comfortable lives in an uncomfortable world. There is no rest, no respite. Capital will not let you rest, because if you do, it will destroy you like every other obsolete barrier it faces. Your future will become like that Philemon and Baucis, consumed in cleansing fire to make space for the new tower.
I hardly consider myself an apologist for capitalism, but it has its virtues. I admire the Futurist project for its liberating lack of sentimentality and its nihilistic dedication to destroying the obsolete. Of course, this always means that once all those old traces have melted away, one must find a new solid to burn for fuel. But there is plenty of shit that capital has produced that many of us would love to burn, clear away, to make room for something better. (And if you're averse to the concept of burning, think of it as dismantling and recycling the usable elements.)
So here's to a new year of destruction and creation, of Shiva Nataraja triumphantly dancing upon the defeated dwarf of ignorance.
I wasn't sure what to expect from Berman's book, since it's shelved in the Literary Criticism section, but flipping through I immediately had to sit down and start reading (a luxury I actually have at work). Part One focuses on Goethe's Faust as the premier work that spans the fissures out of which the modern era has grown. Unfortunately, I've never read Faust, though as soon as I have time I'm doing so. Most people are familiar with the terms "faustian" or "a faustian" bargain, but Berman points out that all too often those terms are used poorly and in situations that don't quite fit the allegorical mold. Anyway, that's not what I'm writing about at the moment (though with some more time to think, maybe I will in the future).
While I was intrigued by Part One and stormed through it, I was really looking forward to reading Part Two, which revolves around The Communist Manifesto. I can't tell you how many times I've read this work, and my own copy (in The Marx-Engels Reader) is highlighted and marked up beyond recognition. Berman's take on it is fascinating, and now I'm going to have to read it all again. He describes it as the first true work of art of the modernist period despite the fact that it is all but ignored when works of Marx's contemporaries—like Baudelaire, Flaubert, Kierkegaard, Dostoevsky—are discussed.
Berman notes that Marx was stunningly prescient in envisioning the course of the bourgeois project. In fact, Marx, more than any of capitalism's cheerleaders, makes the case for the world-altering power of capital and its never-before-seen ability to liberate people from the binds of previous social and religious systems. Capitalism was (and is) notoriously unstable, though while Marx saw this as virtue, it was a facet that the major proponents of the emerging system kept shushed in the corner, out of the spotlight.
To this day you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone writing about the transformative glories of capitalism with the same poetic gusto with which Marx wrote. However, Marx believed that this transformative power, this era in which "all that is solid melts into air," would lead to continuous revolutions and the rise of a new kind of man. As capital must always expand, it must always destroy to clear room for newer, more efficient methods and products and ideas. This was the major paradox of Dr. Faust's activity in the world as well as something the Futurists would embrace just prior to WWI ("We want to glorify war - the only cure for the world"). Capitalists have always been the world's truest nihilists in this regard.
Still only in section 2 of Part Two, Berman touches on Marx's "theory of crises." Here, suddenly, the theoretical, the allegorical, the metaphorical all peeled away to today. Berman's words from 1982 display Marx's words from 1848 which mirror 2008. (Call it synchronicity, coincidence, whatever, but when I got home and opened my Marx-Engels Reader, my bookmark was on p. 445, the second page of Marx's "Crisis Theory". This book has been in a box for months.) This is what he writes, on page 103:
Here we are in the midst of a growing worldwide economic depression. And you know what? Millions of people are frightened, but I'm not. People are scared because they've tried to build comfortable lives in an uncomfortable world. There is no rest, no respite. Capital will not let you rest, because if you do, it will destroy you like every other obsolete barrier it faces. Your future will become like that Philemon and Baucis, consumed in cleansing fire to make space for the new tower.
I hardly consider myself an apologist for capitalism, but it has its virtues. I admire the Futurist project for its liberating lack of sentimentality and its nihilistic dedication to destroying the obsolete. Of course, this always means that once all those old traces have melted away, one must find a new solid to burn for fuel. But there is plenty of shit that capital has produced that many of us would love to burn, clear away, to make room for something better. (And if you're averse to the concept of burning, think of it as dismantling and recycling the usable elements.)
So here's to a new year of destruction and creation, of Shiva Nataraja triumphantly dancing upon the defeated dwarf of ignorance.
22 December 2008
Something Actually Important For A Change
Hey everyone, anyone,
I just got a really encouraging phone call from my friend Tyler. A mutual friend of ours, that we've known basically our whole lives, had a bone marrow transplant a couple weeks ago and as of right now the recovery prognosis is looking good.
Most of this site is comprised of inanities. I put things I love on pedestals or take a hammer to the multitudinous, ossified towers of bullshit that I observe near daily. Rarely do I post about something liable to make me, never mind any readers, face the tremendous wrath of their bottled emotions. But now, during the high religious festival season, seems an appropriate enough time for a spiritless, religionless, anti-everything jerk like myself to celebrate something extraordinary.
I've known Jonathan Goss since I was about five years old. We played youth sports together, attended the same schools until high school graduation, even made a couple short films together. When I abandoned my hometown for greener pastures I pretty much abandoned most of the people I grew up with as well. Now, in the age of Facebook, a lot of things have come flooding back that I would have rather left in the past. Thankfully, however, I didn't learn about Jonathan from any status update. At our college reunion, Tyler (sidebar: I went to college with Tyler though met him through Jon when we were very young. Their mothers are great friends.) informed me that Jon was diagnosed with leukemia. I got sporadic updates on Jon's condition whenever Tyler knew something, for which I am truly grateful.
At some point during his ordeal this year, Jonathan started a blog based on his ongoing experience facing leukemia and his eventual need for a bone marrow transplant. Jon lives in LA now where he is building a career as a screenwriter. I still really don't have any contact with him other than reading his blog updates, which he stopped the day before his transplant. Hopefully, as he regains his strength, he'll begin writing there again, about coming through the other side of the void. He has faced the great radiation and he has done it with his trademark grin. I haven't seen the kid in almost ten years, but that grin is exactly the same.
In the time since I first heard about all this I began to feel guilty for severing so many of the ties I had to the place I grew up. I didn't so much burn bridges as I left them to decay, much like the government does with its infrastructure. Not everyone I grew up with was so provincial-minded, though most of the really great minds (and, honestly, I include myself here), left the confines and limited opportunity of small-city New England. I've found out there are a few old friends here in NYC that I've been trying to catch up with and quite a few are out in LA as well.
Tomorrow I head "home" for the holidays and, as usual, I won't be there long enough to visit with anyone who may be around. Really, I'm fine with that. I still need my distance. But more than anything, I'll be thinking about something more important than my own fucked up feelings. I'll be thinking about Jonathan, in a hospital room in Los Angeles. Too many of us blog-addicts become locked in our self-absorbed worlds, dwelling on the tree that blocks our view and failing to see the forest. Just in time for a new year I've seen the forest again and there is a Chesire grin floating amongst the branches.
So as the winter solstice passes and 2009 arrives, I invite any and all followers here to go read Jonathan's writings over at BlastCount. Besides the directed musings of a talented, growing writer, you'll see an amazing army of friends and family. They have commented on his posts and sent him wishes, blessings, many of whom probably have only the faintest connection to him, but realize that his battle makes any of ours pale. I'm sure most of you know someone who is facing a bigger battle and is in need of your thoughts, especially at this time of year.
Happy Holidays, everyone. Jonathan, we're with you, buddy.
I just got a really encouraging phone call from my friend Tyler. A mutual friend of ours, that we've known basically our whole lives, had a bone marrow transplant a couple weeks ago and as of right now the recovery prognosis is looking good.
Most of this site is comprised of inanities. I put things I love on pedestals or take a hammer to the multitudinous, ossified towers of bullshit that I observe near daily. Rarely do I post about something liable to make me, never mind any readers, face the tremendous wrath of their bottled emotions. But now, during the high religious festival season, seems an appropriate enough time for a spiritless, religionless, anti-everything jerk like myself to celebrate something extraordinary.
I've known Jonathan Goss since I was about five years old. We played youth sports together, attended the same schools until high school graduation, even made a couple short films together. When I abandoned my hometown for greener pastures I pretty much abandoned most of the people I grew up with as well. Now, in the age of Facebook, a lot of things have come flooding back that I would have rather left in the past. Thankfully, however, I didn't learn about Jonathan from any status update. At our college reunion, Tyler (sidebar: I went to college with Tyler though met him through Jon when we were very young. Their mothers are great friends.) informed me that Jon was diagnosed with leukemia. I got sporadic updates on Jon's condition whenever Tyler knew something, for which I am truly grateful.
At some point during his ordeal this year, Jonathan started a blog based on his ongoing experience facing leukemia and his eventual need for a bone marrow transplant. Jon lives in LA now where he is building a career as a screenwriter. I still really don't have any contact with him other than reading his blog updates, which he stopped the day before his transplant. Hopefully, as he regains his strength, he'll begin writing there again, about coming through the other side of the void. He has faced the great radiation and he has done it with his trademark grin. I haven't seen the kid in almost ten years, but that grin is exactly the same.
In the time since I first heard about all this I began to feel guilty for severing so many of the ties I had to the place I grew up. I didn't so much burn bridges as I left them to decay, much like the government does with its infrastructure. Not everyone I grew up with was so provincial-minded, though most of the really great minds (and, honestly, I include myself here), left the confines and limited opportunity of small-city New England. I've found out there are a few old friends here in NYC that I've been trying to catch up with and quite a few are out in LA as well.
Tomorrow I head "home" for the holidays and, as usual, I won't be there long enough to visit with anyone who may be around. Really, I'm fine with that. I still need my distance. But more than anything, I'll be thinking about something more important than my own fucked up feelings. I'll be thinking about Jonathan, in a hospital room in Los Angeles. Too many of us blog-addicts become locked in our self-absorbed worlds, dwelling on the tree that blocks our view and failing to see the forest. Just in time for a new year I've seen the forest again and there is a Chesire grin floating amongst the branches.
So as the winter solstice passes and 2009 arrives, I invite any and all followers here to go read Jonathan's writings over at BlastCount. Besides the directed musings of a talented, growing writer, you'll see an amazing army of friends and family. They have commented on his posts and sent him wishes, blessings, many of whom probably have only the faintest connection to him, but realize that his battle makes any of ours pale. I'm sure most of you know someone who is facing a bigger battle and is in need of your thoughts, especially at this time of year.
Happy Holidays, everyone. Jonathan, we're with you, buddy.
12 December 2008
Awesome Show Update
Exciting development(s) have precluded me from spending time posting in the manner which I would prefer, but I know you're a forgiving lot. Here's what I've been up to:
1) Got a new little gig writing blurbs for Tilzy.tv. Go check out the site, it's a growing database of web-based tv programs. They've got a pretty wide range, everything from comedy to politics and news to animation, etc. Here's one I did last week on an up-and-coming LA sketch trio, Chad, Matt & Rob. More to come on that front...
2) My band is finally playing a show. Finally! It's been a year & a half since the last time we played out. Now we have a bassist (instead of 2 guitars) and a new name. What's that name? Well, I'll have to get back to you on that. "Why," you ask? Because after taking six months to settle on one (Forfeit) our attempt at due dilligence failed miserably: there are about 15 other bands with the same name. We've got a few ideas, though. Anyway, here's the info for any loyal readers who will be in Brooklyn this Sunday:
The Charleston is on Bedford Ave in Williamsburg (btw N7 & N8, right off the L train)
$6
And for those unaware, The Charleston is one of those heavenly establishments that provide a free personal pizza with your beer purchase. Yum.
3) And if writing and practicing weren't taking up enough time, I now have a girlfriend. Yes, somebody finds me interesting and attractive (and for good reasons, too! go figure) So thanks, Andrea, for taking up all my precious blogging time! On the upside I get to have sex (hi mom, dad) and have somebody laugh at my jokes. Also, I'm relearning French. You can help me pat myself on the back later.
~~~~
update: I was supposed to give a completely unnecessary shout-out to Noga, but I got distracted by Art Spiegelman. So, Nogs, here's your shout-out. Now I have to go sticker, like, 50 books.
1) Got a new little gig writing blurbs for Tilzy.tv. Go check out the site, it's a growing database of web-based tv programs. They've got a pretty wide range, everything from comedy to politics and news to animation, etc. Here's one I did last week on an up-and-coming LA sketch trio, Chad, Matt & Rob. More to come on that front...
2) My band is finally playing a show. Finally! It's been a year & a half since the last time we played out. Now we have a bassist (instead of 2 guitars) and a new name. What's that name? Well, I'll have to get back to you on that. "Why," you ask? Because after taking six months to settle on one (Forfeit) our attempt at due dilligence failed miserably: there are about 15 other bands with the same name. We've got a few ideas, though. Anyway, here's the info for any loyal readers who will be in Brooklyn this Sunday:
The Charleston is on Bedford Ave in Williamsburg (btw N7 & N8, right off the L train)
$6
And for those unaware, The Charleston is one of those heavenly establishments that provide a free personal pizza with your beer purchase. Yum.
3) And if writing and practicing weren't taking up enough time, I now have a girlfriend. Yes, somebody finds me interesting and attractive (and for good reasons, too! go figure) So thanks, Andrea, for taking up all my precious blogging time! On the upside I get to have sex (hi mom, dad) and have somebody laugh at my jokes. Also, I'm relearning French. You can help me pat myself on the back later.
~~~~
update: I was supposed to give a completely unnecessary shout-out to Noga, but I got distracted by Art Spiegelman. So, Nogs, here's your shout-out. Now I have to go sticker, like, 50 books.
27 November 2008
Happy Thanksgiving
On the day that we celebrate the beginnings of the systematic elimination of the indigenous peoples of North America for the sake of the white man, I offer these quasi-relevant tidbits:
1) Wayne & Co. over at Hooks So Big recently posted a new Slayer track. It's one of the best things I've heard from them in a while. This track is so hot you can just put all your food next to your speakers and it'll be cooked in about 2:31.
2) My parents are on their way to my place now to start cooking. Is it hilarious that I'm almost 28 and yet too poor to get a bunch of food to truly "host"? I don't know the answer to this.
3) The other day my new special lady friend sent me a link to this article from The Onion and then asked me, "what do you love about thanksgiving if you can't eat turkey? i mean, do you get some tofurkey? or are you really into cranberry sauce and green beans?"
Well, here's my answer to that:
I like thanksgiving because there's gluttony involved and that's one of my favorite cardinal sins. Lust is a pretty good one, too, but you probably figured that out already. And sloth, i like that one sometimes.
Favorite thanksgiving foods (in no particular order):
1) Tofurkey. Some veggies HATE this stuff. I am not one of them, though I do make better gravy.
2) Pie. apple, pumpkin, blueberry. Others are acceptable, but those three are tops.
3) Mashed potatoes. god, i love mashed potatoes
4) My gramma's (miss you, Gram!) mushrooms & onions. This is basically onions and mushrooms cooked in butter and salt for a long time. I never liked it as a kid, but goddamn now i love it
5) I'm probably missing something else like stuffing or squash. (ed.-Wow, now I'm starving. This is gonna be awesome.)
Oddly enough i hate cranberry sauce. Yes, I hail from the world's second-largest producer of these little, bitter fruits (Wisconsin, I have a feeling your whole family's going down), however, cranberry juice (lightly diluted with water, trust me) gives me a pants tent. It's weird, i know.
Oh, and regarding that onion article...that's why i don't spend much (any) time in my hometown anymore. Some folks are all, "lemme know when you'll be home for thanksgiving or christmas!" and I always say, "yeah, i'll be home for a few days." And then I'm at home for 2 days, eat a ton of food, drink all my dad's beer and then come back to the city well-rested. Much better that way.
Happy Thanksgiving and to all the Massachusett, Pequot, Narragansett and whoever else my Euro forebears killed off, my sincerest apologies. You were right all along...
1) Wayne & Co. over at Hooks So Big recently posted a new Slayer track. It's one of the best things I've heard from them in a while. This track is so hot you can just put all your food next to your speakers and it'll be cooked in about 2:31.
2) My parents are on their way to my place now to start cooking. Is it hilarious that I'm almost 28 and yet too poor to get a bunch of food to truly "host"? I don't know the answer to this.
3) The other day my new special lady friend sent me a link to this article from The Onion and then asked me, "what do you love about thanksgiving if you can't eat turkey? i mean, do you get some tofurkey? or are you really into cranberry sauce and green beans?"
Well, here's my answer to that:
I like thanksgiving because there's gluttony involved and that's one of my favorite cardinal sins. Lust is a pretty good one, too, but you probably figured that out already. And sloth, i like that one sometimes.
Favorite thanksgiving foods (in no particular order):
1) Tofurkey. Some veggies HATE this stuff. I am not one of them, though I do make better gravy.
2) Pie. apple, pumpkin, blueberry. Others are acceptable, but those three are tops.
3) Mashed potatoes. god, i love mashed potatoes
4) My gramma's (miss you, Gram!) mushrooms & onions. This is basically onions and mushrooms cooked in butter and salt for a long time. I never liked it as a kid, but goddamn now i love it
5) I'm probably missing something else like stuffing or squash. (ed.-Wow, now I'm starving. This is gonna be awesome.)
Oddly enough i hate cranberry sauce. Yes, I hail from the world's second-largest producer of these little, bitter fruits (Wisconsin, I have a feeling your whole family's going down), however, cranberry juice (lightly diluted with water, trust me) gives me a pants tent. It's weird, i know.
Oh, and regarding that onion article...that's why i don't spend much (any) time in my hometown anymore. Some folks are all, "lemme know when you'll be home for thanksgiving or christmas!" and I always say, "yeah, i'll be home for a few days." And then I'm at home for 2 days, eat a ton of food, drink all my dad's beer and then come back to the city well-rested. Much better that way.
Happy Thanksgiving and to all the Massachusett, Pequot, Narragansett and whoever else my Euro forebears killed off, my sincerest apologies. You were right all along...
07 November 2008
I Know This Isn't A Diary, But...
...Since Tuesday's election results I've felt rather strange. The first reason for this is something I can pinpoint, mainly my lament at not having been out celebrating in the streets with people after Obama's victory was announced. Nothing against my roommates, but forever in the future when anybody asks me where I was the night of November 4, 2008 I'll have to say, "watching the election on tv in my apartment." Not out at some election party or at a bar celebrating with the world, but at home in front of the tv. Kind of a sucky answer.
To be fair however, I tried to connect with friends, but given my at-that-point intoxicated state, biking half-way across Brooklyn wasn't the best idea. Why was I already kinda wasted? Well, after getting up early to vote, I think I drank six or seven cups of coffee in the span of two hours. My manager at work brought in coffee and chocolate for everyone and I just went to town. That pretty much gave me anxious jitters the rest of the day until I got home, made dinner and started sipping bourbon to calm my nerves. Despite all evidence pointing to an Obama victory, I (alongside the majority of the US African-American population) still was expecting electoral shenanigans. Then, when the results from Massachusetts Prop.2 started coming in...well, you know where that leads.
Knowing that we were all in the midst of a world-historical event, I thought it appropriate to keep a running diary of what was going on. Unfortunately as soon as the race was called I took a gigantic swig of Evan Williams and had to sit down. Anyway the results of my diary experiment are as follows (and I'm not editing any of this):
Oh, and the whole point of this post was why I have been feeling "off" since then. Well, other than the historical celebration that I missed out on, we have this whole "reality" thing going on. I still wake up struggling to make ends meet just like millions of others across the country. People are still racist and bigoted and homophobic (even California, shame on you!). There is a lot of actual work that has to be done to fulfill even the most meagre promises of Obama's campaign. After all he is human, not some saint or messiah or redeemer. Let's chalk all my negativity up to an extended campaign/election/celebration hangover because, strangely enough I feel more positive about existence than I have in quite a while.
To be fair however, I tried to connect with friends, but given my at-that-point intoxicated state, biking half-way across Brooklyn wasn't the best idea. Why was I already kinda wasted? Well, after getting up early to vote, I think I drank six or seven cups of coffee in the span of two hours. My manager at work brought in coffee and chocolate for everyone and I just went to town. That pretty much gave me anxious jitters the rest of the day until I got home, made dinner and started sipping bourbon to calm my nerves. Despite all evidence pointing to an Obama victory, I (alongside the majority of the US African-American population) still was expecting electoral shenanigans. Then, when the results from Massachusetts Prop.2 started coming in...well, you know where that leads.
Knowing that we were all in the midst of a world-historical event, I thought it appropriate to keep a running diary of what was going on. Unfortunately as soon as the race was called I took a gigantic swig of Evan Williams and had to sit down. Anyway the results of my diary experiment are as follows (and I'm not editing any of this):
Obama just won the election, car alarms are sirening, folks on the block are yelling out windows, we can hear distant yells and firecrackers.So there you have it, a succession of moments of brilliance spurred on by the images and words coming at me from the picture box. If anyone has a transcript of that live feed they might be able to make out whatever I was referencing in there because clearly those three pages of writing start to lose coherence rather swiftly.
on tv the pundits are speaking all sorts of nonsense while Obama supporters celebrate.
this is the first election that I've voted in on the winning side. and it's Obama. everyone is going crazy.
Brothers are drinking in the street! this is so fucking great. this is so little, but means so much it's the perfect step into a midnight we'll wake up in the morning smiling.
he's about to speak. more cheers outside. it's been an hour since the race was called. i've drank bourbon for America. I smoked for the voters of MA who overwhelmingly decriminalized weed.
Hello, Chicago. flag. tv fuzz skip. so many people voted! it's the Answer. How terrible is it that I just want him to wink and say "Where all the white women at?" I'd pee myself. McCain's speech was dignified and gracious and too long. Joe Biden gaffe in 3...2...1....The unyielding zookeeper. Michelle! New puppy! Oprah! Grandma!
Oh he's just a "campaign organizer" [pretty sure I meant "community" there—ed.] Really? That makes sense, because he's pretty much organized your ass's trek back to Alaska! HA!
Spellman College girls are loving it. Planet in Peril. I'm sitting with Perin [one of my roommates]. She's like my new sister it kicks ass in the gayest way possible. Steep climb! We're gonna ride this Donkey to the top!
Flag! False start on #08 Obama. More soccer, less NFL. I have calloused fingers and dirty hands. mmm bourbon. a new spirit indeed. Ann Nixon Cooper is 106 years old! she can vote as a black woman. obamerica. yes we can. Oprah again. This is our time. This is our time down here. These are peoples' wishes, this is my with and it didn't come true, so I'm taking it back. I'm takin' 'em all back. Yeah we took it back! Eat shit Bush. Lick my ass and suck on my balls. I can't comprehend what is happening right now [oh, you don't say?]. Hug, man love OBAMIDEN O'BIDEN Jesse Jackson is crying!
We got Florida Back and Ohio and more
Oh, and the whole point of this post was why I have been feeling "off" since then. Well, other than the historical celebration that I missed out on, we have this whole "reality" thing going on. I still wake up struggling to make ends meet just like millions of others across the country. People are still racist and bigoted and homophobic (even California, shame on you!). There is a lot of actual work that has to be done to fulfill even the most meagre promises of Obama's campaign. After all he is human, not some saint or messiah or redeemer. Let's chalk all my negativity up to an extended campaign/election/celebration hangover because, strangely enough I feel more positive about existence than I have in quite a while.
01 October 2008
Tuesday's "I Don't Have to Work Tomorrow" Free-For-All
Last night while my bike was chained to the gate in front of my friends' building, as it is on so many nights, somebody came by—presumably on their bike—and took my bike seat. I add that they were "presumably on their bike" because as a little gift they left me their bike seat. Or just some bike seat they had. Turns out the bike seat they left for me is more comfortable than the one that was stolen. So...
Thanks? I guess thanks is in order. Really, I hate the idea that people steal bike seats, but if you're just gonna go around the 'hood trading out crappy bike seats for slightly less crappy ones that are a tad cushier, then go for it. You're the new Williamsburg Bike Seat Fairy. It's a title that has all sorts of wacky connotations, but fuck it, live it up with your off-kilter antics. They're certainly jarring for a moment, but that happy ending makes a sucker like me feel all cozy inside.
And speaking of cozy, Evan Williams bourbon is delicious even when you're not drinking "Sportsman" after "Sportsman" at the Levée. I highly recommend drinking it while spending the night at home writing. Also goes well with Nirvana, Vaz and High On Fire. From the EW bio:
Thanks? I guess thanks is in order. Really, I hate the idea that people steal bike seats, but if you're just gonna go around the 'hood trading out crappy bike seats for slightly less crappy ones that are a tad cushier, then go for it. You're the new Williamsburg Bike Seat Fairy. It's a title that has all sorts of wacky connotations, but fuck it, live it up with your off-kilter antics. They're certainly jarring for a moment, but that happy ending makes a sucker like me feel all cozy inside.
And speaking of cozy, Evan Williams bourbon is delicious even when you're not drinking "Sportsman" after "Sportsman" at the Levée. I highly recommend drinking it while spending the night at home writing. Also goes well with Nirvana, Vaz and High On Fire. From the EW bio:
Evan Williams, born a Welshman, settled in Virginia and moved to what would become Kentucky (but was then Fincastle County of Virginia) in about 1780. Like most frontiersmen, he grew crops, but getting them to market over narrow trails and steep mountains was a daunting task. Williams soon learned that converting his corn and other grains to whiskey made them easily transportable, prevented the excess grain from simply rotting, and gave them a little welcome diversion from the rough life of the frontier.If you don't enjoy cheap bourbon with over two and a quarter centuries of history then I think you should really take some time out from your busy schedule and reassess what's really meaningful in your life. Priorities. Bourbon. Evan Williams.
29 September 2008
Dinosaur Jr / Built to Spill - Terminal 5 9/26/08
After a couple days of letting Friday night's big event simmer in my brain (read: procrastinate), I will now attempt to do justice to the awesomeness that Dinosaur Jr and Built to Spill. To begin, let's discuss the venue, Terminal 5. This is not a fun place to get to given its location in the middle of nowhere in Manhattan's far West 50s. Inside it's not necessarily a bad place, though I recommend heading up into the balconies for better sound. You can see alright from the floor, but your ears will not enjoy it. I'm not sure what this place was before it became Terminal 5, but I get the impression it was a run-of-the-mill club kinda place. Those places aren't so much designed for the acoustics as they are for listening to shit sounds on coke. Anyway, I digress...
Arriving late for the 7:30 kickoff, we missed probably 85% of Meatpuppets set, which kinda sucks 'cos for the last 3 songs they were bounding around the stage like the three old crazy people that they are. Then...
Falling into a twilight zone in which my 27yr old universe is suddenly transposed onto my 14yr old universe, J Mascis, Lou Barlow, and Emmett Patrick Murphy appeared on stage, fiddled with their gear and turned the time machine's knob to 1987. "The Lung" was first up and for no particular reason thought it an interesting choice. They followed that by warping to the future with two tracks off Beyond and then zooming back for more early stuff. We really had no idea what their setlist rationale was going to be heading in; all early stuff from the first three records?..mostly new material from Beyond?..a smattering here and there of everything?
Well, it turns out it was the latter, as they played at least one track from every album except Hand It Over, and that was basically a J solo album anyhow so no real loss. I can't claim to remember everything they played, but they got in "Out There", "Feel the Pain", "Freak Scene", "Repulsion" (one of my personal favorites), "No Bones", "The Wagon" and one or two more (maybe "In A Jar"?). I'll admit I screwed my memory up by a) getting stoned before the show, and b) listening to the original three albums in a row on Saturday. Do I keep a notebook on me at all times? Yes. Did I write down what they were playing while they were playing it? Of course I did not. The important thing is that I finally got to see my favorite band (and guitar hero) live and kicking ass with a cheshire grin slapped on my mug. Oh, I should also mentioned they closed with two covers, "Just Like Heaven" and an early hardcore song that nobody could place at all. If anybody knows what they played, do let me know so that I can feel stupid when I read it and say to myself, "Why didn't I recognize that?"
While we tried to stretch our aging legs and keep too much blood from pooling in our feet, Built to Spill hit the stage in a six-man triangle formation: their usual quartet augmented by a cellist/keyboarder and a third tour guitarist. They played 1997's Perfect From Now On from start to finish; a spectacular, if subdued, performance marred only by Doug fiddling with a broken guitar strap during, ironically, "Stop the Show". Their decision to perform this particular one is curious given that though it's an amazingly lush, considerate piece in it's entirety, it doesn't really "rock" as hard as Keep It Like A Secret. I'll also admit that until fairly recently I wasn't as familiar with Perfect... as I was with Keep It... since the latter had come out just before I went to college. They did perform an "encore" of sorts with three tracks off that album, though, which got the crowd pumped up.
The grand finale occurred as BTS jammed out their set and J Mascis wandered on stage, jazzmaster in hand. Everyone was expecting him to start playing along, but then out of nowhere Kurt Kirkwood usurps the drum throne setting in motion a chain of events that included Chris Kirkwood impromptu "storytelling" then wrestling guitar-Brett from BTS and culminated in an awful jam session that pretty much everyone wanted to end, but none of the dudes on stage could really figure out how. An utterly glorious catastrophe to behold, though a proper encore would have been much preferable.
Overall a fantastic show simply because of what it was. Of course I would have maybe prefered to have been a teenager again with that sort of energy during Dinosaur's set, but hell, when I was a teenager the original lineup had long since disbanded. So I don't mind taking what I can get now and wallowng in its reinvigorated awesomeness.
Arriving late for the 7:30 kickoff, we missed probably 85% of Meatpuppets set, which kinda sucks 'cos for the last 3 songs they were bounding around the stage like the three old crazy people that they are. Then...
Falling into a twilight zone in which my 27yr old universe is suddenly transposed onto my 14yr old universe, J Mascis, Lou Barlow, and Emmett Patrick Murphy appeared on stage, fiddled with their gear and turned the time machine's knob to 1987. "The Lung" was first up and for no particular reason thought it an interesting choice. They followed that by warping to the future with two tracks off Beyond and then zooming back for more early stuff. We really had no idea what their setlist rationale was going to be heading in; all early stuff from the first three records?..mostly new material from Beyond?..a smattering here and there of everything?
Well, it turns out it was the latter, as they played at least one track from every album except Hand It Over, and that was basically a J solo album anyhow so no real loss. I can't claim to remember everything they played, but they got in "Out There", "Feel the Pain", "Freak Scene", "Repulsion" (one of my personal favorites), "No Bones", "The Wagon" and one or two more (maybe "In A Jar"?). I'll admit I screwed my memory up by a) getting stoned before the show, and b) listening to the original three albums in a row on Saturday. Do I keep a notebook on me at all times? Yes. Did I write down what they were playing while they were playing it? Of course I did not. The important thing is that I finally got to see my favorite band (and guitar hero) live and kicking ass with a cheshire grin slapped on my mug. Oh, I should also mentioned they closed with two covers, "Just Like Heaven" and an early hardcore song that nobody could place at all. If anybody knows what they played, do let me know so that I can feel stupid when I read it and say to myself, "Why didn't I recognize that?"
While we tried to stretch our aging legs and keep too much blood from pooling in our feet, Built to Spill hit the stage in a six-man triangle formation: their usual quartet augmented by a cellist/keyboarder and a third tour guitarist. They played 1997's Perfect From Now On from start to finish; a spectacular, if subdued, performance marred only by Doug fiddling with a broken guitar strap during, ironically, "Stop the Show". Their decision to perform this particular one is curious given that though it's an amazingly lush, considerate piece in it's entirety, it doesn't really "rock" as hard as Keep It Like A Secret. I'll also admit that until fairly recently I wasn't as familiar with Perfect... as I was with Keep It... since the latter had come out just before I went to college. They did perform an "encore" of sorts with three tracks off that album, though, which got the crowd pumped up.
The grand finale occurred as BTS jammed out their set and J Mascis wandered on stage, jazzmaster in hand. Everyone was expecting him to start playing along, but then out of nowhere Kurt Kirkwood usurps the drum throne setting in motion a chain of events that included Chris Kirkwood impromptu "storytelling" then wrestling guitar-Brett from BTS and culminated in an awful jam session that pretty much everyone wanted to end, but none of the dudes on stage could really figure out how. An utterly glorious catastrophe to behold, though a proper encore would have been much preferable.
Overall a fantastic show simply because of what it was. Of course I would have maybe prefered to have been a teenager again with that sort of energy during Dinosaur's set, but hell, when I was a teenager the original lineup had long since disbanded. So I don't mind taking what I can get now and wallowng in its reinvigorated awesomeness.
27 August 2008
Contemporary Jabberwocky
I haven't posted much lately here, mostly because I've been completely focused on the start of the Prem and getting my fantasy team in proper order. Nobody cares about my doings in that realm, so I keep it segregated (though if anybody wants to read a footie-related post, I'm happy to oblige, and may start doing so anyway).
Such blindness on my part resulted in my not finding anything else interesting on the interwebs to post about and that's always a bit depressing. However, my spirits were embiggened today when I caught an article via BoingBoing discussing the English usage as an adaptable technology. As a nerd-word-smith I was rather enthused, since poetry is all about finding new expressions in language and the play of word meanings. Crazy make-em-ups—as Lewis Carroll could attest—are not only valuable monetarily these days, but they help keep a language vibrant and relevant. English is notable among world languages for such adaptability and structural freedom. We don't have a language society that makes concrete rules for word usage, we have dictionaries that keep on top of newly coined words and multiple usages.
Does anyone out there know if there is an Urban Dictionary in any other language? I know that French has its own subversive slang, Verlan, but that's a different case, as French, though a beautiful language that I speak poorly, has lots of rules about word development and additions to the lexicon. Use of Verlan is clearly a political act against oppressive elements of French society, in much the same way as corner slang is a method of keeping communications secret. However, in English corner slang is only one source of new verbal adoptions as Erin McKean's Boston Globe piece clearly illustrates. Our language is flexible enough that we can toy with the grammar we learned when young to expand our vernacular in more expressive (or yes, sometimes just plain lazier) ways. Kids do it on the street, academics do it in their papers, and bloggers do it in their moms' basements. Nature abhors a vacuum, so when there is a vacuum in the vocabulary, it makes evolutionary sense that something develops to fit that niche. (Maybe that last bit is a stretch, but it makes sense to me.)
I'd love to hear about this capability in other languages or if this type of adaptability is really an aspect of English that truly sets it apart from other world languages.
Such blindness on my part resulted in my not finding anything else interesting on the interwebs to post about and that's always a bit depressing. However, my spirits were embiggened today when I caught an article via BoingBoing discussing the English usage as an adaptable technology. As a nerd-word-smith I was rather enthused, since poetry is all about finding new expressions in language and the play of word meanings. Crazy make-em-ups—as Lewis Carroll could attest—are not only valuable monetarily these days, but they help keep a language vibrant and relevant. English is notable among world languages for such adaptability and structural freedom. We don't have a language society that makes concrete rules for word usage, we have dictionaries that keep on top of newly coined words and multiple usages.
Does anyone out there know if there is an Urban Dictionary in any other language? I know that French has its own subversive slang, Verlan, but that's a different case, as French, though a beautiful language that I speak poorly, has lots of rules about word development and additions to the lexicon. Use of Verlan is clearly a political act against oppressive elements of French society, in much the same way as corner slang is a method of keeping communications secret. However, in English corner slang is only one source of new verbal adoptions as Erin McKean's Boston Globe piece clearly illustrates. Our language is flexible enough that we can toy with the grammar we learned when young to expand our vernacular in more expressive (or yes, sometimes just plain lazier) ways. Kids do it on the street, academics do it in their papers, and bloggers do it in their moms' basements. Nature abhors a vacuum, so when there is a vacuum in the vocabulary, it makes evolutionary sense that something develops to fit that niche. (Maybe that last bit is a stretch, but it makes sense to me.)
I'd love to hear about this capability in other languages or if this type of adaptability is really an aspect of English that truly sets it apart from other world languages.
16 May 2008
Homo Consumens
It's depressingly rainy outside and I can't decide if I want to have band practice tonight or watch the Celtics game. I hate choices. Speaking of!...
13 May 2008
Fromm of the Day
I got a new scanner for my birthday, so I'll be making good use of it with new segments like "Fromm of the Day" and whatever else I find around that makes good scanner fodder:
09 May 2008
Getting Fuck-All Done Today
I don't recall what I was doing on my birthday last year, but I don't think it was raining. Today it's raining and I'm supposed to be writing. But I'm getting fuck-all done today between errands, procrastinating with my new guitar and reading about Paris in May of '68. When I was in college I was infatuated with this period and wrote a whole bunch on it, thus I figured it would make a great topic for my other gig. Now I've been sitting here ruminating on how that seems all but evaporated today. Eight years ago people were taking to the streets for things they cared about and I was running with them. The turn of the millenium was a far milder period than '68, but there was an energy. Unfortunately we keep consuming our revolutions, if that's what they are. We want to take credit for them and stroke our egos with 'where was I during the revolution, man? well I'll tell you somethin....'
Romantic and pragmatist fight each other as if they aren't two sides of a coin, as if they aren't blood relatives, Ishmael and Isaac. And that's just on 'our side'. 'With friends like these, who the fuck needs cointelpro?' I was -13 when Paris exploded and students and workers shut down France. They shut it the fuck down! And everything they fought about then is still relevant today.
I thought I had more thoughts, but they have gone. Here's a video I've found that actually features an old professor of mine from the New School that I had when I tried my hand at grad school (and failed, haha). He never mentioned that he knew a lot about this period, even though I wrote papers and did some presentation on it or something. Actually, I don't really recall. Anyway, the video is interesting if you like learning things. Also, pay attention to the poster art montage. If we remember nothing else from that time, we must remember what these posters were trying to convey...
Romantic and pragmatist fight each other as if they aren't two sides of a coin, as if they aren't blood relatives, Ishmael and Isaac. And that's just on 'our side'. 'With friends like these, who the fuck needs cointelpro?' I was -13 when Paris exploded and students and workers shut down France. They shut it the fuck down! And everything they fought about then is still relevant today.
I thought I had more thoughts, but they have gone. Here's a video I've found that actually features an old professor of mine from the New School that I had when I tried my hand at grad school (and failed, haha). He never mentioned that he knew a lot about this period, even though I wrote papers and did some presentation on it or something. Actually, I don't really recall. Anyway, the video is interesting if you like learning things. Also, pay attention to the poster art montage. If we remember nothing else from that time, we must remember what these posters were trying to convey...
06 December 2007
Word of the minute/hour/day/week/month/year
In my recent readings of all things skeptical and inquiring, I came across a new favorite word:
APOPHENIA
As far as I've studied and researched, this concept provides a great starting point for understanding all manner of pseudoscience, anti-science, new-age philosophy and other assorted crazy make-'em-ups the world over. Below I'll lay out the simple definition and click on the word above to see a more expansive background on this mot du jour.
Apophenia is the experience of seeing patterns or connections in random or meaningless data. The term was coined in 1958 by Klaus Conrad, who defined it as the "unmotivated seeing of connections" accompanied by a "specific experience of an abnormal meaningfulness".
APOPHENIA
As far as I've studied and researched, this concept provides a great starting point for understanding all manner of pseudoscience, anti-science, new-age philosophy and other assorted crazy make-'em-ups the world over. Below I'll lay out the simple definition and click on the word above to see a more expansive background on this mot du jour.
Apophenia is the experience of seeing patterns or connections in random or meaningless data. The term was coined in 1958 by Klaus Conrad, who defined it as the "unmotivated seeing of connections" accompanied by a "specific experience of an abnormal meaningfulness".
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