Final note of the cycle
goes like this:
sometimes, the truth
of reality is simply
a reverse of what
people generally think.
Case in point:
Watchmen the movie
is genius,
Watchmen the graphic novel
is notable.
I dunno,
I was planning
a bigger finale,
but it sort of
fell by the wayside.
You've heard enough.
DEATH WILL NEVER CONQUER
Friday, June 12, 2009
Einstein was a Relative Genius
I'm about knock to an institution
of the the twentieth century.
(That's not how I was
going to word it this
morning. Oh well...)
Einstein oh Einstein,
what shall we do with thee?
Today I consider you
a brilliant mind trapped
in the times you lived in.
I guess I really don't
understand why I should
hold you in such high
esteem. I know about
your atomic bomb and that
theory of yours, but I'm
having trouble placing
whatever else you may
have achieved in your day.
Maybe there's more,
probably, but what I'm
really getting at is
that I've not really been
all that impressed with
your thinking outside
of science. You didn't
seem so smart then.
"Unlimited competition
leads to a waste of labor,
and to the crippling of
the social consciousness
and individuals" etc.
I don't know, maybe it was
your experience and maybe
it was that you really were
that darn smart, but I tend
to think of competition as
better than the opposite,
despite that a completely
unregulated system of
filtering new writers has
basically screwed me over
for the past ten years or so.
I think that individuals
being individuals
and contributing as individuals
can't possibly be a bad thing,
and it is our basic lack
of understanding that constantly
gets in our way.
Capitalism, democracy, a directed
sense of chaos, that's the thing
for me. Call me irresponsible,
but I think the individual
is always at the heart of
the best society. If you cannot
comprehend the one, you certainly
won't be able to grasp the many.
So, Einstein, you're not
so bright in my book.
of the the twentieth century.
(That's not how I was
going to word it this
morning. Oh well...)
Einstein oh Einstein,
what shall we do with thee?
Today I consider you
a brilliant mind trapped
in the times you lived in.
I guess I really don't
understand why I should
hold you in such high
esteem. I know about
your atomic bomb and that
theory of yours, but I'm
having trouble placing
whatever else you may
have achieved in your day.
Maybe there's more,
probably, but what I'm
really getting at is
that I've not really been
all that impressed with
your thinking outside
of science. You didn't
seem so smart then.
"Unlimited competition
leads to a waste of labor,
and to the crippling of
the social consciousness
and individuals" etc.
I don't know, maybe it was
your experience and maybe
it was that you really were
that darn smart, but I tend
to think of competition as
better than the opposite,
despite that a completely
unregulated system of
filtering new writers has
basically screwed me over
for the past ten years or so.
I think that individuals
being individuals
and contributing as individuals
can't possibly be a bad thing,
and it is our basic lack
of understanding that constantly
gets in our way.
Capitalism, democracy, a directed
sense of chaos, that's the thing
for me. Call me irresponsible,
but I think the individual
is always at the heart of
the best society. If you cannot
comprehend the one, you certainly
won't be able to grasp the many.
So, Einstein, you're not
so bright in my book.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
A World Without Villains
Better than most, never good enough,
most of the time I'm the fool on the hill.
I don't want to be Superboy-Prime.
I don't want to grow up isolated
and completely unable to adjust.
I don't want to live in a world
without villains, because they
would need to be invented all the same.
But just imagine if it were true,
that we could always be the hero
of our own story,
and all you ever did was lead
an extraordinary life.
most of the time I'm the fool on the hill.
I don't want to be Superboy-Prime.
I don't want to grow up isolated
and completely unable to adjust.
I don't want to live in a world
without villains, because they
would need to be invented all the same.
But just imagine if it were true,
that we could always be the hero
of our own story,
and all you ever did was lead
an extraordinary life.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
The Necessity of a New Language
I don't know whether an individual
or an era needs it, but what I'm
here to say today is, you've got
to learn your own language.
We get that when we're learning
language, learning to speak, but
somehow when people begin to be
taught it, they begin to
accept the fallacy that there are
forms to be kept and adhered to.
But I say, new language is not
only necessary, but it is
constantly inevitable, and therefore
ridiculous to try and prevent.
I try to write poems in my own language,
something that is relevant to me,
and therefore something doubly new
for my readers, because I have no
interest in aping what has come before,
maybe update, but never duplicate,
because that isn't my authentic voice,
but rather someone else's.
If I'm to think for myself,
or at least tell myself that I
am doing so, I might as well do it
do it with my own language, too.
The words I use, the phrases
I continually revert to, it's
all to establish a pattern,
a language, that will announce
that I am myself, that I have
discovered myself in the world.
All because I can't do so
without it.
or an era needs it, but what I'm
here to say today is, you've got
to learn your own language.
We get that when we're learning
language, learning to speak, but
somehow when people begin to be
taught it, they begin to
accept the fallacy that there are
forms to be kept and adhered to.
But I say, new language is not
only necessary, but it is
constantly inevitable, and therefore
ridiculous to try and prevent.
I try to write poems in my own language,
something that is relevant to me,
and therefore something doubly new
for my readers, because I have no
interest in aping what has come before,
maybe update, but never duplicate,
because that isn't my authentic voice,
but rather someone else's.
If I'm to think for myself,
or at least tell myself that I
am doing so, I might as well do it
do it with my own language, too.
The words I use, the phrases
I continually revert to, it's
all to establish a pattern,
a language, that will announce
that I am myself, that I have
discovered myself in the world.
All because I can't do so
without it.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
An Artificial Crisis Is Not the Same As a Real One
Sorry, folks, but it's my belief
that as bad as it's been lately,
we were all but asking for it.
Every artificial economic boom,
which is to say all of them,
always ends the same way, in a
collapse.
So why are we so surprised
every time it happens?
Because the real artificial
catastrophe is the belief
that business can be run not on
good ideas or sound speculating,
but on the basis that you can
create progress without trying
to back it up in the real world.
That's it!
That's the real problem we continually face,
an undisciplined ambition to seek out
new fortunes and affect change simply
for the sake of fortune and change,
rather than any real need or ability
to properly channel it in real terms.
To say, "this has got to be done"
simply because that's the thought
that just popped in your head
is to ask for failure, a shell of
what you propose and the ghost of success
and then failure.
Didn't we nail Bush to the wall
because he thought he could claim
"success" in Iraq? Why can't we
make equations where they exist,
and not just when they're convenient?
(And besides, Bush claimed accomplishment
because he essentially did what his
father wouldn't, and despite what everyone
has said, he proved the mission true -
oh, and with some continued difficulty?
Who would have imagined that?!?)
Business is always a dicey proposition,
like being asked to kill your own
brother, or bring law to a savage land
you made that way and without backup,
living in a cave, making your own music.
I call today's reality the Dilbert Effect
because Scott Adams is the voice
that rang out first about all the absurdities
we somehow imagined were increasingly
necessary, a return to peculiar institutions
which also, regularly failed despite
their perceptions. We've moved beyond
them, and we only need to catch up,
the lag effect of the New Fade, if you will.
I'll credit Obama that he sees true reform
where true reform is needed, when pressed to it,
and maybe he's better than the hype that
got him where he is today, but I'm sick
of all the voices that say he's right
for the sake of being right, that those
who work the opposite aisle are automatically
wrong because they're being vanquished
(and really, where would that leave us?),
but we must learn to temper ourselves
in politics as in business, as in economics,
must discover a way to form a true democracy.
I find no real motivation in the form
of an artificial crisis, but rather
in the understanding that in working
together for a common cause rather
than out of fear, we all stand to benefit.
***
In the fight for the environment, I see
an unfortunate parallel. Really, tell me
how we can possibly destroy the entire world
all by ourselves and somehow completely fail
to adjust to new conditions, when that is all
our history has ever told us about ourselves.
We seem to regard ourselves as a Third World,
unable to rise above the stupor of our
own impoverished lives, or our own hobbled
ecosystem, if you are to believe strictly
in the reports that daily inundate us.
But I rather believe against the Third World Theory,
that if a people cannot sustain themselves,
it has less to do with what they can do for
themselves than what is continually denied them,
and that would be an ability and means to
strike back the forces of oppression, as our
history always reminds us, and as such,
there is no crippling blow we cannot overcome,
but rather a state of fear that says so, and
that we must believe it in those terms rather
than in those that state, as we already know,
that no action fails to produce an equal
and opposite reaction; that once done, something
cannot be undone or result in something else,
and to believe that is somehow something
that we have agreed to.
I have had enough of fear.
I believe that we cannot accept
the things we should not accept,
and that this alone is what should
and indeed has always sustained us,
and that only the voices that insist
it can't have ever truly been
the oppressors and doom of us all.
But we can rise above.
We can always rise above.
The New Fade is working in our favor,
giving us the chance we are giving
ourselves to rise above, to let slip
the inky cloaks we assumed for ourselves,
the burial shrouds we will leave behind
for generations to come, whom we
might not recognize but will still
be our kin, the remnants of our age
perhaps some apocalypse they will
struggle to understand, but nothing
that will prevent their being.
Time changes all, takes away all,
gives back all, it is ever shifting.
But we cannot accept that
an end is anything but a beginning.
We do not have to say constantly
that the sky is falling.
Already a new age slouches forth,
waiting to be born.
that as bad as it's been lately,
we were all but asking for it.
Every artificial economic boom,
which is to say all of them,
always ends the same way, in a
collapse.
So why are we so surprised
every time it happens?
Because the real artificial
catastrophe is the belief
that business can be run not on
good ideas or sound speculating,
but on the basis that you can
create progress without trying
to back it up in the real world.
That's it!
That's the real problem we continually face,
an undisciplined ambition to seek out
new fortunes and affect change simply
for the sake of fortune and change,
rather than any real need or ability
to properly channel it in real terms.
To say, "this has got to be done"
simply because that's the thought
that just popped in your head
is to ask for failure, a shell of
what you propose and the ghost of success
and then failure.
Didn't we nail Bush to the wall
because he thought he could claim
"success" in Iraq? Why can't we
make equations where they exist,
and not just when they're convenient?
(And besides, Bush claimed accomplishment
because he essentially did what his
father wouldn't, and despite what everyone
has said, he proved the mission true -
oh, and with some continued difficulty?
Who would have imagined that?!?)
Business is always a dicey proposition,
like being asked to kill your own
brother, or bring law to a savage land
you made that way and without backup,
living in a cave, making your own music.
I call today's reality the Dilbert Effect
because Scott Adams is the voice
that rang out first about all the absurdities
we somehow imagined were increasingly
necessary, a return to peculiar institutions
which also, regularly failed despite
their perceptions. We've moved beyond
them, and we only need to catch up,
the lag effect of the New Fade, if you will.
I'll credit Obama that he sees true reform
where true reform is needed, when pressed to it,
and maybe he's better than the hype that
got him where he is today, but I'm sick
of all the voices that say he's right
for the sake of being right, that those
who work the opposite aisle are automatically
wrong because they're being vanquished
(and really, where would that leave us?),
but we must learn to temper ourselves
in politics as in business, as in economics,
must discover a way to form a true democracy.
I find no real motivation in the form
of an artificial crisis, but rather
in the understanding that in working
together for a common cause rather
than out of fear, we all stand to benefit.
***
In the fight for the environment, I see
an unfortunate parallel. Really, tell me
how we can possibly destroy the entire world
all by ourselves and somehow completely fail
to adjust to new conditions, when that is all
our history has ever told us about ourselves.
We seem to regard ourselves as a Third World,
unable to rise above the stupor of our
own impoverished lives, or our own hobbled
ecosystem, if you are to believe strictly
in the reports that daily inundate us.
But I rather believe against the Third World Theory,
that if a people cannot sustain themselves,
it has less to do with what they can do for
themselves than what is continually denied them,
and that would be an ability and means to
strike back the forces of oppression, as our
history always reminds us, and as such,
there is no crippling blow we cannot overcome,
but rather a state of fear that says so, and
that we must believe it in those terms rather
than in those that state, as we already know,
that no action fails to produce an equal
and opposite reaction; that once done, something
cannot be undone or result in something else,
and to believe that is somehow something
that we have agreed to.
I have had enough of fear.
I believe that we cannot accept
the things we should not accept,
and that this alone is what should
and indeed has always sustained us,
and that only the voices that insist
it can't have ever truly been
the oppressors and doom of us all.
But we can rise above.
We can always rise above.
The New Fade is working in our favor,
giving us the chance we are giving
ourselves to rise above, to let slip
the inky cloaks we assumed for ourselves,
the burial shrouds we will leave behind
for generations to come, whom we
might not recognize but will still
be our kin, the remnants of our age
perhaps some apocalypse they will
struggle to understand, but nothing
that will prevent their being.
Time changes all, takes away all,
gives back all, it is ever shifting.
But we cannot accept that
an end is anything but a beginning.
We do not have to say constantly
that the sky is falling.
Already a new age slouches forth,
waiting to be born.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Slaves to Sensation
I saw the title of this poem
in the men's room, written
on the toilet paper dispenser.
No one says this job is glamourous.
***
I sing the body electric,
the ways in which both
the male and female forms
are appealing, and of
the desire to make both
the point of life, an
erotic desire and notion
that sex is what defines
relationships and roles
in our society.
I sing the body electric,
of our capacity to rise
above such crude forms
while we also admire them,
but instead use our intellect
to relish what may be found
and admired in each other.
I speak of a bond we all share,
of what we can all appreciate
and fail to judge, because
the body as well as the mind
is precious.
I sing the body electric,
of an ability to see and
a need to touch, but how
that alone is not enough.
I speak of an ascension
above the sexual to when
you will not be able
to say "well, that person
is that" and dismiss
or condone them for it.
I sing the body electric
because of its will to
compete, of the mind's
chance to say, yes I will,
or no, that is a waste.
I sing the body electric
and the body elastic,
to fit all forms, whatever
you are comfortable with.
I used to quite enjoy
Jillian Michaels, until
she went and spoiled it,
made the mundane judgments
on diet that ideally would
have no basis on form,
only the judgment itself.
I sing the body electric
and the ability of the mind to see.
in the men's room, written
on the toilet paper dispenser.
No one says this job is glamourous.
***
I sing the body electric,
the ways in which both
the male and female forms
are appealing, and of
the desire to make both
the point of life, an
erotic desire and notion
that sex is what defines
relationships and roles
in our society.
I sing the body electric,
of our capacity to rise
above such crude forms
while we also admire them,
but instead use our intellect
to relish what may be found
and admired in each other.
I speak of a bond we all share,
of what we can all appreciate
and fail to judge, because
the body as well as the mind
is precious.
I sing the body electric,
of an ability to see and
a need to touch, but how
that alone is not enough.
I speak of an ascension
above the sexual to when
you will not be able
to say "well, that person
is that" and dismiss
or condone them for it.
I sing the body electric
because of its will to
compete, of the mind's
chance to say, yes I will,
or no, that is a waste.
I sing the body electric
and the body elastic,
to fit all forms, whatever
you are comfortable with.
I used to quite enjoy
Jillian Michaels, until
she went and spoiled it,
made the mundane judgments
on diet that ideally would
have no basis on form,
only the judgment itself.
I sing the body electric
and the ability of the mind to see.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Poems Oughta Have Teeth
They should have a backbone,
they should pick a side,
they should make you think,
they should say something
besides painting some pretty picture.
I can't stand poems like that.
I want poets to be writing
because they found they had to,
because something was missing.
Poems oughta have teeth.
If you can read one
and forget it right after,
then you've got a problem.
Poems are an art, and
you can do many things
with them, but if you're
just messing around, I gotta say,
why bother?
To be relevant at all,
they shouldn't feel like
some waste of time.
They aren't just some hobby,
but a way of life, the very
window of a life.
No life really consists
of being a wallflower.
they should pick a side,
they should make you think,
they should say something
besides painting some pretty picture.
I can't stand poems like that.
I want poets to be writing
because they found they had to,
because something was missing.
Poems oughta have teeth.
If you can read one
and forget it right after,
then you've got a problem.
Poems are an art, and
you can do many things
with them, but if you're
just messing around, I gotta say,
why bother?
To be relevant at all,
they shouldn't feel like
some waste of time.
They aren't just some hobby,
but a way of life, the very
window of a life.
No life really consists
of being a wallflower.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Family & Home
On a much smaller scale,
we've got the things
we know best: family & home.
It's funny how obsessive
people can get about
these things, counting
them almost as much
as status markers as
anything else they might
find themselves with.
They say family & home
are important, but deep down,
we all know what always,
inevitably comes first, and
it's a terrible thing to admit,
but it's always true: the self.
The self, even in sacrifice,
considers itself important,
even in a selfless act, and
if can just learn to admit that,
rather than deny and camouflage,
I think we'd be better off,
because then we could understand
how family & home, and then
everything else, fits in.
Because that's the progression,
a sense of the self, then
those most around us, our family,
and then the thing we keep
with us always, a sense of home,
no matter what form it takes.
Family & home,
never go without long
with a sense of our own.
we've got the things
we know best: family & home.
It's funny how obsessive
people can get about
these things, counting
them almost as much
as status markers as
anything else they might
find themselves with.
They say family & home
are important, but deep down,
we all know what always,
inevitably comes first, and
it's a terrible thing to admit,
but it's always true: the self.
The self, even in sacrifice,
considers itself important,
even in a selfless act, and
if can just learn to admit that,
rather than deny and camouflage,
I think we'd be better off,
because then we could understand
how family & home, and then
everything else, fits in.
Because that's the progression,
a sense of the self, then
those most around us, our family,
and then the thing we keep
with us always, a sense of home,
no matter what form it takes.
Family & home,
never go without long
with a sense of our own.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Lost as a Model of Civilization
Firstly, I know
that in Lost
there can hardly
be said to be
any comprehensive
model for a
civilization, because
it seems everyone
belongs to a different
one, even when some
of them are grouped
together.
But, that's also
good to point out.
Hardly anyone is
ever going in the same
direction. Whether
as a country, a nation,
civilization, whatever
you want to call it.
Even people working
explicitly for the
same goals can find
themselves pulling
from opposite ends,
different sides,
or the same one but
with different destinations.
On Lost, you've
got dozens of characters
with an equal amount
of allegiances, and
somehow the dance they've
put together keeps
splitting and coming
together again, and it's
been that way from the start,
which is why I've been
so fascinated with it.
Lost isn't just
a great TV show or great
storytelling, but something
to seriously reflect on
as a reflection of our world,
which all great TV and storytelling
does, but this show a little
more, a little better.
The moment you think
you're comfortable,
something else happens
to start the whole
thing going again.
That's what civilization
is like, how we should
approach it, to find out
how we can do it better.
No every curve is
unexpected, so we should
probably think about
acting like it isn't.
But everything always
changes, links are
always broken and made,
so we always have
another chance
to get it right
the first time.
that in Lost
there can hardly
be said to be
any comprehensive
model for a
civilization, because
it seems everyone
belongs to a different
one, even when some
of them are grouped
together.
But, that's also
good to point out.
Hardly anyone is
ever going in the same
direction. Whether
as a country, a nation,
civilization, whatever
you want to call it.
Even people working
explicitly for the
same goals can find
themselves pulling
from opposite ends,
different sides,
or the same one but
with different destinations.
On Lost, you've
got dozens of characters
with an equal amount
of allegiances, and
somehow the dance they've
put together keeps
splitting and coming
together again, and it's
been that way from the start,
which is why I've been
so fascinated with it.
Lost isn't just
a great TV show or great
storytelling, but something
to seriously reflect on
as a reflection of our world,
which all great TV and storytelling
does, but this show a little
more, a little better.
The moment you think
you're comfortable,
something else happens
to start the whole
thing going again.
That's what civilization
is like, how we should
approach it, to find out
how we can do it better.
No every curve is
unexpected, so we should
probably think about
acting like it isn't.
But everything always
changes, links are
always broken and made,
so we always have
another chance
to get it right
the first time.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
A Movie Index in Ten Films
I say,
if you can no longer call
the times you live in
contemporary, you've
got a problem.
You should always find
new things to be worth
experiencing.
***
Alexander (2004)
I don't know why
people don't like
this film. That's
all, because I
really don't get that.
The Dark Knight (2009)
Morality never came off
so realistically in so
fantastic a setting.
Munich (2005)
If you want to understand
our world today, you need
to develop an appreciation
for this film.
The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007)
Today I'll call it a representation
of the American myth itself.
The Truman Show (1998)
My favorite film
from my favorite actor,
mugging as he always does,
because he doesn't realize
he's doing it for
someone else,
the tragicomic of our times.
Star Wars (1977)
Because I still can't
believe that George Lucas
came up with all that
and got away with it
right from the start.
Gladiator (2000)
The strength of man
embodied by a man's man.
Memento (2001)
The quintessential fable
for the games we play
on ourselves.
The Departed (2006)
The way we get organized
is a frightening spectacle.
Office Space (1999)
The way we allow ourselves
to be crushed by work
is even worse.
if you can no longer call
the times you live in
contemporary, you've
got a problem.
You should always find
new things to be worth
experiencing.
***
Alexander (2004)
I don't know why
people don't like
this film. That's
all, because I
really don't get that.
The Dark Knight (2009)
Morality never came off
so realistically in so
fantastic a setting.
Munich (2005)
If you want to understand
our world today, you need
to develop an appreciation
for this film.
The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007)
Today I'll call it a representation
of the American myth itself.
The Truman Show (1998)
My favorite film
from my favorite actor,
mugging as he always does,
because he doesn't realize
he's doing it for
someone else,
the tragicomic of our times.
Star Wars (1977)
Because I still can't
believe that George Lucas
came up with all that
and got away with it
right from the start.
Gladiator (2000)
The strength of man
embodied by a man's man.
Memento (2001)
The quintessential fable
for the games we play
on ourselves.
The Departed (2006)
The way we get organized
is a frightening spectacle.
Office Space (1999)
The way we allow ourselves
to be crushed by work
is even worse.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Notes from a Fan of the Boston Red Sox
Maybe sometimes it's
just the terms we use.
A "nation," say, rather
than a "country."
I know, "cult"
versus "religion."
A matter of perspective.
A nation seems a little
more fluid than a country,
a little less official.
A little more inclusive.
Red Sox Nation.
Loosely translated,
baseball fans who've
gravitated toward
a particular team,
with a certain sense
of themselves.
Used to be, obsessives
looking for that elusive
World Series win.
Well, now we've got
two modern victories,
two titles.
Champions and Nation.
I don't think it really
changes what the fans are
so much as how they
define themselves.
The team is still the same
and so are the fans.
Change happens.
The Red Sox Nation
is defined as much by
its love for Boston
as its antipathy
toward the...Yankees.
Yin and yang.
We consider ourselves
the opposite of New York.
I imagine other
baseball fans don't
see as much a difference,
but that's not really the point.
It's a classic rivalry.
Plenty of players have
put in time on both teams.
Johnny Damon, anyone?
Anyway, the Nation
is a way of life,
made up for a whole season,
but not the only way
these people are defined.
They're guided by good fun
and sportsmanship (by whatever
stripe it turns), a shared
devotion and passion,
but they come and they go
separately, united and alone
at the same time.
Bad things happen,
but there are always
good things to keep hold of,
and there is always,
always
hope.
Any good nation
would be as lucky
to live like that.
just the terms we use.
A "nation," say, rather
than a "country."
I know, "cult"
versus "religion."
A matter of perspective.
A nation seems a little
more fluid than a country,
a little less official.
A little more inclusive.
Red Sox Nation.
Loosely translated,
baseball fans who've
gravitated toward
a particular team,
with a certain sense
of themselves.
Used to be, obsessives
looking for that elusive
World Series win.
Well, now we've got
two modern victories,
two titles.
Champions and Nation.
I don't think it really
changes what the fans are
so much as how they
define themselves.
The team is still the same
and so are the fans.
Change happens.
The Red Sox Nation
is defined as much by
its love for Boston
as its antipathy
toward the...Yankees.
Yin and yang.
We consider ourselves
the opposite of New York.
I imagine other
baseball fans don't
see as much a difference,
but that's not really the point.
It's a classic rivalry.
Plenty of players have
put in time on both teams.
Johnny Damon, anyone?
Anyway, the Nation
is a way of life,
made up for a whole season,
but not the only way
these people are defined.
They're guided by good fun
and sportsmanship (by whatever
stripe it turns), a shared
devotion and passion,
but they come and they go
separately, united and alone
at the same time.
Bad things happen,
but there are always
good things to keep hold of,
and there is always,
always
hope.
Any good nation
would be as lucky
to live like that.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
The Politics of Culture
Another thing people
really need to understand
is that the New Fade
works in terms of culture, too.
Countries were originally
built around the idea
that culture was mainly
what a country was built around.
That simply isn't the case anymore.
How many times does America
have to fight a war over this
for people to realize that?
Culture no more identifies
a country in the 21st century
than does the concept
of a breakdown for a music group
assumed to have become a
permanent part of the "mainstream."
Swimming in the same direction
doesn't make everyone the same.
You can't win or lose "culture"
by joining a new community.
You can't define "culture"
by the same concepts
that define a religion,
a family, an ideology.
Culture is now only
a means to define
what the majority
of a people are doing.
Heck, that's probably
what it always was.
But now we seem
all the more concerned
with "losing" it,
as if somehow culture
is immune from the same
basic laws of constant
permutation, of evolution,
as everything else in nature.
Doesn't it seem silly now?
I have a hard time
when supposedly learned people
discuss this topic
and think they're right
when they speak of
doom and gloom,
of the children of men
destined for doom
and to live in gloom
because progress
loosens borders
and causes problems,
as if all opinions
are to be taken as fact
and connections that
can be made are to
be made as fact.
You cannot come to the end
of anything, you cannot
split every quark to
nothingness, you cannot
find the end of a rainbow
with a pot of gold beneath it,
because that, folks, was only
ever something culture created.
I am living in a world
that has been changing
around me. I am only
near 30 years of age,
but already some of the basic
terms of my youth I wonder
to see still exist,
as if a new language
sprouts up around me,
constantly, flows forward,
bursts free without
my permission.
Do children still see
rainbows with the luck
of the Irish? Hell,
I already know that a
new Red Sox Nation exists
that does not need
a curse of the Bambino,
that someone watching
Lost today
will never wonder
what kind of show
it will be (it
is every show),
that a theory of Relativity
is more relevant to me now
than Einstein himself.
Culture is a fickle -
hammer & sickle -
and quaint creation,
nothing more.
It defines me
as much as
I define it,
and only as useful as that.
really need to understand
is that the New Fade
works in terms of culture, too.
Countries were originally
built around the idea
that culture was mainly
what a country was built around.
That simply isn't the case anymore.
How many times does America
have to fight a war over this
for people to realize that?
Culture no more identifies
a country in the 21st century
than does the concept
of a breakdown for a music group
assumed to have become a
permanent part of the "mainstream."
Swimming in the same direction
doesn't make everyone the same.
You can't win or lose "culture"
by joining a new community.
You can't define "culture"
by the same concepts
that define a religion,
a family, an ideology.
Culture is now only
a means to define
what the majority
of a people are doing.
Heck, that's probably
what it always was.
But now we seem
all the more concerned
with "losing" it,
as if somehow culture
is immune from the same
basic laws of constant
permutation, of evolution,
as everything else in nature.
Doesn't it seem silly now?
I have a hard time
when supposedly learned people
discuss this topic
and think they're right
when they speak of
doom and gloom,
of the children of men
destined for doom
and to live in gloom
because progress
loosens borders
and causes problems,
as if all opinions
are to be taken as fact
and connections that
can be made are to
be made as fact.
You cannot come to the end
of anything, you cannot
split every quark to
nothingness, you cannot
find the end of a rainbow
with a pot of gold beneath it,
because that, folks, was only
ever something culture created.
I am living in a world
that has been changing
around me. I am only
near 30 years of age,
but already some of the basic
terms of my youth I wonder
to see still exist,
as if a new language
sprouts up around me,
constantly, flows forward,
bursts free without
my permission.
Do children still see
rainbows with the luck
of the Irish? Hell,
I already know that a
new Red Sox Nation exists
that does not need
a curse of the Bambino,
that someone watching
Lost today
will never wonder
what kind of show
it will be (it
is every show),
that a theory of Relativity
is more relevant to me now
than Einstein himself.
Culture is a fickle -
hammer & sickle -
and quaint creation,
nothing more.
It defines me
as much as
I define it,
and only as useful as that.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Why Good Minds Must Struggle (The Chance for All to See)
It sounds awfully backwards
but good people suffer
because they're willing to.
That's the ridiculous truth.
Good people suffer
because they choose
to see the world
differently, as a
case of possibilities
rather than in limited
and selfish terms.
They suffer because
they want to give others
a chance to see things
the same way.
Good people don't suffer
because of random events -
well heck, if you want
to see it that way,
you're probably not
all that good a person.
Things will always happen.
Things happening aren't
what cause real suffering -
that's nonsense.
Suffering for a good cause
is persevering in the face
of adversity, refusing to
believe what's wrong
can be allowed to stay wrong,
for mere convenience's sake.
Good people suffer and struggle
to provide the chance for all to see.
It's as simple as that.
It's another thing everyone knows
but few are willing to accept.
but good people suffer
because they're willing to.
That's the ridiculous truth.
Good people suffer
because they choose
to see the world
differently, as a
case of possibilities
rather than in limited
and selfish terms.
They suffer because
they want to give others
a chance to see things
the same way.
Good people don't suffer
because of random events -
well heck, if you want
to see it that way,
you're probably not
all that good a person.
Things will always happen.
Things happening aren't
what cause real suffering -
that's nonsense.
Suffering for a good cause
is persevering in the face
of adversity, refusing to
believe what's wrong
can be allowed to stay wrong,
for mere convenience's sake.
Good people suffer and struggle
to provide the chance for all to see.
It's as simple as that.
It's another thing everyone knows
but few are willing to accept.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
The Right to be Wrong means Right can come from Wrong (The Judgment of Morality)
The most difficult
thing to understand
is that it's actually
okay for people
to be wrong.
I don't mean in
a subjective sort of way,
but in a blatantly
objective view.
Being wrong doesn't
mean that wrong
is the only outcome.
That's the real bitch.
It doesn't mean
that being wrong
is okay, but that
you've got to understand
that wrong doesn't
just mean wrong,
that just because
you don't agree, say,
that you won't end up
with the same results
from opposite ends
of an issue.
So let's use the word,
perspective. It's all
about understanding that
positions and opinions
almost don't matter,
because you can work
the same angles
from opposite ends,
and never realize it.
We've got too many people
ready to assume the opposite,
and that, my friends,
is what's really wrong.
thing to understand
is that it's actually
okay for people
to be wrong.
I don't mean in
a subjective sort of way,
but in a blatantly
objective view.
Being wrong doesn't
mean that wrong
is the only outcome.
That's the real bitch.
It doesn't mean
that being wrong
is okay, but that
you've got to understand
that wrong doesn't
just mean wrong,
that just because
you don't agree, say,
that you won't end up
with the same results
from opposite ends
of an issue.
So let's use the word,
perspective. It's all
about understanding that
positions and opinions
almost don't matter,
because you can work
the same angles
from opposite ends,
and never realize it.
We've got too many people
ready to assume the opposite,
and that, my friends,
is what's really wrong.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
The Psychology of Natural Selection
While we're at it,
we might as well
discuss the concept
of natural selection.
No please, tell me
about it.
The theory goes, what,
survival of the fittest?
Or is that just what
we've been saying
all these years?
Personally, I think
natural selection
refers simply to
an ability to adapt,
and maybe it's nature
and maybe it's nurture
and maybe it's both.
But to call it a thing
strictly determined
by "winning" or "losing,"
then you start making
judgment calls, which
can no longer be
considered objective.
And we're talking
about an objective thing,
natural selection.
You can't really be
natural and be artificial
at the same time, right?
I think it's far easier
to just look at the
subjective surface and
say survival of the fittest
because you're not
really paying all that
close attention
to what's going on.
Because I haven't seen
much of anything end myself.
we might as well
discuss the concept
of natural selection.
No please, tell me
about it.
The theory goes, what,
survival of the fittest?
Or is that just what
we've been saying
all these years?
Personally, I think
natural selection
refers simply to
an ability to adapt,
and maybe it's nature
and maybe it's nurture
and maybe it's both.
But to call it a thing
strictly determined
by "winning" or "losing,"
then you start making
judgment calls, which
can no longer be
considered objective.
And we're talking
about an objective thing,
natural selection.
You can't really be
natural and be artificial
at the same time, right?
I think it's far easier
to just look at the
subjective surface and
say survival of the fittest
because you're not
really paying all that
close attention
to what's going on.
Because I haven't seen
much of anything end myself.
Monday, May 25, 2009
The Politics of Globalization
Yeah, so explain to me
how globalization really
can be so bad. Go ahead.
Tell me how it isn't
inevitable, that the world
doesn't get smaller by
the day no matter what
we do, and so it is
probably better to embrace it
than fear it. Please, tell me!
Does a culture remain so pure
if isolated, free from
stagnation, from alienation,
harmful no matter how you
describe it? Does not the free
exchange of ideas make us all better,
no matter how big or small
the transition? Does it not
begin from individual to individual,
from parent to child, anyway?
Who's to say you can really
repress change without
causing more damage than
what you hope to prevent?
Don't you become more like
what you fear when you avoid it
than you would if you embraced it?
Globalization is about
new possibilities, new ideas
built upon old ideas, which
is the true source of progress.
But I guess it's more
politically advantageous,
no matter who's trying
to prevent it, to fear
a bigger world filled
with bigger families,
because then you can't
hide so many of your secrets,
you begin to lose
your "advantage."
how globalization really
can be so bad. Go ahead.
Tell me how it isn't
inevitable, that the world
doesn't get smaller by
the day no matter what
we do, and so it is
probably better to embrace it
than fear it. Please, tell me!
Does a culture remain so pure
if isolated, free from
stagnation, from alienation,
harmful no matter how you
describe it? Does not the free
exchange of ideas make us all better,
no matter how big or small
the transition? Does it not
begin from individual to individual,
from parent to child, anyway?
Who's to say you can really
repress change without
causing more damage than
what you hope to prevent?
Don't you become more like
what you fear when you avoid it
than you would if you embraced it?
Globalization is about
new possibilities, new ideas
built upon old ideas, which
is the true source of progress.
But I guess it's more
politically advantageous,
no matter who's trying
to prevent it, to fear
a bigger world filled
with bigger families,
because then you can't
hide so many of your secrets,
you begin to lose
your "advantage."
Friday, May 22, 2009
Snikt!
Part of the reason
I like Hugh Jackman
is because he's a
genuinely relatable,
like when he was
recently promoting
his new Wolverine
movie and recounted
how his wife had
originally rejected
his first script
with the character,
mentioning the familiar
comic book phrase "snikt!"
as a primary reason why.
But seriously, Mrs. Jackman,
"snikt!" is a bad-ass
comic book term, admit it!
I like Hugh Jackman
is because he's a
genuinely relatable,
like when he was
recently promoting
his new Wolverine
movie and recounted
how his wife had
originally rejected
his first script
with the character,
mentioning the familiar
comic book phrase "snikt!"
as a primary reason why.
But seriously, Mrs. Jackman,
"snikt!" is a bad-ass
comic book term, admit it!
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Smick! Smick!
I wish I could
remember where
I read that
description of
someone enjoying
what they were
eating, because
it's an impossibly
adorable and
endearing character
detail that deserves
better than that.
Oh well!
remember where
I read that
description of
someone enjoying
what they were
eating, because
it's an impossibly
adorable and
endearing character
detail that deserves
better than that.
Oh well!
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Ten Years of SpongeBob!
Mr. SquarePants
represents a huge
cultural transition,
insofar as he made
it safe, along with
Rugrats, for cartoons
on cable to be cool.
He's legitimately
as big as Looney Tunes,
and what he did
was basically ruin
network cartoons forever.
The bastard! Do we
really needs a thousand
anime shows? Seriously?
But without SpongeBob,
I wouldn't be able to
suggest any number of
pets live in a pineapple
under the sea, and that
would be tragic.
I just love the theme,
and it's great to hear
at a ballpark.
So what if the Simpsons clan
ushered in the wave of the
future, where cartoons
are geared toward adults,
virtually ensuring that
kids would have to migrate
to cable, which is where
everyone suddenly realized
they could dilute
everything else?
But we got SpongeBob!
represents a huge
cultural transition,
insofar as he made
it safe, along with
Rugrats, for cartoons
on cable to be cool.
He's legitimately
as big as Looney Tunes,
and what he did
was basically ruin
network cartoons forever.
The bastard! Do we
really needs a thousand
anime shows? Seriously?
But without SpongeBob,
I wouldn't be able to
suggest any number of
pets live in a pineapple
under the sea, and that
would be tragic.
I just love the theme,
and it's great to hear
at a ballpark.
So what if the Simpsons clan
ushered in the wave of the
future, where cartoons
are geared toward adults,
virtually ensuring that
kids would have to migrate
to cable, which is where
everyone suddenly realized
they could dilute
everything else?
But we got SpongeBob!
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Help Control the Polite Population - Have Your Bitch Spayed or Neutered
First off,
why the fuck
is it still
okay to use
the word "bitch"
so liberally,
or even the
alternative,
"son of a bitch"?
Can we not take
women seriously yet,
seriously?
***
I'm suggesting
in all fairness
that if we are
to practive
eugenics for
any reason, it's
to free up more
of the world for
people who actually
care about other
people, not in
the way that they're
not willing to kill
everyone else, but
in the way that
they're willing
to consider the
interests of someone
else while they
go about their
public business.
I don't think
this is so much
to ask.
It would save me
many headaches, anyway.
Seriously, can't
we pretend to know
other people exist?
And if we can't,
can't we just keep
those people whom
we know don't care now
from having more people
who most certainly
won't either?
Pretty please?
why the fuck
is it still
okay to use
the word "bitch"
so liberally,
or even the
alternative,
"son of a bitch"?
Can we not take
women seriously yet,
seriously?
***
I'm suggesting
in all fairness
that if we are
to practive
eugenics for
any reason, it's
to free up more
of the world for
people who actually
care about other
people, not in
the way that they're
not willing to kill
everyone else, but
in the way that
they're willing
to consider the
interests of someone
else while they
go about their
public business.
I don't think
this is so much
to ask.
It would save me
many headaches, anyway.
Seriously, can't
we pretend to know
other people exist?
And if we can't,
can't we just keep
those people whom
we know don't care now
from having more people
who most certainly
won't either?
Pretty please?
Monday, May 18, 2009
The Politics of Courage
When Kennedy wrote
Profiles in Courage,
he chose to spotlight
a number of American
Senators who'd
risked their careers
on matters they thought
more important than
their own political
well-being. It's
interesting, is all,
that for a party that
has so often virtually
deified him, the Democrats
don't seem to actually
share his value.
Now would be a great
time to remember that,
when we're considering
the weight of history,
not just in favor
of someone who can
be popular, but the
man who came before him,
who persevered, turned
every cheek, for
ideals he thought
worth fighting for.
That's the kind of
courage I care about,
the kind of politics,
not purblind doomsters,
but that sees Value
even when it seems
like a challenge.
Profiles in Courage,
he chose to spotlight
a number of American
Senators who'd
risked their careers
on matters they thought
more important than
their own political
well-being. It's
interesting, is all,
that for a party that
has so often virtually
deified him, the Democrats
don't seem to actually
share his value.
Now would be a great
time to remember that,
when we're considering
the weight of history,
not just in favor
of someone who can
be popular, but the
man who came before him,
who persevered, turned
every cheek, for
ideals he thought
worth fighting for.
That's the kind of
courage I care about,
the kind of politics,
not purblind doomsters,
but that sees Value
even when it seems
like a challenge.
Friday, May 15, 2009
The New Intellectual
The problem faced
by the New Intellectual
is that in order
to change the world,
they need to change
the world to be heard.
It sounds like
circular reasoning,
but that's why it's
a constant challenge.
No one wants to
listen to the person
who has their own ideas.
Okay, maybe you could
tell me where to find them?
The problem is,
the New Intellectual
is in a state of
constant flux,
perpetual development.
Even if someone
were to notice,
what use would it
really be, and how
much would they
really notice?
I guess what I'm
really asking is,
does the New Intellectual
learn best by the trial
it takes to change
the world? Is it better
to change the world
than to let the world
change you?
Well, the New Intellectual
gets to ponder that, too...
We're in a period
that's beginning
to support the New Intellectual,
but we're not there yet.
by the New Intellectual
is that in order
to change the world,
they need to change
the world to be heard.
It sounds like
circular reasoning,
but that's why it's
a constant challenge.
No one wants to
listen to the person
who has their own ideas.
Okay, maybe you could
tell me where to find them?
The problem is,
the New Intellectual
is in a state of
constant flux,
perpetual development.
Even if someone
were to notice,
what use would it
really be, and how
much would they
really notice?
I guess what I'm
really asking is,
does the New Intellectual
learn best by the trial
it takes to change
the world? Is it better
to change the world
than to let the world
change you?
Well, the New Intellectual
gets to ponder that, too...
We're in a period
that's beginning
to support the New Intellectual,
but we're not there yet.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Not Fade Away
My love for you
(and damn it
let's finally
call an elephant
an elephant)
won't fade away
no matter the obstacles
that seem determined
to stick around.
You really are
an extraordinary girl
in an ordinary world.
(and damn it
let's finally
call an elephant
an elephant)
won't fade away
no matter the obstacles
that seem determined
to stick around.
You really are
an extraordinary girl
in an ordinary world.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Drowning
III.
If people really want
to know how Obama
became president, if
anyone opened up a
legitimate opportunity
for a black man to win
significant political
office, they only need
to look to his predecessor,
G, who put Condi and Colin
front and center, more
than anyone else had done
before him.
But G's a martyr more obviously
than his own predecessors,
because he stuck to an unpopular
course as far as he could, even
though just about everyone
by the end said he was dead wrong.
No, he didn't actually pay
the full price, but he might
as well have -- at no other
point in US history has a
president become such a
pariah in his own time, not
Johnson, not even Nixon,
who at least knew a mandate,
but his own paranoia did him in.
No, G's problem developed from Dick,
but it was entirely his own burden,
a course he chose to take because
he knew it was right, despite
what everyone around he grew
to think, no matter how ugly
the world became for him, and
seemingly for his counry.
No, he was never out to make
an empire, just a better world,
do the best he could. Maybe
he wasn't eloquent, or a great
statesman, but he was better
than that, he was a man,
the last man in the room,
who knew principle when
he saw it, and it wasn't
even about his own country,
but about the world around him.
He had been bitten, so he
sought to make sure, no
matter the snake would not
bite again.
He didn't drown, not
even when the levees broke,
but rose above.
Mission accomplished indeed...
If people really want
to know how Obama
became president, if
anyone opened up a
legitimate opportunity
for a black man to win
significant political
office, they only need
to look to his predecessor,
G, who put Condi and Colin
front and center, more
than anyone else had done
before him.
But G's a martyr more obviously
than his own predecessors,
because he stuck to an unpopular
course as far as he could, even
though just about everyone
by the end said he was dead wrong.
No, he didn't actually pay
the full price, but he might
as well have -- at no other
point in US history has a
president become such a
pariah in his own time, not
Johnson, not even Nixon,
who at least knew a mandate,
but his own paranoia did him in.
No, G's problem developed from Dick,
but it was entirely his own burden,
a course he chose to take because
he knew it was right, despite
what everyone around he grew
to think, no matter how ugly
the world became for him, and
seemingly for his counry.
No, he was never out to make
an empire, just a better world,
do the best he could. Maybe
he wasn't eloquent, or a great
statesman, but he was better
than that, he was a man,
the last man in the room,
who knew principle when
he saw it, and it wasn't
even about his own country,
but about the world around him.
He had been bitten, so he
sought to make sure, no
matter the snake would not
bite again.
He didn't drown, not
even when the levees broke,
but rose above.
Mission accomplished indeed...
Drowning
II.
As a historical figure,
it strikes me that
JFK isn't getting his due.
Lincoln's logical successor,
he had a few years to work
on important issues, and
as a man in pivotal times,
he set a bar no one has
approached since.
The 60s, even if he lived
only for three of them,
were still defined by
JFK's work. He was
influential in getting
civil rights codified
for black Americans, one
of several important men
in a time when the nation
became keenly aware of itself,
in the one issue that
united everyone, and
eventually on his side.
As a politician, he achieved
more than anyone else,
with the greatest display
of statesmanship before
or since, at the coldest point
in the Cold War, the Cuban
Missile Crisis; who knows
where he would have ended
up in Vietnam, which started
before him, and ended with
the man he defeated for
the presidency?
He was a troubled man,
and a wounded man, much
like FDR before him,
but he did more than
build toward some
fabled New Frontier
from a storied Camelot,
he spent all his energies,
and for his reward did not
live to see accompished
what he set in motion,
even though his dream
for the moon came so quickly.
Without him, everything
seemed to come apart;
a country set about a road
to disunion, let us say now,
which must be the true fight
today; the space program
is no longer so glamourous,
without real support; true,
a black man sits in the
White House now, but like
all great men, it's
not for the reasons you think.
JFK choked on his own success,
drowned in the sea of turmoil
he strove to calm, and for that
he deserves to be held
in an eternity of respect
and admiration.
As a historical figure,
it strikes me that
JFK isn't getting his due.
Lincoln's logical successor,
he had a few years to work
on important issues, and
as a man in pivotal times,
he set a bar no one has
approached since.
The 60s, even if he lived
only for three of them,
were still defined by
JFK's work. He was
influential in getting
civil rights codified
for black Americans, one
of several important men
in a time when the nation
became keenly aware of itself,
in the one issue that
united everyone, and
eventually on his side.
As a politician, he achieved
more than anyone else,
with the greatest display
of statesmanship before
or since, at the coldest point
in the Cold War, the Cuban
Missile Crisis; who knows
where he would have ended
up in Vietnam, which started
before him, and ended with
the man he defeated for
the presidency?
He was a troubled man,
and a wounded man, much
like FDR before him,
but he did more than
build toward some
fabled New Frontier
from a storied Camelot,
he spent all his energies,
and for his reward did not
live to see accompished
what he set in motion,
even though his dream
for the moon came so quickly.
Without him, everything
seemed to come apart;
a country set about a road
to disunion, let us say now,
which must be the true fight
today; the space program
is no longer so glamourous,
without real support; true,
a black man sits in the
White House now, but like
all great men, it's
not for the reasons you think.
JFK choked on his own success,
drowned in the sea of turmoil
he strove to calm, and for that
he deserves to be held
in an eternity of respect
and admiration.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Drowning
I.
It's strange to think so now,
(especially in a celebratory
year), but Lincoln wasn't
always so popular.
In fact, the thing he's
most regarded for he did
so with reluctance, almost
a measure of last resort.
It was a terrible time
in American life, and
a direct culmination of
circumstances that had
been bubbling since the
second presidential
election. In fact,
Lincoln couldn't even
resolve it himself,
and a later president,
Andrew Johnson, became
the first of the persecuted
chiefs because he tried
to defend Abe's last wishes.
When Lincoln freed the slaves,
he was making a last ditch
effort, an extreme power play
that his Confederate rivals,
for all their bluster,
could never approach, and it
was this final knowledge that
ended a terrible war.
But it was only the beginning.
Great men, and great sacrifices,
always lead toward change,
but the change they seek,
and the course they pursue
will always be divisive,
so that in their wake,
the course floods and
the people find themselves
drowning, not knowing
what to do, even though
the water is, in effect,
exactly the solution.
We trouble ourselves
to find our way.
It's strange to think so now,
(especially in a celebratory
year), but Lincoln wasn't
always so popular.
In fact, the thing he's
most regarded for he did
so with reluctance, almost
a measure of last resort.
It was a terrible time
in American life, and
a direct culmination of
circumstances that had
been bubbling since the
second presidential
election. In fact,
Lincoln couldn't even
resolve it himself,
and a later president,
Andrew Johnson, became
the first of the persecuted
chiefs because he tried
to defend Abe's last wishes.
When Lincoln freed the slaves,
he was making a last ditch
effort, an extreme power play
that his Confederate rivals,
for all their bluster,
could never approach, and it
was this final knowledge that
ended a terrible war.
But it was only the beginning.
Great men, and great sacrifices,
always lead toward change,
but the change they seek,
and the course they pursue
will always be divisive,
so that in their wake,
the course floods and
the people find themselves
drowning, not knowing
what to do, even though
the water is, in effect,
exactly the solution.
We trouble ourselves
to find our way.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Better Than Inadequate Isn't Always Good Enough
Sometimes it's
great, just about
good enough,
when the support
you can find in
a place that
otherwise supports
inadequacy is
better than the rest,
who will listen to
your frustrations
and agree with them.
But sometimes,
better than inadequate
isn't good enough.
Sometimes, it becomes
apparent what that
really means.
The ability to recognize
and the ability to actually
handle inadequacy are not
always the same thing;
it's the difference
between tacitly supporting
and abhorring it, really,
and sometimes it's okay
to overlook that,
and sometimes it isn't.
Sometimes you just
can't deal with it.
Of course, I would rather
be able to deal with it
than lose my own head,
lapse into crippling
complacence, because,
as I've discovered,
everyone's more happy
when they can believe
everyone's happy,
and that's more helpful
than if they don't.
I don't really get that,
since to my mind, in
the best of all possible
worlds, people would
understand at least to
some degree that when
someone's not happy,
they're actually not
happy for a reason,
and so the only reaction
would be to try and
find out why, and what
you might do to help them.
But the truth is,
most people aren't like that,
and most of them are happy
to be inadequate, because
by their reasoning, life
can be accepted for what
must be rather than
what might be.
There may always be
possibilities, but
for some, it's okay
to decide there aren't,
apparently.
To my mind, the best thing
to advocate isn't so much
hope but a belief that
you simply don't have to accept
everything so rationally.
Let go. The Buddhists have
that much right; let go of
empirical facts, and make
your own, tell the world
that it's better than it knows,
that sunshine isn't lethal,
that you can be countercultural
but not conventional, that you
can find acceptance and still
be your own person, that you
can do for others and still
satisfy yourself, that the self
in the world doen't have to be lost,
but, yes, in the end can be found.
You don't have to fall in their place.
great, just about
good enough,
when the support
you can find in
a place that
otherwise supports
inadequacy is
better than the rest,
who will listen to
your frustrations
and agree with them.
But sometimes,
better than inadequate
isn't good enough.
Sometimes, it becomes
apparent what that
really means.
The ability to recognize
and the ability to actually
handle inadequacy are not
always the same thing;
it's the difference
between tacitly supporting
and abhorring it, really,
and sometimes it's okay
to overlook that,
and sometimes it isn't.
Sometimes you just
can't deal with it.
Of course, I would rather
be able to deal with it
than lose my own head,
lapse into crippling
complacence, because,
as I've discovered,
everyone's more happy
when they can believe
everyone's happy,
and that's more helpful
than if they don't.
I don't really get that,
since to my mind, in
the best of all possible
worlds, people would
understand at least to
some degree that when
someone's not happy,
they're actually not
happy for a reason,
and so the only reaction
would be to try and
find out why, and what
you might do to help them.
But the truth is,
most people aren't like that,
and most of them are happy
to be inadequate, because
by their reasoning, life
can be accepted for what
must be rather than
what might be.
There may always be
possibilities, but
for some, it's okay
to decide there aren't,
apparently.
To my mind, the best thing
to advocate isn't so much
hope but a belief that
you simply don't have to accept
everything so rationally.
Let go. The Buddhists have
that much right; let go of
empirical facts, and make
your own, tell the world
that it's better than it knows,
that sunshine isn't lethal,
that you can be countercultural
but not conventional, that you
can find acceptance and still
be your own person, that you
can do for others and still
satisfy yourself, that the self
in the world doen't have to be lost,
but, yes, in the end can be found.
You don't have to fall in their place.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
The Damned Generation
A writer for The First Post
journal I'm subscribed to
in my gmail account used
this term, "The Damned Generation"
to describe the adults
now transitioning from college.
He meant to imply that
it's our sorry fate to
inherit a world that
doesn't seem to have
a use for us, and hey,
it's basically what
I've been saying in
my poetry for the past
nine years, so I'm
fairly happy that
someone else has pointed
it out.
We're the Damned Generation.
No one seems to have use
for us, our ideas, or our
potential. Oh, our
culture is more ready
for us than it has ever been,
but the truth of the matter is,
when you get right down to it,
is that Obama's Message of Hope
basically negates us.
Obama's Message of Hope
is basically a lifeline
to the failures of the past,
even though the Message
says everything but.
Obama's Message of Hope
really is a message of hope,
but no one really understands
it yet; they're still
clinging to the hope that
Hope merely means we can
still salvage what came before
rather than set about the
business of the radical new.
We're the Damned Generation
because we're the product
of the radical new, but
the failure of the Watchmen
film, of our basic failure to
really acknowledge genius
like Grant Morrison and
ability to appreciate Lost
only when it's shiny, is indication
that the radical new
may be ready, but the New Fade
isn't.
The horrible secret of
the New Fade is that it's
really more conservative
than it is liberal, not
good conservative but bad,
not good liberal but bad.
The New Fade is picky,
like the messy public interests
of the public, when private
hopes don't really mesh with Hope
and time is our enemy
just like we always feared it was.
Time, the Metaphysics of Time,
the Economics of Time,
the Politics of Time,
even the Psychology of Time,
really amounts to the Final Frontier.
In Star Trek, which I can
talk about because it's
finally popular again,
the Final Frontier really
only ever was the New Frontier,
bigger, better, but no one
liked to say why, because
it spoke about real hope,
not just the Politics of Hope,
or the Politics of Courage,
though courage is a thing
about as thankless as
trying to remain dry
in a land quickly filling up
with the water broken levees
never really could hold back
for long, drowning on dry land,
like the martyrs do.
The Damned Generation
will not be televised,
though it is a product
of that time; it's far
more cool to walk around
with portable devices
and pretend to be plugged in
while all you're really being
is alone, the new cool
of the New Fade, the old fool
of past times when, hey,
Star Trek was cool.
The Damned Generation
is a product of the New Intellectual.
The Damned Generation
will someday get its due,
but probably in an index,
like all good people do,
a product of real perspective.
journal I'm subscribed to
in my gmail account used
this term, "The Damned Generation"
to describe the adults
now transitioning from college.
He meant to imply that
it's our sorry fate to
inherit a world that
doesn't seem to have
a use for us, and hey,
it's basically what
I've been saying in
my poetry for the past
nine years, so I'm
fairly happy that
someone else has pointed
it out.
We're the Damned Generation.
No one seems to have use
for us, our ideas, or our
potential. Oh, our
culture is more ready
for us than it has ever been,
but the truth of the matter is,
when you get right down to it,
is that Obama's Message of Hope
basically negates us.
Obama's Message of Hope
is basically a lifeline
to the failures of the past,
even though the Message
says everything but.
Obama's Message of Hope
really is a message of hope,
but no one really understands
it yet; they're still
clinging to the hope that
Hope merely means we can
still salvage what came before
rather than set about the
business of the radical new.
We're the Damned Generation
because we're the product
of the radical new, but
the failure of the Watchmen
film, of our basic failure to
really acknowledge genius
like Grant Morrison and
ability to appreciate Lost
only when it's shiny, is indication
that the radical new
may be ready, but the New Fade
isn't.
The horrible secret of
the New Fade is that it's
really more conservative
than it is liberal, not
good conservative but bad,
not good liberal but bad.
The New Fade is picky,
like the messy public interests
of the public, when private
hopes don't really mesh with Hope
and time is our enemy
just like we always feared it was.
Time, the Metaphysics of Time,
the Economics of Time,
the Politics of Time,
even the Psychology of Time,
really amounts to the Final Frontier.
In Star Trek, which I can
talk about because it's
finally popular again,
the Final Frontier really
only ever was the New Frontier,
bigger, better, but no one
liked to say why, because
it spoke about real hope,
not just the Politics of Hope,
or the Politics of Courage,
though courage is a thing
about as thankless as
trying to remain dry
in a land quickly filling up
with the water broken levees
never really could hold back
for long, drowning on dry land,
like the martyrs do.
The Damned Generation
will not be televised,
though it is a product
of that time; it's far
more cool to walk around
with portable devices
and pretend to be plugged in
while all you're really being
is alone, the new cool
of the New Fade, the old fool
of past times when, hey,
Star Trek was cool.
The Damned Generation
is a product of the New Intellectual.
The Damned Generation
will someday get its due,
but probably in an index,
like all good people do,
a product of real perspective.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Jeff Probes
Part of the reason
anyone should have
been a dedicated
fan of Survivor
for the past decade
is Jeff Probst,
the host of the show,
who finally got
to do the reunion
specials after only
a few seasons.
You want an expert
of the series,
you want to talk
about this guy.
You want the best
perpective, you want
Jeff Probst, both
when he's actually
there with the
contestants and later,
especially since
he's recently
starting blogging at EW.com.
The dude's all right.
He's the smartest person
around, asks the right
questions, sets the right
mood, and always knows
better than the tribes do
what's really going on,
even when they don't.
He may not know who's
going to win (because,
after all, he's the show's
biggest fan), but he
usually knows who should,
and that makes him
easy to identify with.
Survivor is a better way
than all the talk shows
and self help books out there
to find out what people
are really like, better than
magazines, better than radio,
better than blogging and Twitter.
And the man who helps
everyone get that is
Jeff Probst.
anyone should have
been a dedicated
fan of Survivor
for the past decade
is Jeff Probst,
the host of the show,
who finally got
to do the reunion
specials after only
a few seasons.
You want an expert
of the series,
you want to talk
about this guy.
You want the best
perpective, you want
Jeff Probst, both
when he's actually
there with the
contestants and later,
especially since
he's recently
starting blogging at EW.com.
The dude's all right.
He's the smartest person
around, asks the right
questions, sets the right
mood, and always knows
better than the tribes do
what's really going on,
even when they don't.
He may not know who's
going to win (because,
after all, he's the show's
biggest fan), but he
usually knows who should,
and that makes him
easy to identify with.
Survivor is a better way
than all the talk shows
and self help books out there
to find out what people
are really like, better than
magazines, better than radio,
better than blogging and Twitter.
And the man who helps
everyone get that is
Jeff Probst.
Capitalist Swine!
Where capitalism
goes sour is when
people assume that
with great power
doesn't necessarily
come great responsibility.
I'm just a little
sick of revisionist
history. Let the facts
fall where they may,
not where you'd
like them to, or
how the popular voices
would interpret them.
The Clintonians sat
on one of America's
greatest eras of
prosperity, and took
it all for granted.
They sat by and
played politics
while the New Fade
started to chug
along by itself,
willfully guiding
a train to globalization
without representation.
The corporate machine
took over, and made
good on the slogan
"Greed is Good."
It was around this time
that Scott Adams
first envisioned
the cubicle slave
Dilbert, the man with
the upturned tie,
who began a narrative
of the culture as
it steamrolled to
the current depression.
It astounds me that
we debate the ethics
of war and the need
for global prosperity
while Bono tries
to be a rockstar and
a humanist, and no one
much cares for either one;
he may be Lennon's
successor, his better,
but you would never know it.
Money over happiness,
"realism" over optimism,
the needs of the few
past the needs of the many,
demand over supply,
the idea that gross natural product
must be gross, it's hard
to look up when the sky's
always falling.
Sometimes it's difficult
to admit I'm American.
goes sour is when
people assume that
with great power
doesn't necessarily
come great responsibility.
I'm just a little
sick of revisionist
history. Let the facts
fall where they may,
not where you'd
like them to, or
how the popular voices
would interpret them.
The Clintonians sat
on one of America's
greatest eras of
prosperity, and took
it all for granted.
They sat by and
played politics
while the New Fade
started to chug
along by itself,
willfully guiding
a train to globalization
without representation.
The corporate machine
took over, and made
good on the slogan
"Greed is Good."
It was around this time
that Scott Adams
first envisioned
the cubicle slave
Dilbert, the man with
the upturned tie,
who began a narrative
of the culture as
it steamrolled to
the current depression.
It astounds me that
we debate the ethics
of war and the need
for global prosperity
while Bono tries
to be a rockstar and
a humanist, and no one
much cares for either one;
he may be Lennon's
successor, his better,
but you would never know it.
Money over happiness,
"realism" over optimism,
the needs of the few
past the needs of the many,
demand over supply,
the idea that gross natural product
must be gross, it's hard
to look up when the sky's
always falling.
Sometimes it's difficult
to admit I'm American.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Yay Capitalism!
I'm all for the rampant
indulgence in society,
at least when it comes
to things that don't
really matter.
I'm all for people
buying things that
will actually make
them happy, and not
just serve as some
psychotic status marker.
I'm all for a market
that allows for an
open exchange of
information and ideas,
in whatever form
they take.
I'm all for capitalism,
the idea, which seems
to me a better one
than communism, which
is why I think we ought
to lay off of Joe McCarthy
after all these years,
at least for the principals
he defended, if not
the extreme methods
he pursued.
To recognize not
just a threat but
a terrible way
to run a society
is a basic tenet
of democracy, something
that exports as well
as imports, and while
it's not an ideal,
it's a reflection
of a free will state
we have all lived in
from time immemorial.
I'm all for trying
to make things better.
indulgence in society,
at least when it comes
to things that don't
really matter.
I'm all for people
buying things that
will actually make
them happy, and not
just serve as some
psychotic status marker.
I'm all for a market
that allows for an
open exchange of
information and ideas,
in whatever form
they take.
I'm all for capitalism,
the idea, which seems
to me a better one
than communism, which
is why I think we ought
to lay off of Joe McCarthy
after all these years,
at least for the principals
he defended, if not
the extreme methods
he pursued.
To recognize not
just a threat but
a terrible way
to run a society
is a basic tenet
of democracy, something
that exports as well
as imports, and while
it's not an ideal,
it's a reflection
of a free will state
we have all lived in
from time immemorial.
I'm all for trying
to make things better.
Monday, May 4, 2009
In My Sister's House iii
Something I left
out of the non-Index
high school reunion
index a few weeks back
was mention about
how my relationship
with the owner of
all those pets
from last week
evolved over the
past ten years.
Truthfully, there
wasn't much to speak
of by the time
I shipped out to Erie
in the fall of '99.
I had waiting for me
a reunion with my brother
Pierre that first year,
and by the end of it,
strange new encounters
with the stranger who
had taken my sister's form.
I think it was one
of the last family trips
to Rhode Island that
brought us together again
briefly, and it put our
relationship into a
whole new dynamic,
which is to say perspective.
By the time the offer
was made to room with
her in Burlington, I
realized a new transition
had come, in many ways,
but mostly a new opportunity
to know her, and become
real family again.
That's what happened.
When I realized that
moving to Colorado Springs
was not only economical
but an extension and
evolution of our
new connection, it
was something to spark
an affirmation that
this time had not
been wasted.
It hadn't.
out of the non-Index
high school reunion
index a few weeks back
was mention about
how my relationship
with the owner of
all those pets
from last week
evolved over the
past ten years.
Truthfully, there
wasn't much to speak
of by the time
I shipped out to Erie
in the fall of '99.
I had waiting for me
a reunion with my brother
Pierre that first year,
and by the end of it,
strange new encounters
with the stranger who
had taken my sister's form.
I think it was one
of the last family trips
to Rhode Island that
brought us together again
briefly, and it put our
relationship into a
whole new dynamic,
which is to say perspective.
By the time the offer
was made to room with
her in Burlington, I
realized a new transition
had come, in many ways,
but mostly a new opportunity
to know her, and become
real family again.
That's what happened.
When I realized that
moving to Colorado Springs
was not only economical
but an extension and
evolution of our
new connection, it
was something to spark
an affirmation that
this time had not
been wasted.
It hadn't.
Friday, May 1, 2009
A Poem for Ariel
Fish are a fairly
private species,
so they work great
as a blank canvass.
Needing to come up
with an explanation
that absolves Boo
of the suspicion
that she frequently
drinks from his tank,
I like to say that
Ariel is a suicidal
jumping fish, or
perhaps a piranha,
generally the reason
the top of the tank
becomes eschewed
or water loitering
around it.
Ariel wants to leap
out, but Boo's there
to knock him back in.
Ariel attacks Boo,
and Boo knocks him back in.
Regardless, fish are our friends,
not food. I like to
consider myself his sponsor.
And make funny faces
back at him.
private species,
so they work great
as a blank canvass.
Needing to come up
with an explanation
that absolves Boo
of the suspicion
that she frequently
drinks from his tank,
I like to say that
Ariel is a suicidal
jumping fish, or
perhaps a piranha,
generally the reason
the top of the tank
becomes eschewed
or water loitering
around it.
Ariel wants to leap
out, but Boo's there
to knock him back in.
Ariel attacks Boo,
and Boo knocks him back in.
Regardless, fish are our friends,
not food. I like to
consider myself his sponsor.
And make funny faces
back at him.
A Poem for Boo!
In many ways,
Boo was the perfect
transition from Freckles.
Prior to moving from
home, and thus the
final time I would
see Freckles alive,
my sister had arranged
for Boo to live
at my parents' house
while she completed
her tour of Texas.
During those weeks,
I found myself
amazed at how easily
I found myself grow
attached to this cat.
Of course, it was
also hilarious
watching Boo and
Freckles interact -
cats & dogs, y'know.
So by the time
we were all in Massachusetts,
I was primed to infuse
Boo with all the imaginative
powers I had once reserved
for Freckles, the pet phrases
and affection.
Being a cat, she
took it all
in stride.
I won't go into
everything tat
has developed
since, because
it is all
just so much,
but suffice
to say:
Boo's fur
is taking
over the
same role
Freckles
assumed:
an omnipresence
that can
never
go away.
She's not your
typical cat,
and I know
that's what
people say
about their pets,
but Boo really
is
one of a kind.
Perhaps one day
I will index how,
but for now,
all to say
is
Boo!
Boo was the perfect
transition from Freckles.
Prior to moving from
home, and thus the
final time I would
see Freckles alive,
my sister had arranged
for Boo to live
at my parents' house
while she completed
her tour of Texas.
During those weeks,
I found myself
amazed at how easily
I found myself grow
attached to this cat.
Of course, it was
also hilarious
watching Boo and
Freckles interact -
cats & dogs, y'know.
So by the time
we were all in Massachusetts,
I was primed to infuse
Boo with all the imaginative
powers I had once reserved
for Freckles, the pet phrases
and affection.
Being a cat, she
took it all
in stride.
I won't go into
everything tat
has developed
since, because
it is all
just so much,
but suffice
to say:
Boo's fur
is taking
over the
same role
Freckles
assumed:
an omnipresence
that can
never
go away.
She's not your
typical cat,
and I know
that's what
people say
about their pets,
but Boo really
is
one of a kind.
Perhaps one day
I will index how,
but for now,
all to say
is
Boo!
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
A Poem for Jill
Jill may be a beagle,
but she's not Snoopy,
doesn't even like to
lie on top of dog houses.
She's my sister's dog,
a few months shy of Jack
but a constant sparring
partner and leading
contender for ownership
for any toy they want
to play with, a big dog
trapped in a small dog's body.
Her eyes will convince
anyone she's adorable
and will get her out
of any trouble (until,
maybe, you begin to
catch on, but it'll
still work anyway).
If Jack's a Charlie in the Box,
then Jill is the one everyone
wants, says they'll kidnap
(not jokingly, if they
really could get away with it),
and will let leap and lick
all over them, because
her tongue is lethal,
and nobody minds. But,
truth be told, she's
really worse than Jack,
and if she weren't so cute,
everyone would notice.
But they still wouldn't care,
because Jill is cute and
that's all there is to say
about that. Oh, and as far
as Boo is concerned, Jill
thinks she's got just another
tumbling partner, no matter
what Boo thinks (when Jack's
away, she'll really get carried
away with that thought),
so as much as Boo doesn't
tolerate Jack, she has to
at least pretend to put up
with Jill - yeah, just
another example of the Jill effect.
She really has gotten better
since the training, but she's
still playing catch-up with Jack,
no matter how it looks.
But darn it, she's cute!
She also sheds. Like a dog.
but she's not Snoopy,
doesn't even like to
lie on top of dog houses.
She's my sister's dog,
a few months shy of Jack
but a constant sparring
partner and leading
contender for ownership
for any toy they want
to play with, a big dog
trapped in a small dog's body.
Her eyes will convince
anyone she's adorable
and will get her out
of any trouble (until,
maybe, you begin to
catch on, but it'll
still work anyway).
If Jack's a Charlie in the Box,
then Jill is the one everyone
wants, says they'll kidnap
(not jokingly, if they
really could get away with it),
and will let leap and lick
all over them, because
her tongue is lethal,
and nobody minds. But,
truth be told, she's
really worse than Jack,
and if she weren't so cute,
everyone would notice.
But they still wouldn't care,
because Jill is cute and
that's all there is to say
about that. Oh, and as far
as Boo is concerned, Jill
thinks she's got just another
tumbling partner, no matter
what Boo thinks (when Jack's
away, she'll really get carried
away with that thought),
so as much as Boo doesn't
tolerate Jack, she has to
at least pretend to put up
with Jill - yeah, just
another example of the Jill effect.
She really has gotten better
since the training, but she's
still playing catch-up with Jack,
no matter how it looks.
But darn it, she's cute!
She also sheds. Like a dog.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
A Poem for Jack
Technically,
the most accurate
you can be about him
is that Jack is a
German shorthaired pointer.
He's also a Charlie in the box
and older brother to Jill,
and nemesis of Boo.
He's Dwayne's dog
and the second pet
in my sister's house,
a goofy presence
and somewhat awkward
before he got some
formal training.
He tolerates Jill's
foolishness and Boo's
attacks, because that's
what a big brother does,
but joins in whenever he can.
He's a gentle presence,
loves to curl up, loves
to eat (but then, what
dog doesn't?), stand up
and brace those paws
where they'll go.
(He was worse about that
before the training,
and that's (hopefully)
why he became known
as a Charlie in the Box
to the Jill everyone
wanted to kidnap.)
He may not be everyone's
favorite, but I cherish
him all the more, because
I get to enjoy what
no one else sees, a gentle
giant and a good companion,
just someone who's more
eager than they could be,
a small dog trapped in
a big dog's body,
who'll growl and protect,
but otherwise remain calm.
Oh, and he tugs on
every walk! But that
just means he's fun
to run with!
Jack makes me wish
there weren't so many phrases
badly construed against
his name, not the least
of which being Dwayne's own
"jacked up." I don't
like using those anymore.
Jack deserves better!
But he's still a big oaf.
the most accurate
you can be about him
is that Jack is a
German shorthaired pointer.
He's also a Charlie in the box
and older brother to Jill,
and nemesis of Boo.
He's Dwayne's dog
and the second pet
in my sister's house,
a goofy presence
and somewhat awkward
before he got some
formal training.
He tolerates Jill's
foolishness and Boo's
attacks, because that's
what a big brother does,
but joins in whenever he can.
He's a gentle presence,
loves to curl up, loves
to eat (but then, what
dog doesn't?), stand up
and brace those paws
where they'll go.
(He was worse about that
before the training,
and that's (hopefully)
why he became known
as a Charlie in the Box
to the Jill everyone
wanted to kidnap.)
He may not be everyone's
favorite, but I cherish
him all the more, because
I get to enjoy what
no one else sees, a gentle
giant and a good companion,
just someone who's more
eager than they could be,
a small dog trapped in
a big dog's body,
who'll growl and protect,
but otherwise remain calm.
Oh, and he tugs on
every walk! But that
just means he's fun
to run with!
Jack makes me wish
there weren't so many phrases
badly construed against
his name, not the least
of which being Dwayne's own
"jacked up." I don't
like using those anymore.
Jack deserves better!
But he's still a big oaf.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Julian's Wii
The things you can still learn
about friends and family...
Reverend Bill, as it turns out,
never was a priest at all,
but rather really wanted to be.
Julian was born with a Wii
controller in his hand,
but wait, it was just Photoshop.
You think you've figured it
all out, all the little details,
but then new facts about old details
come out, and you're left a little
shaken, caught off guard,
wondering how things will come
back into focus, when you'll
know everything again.
Friends and family,
well hey, maybe they're
not so different from
strangers after all,
maybe you ought to
spend your time
getting to know them,
and not just assuming
that you do.
But, Julian still
looked adorable
with his game on,
right after birth.
about friends and family...
Reverend Bill, as it turns out,
never was a priest at all,
but rather really wanted to be.
Julian was born with a Wii
controller in his hand,
but wait, it was just Photoshop.
You think you've figured it
all out, all the little details,
but then new facts about old details
come out, and you're left a little
shaken, caught off guard,
wondering how things will come
back into focus, when you'll
know everything again.
Friends and family,
well hey, maybe they're
not so different from
strangers after all,
maybe you ought to
spend your time
getting to know them,
and not just assuming
that you do.
But, Julian still
looked adorable
with his game on,
right after birth.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
The Pace of Walking
The pace of walking
is much the same,
I've learned,
as the pace of thought.
That's how it seems
to work, anyway, for me.
Having no license
(or, having never
gotten one)
has made me
very familiar
with walking,
the chance to
inhabit my own thoughts
with very few distractions.
People who fill that
kind of time up
listening to their iPods,
I guess I don't relate.
I've spent time like that
listening to CDs, and that
was time well-spent
familiarizing myself
with those CDs, but I've
had too many experiences
coming up with the kinds
of thought that I commit
to these poems to ever
seriously convert that time
to anything but the pace,
the beat of the feet, which
we all subconsciously
build around, and the ability
to judge rhythm in complex ways.
The pace of thought requires
a certain momentum, an
opportunity to break free
of limits, and conventions,
to sidestep traditional wisdom
and find your own way along
the same paths so many others
have traveled before you.
The curse of an original soul
is the ability to find
such means of identification.
is much the same,
I've learned,
as the pace of thought.
That's how it seems
to work, anyway, for me.
Having no license
(or, having never
gotten one)
has made me
very familiar
with walking,
the chance to
inhabit my own thoughts
with very few distractions.
People who fill that
kind of time up
listening to their iPods,
I guess I don't relate.
I've spent time like that
listening to CDs, and that
was time well-spent
familiarizing myself
with those CDs, but I've
had too many experiences
coming up with the kinds
of thought that I commit
to these poems to ever
seriously convert that time
to anything but the pace,
the beat of the feet, which
we all subconsciously
build around, and the ability
to judge rhythm in complex ways.
The pace of thought requires
a certain momentum, an
opportunity to break free
of limits, and conventions,
to sidestep traditional wisdom
and find your own way along
the same paths so many others
have traveled before you.
The curse of an original soul
is the ability to find
such means of identification.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Nobody Knows Where They Might End Up
What happens if
I push and end up
flat on my ass?
I only have
suspicions
at this point,
coincidences
that sometimes
seem to matter
so much, a
continuing
dialogue that
surprises me
to see it
keep going.
What if it's
not what I think?
What if I'm more
a Burke, or George?
What if I'm not
quite so much
like Alex or Derek
as I dream?
What if I'm
just too
dark & gloomy?
No elevator of love?
Nobody knows
where they might
end up, but what
if they did?
What if they fear
equally
getting what they
want and not?
I wish I knew...
I push and end up
flat on my ass?
I only have
suspicions
at this point,
coincidences
that sometimes
seem to matter
so much, a
continuing
dialogue that
surprises me
to see it
keep going.
What if it's
not what I think?
What if I'm more
a Burke, or George?
What if I'm not
quite so much
like Alex or Derek
as I dream?
What if I'm
just too
dark & gloomy?
No elevator of love?
Nobody knows
where they might
end up, but what
if they did?
What if they fear
equally
getting what they
want and not?
I wish I knew...
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Jury Duty
Having gotten my first
invitation to a jury,
I had to think about
that kind of experience,
and I known nothing quite
so intinmate like that
as the TV show Survivor.
Here's what I've learned
from watching it since 2000:
conquer the past
to conquer the present
so that you can
conquer the future.
Be able to keep
yourself in the game.
That's the key to
winning, to winning
a jury over.
I'm sorry, that's
what they want me for,
right?
invitation to a jury,
I had to think about
that kind of experience,
and I known nothing quite
so intinmate like that
as the TV show Survivor.
Here's what I've learned
from watching it since 2000:
conquer the past
to conquer the present
so that you can
conquer the future.
Be able to keep
yourself in the game.
That's the key to
winning, to winning
a jury over.
I'm sorry, that's
what they want me for,
right?
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
High School Reunion
My have things've
changed in ten years.
An index:
I didn't like U2
so fanatically in '99;
I had no real groove
as a writer, hadn't
even written a single
story as a personal
project yet, let alone
become a poet; I still
thought I'd become
a cartoonist, had spent
a school year doing
a strip for the paper;
I was obnoxious, but not
really in front of
other people; I wasn't
a cat person; had never
been outside of the state
without my family; certainly
hadn't flown; hadn't considered
walking places an hour
at a time rational; hadn't had
a girlfriend, or any real
interest from the opposite sex,
that I was aware of, anyway;
hadn't had anyone say they'd
like to have had me in a
different (more prominent)
role after seeing me perform
on the stage, in front of
an audience; didn't even dream
of cutting my own hair, much
less growing a beard (but as
I've suggested, still couldn't
shave regularly for the life
of me); didn't have real
CD or movie collections;
was forced to abandon comics,
and at the time, thought
it was the end of the world,
bu it wasn't, and I got
back in five years later.
So many things came about
during that time, that I
won't list them here, though
I'd love to; from new bands,
career paths of actors and
personalities, books I read,
the license I still didn't get,
the girls who kept slipping away,
the blow-out at the O.K. Wendy,
working at a video store, a book
store, the short-lived poetry
journal at college, the fight
to keep it alive, two controversial
elections for G Wad B, 9/11,
Mr. Drummond's eco messages
becoming Al Gore's slideshows,
and I began to care less about that;
a black president, growing into
Canadian jokes, a budding relationship,
the Red Sox breaking the curse,
and then winning again, Tom Brady
elevating the Patriots, the rise and
fall of wrestling, the death of
Eddie Guerrero, the death of Chris Benoit;
all this and a mountain of work
still in progress, like everything
always is.
Maine to
Pennsylvania to
Rhode Island (briefly) to
Maine to
Massachusetts to
Colorado.
But I'm not going
to index it.
Where has everyone else been since?
changed in ten years.
An index:
I didn't like U2
so fanatically in '99;
I had no real groove
as a writer, hadn't
even written a single
story as a personal
project yet, let alone
become a poet; I still
thought I'd become
a cartoonist, had spent
a school year doing
a strip for the paper;
I was obnoxious, but not
really in front of
other people; I wasn't
a cat person; had never
been outside of the state
without my family; certainly
hadn't flown; hadn't considered
walking places an hour
at a time rational; hadn't had
a girlfriend, or any real
interest from the opposite sex,
that I was aware of, anyway;
hadn't had anyone say they'd
like to have had me in a
different (more prominent)
role after seeing me perform
on the stage, in front of
an audience; didn't even dream
of cutting my own hair, much
less growing a beard (but as
I've suggested, still couldn't
shave regularly for the life
of me); didn't have real
CD or movie collections;
was forced to abandon comics,
and at the time, thought
it was the end of the world,
bu it wasn't, and I got
back in five years later.
So many things came about
during that time, that I
won't list them here, though
I'd love to; from new bands,
career paths of actors and
personalities, books I read,
the license I still didn't get,
the girls who kept slipping away,
the blow-out at the O.K. Wendy,
working at a video store, a book
store, the short-lived poetry
journal at college, the fight
to keep it alive, two controversial
elections for G Wad B, 9/11,
Mr. Drummond's eco messages
becoming Al Gore's slideshows,
and I began to care less about that;
a black president, growing into
Canadian jokes, a budding relationship,
the Red Sox breaking the curse,
and then winning again, Tom Brady
elevating the Patriots, the rise and
fall of wrestling, the death of
Eddie Guerrero, the death of Chris Benoit;
all this and a mountain of work
still in progress, like everything
always is.
Maine to
Pennsylvania to
Rhode Island (briefly) to
Maine to
Massachusetts to
Colorado.
But I'm not going
to index it.
Where has everyone else been since?
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Shirley, Don't Speak!
The woman who lives next door
spent Saturday night preparing
for something. I assumed it was
moving out, but it seems like
she's still there. Maybe it's
a longer process with this one.
From dorms to apartments, I've
gotten used to only sort of
knowing who lives around me,
moving in, moving out; here it's
older than I've known before, a
sort of semi-retirement home, cheap
housing, anyway, in a cheap town.
But these days I never get used to
the going, because it usually means
eviction - or death. It's not a
funny thing, but it is, because I've
never really lived around that before,
its odd little rituals, things ending
divvied up, like the suvivors are
transmogrified, for a while, into
vultures, picking the bones of a life.
Shirley, with her helping dog whom
she constantly chided, was there when I
moved in, and after a while, I lost track
of her and the bell she attached to her door.
Earlier this year, she was briefly in charge
of locking and unlocking the door of
the entire apartment building.
And now this.
spent Saturday night preparing
for something. I assumed it was
moving out, but it seems like
she's still there. Maybe it's
a longer process with this one.
From dorms to apartments, I've
gotten used to only sort of
knowing who lives around me,
moving in, moving out; here it's
older than I've known before, a
sort of semi-retirement home, cheap
housing, anyway, in a cheap town.
But these days I never get used to
the going, because it usually means
eviction - or death. It's not a
funny thing, but it is, because I've
never really lived around that before,
its odd little rituals, things ending
divvied up, like the suvivors are
transmogrified, for a while, into
vultures, picking the bones of a life.
Shirley, with her helping dog whom
she constantly chided, was there when I
moved in, and after a while, I lost track
of her and the bell she attached to her door.
Earlier this year, she was briefly in charge
of locking and unlocking the door of
the entire apartment building.
And now this.
Friday, April 17, 2009
The Flash in the Crisis on Infinite Earths
Sometimes I wonder
if the best thing
to do is to calibrate
the self to the world.
When he found that
he'd gotten the
super speed he'd
long admired in
Jay Garrick, the
original Flash,
Barry Allen came
to realize that
it meant he would
have to learn to
slow down, too,
because not everyone
moved or thought
or generally metabolized
at the same speed.
He could either decide
that he had no place
in the slow world or
adjust himself accordingly.
The thing is, it's hard
to visualize a Flash
who didn't adjust in a flash,
because Wolfman nor Waid
nor any other writer that
I've come across has dealt
with that, maybe Johns
in Allen's big return,
but to turn back the clock,
Barry was known for being
the consummate hero,
the ultimate good guy,
and it's a reputation
no amount of speed can shake.
But that's what Marv poses
in his book, repeating the
same dilemma, to adjust
or maladjust, the self
in the world, that's the question.
Do I find some peace,
some real peace, eventually,
do I make myself find it,
or do I persist in the jellyfish
world, filled with tanks and
seven pounds, desperate straits
and zen philosophy that sees
art and sense, but little else?
Well, if the Flash could,
in a flash, can I?
if the best thing
to do is to calibrate
the self to the world.
When he found that
he'd gotten the
super speed he'd
long admired in
Jay Garrick, the
original Flash,
Barry Allen came
to realize that
it meant he would
have to learn to
slow down, too,
because not everyone
moved or thought
or generally metabolized
at the same speed.
He could either decide
that he had no place
in the slow world or
adjust himself accordingly.
The thing is, it's hard
to visualize a Flash
who didn't adjust in a flash,
because Wolfman nor Waid
nor any other writer that
I've come across has dealt
with that, maybe Johns
in Allen's big return,
but to turn back the clock,
Barry was known for being
the consummate hero,
the ultimate good guy,
and it's a reputation
no amount of speed can shake.
But that's what Marv poses
in his book, repeating the
same dilemma, to adjust
or maladjust, the self
in the world, that's the question.
Do I find some peace,
some real peace, eventually,
do I make myself find it,
or do I persist in the jellyfish
world, filled with tanks and
seven pounds, desperate straits
and zen philosophy that sees
art and sense, but little else?
Well, if the Flash could,
in a flash, can I?
Thursday, April 16, 2009
There's A Rat In My Apartment
There's a rat in my apartment,
he seems to think it's home.
I don't know what made him think it
but it's become impossible to miss.
He's not supposed to be there
and yet I can't move against him.
Set a trap, try and kill him?
I might as well bait against myself.
I don't know why he's stuck around,
I don't have food that's everywhere.
I guess it's just a welcome place
something better than what's best.
At least for now.
he seems to think it's home.
I don't know what made him think it
but it's become impossible to miss.
He's not supposed to be there
and yet I can't move against him.
Set a trap, try and kill him?
I might as well bait against myself.
I don't know why he's stuck around,
I don't have food that's everywhere.
I guess it's just a welcome place
something better than what's best.
At least for now.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
The Psychology of Value
Value, thy name is Integrity.
***
To have Value is
to be recognized
for positive traits.
Plenty of things
may be recognized
and even admired,
but to be understood
as essentially "good"
is to know that there
is Value to be found
within, some intention
that doesn't just fall
to the floor, left
behind because it
ought to be left behind.
The trouble with Value
is that people don't
often seek what's good
for them, but rather what
they're comfortable with,
what they can identify,
and only come around
to Value as a last resort,
when some figure in whom
they've placed Value
has in turn stumbled on it,
and I say stumble because
by its nature, by Value
being of a positive
persuasion, people will
actively avoid it, even
those in whom Value
has been noted. People
don't like good because
they see only the bad
around them, and almost
instinctively root out the
good. That's people
for you, born with
an inability to accept
Value because Value
is too obvious, too good,
to be trusted, because
trust is not something
that is very often rewarded.
The Psychology of Trust
is actually more complicated
than Value, because Trust
is a Value more suspect
than Value itself, but
to be found with Integrity
is to have circumvented
the whole frail process,
and isn’t that something?
***
To have Value is
to be recognized
for positive traits.
Plenty of things
may be recognized
and even admired,
but to be understood
as essentially "good"
is to know that there
is Value to be found
within, some intention
that doesn't just fall
to the floor, left
behind because it
ought to be left behind.
The trouble with Value
is that people don't
often seek what's good
for them, but rather what
they're comfortable with,
what they can identify,
and only come around
to Value as a last resort,
when some figure in whom
they've placed Value
has in turn stumbled on it,
and I say stumble because
by its nature, by Value
being of a positive
persuasion, people will
actively avoid it, even
those in whom Value
has been noted. People
don't like good because
they see only the bad
around them, and almost
instinctively root out the
good. That's people
for you, born with
an inability to accept
Value because Value
is too obvious, too good,
to be trusted, because
trust is not something
that is very often rewarded.
The Psychology of Trust
is actually more complicated
than Value, because Trust
is a Value more suspect
than Value itself, but
to be found with Integrity
is to have circumvented
the whole frail process,
and isn’t that something?
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Heart Is Not Enough (Simple Twist of Fate)
Complacence is the enemy of life.
A new book about
the death of
Chris Benoit
helped me
understand
what happened
a little better.
While I will
always respect
what he did
in the ring,
Benoit was
almost asking
for a bad end.
Part of it
wasn't even
his fault;
part of it
was that he
was the very
opposite of
another Chris,
Jericho, who
wrote a definitive
book about a
career in the sport
(as a fan & competitor),
and basically
spelled out
the kind of
passion that
was never any
good, about a
camp "run" by
the Hart family
that was probably
the least helpful
thing Jericho did
in his early days
(although a
friendship with
Lance Storm
was certainly
worth it).
That camp was
a legacy of
an idea that
pain was all
that you needed,
or rather, just
the idea of
formality, nothing
real (no heart),
just a business
transaction, like
the real dungeon
itself, where Benoit
studied, where all
the Harts find their
rite, even Bret,
even Owen.
But heart is not enough.
Jericho realized
quite early that
it wasn't enough to
accept and embrace
everything put
before you as
some sort of
necessity, but
rather that you
needed to make
your own way.
What Benoit got
was a simple twist of fate.
What Benoit got
was the dead end
of a tradition
that asked too much,
and he gave too much,
and thought it was okay
to speak up only
so often, to accept
and make do, make pure,
keep the tradition alive,
a broken foundation
already, although
he didn't know it.
In Texas, a father
drove almost his
whole brood into the ground,
and in Canada, the same will
pushed brothers too far
along the same path,
one to a life he couldn't
take seriously, and the
other far too much,
and both to bitter ends.
And Benoit, he was part of
that generation, growing
into it, being accepted
too easily, finding
his way by losing it,
and when all fell down
around him, he went, too.
Heart is not enough.
What happened to Benoit
and Jericho avoided
was the acceptance that
life could be passion
and passion alone,
with no perspective,
only awful complacence,
not in the sense
that he couldn't identity
the raw deals he sometimes
got, but that he never
learned to handle them,
only look the other way.
I respect the man
and what he did in the ring
to this day, and understand
what happened to him,
how he brought it on himself
and couldn't help it,
because that's just
what he had bought himself
into.
He found himself with a simple twist of fate.
In life, he had all the respect
in the world, but in death,
he lost all of it, because
no one, not even himself,
would ever breach the subject,
the simple question, was
it really enough? Was his
passion enough to cover
all the expenses, all
the toil and success
and the admiration of his fans?
Kurt Angle would have been next.
Kurt would have been next
and he seemed even more
violently headed for
the same collision,
the same collapse below him,
but he had too many signs,
not even counting those
who fell before him,
to ignore them, and
it may be true that
finally, we have seen
the last of the catastrophes,
at least of that generation.
Benoit might have in defeat
accomplished that much,
closed the chapter in that book,
where new chapters still remain,
in a sport that demands
perfection more than any other,
and punishes more greatly
when the absolute isn't true.
I hope and I pray
that this is true,
that somehow the message
sinks through,
that passion,
that heart is not enough,
that even a simple twist of fate,
in success or failure,
cannot cover for the lack
of a simple balance,
something more than
what's important,
in a life that shines so brightly.
A new book about
the death of
Chris Benoit
helped me
understand
what happened
a little better.
While I will
always respect
what he did
in the ring,
Benoit was
almost asking
for a bad end.
Part of it
wasn't even
his fault;
part of it
was that he
was the very
opposite of
another Chris,
Jericho, who
wrote a definitive
book about a
career in the sport
(as a fan & competitor),
and basically
spelled out
the kind of
passion that
was never any
good, about a
camp "run" by
the Hart family
that was probably
the least helpful
thing Jericho did
in his early days
(although a
friendship with
Lance Storm
was certainly
worth it).
That camp was
a legacy of
an idea that
pain was all
that you needed,
or rather, just
the idea of
formality, nothing
real (no heart),
just a business
transaction, like
the real dungeon
itself, where Benoit
studied, where all
the Harts find their
rite, even Bret,
even Owen.
But heart is not enough.
Jericho realized
quite early that
it wasn't enough to
accept and embrace
everything put
before you as
some sort of
necessity, but
rather that you
needed to make
your own way.
What Benoit got
was a simple twist of fate.
What Benoit got
was the dead end
of a tradition
that asked too much,
and he gave too much,
and thought it was okay
to speak up only
so often, to accept
and make do, make pure,
keep the tradition alive,
a broken foundation
already, although
he didn't know it.
In Texas, a father
drove almost his
whole brood into the ground,
and in Canada, the same will
pushed brothers too far
along the same path,
one to a life he couldn't
take seriously, and the
other far too much,
and both to bitter ends.
And Benoit, he was part of
that generation, growing
into it, being accepted
too easily, finding
his way by losing it,
and when all fell down
around him, he went, too.
Heart is not enough.
What happened to Benoit
and Jericho avoided
was the acceptance that
life could be passion
and passion alone,
with no perspective,
only awful complacence,
not in the sense
that he couldn't identity
the raw deals he sometimes
got, but that he never
learned to handle them,
only look the other way.
I respect the man
and what he did in the ring
to this day, and understand
what happened to him,
how he brought it on himself
and couldn't help it,
because that's just
what he had bought himself
into.
He found himself with a simple twist of fate.
In life, he had all the respect
in the world, but in death,
he lost all of it, because
no one, not even himself,
would ever breach the subject,
the simple question, was
it really enough? Was his
passion enough to cover
all the expenses, all
the toil and success
and the admiration of his fans?
Kurt Angle would have been next.
Kurt would have been next
and he seemed even more
violently headed for
the same collision,
the same collapse below him,
but he had too many signs,
not even counting those
who fell before him,
to ignore them, and
it may be true that
finally, we have seen
the last of the catastrophes,
at least of that generation.
Benoit might have in defeat
accomplished that much,
closed the chapter in that book,
where new chapters still remain,
in a sport that demands
perfection more than any other,
and punishes more greatly
when the absolute isn't true.
I hope and I pray
that this is true,
that somehow the message
sinks through,
that passion,
that heart is not enough,
that even a simple twist of fate,
in success or failure,
cannot cover for the lack
of a simple balance,
something more than
what's important,
in a life that shines so brightly.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Mr. Mojo Risin'
"I was interested in revolt,
disorder, chaos, and any
activity that seems to
have no meaning."
***
Making sense out of
no sense is pretty much
living the dream,
making something work
that has no reason to.
Mojo is like the ability
to make your own luck,
to write a destiny that
others can't follow,
won't even be able
to make sense of,
not with a minute
or forty years to
think on.
But still, mojo
rises to the top,
no matter what, it's
impossible to deny,
even if everyone does,
a massive underestimation
that lingers around.
Fame is irrelevant. Even
the least known person
in the world was known
by someone, and the most
famous in the world
wasn't known by someone.
Jim Morrison, the Lizard King,
(even Golden Gods like him)
was more than the sum of his
parts, had his own demons,
like everyone does, but he
somehow made sense of them,
that's all I mean.
disorder, chaos, and any
activity that seems to
have no meaning."
***
Making sense out of
no sense is pretty much
living the dream,
making something work
that has no reason to.
Mojo is like the ability
to make your own luck,
to write a destiny that
others can't follow,
won't even be able
to make sense of,
not with a minute
or forty years to
think on.
But still, mojo
rises to the top,
no matter what, it's
impossible to deny,
even if everyone does,
a massive underestimation
that lingers around.
Fame is irrelevant. Even
the least known person
in the world was known
by someone, and the most
famous in the world
wasn't known by someone.
Jim Morrison, the Lizard King,
(even Golden Gods like him)
was more than the sum of his
parts, had his own demons,
like everyone does, but he
somehow made sense of them,
that's all I mean.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
If I Was a Pirate My Name Would Be Nobeard
You can thank
Grant Morrison
for the name
Nobeard (he
was in the
Manhattan Guardian
part of the
Seven Soldiers
project),
but me for
making it
relevant again.
Yesterday
I ended up
shaving off
the beard I
just wrote
about, but
hey, I had
it for like
a month.
It just means
now I know
what a beard
means, personally,
I mean. Deep, huh?
Grant Morrison
for the name
Nobeard (he
was in the
Manhattan Guardian
part of the
Seven Soldiers
project),
but me for
making it
relevant again.
Yesterday
I ended up
shaving off
the beard I
just wrote
about, but
hey, I had
it for like
a month.
It just means
now I know
what a beard
means, personally,
I mean. Deep, huh?
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
My OCD
The sources of OCD are a
misguided and inadequate
authority followed by an
inordinate need for control.
***
The one part of me
that I've never really
been able to say
"I know" is the part
that is out of control,
the part that makes me
angry all the time,
why I'm so obsessive.
People've mentioned it
before, but last week
a customer described me
as the one with OCD,
and maybe that actually
made him think better
of me, because he had
an explanation; I know
it makes me feel better,
anyway, even though it's
not a diagnosis so much
as an observation that's
at least partially
appropriate.
A few years ago, I actually
talked myself into avoiding
the connecting seams
on sidewalks, where the
pieces that make them up
come together, not so much
an avoidance of cracks
(because that's just silly;
I also walk under ladders
whenever I come across one)
as a need to walk only on
solid surfaces, and've
kept it up ever since.
I could go on with symptoms,
but the point is, knowing
or at least suspecting a thing
is the first step in taking
back (reasonable) control,
and with my OCD, I can make
that much more sense of myself
in the world, which is all
I can ever ask for.
misguided and inadequate
authority followed by an
inordinate need for control.
***
The one part of me
that I've never really
been able to say
"I know" is the part
that is out of control,
the part that makes me
angry all the time,
why I'm so obsessive.
People've mentioned it
before, but last week
a customer described me
as the one with OCD,
and maybe that actually
made him think better
of me, because he had
an explanation; I know
it makes me feel better,
anyway, even though it's
not a diagnosis so much
as an observation that's
at least partially
appropriate.
A few years ago, I actually
talked myself into avoiding
the connecting seams
on sidewalks, where the
pieces that make them up
come together, not so much
an avoidance of cracks
(because that's just silly;
I also walk under ladders
whenever I come across one)
as a need to walk only on
solid surfaces, and've
kept it up ever since.
I could go on with symptoms,
but the point is, knowing
or at least suspecting a thing
is the first step in taking
back (reasonable) control,
and with my OCD, I can make
that much more sense of myself
in the world, which is all
I can ever ask for.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Mountain Man Beard
After so many years
of pretty much
growing one,
I grew a beard
a few weeks ago.
I'm told it's
a mountain man beard,
But I swear I did
at least some maintenance,
so it's not completely wild.
I'm trying to decide
how long I'll have it,
the beard, not its length.
Am I in a beard period
or mere interim?
I started out,
personally,
by calling it
a recession beard,
so who knows, really?
If I keep it
as long as
the economy stinks,
I might be able to join
ZZ Top.
Did anyone else
hear about the second
Tea Party?
of pretty much
growing one,
I grew a beard
a few weeks ago.
I'm told it's
a mountain man beard,
But I swear I did
at least some maintenance,
so it's not completely wild.
I'm trying to decide
how long I'll have it,
the beard, not its length.
Am I in a beard period
or mere interim?
I started out,
personally,
by calling it
a recession beard,
so who knows, really?
If I keep it
as long as
the economy stinks,
I might be able to join
ZZ Top.
Did anyone else
hear about the second
Tea Party?
The Self in the World
Another one of my assumptions
is that people aren’t driven
toward what they find desirable
but rather away from what they don’t,
a basic comfort mechanism
that’s inextricable from our nature.
It’s why people are more
passionate about what
they don’t like than what
they do, and why
they can never turn away
from either.
But it’s more complicate
than that, still.
For most of us,
the loss of the self
is a concern that
comes far sooner
and more instinctually
than thoughts about death.
We fear losing ourselves
here, long before and
without even thinking about
but possibly subconsciously
motivated by) the end
of our lives, a loss of all control.
The result ends up defining
our mentalities more than
any other considerable
we like to think about,
because it is like
the naked thought
that expelled us from Paradise.
It is a Metaphysics of Psychology.
But first, let us consider
the nature of redemption.
Most of us would rather
not even consider that word,
because redemption suggests
that we have allowed our
lives, our decisions,
to spiral out of control,
and we would rather
deny and wound ourselves
further than admit our
mistakes, or even
the suggestion that
life isn’t defined
by a win or lose strategy,
that survival isn’t a game
but rather a series of
events that simply occur.
Redemption is a sort of curse,
acknowledgement that we
lost control, and had to
find it again.
But it is a companion,
a means to discover
things we already knew,
but never had the words
or the reason to express
before.
For most people,
the expression we
present to the world
is bound up not
in what they hope
the world to be,
but rather what they
fear it reflects back
on them, from their faults.
They fear the world
because they see in it
what they do not want to see
in themselves. They seek
only diversions,
rather than the introspection
we constantly preach
but never believe,
to judge the content
rather than the cover.
The self in the world
prefers that the world
overwhelm it, that time
allows it to forget itself
(hence the philosophy
of nirvana, in the complete
loss of the self, as some
basic ideal of perfection)
but slipping by “too fast”
rather than as it does
and as it is perceived,
as a constant experience.
Left to its worse impulses,
the self in the world
sees only the experiences
and not what they mean,
a school exam that
only seeks to recover
knowledge long enough
to be graded and leave
behind a diploma
and some chance for
a fancy career,
a sure thing that leaves
no further room for growth.
The self in the world
usually prefers only
certainties, and makes
those it cannot find
out of thin air,
and rejects those
it cannot accept,
or rather, rejects
those it cannot accept
to discover those it can.
It is the uncommon mind
that makes connections
and sees time where
others only see a chance
to reject and sand
in an hourglass slipping
ever faster, ever more
steadily, away.
The uncommon mind,
the ideal mind, sees not
randomness in the world,
but itself in the world,
a series of order,
of basic Integrity,
that may be followed
only by letting the world
in all its native chaos,
make its own sense.
The self in the world
sees itself in the world,
and does not look away.
Ideally, of course.
Those who understand this,
however much they do,
inevitably find themselves
alienated by the very world
they understand better
than those who find an
easier time within it,
blissful in their ignorance,
secure in their anger
and resentment at
what they don’t
understand and prefer
that way, a tidy
series of dances
to pass the time,
waltzes with rejection
and comfort along the way.
I speak of Metaphysics
because it is a science
in which we may choose
our own Value,
see its Integrity
for whatever it means to us,
and not follow a path of fallacy.
I envision a self in the world
who is not driven only what
they don’t want to see,
but rather sees all
and sees their worth,
for what they mean to all.
I don’t expect the world
of the world, and am wrathful
when I see those who stray
from what is in front of them,
but I subject myself
to my own rules,
and struggle to find my way.
The self in the world
need not reject the world
or itself to find peace,
but it must understand
that peace is not lasting
in a world where
the search is all the self
will ever find in the world.
Redemption is the only
reward in such a world,
the lasting chance to
reconcile oneself to the world,
Where all things truly are
possible.
is that people aren’t driven
toward what they find desirable
but rather away from what they don’t,
a basic comfort mechanism
that’s inextricable from our nature.
It’s why people are more
passionate about what
they don’t like than what
they do, and why
they can never turn away
from either.
But it’s more complicate
than that, still.
For most of us,
the loss of the self
is a concern that
comes far sooner
and more instinctually
than thoughts about death.
We fear losing ourselves
here, long before and
without even thinking about
but possibly subconsciously
motivated by) the end
of our lives, a loss of all control.
The result ends up defining
our mentalities more than
any other considerable
we like to think about,
because it is like
the naked thought
that expelled us from Paradise.
It is a Metaphysics of Psychology.
But first, let us consider
the nature of redemption.
Most of us would rather
not even consider that word,
because redemption suggests
that we have allowed our
lives, our decisions,
to spiral out of control,
and we would rather
deny and wound ourselves
further than admit our
mistakes, or even
the suggestion that
life isn’t defined
by a win or lose strategy,
that survival isn’t a game
but rather a series of
events that simply occur.
Redemption is a sort of curse,
acknowledgement that we
lost control, and had to
find it again.
But it is a companion,
a means to discover
things we already knew,
but never had the words
or the reason to express
before.
For most people,
the expression we
present to the world
is bound up not
in what they hope
the world to be,
but rather what they
fear it reflects back
on them, from their faults.
They fear the world
because they see in it
what they do not want to see
in themselves. They seek
only diversions,
rather than the introspection
we constantly preach
but never believe,
to judge the content
rather than the cover.
The self in the world
prefers that the world
overwhelm it, that time
allows it to forget itself
(hence the philosophy
of nirvana, in the complete
loss of the self, as some
basic ideal of perfection)
but slipping by “too fast”
rather than as it does
and as it is perceived,
as a constant experience.
Left to its worse impulses,
the self in the world
sees only the experiences
and not what they mean,
a school exam that
only seeks to recover
knowledge long enough
to be graded and leave
behind a diploma
and some chance for
a fancy career,
a sure thing that leaves
no further room for growth.
The self in the world
usually prefers only
certainties, and makes
those it cannot find
out of thin air,
and rejects those
it cannot accept,
or rather, rejects
those it cannot accept
to discover those it can.
It is the uncommon mind
that makes connections
and sees time where
others only see a chance
to reject and sand
in an hourglass slipping
ever faster, ever more
steadily, away.
The uncommon mind,
the ideal mind, sees not
randomness in the world,
but itself in the world,
a series of order,
of basic Integrity,
that may be followed
only by letting the world
in all its native chaos,
make its own sense.
The self in the world
sees itself in the world,
and does not look away.
Ideally, of course.
Those who understand this,
however much they do,
inevitably find themselves
alienated by the very world
they understand better
than those who find an
easier time within it,
blissful in their ignorance,
secure in their anger
and resentment at
what they don’t
understand and prefer
that way, a tidy
series of dances
to pass the time,
waltzes with rejection
and comfort along the way.
I speak of Metaphysics
because it is a science
in which we may choose
our own Value,
see its Integrity
for whatever it means to us,
and not follow a path of fallacy.
I envision a self in the world
who is not driven only what
they don’t want to see,
but rather sees all
and sees their worth,
for what they mean to all.
I don’t expect the world
of the world, and am wrathful
when I see those who stray
from what is in front of them,
but I subject myself
to my own rules,
and struggle to find my way.
The self in the world
need not reject the world
or itself to find peace,
but it must understand
that peace is not lasting
in a world where
the search is all the self
will ever find in the world.
Redemption is the only
reward in such a world,
the lasting chance to
reconcile oneself to the world,
Where all things truly are
possible.
Friday, April 3, 2009
The Art of War Is Not the Same As Natural Law (But Wise Men May Still Reap, From Law To War) (But Not the Reverse)
I don't believe
that war is
necessary
natural, but
neither do I
believe that
we can do
without it,
that it's
something
we can just
work out of
our system.
I believe it
has its Value,
in that,
last resort
or not,
it is sometimes
necessary,
because people
hardly if
ever behave
as rationally
as others
expect,
however
irrationally.
War is not
natural,
just as
"survival
of the fittest"
is a tired
slogan that
really has
nothing to
do with
evolution,
but its
root causes
are.
War is a
symptom
of survival,
the basic
natural law,
but it is
not necessary,
yet to dismiss
it and make
it grotesque
(more than
it is)
is more
unnatural
than war
itself.
That is all
I'm trying
to say.
that war is
necessary
natural, but
neither do I
believe that
we can do
without it,
that it's
something
we can just
work out of
our system.
I believe it
has its Value,
in that,
last resort
or not,
it is sometimes
necessary,
because people
hardly if
ever behave
as rationally
as others
expect,
however
irrationally.
War is not
natural,
just as
"survival
of the fittest"
is a tired
slogan that
really has
nothing to
do with
evolution,
but its
root causes
are.
War is a
symptom
of survival,
the basic
natural law,
but it is
not necessary,
yet to dismiss
it and make
it grotesque
(more than
it is)
is more
unnatural
than war
itself.
That is all
I'm trying
to say.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Perfecting Imperfection
A beginning and end
in search of a middle,
our imperfect world
continues to revolve
regardless of what we do,
and while I am
continually frustrated,
I really am
comfortable with it,
the way it works,
because I view it
as a challenge,
even if everyone
around me refuses
to accept it.
I will keep trying,
perfecting imperfection,
because that is all
I can really do,
all anyone has
ever done
for hope.
in search of a middle,
our imperfect world
continues to revolve
regardless of what we do,
and while I am
continually frustrated,
I really am
comfortable with it,
the way it works,
because I view it
as a challenge,
even if everyone
around me refuses
to accept it.
I will keep trying,
perfecting imperfection,
because that is all
I can really do,
all anyone has
ever done
for hope.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Before Love Comes to Town
I wonder what people
are doing right before
they find love.
Are they really expecting
to find it or are
they caught off guard?
Does it really matter
how long it takes
for love to sink in?
Is it love if you
find it but the other
person hasn't yet?
Can you find love
without conforming
to its traditional ways?
Is a love prolonged
love at all or
just a variation?
What does time have
to do with love, anyway,
is what I'm really saying.
I once wrote,
there's no distance
in the space where love is.
Well, now I'm saying,
there's no clock
watching over love.
I'm saying, believe in me,
believe in love, believe
that love is,
that love is
and that when
love comes to town
you can't help
but be ready,
because love is.
are doing right before
they find love.
Are they really expecting
to find it or are
they caught off guard?
Does it really matter
how long it takes
for love to sink in?
Is it love if you
find it but the other
person hasn't yet?
Can you find love
without conforming
to its traditional ways?
Is a love prolonged
love at all or
just a variation?
What does time have
to do with love, anyway,
is what I'm really saying.
I once wrote,
there's no distance
in the space where love is.
Well, now I'm saying,
there's no clock
watching over love.
I'm saying, believe in me,
believe in love, believe
that love is,
that love is
and that when
love comes to town
you can't help
but be ready,
because love is.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
I Want to Be Like Marlon Brando
I want to be like
Marlon Brando,
fallen reputation
and all, because
the dude had
a lasting integrity
that you could trace
from the beginning
to the end of his
career.
That's all I can
really talk about,
his career, the
legacy he left
behind, from
The Men to
The Island of Dr. Moreau,
no matter if his
decisions garnered
respect (The Godfather)
or derision (Mutiny on the Bounty),
he traced a map
of his own world vision,
from Apocalypse Now
to The Formula,
never flinching,
no matter what it
got him.
First respect
(On the Waterfront)
then anything but
(The Freshman).
Yeah, he was
a contender,
he believed that
personal decisions
counted for something,
that a man in the world
could be a man
in the world
without sacrificing
himself to it,
could be the world
and could be himself,
and damn the world
if it didn't agree.
He demonstrated
how it was possible
to be oneself
and create illusions,
be The Wild One
and still the father
of Superman,
or find romance for himself
(Last Tango in Paris)
and others (Don Juan DeMarco).
But he never gave in,
and for that, he
was crucified, finding
no comfort in strangers
(A Streetcar Named Desire),
after all, just a brute
to the world, savage,
untamed, lost.
But he was a beacon,
and those who saw
him knew him,
and even though
who don't know him
carry on his spirit,
and because of that,
because he was always
the best of himself,
I want to be like
Marlon Brando,
now and forever.
And while he
ultimately
saw nothing
of himself
in it, the
world is better
for having him,
a rejected soul
like the world itself.
Marlon Brando,
fallen reputation
and all, because
the dude had
a lasting integrity
that you could trace
from the beginning
to the end of his
career.
That's all I can
really talk about,
his career, the
legacy he left
behind, from
The Men to
The Island of Dr. Moreau,
no matter if his
decisions garnered
respect (The Godfather)
or derision (Mutiny on the Bounty),
he traced a map
of his own world vision,
from Apocalypse Now
to The Formula,
never flinching,
no matter what it
got him.
First respect
(On the Waterfront)
then anything but
(The Freshman).
Yeah, he was
a contender,
he believed that
personal decisions
counted for something,
that a man in the world
could be a man
in the world
without sacrificing
himself to it,
could be the world
and could be himself,
and damn the world
if it didn't agree.
He demonstrated
how it was possible
to be oneself
and create illusions,
be The Wild One
and still the father
of Superman,
or find romance for himself
(Last Tango in Paris)
and others (Don Juan DeMarco).
But he never gave in,
and for that, he
was crucified, finding
no comfort in strangers
(A Streetcar Named Desire),
after all, just a brute
to the world, savage,
untamed, lost.
But he was a beacon,
and those who saw
him knew him,
and even though
who don't know him
carry on his spirit,
and because of that,
because he was always
the best of himself,
I want to be like
Marlon Brando,
now and forever.
And while he
ultimately
saw nothing
of himself
in it, the
world is better
for having him,
a rejected soul
like the world itself.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Mending Time
(after Frost)
Time is a battlefield
we sketch upon
the scars and holes
we seek to mend.
In it we seek
redemption for all
the toils we have
been making.
It is a sorry beast
we labor 'long the field
and curse for all
we afflict upon it.
And in the time
that we have found,
the time that we've
been mending,
We saw mankind
and knew at last
it never had ne'd
mending.
We have seen the world
as we see ourselves,
but that was never true.
Time is no battlefield,
no fiend that stalks
beside us, but rather
just a friend,
if we like it.
Time is a battlefield
we sketch upon
the scars and holes
we seek to mend.
In it we seek
redemption for all
the toils we have
been making.
It is a sorry beast
we labor 'long the field
and curse for all
we afflict upon it.
And in the time
that we have found,
the time that we've
been mending,
We saw mankind
and knew at last
it never had ne'd
mending.
We have seen the world
as we see ourselves,
but that was never true.
Time is no battlefield,
no fiend that stalks
beside us, but rather
just a friend,
if we like it.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
The Changing Pace of Culture (The Fast & Furious New Fade)
I doubt you'd get
a better response
fifty years from
now than you would
if you stopped
reading this poem
to ask the first
person you see
what's popular.
Yeah, we certainly
know a lot of things
that are well-known
and well-hyped, but
we've reached a point
where it's more
difficult than ever
to find a consensus
over who actually
enjoys them. Part
of it's the very
demographics that
have become so popular
to track, but it's been
a building trend for
years now, not just
because we've gotten
expanded choices, but
we perversely refuse
to share.
Also, part of the reason
is that all the cool kids
are the ones we've been
trying so hard to ignore,
who came from marginalized
segments and who now
dominate all the hippest
quarters, the new
marginalized segments.
Globalization is real
and it's a bitch, because
like Rome, like the
British Empire, we've
learned that those
who create change
are eventually left
behind by it. Hey,
just ask Bob Dylan,
the only man smart
enough to roll
ahead of the stone,
who always has to
answer the charges of
"selling out." Go
electric, lose the spark,
keep the cool.
Whatever.
a better response
fifty years from
now than you would
if you stopped
reading this poem
to ask the first
person you see
what's popular.
Yeah, we certainly
know a lot of things
that are well-known
and well-hyped, but
we've reached a point
where it's more
difficult than ever
to find a consensus
over who actually
enjoys them. Part
of it's the very
demographics that
have become so popular
to track, but it's been
a building trend for
years now, not just
because we've gotten
expanded choices, but
we perversely refuse
to share.
Also, part of the reason
is that all the cool kids
are the ones we've been
trying so hard to ignore,
who came from marginalized
segments and who now
dominate all the hippest
quarters, the new
marginalized segments.
Globalization is real
and it's a bitch, because
like Rome, like the
British Empire, we've
learned that those
who create change
are eventually left
behind by it. Hey,
just ask Bob Dylan,
the only man smart
enough to roll
ahead of the stone,
who always has to
answer the charges of
"selling out." Go
electric, lose the spark,
keep the cool.
Whatever.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Renaissance Man
These days, it's gotten harder
to identify what exactly
a Renaissance Man is, because
we've gotten it competing with
the less respectable
Jack of All Trades, who is,
of course, master of none.
So just what is a Renaissance Man?
Do you consider such a person
someone who is simply really
good at a number of different
things, or is it more complicated
than that? After all, any
number of entertainers famously
float between disciplines these
days, whether acting, directing,
recording music, writing things,
but do all those things merely
fall under the category of
"creativity"? If so, might
it then be argued that all
the original Renaissance Man,
da Vinci did, was exactly that,
even considering his scientific
pursuits? After all, how many
practical notions can you
think of, without their
images, that he bequeathed
to future generations?
Is a Renaissance Man merely
someone who "thinks outside
the box," who is able to
lead a room simply by being
there? Is that person
to be thought of as the most
respected individual around,
who generally avoids
restrictions that get in
the way of others?
I think a lot of society
wonders about this, fears
that a Renaissance Man
is somehow necessary,
and we spend our time
looking for them, honoring
them when we find them,
or completely overlooking
them, because a Renaissance Man
has too much on their plate
to seek the same spotlight
many others assume for
flashier but less compelling
achievements. But,
we also fear them. We fear
the Renaissance Man because
he represents a basic failure
in our own lives either
to have the opportunity
or ability to master so
many complex thoughts (because,
whether conscious or unconscious,
any skill is the product of
complex thought).
The Renaissance Man negates
the ordinary man, because
the Renaissance Man makes
the ordinary man unnecessary.
The Renaissance Man also
threatens the ordinary man
into complacency the ordinary man
can't shake if the Renaissance Man
is lost (what does the void
left by Batman mean about
those and the situation
he leaves behind? that's
a current comic book query,
anyway). We hate and fear
those we cannot replace,
hate them because we
are not them, and fear
them because we do not
believe we are capable
of taking their place.
The Renaissance Man is
a form of societal paralysis,
a symbol of what we know
about our past and what
we don't know but can speculate
about our future, and that's
as much why we maintain history
as anything else, our chance
to negate at least part
of the Renaissance Man,
and fear when history is lost,
why we horde treasures
and place value in them,
because they help remind us
of those that created them,
what they represented.
The Renaissance Man is a totem,
a god, the prototypical god,
and the more we learn how
to advance our technologies,
our cultures and understanding,
we fear that we will lose
the Renaissance Man, negate him.
We have a concept of good and evil
because it is the quintessential
battle within ourselves,
of hope and fear, over
the Renaissance Man, the Other
that is always among us,
but whom we set apart.
We do not understand
the Renaissance Man,
we know him, we know
them, but tell
ourselves that we don't,
because it relieves
the pressure that,
in the quiet moments,
tells each of us that
we are that Renaissance Man,
we have that potential
if only we'd listen.
But it is a frightening thing,
so we prefer distractions
that tell us anything but. Anyone
can try anything and fail at it,
if that's what they truly want.
The Renaissance Man can fly.
to identify what exactly
a Renaissance Man is, because
we've gotten it competing with
the less respectable
Jack of All Trades, who is,
of course, master of none.
So just what is a Renaissance Man?
Do you consider such a person
someone who is simply really
good at a number of different
things, or is it more complicated
than that? After all, any
number of entertainers famously
float between disciplines these
days, whether acting, directing,
recording music, writing things,
but do all those things merely
fall under the category of
"creativity"? If so, might
it then be argued that all
the original Renaissance Man,
da Vinci did, was exactly that,
even considering his scientific
pursuits? After all, how many
practical notions can you
think of, without their
images, that he bequeathed
to future generations?
Is a Renaissance Man merely
someone who "thinks outside
the box," who is able to
lead a room simply by being
there? Is that person
to be thought of as the most
respected individual around,
who generally avoids
restrictions that get in
the way of others?
I think a lot of society
wonders about this, fears
that a Renaissance Man
is somehow necessary,
and we spend our time
looking for them, honoring
them when we find them,
or completely overlooking
them, because a Renaissance Man
has too much on their plate
to seek the same spotlight
many others assume for
flashier but less compelling
achievements. But,
we also fear them. We fear
the Renaissance Man because
he represents a basic failure
in our own lives either
to have the opportunity
or ability to master so
many complex thoughts (because,
whether conscious or unconscious,
any skill is the product of
complex thought).
The Renaissance Man negates
the ordinary man, because
the Renaissance Man makes
the ordinary man unnecessary.
The Renaissance Man also
threatens the ordinary man
into complacency the ordinary man
can't shake if the Renaissance Man
is lost (what does the void
left by Batman mean about
those and the situation
he leaves behind? that's
a current comic book query,
anyway). We hate and fear
those we cannot replace,
hate them because we
are not them, and fear
them because we do not
believe we are capable
of taking their place.
The Renaissance Man is
a form of societal paralysis,
a symbol of what we know
about our past and what
we don't know but can speculate
about our future, and that's
as much why we maintain history
as anything else, our chance
to negate at least part
of the Renaissance Man,
and fear when history is lost,
why we horde treasures
and place value in them,
because they help remind us
of those that created them,
what they represented.
The Renaissance Man is a totem,
a god, the prototypical god,
and the more we learn how
to advance our technologies,
our cultures and understanding,
we fear that we will lose
the Renaissance Man, negate him.
We have a concept of good and evil
because it is the quintessential
battle within ourselves,
of hope and fear, over
the Renaissance Man, the Other
that is always among us,
but whom we set apart.
We do not understand
the Renaissance Man,
we know him, we know
them, but tell
ourselves that we don't,
because it relieves
the pressure that,
in the quiet moments,
tells each of us that
we are that Renaissance Man,
we have that potential
if only we'd listen.
But it is a frightening thing,
so we prefer distractions
that tell us anything but. Anyone
can try anything and fail at it,
if that's what they truly want.
The Renaissance Man can fly.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Only Love Can Leave Such A Mark
If there indeed is a global
conspiracy, it has ever only
been to suppress this fact:
Society is always led by its
most primitive minds, but
mankind is always evolving.
***
There was a Polish scientist
who basically exiled himself
to Antarctica, but he left
behind the love of his life.
To commemorate her, he
gathered penguin dung, and
spelled out the first
letter of her name,
and since then, two species
of flowering plants have
thrived on that spot,
leaving a permanent
imprint of his love for her.
***
Guggenheim finally made it
obvious why I always found
the Wallcrawler appealing,
what most writers have always
failed to articulate,
and that's the fact that
Peter Parker represents
not just a relatable hero,
but someone who has
considerable smarts
but isn't afraid to
be a noncomfortist goof.
He is an embodiment
of the true spirit
of progress, and is
in a sense not really
so different from
Batman or Superman
after all. Each of them
represents the cusp
of discovery and practicality
that science always takes.
Maybe Superman isn't so
obvious, but Morrison
always seems to sense
his potential, whether
as an All Star
or in the midst
of a Final Crisis.
***
I think my love
for you is
oblique like that,
the discovery
that takes time
to reveal itself.
Only love can leave
such a mark, a transition
everyone sees but
mostly chooses to ignore.
But that doesn't mean
it isn't there.
conspiracy, it has ever only
been to suppress this fact:
Society is always led by its
most primitive minds, but
mankind is always evolving.
***
There was a Polish scientist
who basically exiled himself
to Antarctica, but he left
behind the love of his life.
To commemorate her, he
gathered penguin dung, and
spelled out the first
letter of her name,
and since then, two species
of flowering plants have
thrived on that spot,
leaving a permanent
imprint of his love for her.
***
Guggenheim finally made it
obvious why I always found
the Wallcrawler appealing,
what most writers have always
failed to articulate,
and that's the fact that
Peter Parker represents
not just a relatable hero,
but someone who has
considerable smarts
but isn't afraid to
be a noncomfortist goof.
He is an embodiment
of the true spirit
of progress, and is
in a sense not really
so different from
Batman or Superman
after all. Each of them
represents the cusp
of discovery and practicality
that science always takes.
Maybe Superman isn't so
obvious, but Morrison
always seems to sense
his potential, whether
as an All Star
or in the midst
of a Final Crisis.
***
I think my love
for you is
oblique like that,
the discovery
that takes time
to reveal itself.
Only love can leave
such a mark, a transition
everyone sees but
mostly chooses to ignore.
But that doesn't mean
it isn't there.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Regarding John Stossel
It takes a certain
amount of nerve
to be someone
like John Stossel,
whom I respect
more than any
other investigative
reporter today.
Just recently he
did a piece about
the stimulus package
that punched the
final holes in its logic,
and for that, I've
got to be grateful,
because, well hey,
someone has to make
sense, right?
For eight years
everyone complained
about an administration
that they could do
nothing but get
in the way of,
except when they
were agreeing with it
and bitching later,
mocking it in
every possible way,
and the new president
is a direct result
of a collective will
to believe that
everything was as
it seemed, and no one
had to put a single
thought into it,
just demagoguery.
An economic cycle
that began well before
eight years ago finally
came to a head recently,
and Stossel seems
to believe that we're
not even right to be
panicking now.
On the one hand,
I shouldn't be happy
with that thought
because my job is
one of those that's
been severely threatened
by the recession,
but on the other,
I can appreciate what
he means because
I see all around me
only misery caused
by terrible management,
and that's the true
source of failure,
which a bad economy
addresses above all.
Now, the way to
get things going
again is to get
things going smartly,
not simply to get
them going, again,
since all you get if
you plug along
a doomed course
is the same view,
right before you
reach the end of it,
again,
and if you don't
recognize the problem
then, you've got,
well, the same problem.
To have someone like
Stossel on network TV,
reporting in an age
of voices saying whatever
they think is clever,
is reassurance
that everything's not lost,
and that once again,
we can have faith
in that big stupid
economy called mankind,
where the ebb & flow
of time rocks along
regardless of what
we think works.
amount of nerve
to be someone
like John Stossel,
whom I respect
more than any
other investigative
reporter today.
Just recently he
did a piece about
the stimulus package
that punched the
final holes in its logic,
and for that, I've
got to be grateful,
because, well hey,
someone has to make
sense, right?
For eight years
everyone complained
about an administration
that they could do
nothing but get
in the way of,
except when they
were agreeing with it
and bitching later,
mocking it in
every possible way,
and the new president
is a direct result
of a collective will
to believe that
everything was as
it seemed, and no one
had to put a single
thought into it,
just demagoguery.
An economic cycle
that began well before
eight years ago finally
came to a head recently,
and Stossel seems
to believe that we're
not even right to be
panicking now.
On the one hand,
I shouldn't be happy
with that thought
because my job is
one of those that's
been severely threatened
by the recession,
but on the other,
I can appreciate what
he means because
I see all around me
only misery caused
by terrible management,
and that's the true
source of failure,
which a bad economy
addresses above all.
Now, the way to
get things going
again is to get
things going smartly,
not simply to get
them going, again,
since all you get if
you plug along
a doomed course
is the same view,
right before you
reach the end of it,
again,
and if you don't
recognize the problem
then, you've got,
well, the same problem.
To have someone like
Stossel on network TV,
reporting in an age
of voices saying whatever
they think is clever,
is reassurance
that everything's not lost,
and that once again,
we can have faith
in that big stupid
economy called mankind,
where the ebb & flow
of time rocks along
regardless of what
we think works.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Responding to the World's Vagaries
There's another Star Trek
philosophy I'd like to
bring up, and that's
the Great Material Continuum,
which is different from
Karma like the
Metaphysics of Value
are different from the
Metaphysics of Quality.
The Great Material Continuum
suggests that you will
always get what you need,
and I think that's
the way the world works,
which is confusing
because most people
assume they will
always get what
they want, and become
frustrated when they
can't, no matter
what they do
The Great Material Continuum
is ironic, because it comes
from a blatantly commercial
society, but doesn't treat
economics the way we do,
or even the way the Ferengi do,
but rather how we should.
To trust in it
is to believe
that our pursuits
are worth whatever
effort we place in
them, and if you
do, the outcome
is always assured.
If we trusted
more like that,
we'd be better off,
not afraid when
things go wrong,
but confident
that in the end
they will go right.
philosophy I'd like to
bring up, and that's
the Great Material Continuum,
which is different from
Karma like the
Metaphysics of Value
are different from the
Metaphysics of Quality.
The Great Material Continuum
suggests that you will
always get what you need,
and I think that's
the way the world works,
which is confusing
because most people
assume they will
always get what
they want, and become
frustrated when they
can't, no matter
what they do
The Great Material Continuum
is ironic, because it comes
from a blatantly commercial
society, but doesn't treat
economics the way we do,
or even the way the Ferengi do,
but rather how we should.
To trust in it
is to believe
that our pursuits
are worth whatever
effort we place in
them, and if you
do, the outcome
is always assured.
If we trusted
more like that,
we'd be better off,
not afraid when
things go wrong,
but confident
that in the end
they will go right.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
In My Sister's House ii
How to account
for a relationship
that's easily
my strongest
but also my
most tenuous?
As with any,
the nature of it
traces back
to its origins,
and in this case,
a mutual need
and rivalry,
dependence
and independence
mark the territory
quite well,
creating a dynamic
that I cherish
but constantly
question, because
both us need it
and maybe have
outgrown it, too,
or evolved beyond it.
In my sister's house
we know how to play,
what to play, and when
the rules are broken,
we both understand,
and it hurts, and it
strains, but when
it matters, we can
overlook the problems
because we better more
the better we follow
what we know works.
As in any
relationship,
the best moments
are the ones
we could never
plan, the ones
that just happen,
that work against
the things
that work against
us.
It's a weird thing
now to visit
my sister's house,
because I know
that is no longer
mine, even though
when I am there,
it is a second house,
but a second house
is not a house,
and understanding
that is important,
and perhaps in
the knowledge of
our limits we
are better off
for it,
to work the ebb
and the flow
instead of
against it.
But in my sister's house,
I know I am always welcome,
but it is her house
and not mine, and I
am only there when
I need to be.
That's what really matters.
for a relationship
that's easily
my strongest
but also my
most tenuous?
As with any,
the nature of it
traces back
to its origins,
and in this case,
a mutual need
and rivalry,
dependence
and independence
mark the territory
quite well,
creating a dynamic
that I cherish
but constantly
question, because
both us need it
and maybe have
outgrown it, too,
or evolved beyond it.
In my sister's house
we know how to play,
what to play, and when
the rules are broken,
we both understand,
and it hurts, and it
strains, but when
it matters, we can
overlook the problems
because we better more
the better we follow
what we know works.
As in any
relationship,
the best moments
are the ones
we could never
plan, the ones
that just happen,
that work against
the things
that work against
us.
It's a weird thing
now to visit
my sister's house,
because I know
that is no longer
mine, even though
when I am there,
it is a second house,
but a second house
is not a house,
and understanding
that is important,
and perhaps in
the knowledge of
our limits we
are better off
for it,
to work the ebb
and the flow
instead of
against it.
But in my sister's house,
I know I am always welcome,
but it is her house
and not mine, and I
am only there when
I need to be.
That's what really matters.
Monday, March 16, 2009
To Lack Imaginative Thought
I'm walking a
fine line here
when I suggest part
of the problem most
people have is that
they lack
imaginative thought,
because it's
a difficult
thing to
qualify.
How to put it?
Most people,
when faced with
a problem,
think first
and only
of the worst
possible outcome,
as if that's
all that's really
possible, and
because it's
so common,
you can't really
fault them for it.
This isn't to say
that they can't be
creative, but that
their imagination
can't support the
possibility that
people are better
than they seem,
and so most people
are content to act
worse than they
really are, not
because they're
bad people but
because they act
only as they
expect others
to think of them.
That's why I
consider America
to be a Peter Pan
nation, where we
believe in a Dream,
which is something
children usually
hold onto, something
to snap out of
or find unobtainable
in adulthood because
that's when we must
own up to Responsibility.
It's the most childlike
adults who succeed best.
But we are constantly
taught, despite what
we preach, that only
what must be done
is important, the rules
that are ruthless,
and while we do so,
we find ourselves
lacking in
imaginative thought,
so some choose to
escape into
entertainment
not for answers
but just to escape
into dreams.
fine line here
when I suggest part
of the problem most
people have is that
they lack
imaginative thought,
because it's
a difficult
thing to
qualify.
How to put it?
Most people,
when faced with
a problem,
think first
and only
of the worst
possible outcome,
as if that's
all that's really
possible, and
because it's
so common,
you can't really
fault them for it.
This isn't to say
that they can't be
creative, but that
their imagination
can't support the
possibility that
people are better
than they seem,
and so most people
are content to act
worse than they
really are, not
because they're
bad people but
because they act
only as they
expect others
to think of them.
That's why I
consider America
to be a Peter Pan
nation, where we
believe in a Dream,
which is something
children usually
hold onto, something
to snap out of
or find unobtainable
in adulthood because
that's when we must
own up to Responsibility.
It's the most childlike
adults who succeed best.
But we are constantly
taught, despite what
we preach, that only
what must be done
is important, the rules
that are ruthless,
and while we do so,
we find ourselves
lacking in
imaginative thought,
so some choose to
escape into
entertainment
not for answers
but just to escape
into dreams.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Take a Local Interest
Star Trek once mused
that asking if you
could help would
become as famous
as saying "I love you,"
but I've got
a different
phrase in mind,
and it's been
one I've used
for years,
just to myself,
when wondering
why it's so
hard for people
to care about
their surroundings,
why we seem
doomed to become
a society of butlers.
"Take a local interest."
Just see that it's
no one's responsibility
but your own, that
if you can, you should,
that maybe you ought
to have some pride.
Another Star Trek
put into question
"The needs of the many
outweigh the needs of
the few, or the one,"
but seemed to get
it wrong.
I think what it
originally meant
was that, in a
conscious society,
the few or the one
were not slaves
but rather aware
that their actions
had the greater
impact for being
in a minority,
that it is better
to think in terms
that include
oneself as well as
others than to dwell
merely on one
or the other,
the many a reflection
of the worth of the one.
We tend to think
in negative terms.
I should know.
But I believe
that we don't have to,
that a belief
that casts the roll
of the weak as less
than the strong
merely as a matter
of course is wrong,
that we don't have to accept
that (in the gospels,
it's a new commandment),
or believe that all
that we have gained
can or must be lost.
Call me a pharaoh,
but I think you
can take it with you,
if not in the literal
sense, then in
what you leave behind.
I believe that the way
you conduct yourself
is the way you will
be remembered. I don't
believe that we all must
be saints, but rather
that we must accept
that the basic meaning
of humanity is the chance
to understand humanity,
not as an abstract concept
but as a community we
approach in our own way,
but an approach that
must be done. To avoid it
is to shun our own
humanity, and that is
what I believe most people,
without realizing it,
spend their lives doing.
Funny to hear this from
a guy everyone assumes
is shy, who freely admits
he prefers time alone.
But to take a local interest
is to embrace the possibilities
we are continually offering
ourselves, whether we embrace
them or not, recognize them
or turn our backs to them,
to do what we can because
we can and because it is
the right thing to do, not
because we get anything from it,
but because, in the end, we
are better remembered for it,
and help the rest of humanity
along the way.
that asking if you
could help would
become as famous
as saying "I love you,"
but I've got
a different
phrase in mind,
and it's been
one I've used
for years,
just to myself,
when wondering
why it's so
hard for people
to care about
their surroundings,
why we seem
doomed to become
a society of butlers.
"Take a local interest."
Just see that it's
no one's responsibility
but your own, that
if you can, you should,
that maybe you ought
to have some pride.
Another Star Trek
put into question
"The needs of the many
outweigh the needs of
the few, or the one,"
but seemed to get
it wrong.
I think what it
originally meant
was that, in a
conscious society,
the few or the one
were not slaves
but rather aware
that their actions
had the greater
impact for being
in a minority,
that it is better
to think in terms
that include
oneself as well as
others than to dwell
merely on one
or the other,
the many a reflection
of the worth of the one.
We tend to think
in negative terms.
I should know.
But I believe
that we don't have to,
that a belief
that casts the roll
of the weak as less
than the strong
merely as a matter
of course is wrong,
that we don't have to accept
that (in the gospels,
it's a new commandment),
or believe that all
that we have gained
can or must be lost.
Call me a pharaoh,
but I think you
can take it with you,
if not in the literal
sense, then in
what you leave behind.
I believe that the way
you conduct yourself
is the way you will
be remembered. I don't
believe that we all must
be saints, but rather
that we must accept
that the basic meaning
of humanity is the chance
to understand humanity,
not as an abstract concept
but as a community we
approach in our own way,
but an approach that
must be done. To avoid it
is to shun our own
humanity, and that is
what I believe most people,
without realizing it,
spend their lives doing.
Funny to hear this from
a guy everyone assumes
is shy, who freely admits
he prefers time alone.
But to take a local interest
is to embrace the possibilities
we are continually offering
ourselves, whether we embrace
them or not, recognize them
or turn our backs to them,
to do what we can because
we can and because it is
the right thing to do, not
because we get anything from it,
but because, in the end, we
are better remembered for it,
and help the rest of humanity
along the way.
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