When I was at Bard, I had high hopes of producing my senior film as a triptych. I wanted the main narrative reel in the center frame with two projections on either side - identical to each other but more evocative of what the characters in the main frame were feeling. What a pain in the ass. Never-mind maintaining perfect synchronization, what about dealing with three projectors? Oh right and 45 minutes of 16mm film instead of just 15 minutes. And do you think I was going to A/B roll all three reels myself? Needless to say, I abandoned that idea in favor of actually finishing a project before graduation.
Thank you, the Internet, for making some of those painful problems obsolete...mostly. Now I'm just dependent on bandwidth and the speed at which you, dear reader, can hit play on the two videos below.
What self-indulgent little experimental treat do I have for you? It's just super 8 footage of the Hoover Dam with my all time favorite cheap effect - kaleidoscope. Actually, in this case, it's just 'mirror'. I couldn't just apply it to the film once because then I'd be losing half the frame. That's a lot of money. So I flipped the image and applied the mirror again, so that you could see the other half of the image. Make sense? Well, see if your bandwidth will let you play these at the same time, and you'll see what I mean.
Blast! This would have been a much better title for my previous post on Genesis P-Orridge and his transgender experiments. Since it's so good, I figured I should post again. To do so, I needed some content, so I dug up this clip from their five day stay at Galapagos in Brooklyn last year. Enjoy.
Last night, I witnessed first hand the pandrogyny of Genesis P-Orridge with Psychic TV at The Independent here in San Francisco. Yes, the man has breasts now, in case you weren't paying attention, and likes to be called s/he, my favorite pronoun often used in place of the more formal 'one' when referring to hypothetical individuals.
Gen is working on his own hypothesis. Here's an excerpt from an interview at Perfect Sound Forever: PSF: What do you think could be a positive evolutionary change for the human race?
Well, it depends how attached you are to the human body as a sacred thing. We think of the human body as not sacred. That's one of the great errors of the old religions, that the human body is the centre of everything. Our personal belief is that the evolution of the species is imminent in another sort of quantum leap and it will be where we finally let go of our romantic idea of the human body or of gender or the species being already perfect, and we use genetic engineering and cosmetic surgery and biological and cyber-organic attachments to completely redesign ourselves according to our wants and our needs and we become a species of infinite variety. So if you want to go into space, you use genes from polar bears to hibernate and maybe add extra arms and get rid of the legs because you're in a weightless environment. That's just an example. People have to let go of all their preconceptions of what we're meant to look like and how we're meant to function biologically and step into the actual future from our prehistoric state. We've let technology develop miraculously but we haven't bothered to change ourselves. If we change physically, then our way of perceiving things changes and we need to change the way we perceive everything. That's our dream, but for some people, it would be a nightmare. It's about whether people are sentimental about the human body or not. People are surprisingly resistant to change.
PSF: There's always resistance to change full stop, isn't there?
But I think with the human body even more so because of all these medieval religions that insist that the human is perfect, divine, a reflection of an angry god. I don't want to be a reflection of an angry god, quite frankly.
PSF: You've already embarked upon that path with pandrogyny and cosmetic surgery.
It's a matter of immersion in the idea to see how it might feel and where it might go and state quite clearly that we believe what we're saying and we're prepared to stand by it and submit to our proposals as far as we can. Wouldn't it be great if you could say, "I'd like to have scales or fur"? The environment is changing and we might need to be able to do that just to survive whatever happens to the weather or the ozone. I think we're going to have to really rethink ourselves and put ourselves not at the centre of life but just be one aspect of life.
PSF: I suppose the ultimate extreme of that would be that human consciousness would exist without a body.
Absolutely, well done! Of course, that would be the perfect final result.
PSF: Are you hoping to achieve that?
Oh god, yeah! We talk about that a lot. To leave the human body completely behind but maintain a sense of self, an individuated self, would be perfect.
My own theory, based on that interview, is that at 57, Genesis might be having some issues with mortality, just like any aging diva. Wouldn't perky breasts like these make any 57 year old feel young again? Man or woman? For his sake, I hope so. Seeing them live and in person took a few years off my own life, thank you very much. (Yes, he likes to show them off. Be thankful I didn't get my own photo.) Forgive me for trivializing what's actually an interesting take on gender, identity, and the freedom of self-expression. Check out Breaking Sex!, written by Genesis and his wife, Lady Jaye. It's not exactly a linear thesis, so be patient. There's some good stuff in there. Here's an excerpt:
To throw off the shackles of experience of true sexual freedom and physical love, free love! End gender. Break sex.
Smash your closet relationships. Your closest friendships. Cut your SELF up, break every pattern of behaviour, Every taboo, every inhibition… To see who you really are? To see who’s really there. Free yourself from sex. The more detached one is from a role, the easier it becomes to form. IS IT YOU?
"So, Kirsten, shut the fuck up about Gen's man boobs, already, and tell us about the show," you say? Ok, fine, but I can't shut up about the whole body modification theme of the evening. There was a lot of footage of Gen's and Lady Jaye's plastic surgery experiments projected during the show. Apparently, they're trying to look identical, presumably to blur the lines between their genders and identities. Seems to me, he's getting a lot more work done than she is. Maybe he really just wants to be her. As far as we could tell, all she had to do was get a nose job.
Genesis is on the left side of that projection and Lady Jaye is on the right. The bass player in the center of the photograph is NOT Lady Jaye, by the way, although they look a bit alike in some of the footage. Lady Jaye was at the back of the stage somewhere presumably pushing sample buttons and controlling the reverb on Gen's voice - the reverb that made me deaf, as a matter of fact.
So, right, speaking of the music, how about that show, huh? In short, it rocked so much more than I expected it would. My friend Bill, long time Psychic TV fan and former Genesis devotee, had told me to expect a rock show. I was skeptical. Why? Well, Bill and I are quite different. Since the turn of the century, I've moved pretty far away from electronic, dance, industrial, and experimental music. I like to rock out. I have my reasons, which I won't go into now, but suffice it to say that when Bill says something's going to rock, it's generally derogatory. Based on this, I expected low energy, mid-tempo meanderings, the likes of which are found on Trip Reset, the last album I bought by Psychic TV back in 1996. To me, Trip Reset was trying to be a more traditional 'rock' album than I was used to from the band.
What I really hoped was that Bill was wrong. I secretly wanted to return to the early 90s and hear something completely out there - loopy, electronic, psychedelic, ambient...or noisy. Whatever. I was ready for it. You see, the last Psychic TV album I actually liked (fell madly in love with, frankly) was Cathedral Engine. (Sadly, this album appears to be unavailable right now.) [I will not be distracted by this cover.]
Besides the fact that this album is, well, loopy, electronic, psychedelic, ambient, and occasionally noisy, I have a strong emotional connection to it. For me, the sounds and how I feel about the sounds are indistinguishable. I don't know how else to describe it. The chance that I could have had this kind of intense experience at a live Psychic TV show (without the aid of any exotic drugs) was pretty slim, so I was both hopeful and a little frightened (man boobs aside) of what I might encounter that night.
Thankfully, they took the safe route and decided to give us a good, old-fashioned rock show - a loopy, psychedelic, occasionally noisy, occasionally electronic, high energy rock show. As far as I can tell, they played mostly new material, a few old songs, including 'Suspicious', and a couple covers, including a cover of the Velvet Underground song 'Foggy Notion'. So there you have it: after all that, a two sentence review of the actual performance.
Oh, and because of the show, I think I might actually check out their latest recording: Hell Is Invisible...Heaven Is Here, but I'm skeptical. I suspect my renewed interest in Psychic TV will be brief.
Wow, I seriously wish I had a better picture for you...
Taken from the balcony at The Fillmore
Let me just say the photo does not do this band justice. Yeah Yeah Yeahs consistently puts on a fantastic live show, and last night was no exception. The fact that they played at The Fillmore was just icing on the cake. Their shows always seem to go by so fast, but they serious pack it in. There's at least one song I didn't recognize, but otherwise, I think I can remember most of the set list, despite the fact that I was wasted. These aren't in exactly the right order, except for the encores:
Rockers to Swallow (something I didn't recognize) Gold Lion Down Boy Pin (favorite) Phenomenon (favorite) Cheated Hearts Maps Black Tongue Kiss Kiss (Karen especially sounds like Siouxie on this one) Date with the Night
(Encores) Y Control (favorite) Modern Romance/poor song (can't remember if they did both or just poor song) Art Star (favorite) Turn Into (favorite)
I think I'm missing a few, but I'm not going to make anything up for you. Noticeably absent, at least for me, were Bang and Warrior. They could just replace Maps with Warrior at every show from here on out, and the world would be a dang near perfect place to live.
Hey, check it out. Somebody wrote a book about me. It's not very flattering, really. Apparently, I'm one of millions enthusiastically greasing the wheels for the demise of art, decency, and objective journalism. So what? I'm famous...or at least somehow relevant. That's all that matters, right?
Joking aside, I'm simply not sure where to begin. I have this gnawing feeling that Keen could have made his handful of credible arguments more effectively with a different approach. He's mixed too many topics and made too many contradictory arguments for this work to be taken seriously. He's also not saying anything terribly new. What surprises me most is that Keen believes that Web 2.0 is the appropriate context for a rather ambitious (but short) monologue on the problems of modern culture. In the 90s, this book would have been written about violence and video games. In the 80s, it might have been about ADD and MTV. In the 60s, drug use and rock and roll music.
Keen, on the other hand, bears no grudge against technology, itself, despite the fact that many passages read like arguments against the printing press. He appears to only have a problem with the way it is (ab)used. I'm not 100% clear about who Keen thinks is abusing the technology. Is it really the amateur blogger who writes about his opinions and personal experiences to share with his family and friends? Or is it the corporate or politically sponsored blogger disguised as an amateur who intentionally leads readers into misinformation? Perhaps it is the amateur de.licio.us user who shares posts by either of these bloggers without discrimination and becomes a cog in a giant marketing machine. Maybe The Cult of the Anonymous would have been a better title for Keen's book. Had he focused on some of the interesting contradictions that he, himself, uncovers about anonymity (and lack thereof) on the internet, his 200 wide-margined pages of double-spaced text could have been a little more thought-provoking. He touches on the topics of identity and accountability on the web, but his determination to demonize the amateur and exalt mainstream media distracts him from exploring these issues in more depth.
In Mander's world, the amateur isn't simply a card-carrying members of the unwashed masses. He is an individual with unique experiences and feelings. With this in mind, many of the arguments Jerry Mander makes against TV can be turned around to support arguments for a read/write web. Web 2.0 decentralizes information, carries the promise of true democracy, and provides an outlet for the expression of individual human experiences - unlike television. However, Mander would ultimately contend that both technologies - computer and television - separate individuals from nature, from real, sensory experiences of the world. So realistically, what of value would these users share with each other?
In my opinion, neither or these authors acknowledges the value of the active participant in media. Users actively seek what they want and share what they know. These activities exist at opposite ends of a continuum, not on either side of a wall. Nor are they equivalent. Keen seems to contend that those who don't know things are as prolific as those who do know things. These statistics don't prove expertise, but they do suggest that not all participants are actively inserting themselves into the content: On YouTube, only .16% of users upload videos. On Flickr, .2% of users upload photos. On wikipedia, 4.59% of users edit content. Not only that, but the 16-34 year olds on Wikipedia are the primary readers of content. The primary writers are 34-55+. [From the April 2007 Web 2.0 Expo HitWise keynote presentation]
I would also suggest that neither Mander nor Keen recognizes that the active participation in the media might also inspire users to reach out further than they might otherwise reach. Readers might be more likely to corroborate a story with various sources. Contributors might actively seek out interesting things to experience in the real world in order to have something of value to share. Users become more sophisticated. Contributors raise the bar for themselves and others. Experts emerge. Networks form. Communities develop. It's a utopian vision, but it's not flat. It's much more complex and diverse than Keen describes.
As far as amateur art is concerned, Mr. Keen, the idea that you'd wish upon me a steady diet of new Paul Simon records and Hollywood schlock rather than independent short films and music made by my very talented friends makes me ill. Equating journalism with art is just ridiculous, and I think you discredit yourself by not clearly distinguishing the two subjects. That's all I really have to say about that.
In regards to how the internet is poisoning our children with porn, gambling, and mindless online chatter, I have to wonder why people have children they don't want to raise. As a childless woman who can't quite justify bringing a new life into this world, I really don't try very hard to understand the challenges of modern parenthood. If Mom feels better about her 13 year old daughter staying home to enjoy goth porn in her room rather than having real sexual encounters with real people, so be it. Either way, communication clearly isn't happening between the proper parties. I don't think you can blame amateur pornographers for that.
In short, I think The Cult of the Amateur raises some interesting points, but doesn't actually bring them to logical conclusion. I appreciate Keen's suggestion that it is up to us, as the users, to recognize the dilemma and uphold the value of mainstream media, but I think he suggests a flawed approach. If the Web 2.0 community is undeniable, let it be unrelenting. Let the bloggers ask their questions. Let the mainstream media respond with dignity and credibility. Let artists make art because they love it, not because they're getting paid. Let users shame themselves in public and learn from their humiliation. And please let the most credible, the most talented, and the most intelligent find a way to keep the virtual ground from crumbling beneath our feet.
I'm trying to reserve judgement until I finish reading his book, but this interview really makes Andrew Keen an easy target...
I was especially amused by Keen's assertion that Colbert's admission that he learned about WMDs in Iraq from the President and his staff somehow supports Keen's argument that bloggers aren't objective. I think he expected Stephen to say he learned about WMDs on the internet. What would Keen have said if Stephen had learned of the weapons from Fox News?
I should really finish the book. It shouldn't take long. It's really thin.
I exaggerate. He's just selling a few toys so that he has some extra space and funds for his new toys. This is the time when I get to test his theory that all these purchases were 'investments' or that they at least will not decrease in value over time. Check them out, if you're curious. He's getting rid of some pretty nice chogokin, as well as some other random wacky stuff.
And, no, I did NOT put him up to this. I know better than that.
We went to this manga show at the Asian Art Museum here in San Francisco a few weeks ago. Chris, of course, was easily pursuaded to go on this outing with me and Bill due to the subject matter at hand. I, personally, love the Asian Art Museum. The sculptures of the Bodhisattvas and Hindu gods on the top floor are my favorite.
I didn't think I'd be so interested in the Osamu Tezuka exhibit. Nothing I'd ever heard about Astro Boy (which isn't much) enticed me to want to learn more. As you may see from the wikipedia entry for Tezuka, he's also recognized as the Japanese Walt Disney. Yawn. After reviewing some of the first pieces in the exhibit from Metropolis, I suspected there was something a little twisted about this artist. The robot in the story, Michi, appears to switch genders at will, as far as I can tell, and thinks s/he is human. Hmm.
Luckily, I didn't have to dig very far into Tezuka's work to find some interesting perversion. After taking a good look at all the drawings in the show, I decided that I would head promptly to the museum store and purchase a copy of Human Metamorphosis, the story of "the ruthless and seductive Tomura...the mistress of reinvention...[who] leaves a path of destruction in her wake." It's not in print, apparently, so I had to settle for Apollo's Song, the story of a young man named Shogo whose punishment for "disrespecting the sanctity of love" is to be cursed to fall in love over and over again but never be allowed to have sex with the women he falls in love with.
Torturous, I tell you. The fantastical scenarios Tezuka invents for his doomed non-lovers are perfectly gutwrenching, as well. He intertwines the various stories using a good old-fashioned play-within-a-play technique, making it difficult to tell which reality is, well, real, but it barely matters. The stories always end the same way, but the different journeys to that ultimate destination get pretty wacky. Maybe the turns in the timeline attempt to trick the reader into thinking that there may be some hope for poor Shogo. Spoiler alert. There is none.
This adventure isn't completely sexless, however. The prologue of the book, describes Shogo's conception from the perspective of the sperm and the egg. I guess this could be an appropriate telling of 'where do babies come from' for a Disney-aged audience. The sentiment of the prologue - echoed at the very end of the book - is very family friendy, but it only half-jives with the actual plot:
Nature divides us into male and female; we come together and create offspring for posterity. As long as the world exists, men, women, and the children they bear will repeat this endless drama day after day...
Shogo's story sure repeats, alright, but without the coming together part...and lots of death...lots of little deaths?
But I lied when I said there is no hope for Shogo. He redeems himself in every story each time he opens himself up to the people around him despite each of his previous heartbreaks. Maybe the story is more about how love heals Shogo and how even humans in the worst of circumstances will fight to be together no matter the inevitable tragedy.
I think I've posted more entries here in the last three weeks than I have in the entire history of my website. Earthlyworld.com has been around since, dare I say, 2000? I used to use it for photo, video, and link sharing - not so much for writing even after I turned the home page into a blog in '04. Even then, I rarely updated the photos, videos, or links. You can see, dear reader, that life has changed for a lazy contributor like me.
Lazy is the key word here, so I'm a little concerned that I am on the verge of having to maintain three separate blogs: this one (which will always be my favorite), my weekly update for work (which has exactly one entry in it from three weeks ago), and a brand new blog that my boss and I will be doing together. The new blog will require actual research and a much more formal and consistent style. This will be actual work. Luckily, I believe I'll be able to do it at work. Paid to blog? I hope so. It actually has to be successful in order for me to get away with it. I think I'm up for it. I hope I have the time and stamina to pull it off.
As part of my little social experiment, I'm also debating whether or not I should link to that blog from here or delicious or other places that have my name and username on the same page. If I don't share the link here, it wouldn't be very hard for you to track it down, if you actually care. So that, I guess, is one of the core questions in my little experiment. Who cares? I mean, really.
I made a joke in an earlier post about being stalked while working at Malaprop's, a popular, independent bookstore in Asheville. Stalking is a bit of a harsh word, but there are plenty of ways to feel very uncomfortable working in such an exposed environment. One guy I often served claimed to be an FBI agent. I don't know how that was possible given that he spent all day sitting in the Malaprop's cafe and then all night sitting at the bar at Vincent's Ear (where I also worked for a few months). For some reason, he felt compelled to keep up the lie with fake story after fake story. Another guy came into the bookstore for a few weeks/months (it all blurs together) in row and spent at least an hour each time having me look up out of print buddhist texts that he knew I wouldn't be able to order. I don't recall that he ever bought anything, now that I think of it.
On one distressing occasion, I had to firmly (ahem) suggest to a non-paying customer with a dog that he remove himself and his dog from the main entrance to the store. It got ugly. He made threatening remarks to me later that night when I walked by him and his friends on my way, alone, to the Nashville Pussy show at Be Here Now. (As a side note, I think back to this incident with the dog at the store with some regret. I don't think I handled the exchange very well, despite the fact that the middle-aged white folk sitting at an outdoor table applauded my success. This sort of expression of self-righteous white entitlement has made me ill ever since.)
The worst incident was the night a bunch of rednecks in a pickup decided to attack the patrons of the gay bar next door to Malaprop's. Chris Waite and I were nearly attacked as we locked up the back door of the cafe (the old downstairs cafe). The rednecks got confused when they realized I was a girl. They decided not to hurt us. They did throw some bottles at us as they drove off, so that was thoughtful.
Here's my point. I'm not that scared of internet lurkers, attackers, nay-sayers or jerkasses - whatever the case may be. That said, I have found myself feeling uncomfortable about how much information I can easily find about people on the internet. I could see how people could be easily threatened. Then again, if you don't want people up in your shit, don't publish it on the internet. Seems obvious, yeah? So I wonder when that Buffy fan fic will come back to bite me...
It's up in the morning and on the downs Little white clouds like gambolling lambs And I am breathless over you And the red-breasted robin beats his wings His throat it trembles when he sings For he is helpless before you The happy hooded bluebells bow And bend their heads all a-down Heavied by the early morning dew At the whispering stream, at the bubbling brook The fishes leap up to take a look For they are breathless over you Still your hands And still your heart For still your face comes shining through And all the morning glows anew Still your mind Still your soul For still, the fare of love is true And I am breathless without you The wind circles among the trees And it bangs about the new-made leaves For it is breathless without you The fox chases the rabbit round The rabbit hides beneath the ground For he is defenceless without you The sky of daytime dies away And all the earthly things they stop to play For we are all breathless without you I listen to my juddering bones The blood in my veins and the wind in my lungs And I am breathless without you Still your hands And still your heart For still your face comes shining through And all the morning glows anew Still your soul Still your mind Still, the fire of love is true And I am breathless without you
They deliver all over San Francisco, but their online ordering system is unreliable. It worked, but not without three phone calls. If I wanted to use the phone, I would have called in the order in the first place. The good news is that they deliver to our place. Goat Hill is the only other decent place that'll do that for us.
Let me back up. I guess most people reading this probably already know that Chris and I have been back on the meat train since Thanksgiving. Some of you might not've known that I ever was a vegetarian. (I find that hard to believe.) Those of you who don't know me and magically stumbled onto my site probably think I'm a hypocrite for promoting the slicing and chopping and marinating of animal flesh on the same page with a link to Brooklyn Vegan. (It's not like it's PETA. Just click on it.)
However, those of you who've known me for a while (most likely those of you related to me) have met my inner carnivore. Shredded pork, beef brisket, and baby back ribs, oh, how I missed you. I feel our time together is short, so let's make the most of it. I sense veganism is in my future. I was on my way there when I was waylaid by the buffet at the Bellagio. I swear. I don't know what happened, but I'll quit soon. I promise.
In the meantime, let's savor a list of bar-b-que restaurants I've enjoyed over the years:
Woody's - The beef brisket covered with both flavors of sauce (the yellow and the red) was my favorite dish here until Jeff Foxworthy decided to buy this chain and close it forever with empty promises to reopen it as a Foxworthy Smoke House Grill. I don't know if that ever happened. I was heartbroken. Since this place is dead and buried, no other bbq will ever be able to hold a candle to it...
Sam's - ..except maybe this place. I'm reserving some judgement, but this place in San Jose is surprisingly good. I've only had the ribs, but I will be going back for brisket, or perhaps some sort of two meat combo.
Hog 'n' Grog - This place knew shredded pork. They also had an especially fine assortment of sides, my favorite of which was the sweet potato casserole. As good as, if not better than (gasp) Mom's. (It's not that hard, really. This is one of the three things I can actually make without trying too hard.) This place was another sad victim of the harsh reality of restauranteurism. It was located in the bottom of the Battery Park Hotel where, at the time, no tourists walked. Alas, they were ahead of their time.
12 Bones - Ribs and sides, fantastic. They've got, like, four different choices of bbq sauces. And it appears to be popular - packed, dare I say. This was the first real instance of me witnessing the 'revitalization' of the riverside in Asheville. I know it's been going on for years, but I haven't been around. There was an abandonned building in that spot for as long as I can remember. I just hope it's not taking too much business from the Silver Dollar.
Armadillo Willy's - Consistent. I've learned to appreciate this. It's a chain, but it's also near my office.
Big Nate's - Well, the pork wasn't quite shredded, but the sauce was tasty and the meat was tender. No complaints. I had a giant pile of greens, red beans on the side, and a corn muffin. It was a lot of food, which is good, because it's not the cheapest. I'll have to try the brisket next.
Memphis Minnie's - I include this on the list because there was a time when I did enjoy this restaurant. What the hell happened in the last five years? Maybe they just had a bad batch of brisket the day Chris and I decided to try it out again. It was awful. We had to cut little bits of meat off the nasty strings of fat. That incident should have turned me off to meat immediately, but I got over it when I was reminded of Nate's. My faith has been renewed.
By the title of this post, you might think I'm about to write a bad review of the Lee Scratch Perry show I saw with Chris, Bill, and Erika last night at the Independent:
I'm really just here to share my observations. If you don't know who Lee "Scratch" Perry is, this interview will be enlightening. It provides insight, if not an actual excuse, as to why he thought he could get away with that outfit.
First impression of the evening: The amount of weed, smoke and the smoking of weed in the club was obscene. It comforted me at first, but as the evening progressed, the undergrad contingent in the club got bigger and tweakier. I witnessed some odd territorial behavior from the women and uncomfortable glaring from the men - frat boys, ladies and gentlemen, a species I barely recognize in the wild because I've never had to deal with them. Might they have smoked and drank more than their share? Lucky for me, I do have some experience avoiding interaction with aggressive drunks. I have great peripheral vision for noticing the drunken leer. I hold my ground, don't return eye contact, and don't acknowledge anyone I don't want to talk to. It's a bitchy move, but it works great. (The unfocused kung fu eye thing can be helpful in situations like this.)
The time between sets didn't help. Dub is a Weapon (whom I'd love to see again) played by themselves first, and then with Perry. No equipment had to be broken down or set up between sets, but we were still forced to wait over an hour (?) for The Mighty Upsetter to grace us with his presence. Chris, of course, couldn't take it, and headed for the door before the set started. Luckily, he only had to make it as far as a reasonably unobtrusive spot under an AC vent where he could stand and enjoy the show more comfortably. It was here where he had his epiphany during Perry's set, "I'm bored. You're boring. This is boring." He told me this, but still claims that he really enjoyed the show.
I, however, stayed with Bill and Erika, where I endured both an uncomfortable exchange involving an ownerless joint as well as an hilarious incident involving my beer and some high maintenance dreadlocks. We had fun making fun. If Erika were a betting woman, she could have won a few bucks, as well. As Mr. Perry completed a song about piss and proceeded to 'respect the pussy' in his next number, Erika contended that he had only to sing about cock and shit next to complete his series. Lo and behold, the cock talk followed quickly thereafter. There was no shit, however, unless you want to count the 'rubadubadub-scrubadubadub' scat he managed to drop into every single song. Everytime I heard it, I was snapped out of my groove and felt the same sentiment expressed so concisely by Chris in the title of this post.
Apparently, San Francisco is the last stop on the tour. They have a second show at the Independent tonight. Rather than let you be swayed so heavily by my own personal experience of the show, I'd recommend you check the clip from SXSW. You can see the good stuff for yourselves and decide whether or not you want to check it out live and in person:
I consider my writing style to be pretty casual. I like to think that I have a good writing voice, that I represent myself - or, rather, am myself - when I write here. I believe I choose to break grammatical rules to actually acheive the effect of real speech when appropriate. When I read what I write, I hear the voice that I hear in my head every day. That's a worthy goal, right, representing your meaning and intention to your audience through conscious choices of expression? I wonder if people who don't know me already get a sense of me from my writing. I wonder if people who don't know me can even read what I write sometimes.
When I find myself in conversations - verbal or written - in which I start thinking outloud - rambling on without ever ending a sentence as my brain works to draw some sort of conclusion regarding the issue at hand, a thing my brain should do more often in silence than outloud (see, I could edit this since I'm writing it, not saying it, but I think I'll leave it just to make my mildly humorous point) - I think of my dad. I've learned quite a bit from this guy, but I've had to pay very close attention to keep up with his stream of consciousness. Needless to say, I think he has achieved a very distinct writing voice. He wrote me an email yesterday as a response to some of my posts, and mentioned that he'd almost posted his entire email as a comment. Since he said that, I feel okay about sharing some portions of what he wrote, with you, dear reader, so that you might get to know me and Dad a little better.
WORKING AND i`M SITTING HERE HOOKED TO BROADBAND i WANDERED AROUND - well shit - need to move the caps key - or remember to turn it off - testing access and found your picture with the evidence of having been abusing your spouse by slamming him with your forearms. They sell arm guards (snigger).
A couple folks actually thought the bruises were from fingers grabbing around my arms. They are, in fact, from high blocks.
And Kung Fu without the spiritual aspect is just fancy boxing. Have you read/heard the story of origin of Akido? Love is the answer - and never meeting an attack head on, avoid bruises on self and other (a non-violent martial art?) and still put the rest on the mat. A book (I read one too) sing it as substrate for interpersonal effectiveness and using the energy of conflict in positive creative manner gives interesting example: Teacher/Master in demo class (6'plus bearded bruiser)got author (Ex football linebacker but lots smaller and long over it reluctantly up for demo. "Take a swing at me", he was instructed - several times. So he did. Instructor grabbed his arm, stepped slightly to side, pulled to assist him on by - and ran like hell the other direction.
I think, perhaps, I have caused some confusion. I've gotten some interesting reaction to the whole Kung Fu thing. Let me be clear. I'm not really in it for any spiritual reason. Granted, there is philosophy behind the practice - Buddhism, in particular. A monk has to get his exercise somehow, right? (And possibly, occasionally, defend his right to practice his religion.) However, it's my experience that Kung Fu is pretty light on the metaphor. Sure, body coordinations are named things like "Secure the Boat with an Iron Lock," but when you learn them, you learn the applications of them. I hear things like, "punch towards my face more" and "imagine you're smacking someone's ears" and "this strike is good for breaking bones" quite a bit.
On the other hand, calling Kung Fu "self-defense," as one friend put it, or "fancy boxing" doesn't do the practice justice at all. Kung Fu is a hell of a lot older than Akido, and I think the philosophy is much more deeply integrated with the actual action. It is first and foremost a martial art, and it seems that any spiritual or philosophical aspect is integrated into practice for this purpose. For example, we begin class with a few minutes of meditation as a practical application: concentrate on your breathing, become aware of your body, and focus. A very different example is the animal metaphor used to describe different forms of Kung Fu. I'm learning Eight Step Mantis - a pretty typical form, apparently. Many of the moves and techniques were learned directly from a praying mantis. How very Tao, yes?
The physical reprograming of the body does have its spiritual side-effects. Learning how to not focus your eyes and be able to see everything around you can provide a strange sense of hyper-awareness. Losing yourself in the repetition of punches, applications, and forms is a pretty fantastic method for learning mindfulness. Of course, exercise, in and of itself, has a very positive effect on brain function. Seems like science to me - very little to do with some guy sitting under a tree for seven years to gain enlightenment.
But I make fun. It's easy to slam the supernatural aspects of a religion to try to discount the philosophical aspects. By my username (kpsamsara) and my domain name (earthlyworld), you may assume that I have some Buddhist tendancies. (I'm speaking to you, dear reader, not my dad. He knows of my previous Buddhist inclination.) True, the Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Path make a lot of sense. So do the Ten Commandments. Ultimately, I'm an out of the closet atheist these days. I was an easy convert, frankly. Dad may be a born-again Buddhist, but he used to be pretty agnostic, if not atheist, so, really, I think it was my upbringing.
And more philosophical ponderings from Dad...
The book sounds interesting - but of course I have an opinion. And, by the way, something ah yes - discontinuity of experience - a core Buddhist tenent, you may recall? Continuity is an illusion (true neurologically as well) - each moment of experience is defined by all things present in that moment and that changes with every moment - and as 'we' - our 'selves' are also integral to that moment, our 'self' is also different - I'm not certain if it is 'Doctrine of No Self' or 'of No Soul' but if there are both doctrines, I think they are related here. And back to the main point of this paragraph... the opinion - I came to grips with the dilemna of distress at investment in a 'way' and it not ending up mine not by not caring - although again Buddhist basic: attachment is the cause of all suffering; trick is to not attach (Samuri - can`t spell - to monk on road - "I could cut off your head!" Monk - "You could cut off my head." Repeat sequence with escalationg intensity by warrier (hah!) and same calm, matter of fact by monk. End - or no end. Point of course - It is what it is - it is a true statement (corollary - no attachment to head.)) but to still give fullest attention - the enlightenment is in the full presence and best one can do in each moment, not in the result. I`m not fully there on that one but I am pretty well settled with my view - despite direct line to truth of the universe - is just like all others - (equally so connected of course and all different) - just my Cliff Notes and I`m only in charge (sort of) of me. A particularly notable sch lesson was at [the hospital] when as 'Program Director" it was my charge to lead the team in developing a new program based on the DBT [dialectical behavioral therapy] model - and did such a good job at facilitation that the result was one I had a hard time working in. But as I did so I found my way - better and easier as I relinquished my attachment to original preferences - and it was a really good program. AND everyone could be 'on board' with enough sense of 'ownership' and row together for the most part. Much better that way.
Dad could provide a good case study for the Crucial Conversations book, assuming he could actually reconstruct some of the more momentous conversations that occured to evolve the team. That said, I would contend that he didn't actually relenquish attachment to his original preference but rather realized a higher level common goal - what would have ultimately been his original but unarticulated preference.
Also, I had forgotten about the 'continuity is illusion' tenet. Goes right along with the 'everything is temporary' tenet, one of the reasons, of course, that attachment can be painful. My choice interpretation of the continuity (or lack thereof) theory is that each moment is an opportunity, and it should not defined by the moment before or the moment after. It is always new. That everything is temporary is both hopeful and scary, but if you're truly on the Path, you'll recognize no difference between hope and fear. Apparently, neither is very useful. (Alright, maybe I do have a little bit of an issue with the philosophy part, too.)
Thanks, Dad, for the material. I wasn't sure what I was going to write about today.
I was happy to return to listening to music in my car this morning. This Guided By Voices song really struck me today:
I am a scientist - i seek to understand me All of my impurities and evils yet unknown I am a journalist - i write to you to show you I am an incurable And nothing else behaves like me
And i know what's right But i'm losing sight Of the clues for which i search and choose To abuse To just unlock my mind Yeah, and just unlock my mind
I am a pharmacist Prescriptions i will fill you Potions, pills and medicines To ease your painful lives I am a lost soul I shoot myself with rock & roll The hole i dig is bottomless But nothing else can set me free
And i know what's right But i'm losing sight Of the clues for which i search and choose To abuse To just unlock my mind Yeah, and just unlock my mind
I am a scientist - i seek to understand me I am an incurable and nothing else behaves like me
Everything is right Everything works out right Everything fades from sight Because that's alright with me
I generally don't read books without pictures these days (or at least I don't finish them), and I NEVER read anything from the self-help genre. When I worked at Malaprop's, I saw who bought those books. I'm sorry, everybody, but if you ever wondered if the guy at the record store or the chick at the bookstore actually judged you, labeled you, and made fun of you based on what you bought, consider this a confirmation. As a consolation, I'll also confirm your belief that these poor schlubs were bitter from years of watching people spend more money in an hour than they make in a week. There are no tips in retail, either, but you can easily be stalked. All kinds of downside.
Just to be clear, I didn't actually pay for this book. I actually didn't even read this book at all. My boss footed the bill, and I listened to it in the car as part of a short coaching program I'm going through (also read as 'work therapy'). The fact that I could listen to an unabridged book in the car in three days is really a testament to how much time I spend driving rather than my commitment to getting through the humbling experience that was this book. As a sidenote, I really miss listening to music.
I just hate it when books like this turn out to be helpful. A good bit of the book just confirmed a bunch of stuff I already know about dealing with difficult conversations (and people), but it put things together for me at a higher level, making me think about my own motivations more clearly. I can't believe I didn't read it 3 or 4 years ago when I really could have used it. Instead, I've learned a few of these skills from experience, but I've also reinforced some bad habits over the years that would have been so easy for me to eradicate with just a little insight.
Don't worry, this is no epiphany. Epiphany would be huge and life changing. This is simple stress-reduction, something I've worked hard to acheive the last couple of years. One of the mistakes I've made in that effort is to try to remove a lot of emotion from my work life - basically to make myself just not care as much about certain things so that I wouldn't feel so stressed out or pressured over agreements and decisions (or rather disagreements and indecisions). What I should have been doing is simply paying more attaention to how i was feeling and understanding why. Then I'd have a much easier time manipulating the situation to get what I want - what I really want, not what I think I want.
The irony is that this is something that I've been working on personally for a while now. I've been thinking that it's a mistake to try and string together distinct moments into some cohensive story of 'how I feel'. I prefer to look at individual moments and take note of very specific feelings. The next moment, I might feel completely differently based on a thought, something I read or hear, or something that happens to me. The book warns against creating inaccurate stories for yourself about why you have certain feelings. It also advises us to come up with a more descriptive vocabulary for how we feel so that we can understand our emotional reactions to things in much greater detail. This will be a good exercise for me. I need something to help improve my vocabulary if I'm not actually reading anything worthwhile.
One other note about the book: The hypothetical dialog was pretty lame. The author should have had a real writer take a swing at some of the scenarios. The characters might have had a chance to sound like actual people.
Paragard is one of two intrauterine devices, or IUDs, sold in the USA. IUDs fell out of favor after one, the Dalkon Shield, was linked to miscarriage-related infections and deaths and recalled in 1975. Today's IUDs have proven to be quite safe and effective, and they're gaining in popularity among women too young to remember the Dalkon Shield.
According to wikipedia, it's practically natural (no hormones).
![[Bandai] Dolphin (1)](http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1295/1043888815_23893c2fd7.jpg)
