in the quiet
in the dark
i find i've found things
as they are
and quite unlike
what they have seemed
when i have seen
or even dreamed
them
in their favourite hiding spots
among my rather common thoughts
or tucked in dazzling
lights and sights
in sounds and songs
and hopeful heights
ah, there they be by preference
but mark my words for reference:
until you've met a thing
by night
you know it not
and never might.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
( )
but for now
the old trees slumber
in the stiff jaws of the yawning earth
and new death arrives
under the guise of birth
and we all gather 'round
fading embers on the hearth
to hum forgotten songs
of all this
and what it's worth...
*
the old trees slumber
in the stiff jaws of the yawning earth
and new death arrives
under the guise of birth
and we all gather 'round
fading embers on the hearth
to hum forgotten songs
of all this
and what it's worth...
*
Friday, May 7, 2010
Egg(head)s
Aaaand, she's back. (I know -- before the one year anniversary of that last post -- I'm surprised too!)
So, as promised, I return to touch on such subjects as The Fashionification of Nerdery, unrequited friend-love, and morning meals. Buckle up!
Before any of that though, I need to first broadcast that I am entirely addicted to LOST and happened across a blog by a fellow-who's-never-seen-LOST-but-is-watching-and-blogging-the-last-season-from-that-perspective .. it is super funny and he's pretty witty, so naturally it becomes one of those things where female readers post comments like "you're so funny, marry me!" And you just know he's probably this unwashed sweatpants-clad character with no ambition and a disappointingly bad sense of comedic timing in person...but such is the beauty of this literary leviathon whose 1's and 0's act as charming buffers between sticky fingers and silly girls.
Trust me, it's not even a tangent. Read on!
(Oh right, Point of Reference: Chuck carries on from his thoughts on the media planting the desire for "fake love" or "the impractical" in us to another example of transference)
"Of course, this media transference is not all bad. It has certainly worked to my advantage, just as it has for all modern men who look and talk and act like me. We all owe our lives to Woody Allen," (p.5)
(I thought about posting contrasting photos of Woody Allen & Chuck Klosterman here for your viewing pleasure, but I like the idea of making this interactive and having you google them yourselves -- dooo it.)
What he's getting at here is that circa the 70s one scrawny, homely, bespectacled man managed to construct the prototype of what I shall refer to as The Weinery Guy Who Can Talk You Into Thinking He's A Desireable Novelty that has gone on to eclipse its maker and carry ironically on into Present Day. (Go even just read the imdb page for Manhattan and then stroll on down to your local record shop/cafe/sushi joint/art gallery/other trendily trendtacular obscurrific public place where rare artifacts that may have roots in the 70s exist. Here you shall find them, in devil may care trouser/shoe combinations, giving whimsically delivered monologues about European locales and amputated virtue, and making casual sexual references that they think make them seem culturally advanced because they're used where they don't necessarily belong.)
"But this is how media devolution works: It creates an archetype that eventually dwarfs its origin. By now, the 'Woody Allen Personality Type' has far greater cultural importance than the man himself," (p.5)
From here, we branch briefly into the promised topic of One-Sided Friend Love. Oy vey.
I think I can scientifically state that boys tend to "fall in love" with their girl friends more easily than vice versa. (My preferred responsive tactic in a large percentage of these scenarios is "Confident Obliviousness," in case you were curious.)(Not to be confused with "Actual Obliviousness," which is the default response.)(I dare you to decipher whether or not I reciprocate your love. I DARE you! mahah) But for real, the thing about this is: we have seriously been conditioned to think there is some kind of romantic inevitability underlying our co-ed friendships. Which is kind of crap, and kind of falls into that same category as the contrived Weinery Novelty Guy act in my book. Which I enjoy saying, 'cause I never really thought about it before in a specific sense.
"we are constantly reminded that the unattainable icons of perfection we lust after can never fulfill us like the platonic allies who have been there all along," (p.6)
"But herein lies the trap: We've also been trained to think this will always work out over the long term, which dooms us to disappointment," (p.6)
"The mass media causes sexual misdirection: It prompts us to need something deeper than what we want," (p.6)
It's interesting to realize what you've been culturally conditioned to "need." And to compare that to actual reality. To Truth. To take responsibility for grafting misled and false expectations onto your heart and for the disappointment you'd rather accuse of victimizing you. Here is where you learn that Disappointment is most often Stupidity/Greed/Lust/Selfishness/Ill-Advised or Uninformed or Underdeveloped Expectations in their ripe and harvested form. Sorry humans, it's a syndrome. I have it too.
So the Chuckster goes on to expose relationships based on this Dweeb Chic model as the equivalent of relationships based on finances or fame ("just another gimmick"), and admits that the Witty Intellectual facade he prefers to rock will ultimately find itself at the same Breakfast Table of Judgement as the Mogul facade and the Rockstar facade. When the stores of clever conversation (or material highs, or glamour) have been depleted and the RelationShip drifts on into the endless sea of Time...bearing its insatiable co-captains...well. Hold on. Chuck?
"It will go on for days or weeks or months or years, and I've already used everything in my vault. Very soon, I will have nothing more to say, and we will be sitting across from each other at breakfast, completely devoid of banter; she will feel betrayed and foolish, and I will suddenly find myself actively trying to avoid spending time with a woman I didn't deserve to be with in the first place. Perhaps this sounds depressing. That is not my intention. This is all normal. there's not a lot to say during breakfast. I mean, you just woke up, you know? Nothing has happened. If neither person had an especially weird dream and nobody burned the toast, breakfast is just the time for chewing Cocoa Puffs and/or wishing you were still asleep. But we've been convinced not to think like that. Silence is only supposed to happen as a manifestation of supreme actualization, where both parties are so at peace with their emotional connection that it cannot be expressed through the rudimentary tools of the lexicon; otherwise, silence is proof that the magic is gone and the relationship is over (hence the phrase 'We just don't talk anymore')," (p.7)
I really liked this bit. Thanks, Chuck. Dear everyone: remember that. If you know someone you're cool to sit around staring at ceilings with in silence, chances are good you've found treasure (or are well adjusted.)(or both.)
The next edition will feature some stuff about more increasingly dated pop culture gems like When Harry Met Sally and Sims I think. (Maybe I should write a book...I'll reference Jurassic Park and World of Warcraft in mine?)
So, as promised, I return to touch on such subjects as The Fashionification of Nerdery, unrequited friend-love, and morning meals. Buckle up!
Before any of that though, I need to first broadcast that I am entirely addicted to LOST and happened across a blog by a fellow-who's-never-seen-LOST-but-is-watching-and-blogging-the-last-season-from-that-perspective .. it is super funny and he's pretty witty, so naturally it becomes one of those things where female readers post comments like "you're so funny, marry me!" And you just know he's probably this unwashed sweatpants-clad character with no ambition and a disappointingly bad sense of comedic timing in person...but such is the beauty of this literary leviathon whose 1's and 0's act as charming buffers between sticky fingers and silly girls.
Trust me, it's not even a tangent. Read on!
(Oh right, Point of Reference: Chuck carries on from his thoughts on the media planting the desire for "fake love" or "the impractical" in us to another example of transference)
"Of course, this media transference is not all bad. It has certainly worked to my advantage, just as it has for all modern men who look and talk and act like me. We all owe our lives to Woody Allen," (p.5)
(I thought about posting contrasting photos of Woody Allen & Chuck Klosterman here for your viewing pleasure, but I like the idea of making this interactive and having you google them yourselves -- dooo it.)
What he's getting at here is that circa the 70s one scrawny, homely, bespectacled man managed to construct the prototype of what I shall refer to as The Weinery Guy Who Can Talk You Into Thinking He's A Desireable Novelty that has gone on to eclipse its maker and carry ironically on into Present Day. (Go even just read the imdb page for Manhattan and then stroll on down to your local record shop/cafe/sushi joint/art gallery/other trendily trendtacular obscurrific public place where rare artifacts that may have roots in the 70s exist. Here you shall find them, in devil may care trouser/shoe combinations, giving whimsically delivered monologues about European locales and amputated virtue, and making casual sexual references that they think make them seem culturally advanced because they're used where they don't necessarily belong.)
"But this is how media devolution works: It creates an archetype that eventually dwarfs its origin. By now, the 'Woody Allen Personality Type' has far greater cultural importance than the man himself," (p.5)
From here, we branch briefly into the promised topic of One-Sided Friend Love. Oy vey.
I think I can scientifically state that boys tend to "fall in love" with their girl friends more easily than vice versa. (My preferred responsive tactic in a large percentage of these scenarios is "Confident Obliviousness," in case you were curious.)(Not to be confused with "Actual Obliviousness," which is the default response.)(I dare you to decipher whether or not I reciprocate your love. I DARE you! mahah) But for real, the thing about this is: we have seriously been conditioned to think there is some kind of romantic inevitability underlying our co-ed friendships. Which is kind of crap, and kind of falls into that same category as the contrived Weinery Novelty Guy act in my book. Which I enjoy saying, 'cause I never really thought about it before in a specific sense.
"we are constantly reminded that the unattainable icons of perfection we lust after can never fulfill us like the platonic allies who have been there all along," (p.6)
"But herein lies the trap: We've also been trained to think this will always work out over the long term, which dooms us to disappointment," (p.6)
"The mass media causes sexual misdirection: It prompts us to need something deeper than what we want," (p.6)
It's interesting to realize what you've been culturally conditioned to "need." And to compare that to actual reality. To Truth. To take responsibility for grafting misled and false expectations onto your heart and for the disappointment you'd rather accuse of victimizing you. Here is where you learn that Disappointment is most often Stupidity/Greed/Lust/Selfishness/Ill-Advised or Uninformed or Underdeveloped Expectations in their ripe and harvested form. Sorry humans, it's a syndrome. I have it too.
So the Chuckster goes on to expose relationships based on this Dweeb Chic model as the equivalent of relationships based on finances or fame ("just another gimmick"), and admits that the Witty Intellectual facade he prefers to rock will ultimately find itself at the same Breakfast Table of Judgement as the Mogul facade and the Rockstar facade. When the stores of clever conversation (or material highs, or glamour) have been depleted and the RelationShip drifts on into the endless sea of Time...bearing its insatiable co-captains...well. Hold on. Chuck?
"It will go on for days or weeks or months or years, and I've already used everything in my vault. Very soon, I will have nothing more to say, and we will be sitting across from each other at breakfast, completely devoid of banter; she will feel betrayed and foolish, and I will suddenly find myself actively trying to avoid spending time with a woman I didn't deserve to be with in the first place. Perhaps this sounds depressing. That is not my intention. This is all normal. there's not a lot to say during breakfast. I mean, you just woke up, you know? Nothing has happened. If neither person had an especially weird dream and nobody burned the toast, breakfast is just the time for chewing Cocoa Puffs and/or wishing you were still asleep. But we've been convinced not to think like that. Silence is only supposed to happen as a manifestation of supreme actualization, where both parties are so at peace with their emotional connection that it cannot be expressed through the rudimentary tools of the lexicon; otherwise, silence is proof that the magic is gone and the relationship is over (hence the phrase 'We just don't talk anymore')," (p.7)
I really liked this bit. Thanks, Chuck. Dear everyone: remember that. If you know someone you're cool to sit around staring at ceilings with in silence, chances are good you've found treasure (or are well adjusted.)(or both.)
The next edition will feature some stuff about more increasingly dated pop culture gems like When Harry Met Sally and Sims I think. (Maybe I should write a book...I'll reference Jurassic Park and World of Warcraft in mine?)
Monday, April 26, 2010
Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs*
Alright. Time to revive this thing. We're going to put Chesterton on hold (not that we haven't already)(I still never posted those subsequent entries that are rotting in a notebook somewhere, did I? We'll save those for autumn.)
For now:
We are going to discuss the book Kim gave me for my birthday.
"Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs* (A Low Culture Manifesto)"
by Chuck Klosterman.
I started reading it in California, and I'm a fan so far. It's pretty pop-culture heavy, and was written by a Gen-X'er in 2003...so I'll be interested to see how enduringly relevant (or recognizable?) his references are.
Let's find out!
Thesis:
"In and of itself, nothing really matters. What matters is that nothing is ever 'in and of itself,'" (introduction)
Chapter 1: This Is Emo
"No woman will ever satisfy me. I know that now, and I would never try to deny it. But this is actually okay, because I will never satisfy a woman, either," (p.1)
So one summer I was speaking at camp, and I have no idea what the topic at hand was...but I remember getting worked up over a bad Hilary Duff movie (Cinderella Story, to name names.) I guess I wasn't really up in arms over the movie itself, but it was more a challenge I wanted to plant deep in the psyches of 14 year-olds. I told them I wanted them to imagine the-scene-after-the-climactic-fairy-tale-ending-scene in a movie. The scene where Hilary Duff needs help carrying groceries in from the car and Prince Charming is refusing to pause his Xbox game. Or the one where she starts whining about something trivial and he reminisces about his Hilary-free days. Our culture has a severe problem with tunnel vision, locked on to that scripted Happy Ending scene that for some reason an entire continent full of educated humans who are fully cognisant of Time as a scientific law has subscribed to as a feasible life goal.
If Life was a recipe box, I'm certain the common ingredient in Divorce, Suicide, Infidelity, Depression, Abuse, and Boredom would be: Happy Ending Delusion.
Also, this misguided worldview is a pandemic among women. Lucky for me, I realized this early and have saved myself a lot of nonsense and wasted time. I hope I can help you too.
But back to Chuck:
He goes on to say that the blame for this universal fact of none of us being able to truly satisfy one another can't really be placed on any of us, because it's no one's fault. Or that maybe it's everyone's fault. Our "unifying characteristic," according to Chuck, is this:
"the inability to experience the kind of mind-blowing, transcendent romantic relationship [we] perceive to be a normal part of living," (p.2)
And my favorite part of the book so far is the follow-up comments:
"And someone needs to take the fall for this. So instead of blaming no one for this (which is kind of cowardly) or blaming everyone (which is kind of meaningless), I'm going to blame John Cusack," (p.2)
"I once loved a girl who almost loved me, but not as much as she loved John Cusack," (p.2)
This is absolutely hilarious. Not just because I love John Cusack (not really for the reasons Chucky-boy is noting..more for nostalgic reasons), but because it is bang-on. And if you're not familiar with Mr. Cusack's work, I would reccommend becoming so. For the sake of being a courteous blog-host though, I will summarize thus: John Cusack plays the lovable/loyal/clever/witty/devoted/charming fringe-dweller-next-door who stands outside your window in a trench coat (not a creepy one, a fashionable 80s one) serenading you with Phil Collins on a boom box in the night because no way would he rather be passed out in a pizza and Call of Duty. He is the character you wish your boyfriend/husband/lazy-guy-friend-who-needs-to-grow-up was.
"We will both measure our relationship against the prospect of fake love," (p.3)
Don't say you haven't done it. I know you have!
"Fake love is a very powerful thing," (p.3)
Once upon a time, fairy tales were about little kids getting eaten by wolves and witches, and were used to prevent European children from doing stupid things. North America has managed to make "fairy tales" about people falling in love with wolves and witches, and most of them essentially end up promoting stupid behavior or assumptions, predominantly in adults (whose children are subsequently eaten by wolves and witches when their self-absorbed and chronically misled parents aren't paying attention.)
"In the nineteenth century, teenagers merely aspired to have a marriage that would be better than that of their parents; personally, I would never be satisfied unless my marriage was as good as Cliff and Clair Huxtable's (or at least as enigmatic as Jack and Meg White's)," (p.4)
"Pundits are always blaming TV for making people stupid, movies for desensitizing the world to violence, and rock music for making kids take drugs and kill themselves. These things should be the least of our worries. The main problem with mass media is that it makes it impossible to fall in love with any acumen of normalcy," (p.4)
And if the Cosby Show/White Stripes references aren't cutting the mustard for ya, allow me to offer a gratuitous:
Well on that note, we'll break for now. Marinade a bit. Consider the scripts we're holding other humans in our lives to without having had the decency to notify them they're playing characters we made up (or copied.) Re-evaluate our perceptions of reality. You know. That junk.
Tune in next time for mine and Chuck's opinions about Nerd Chic guys, awkwardly one-sided friend crushes, and breakfast.
For now:
We are going to discuss the book Kim gave me for my birthday.
"Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs* (A Low Culture Manifesto)"
by Chuck Klosterman.
I started reading it in California, and I'm a fan so far. It's pretty pop-culture heavy, and was written by a Gen-X'er in 2003...so I'll be interested to see how enduringly relevant (or recognizable?) his references are.
Let's find out!
Thesis:
"In and of itself, nothing really matters. What matters is that nothing is ever 'in and of itself,'" (introduction)
Chapter 1: This Is Emo
"No woman will ever satisfy me. I know that now, and I would never try to deny it. But this is actually okay, because I will never satisfy a woman, either," (p.1)
So one summer I was speaking at camp, and I have no idea what the topic at hand was...but I remember getting worked up over a bad Hilary Duff movie (Cinderella Story, to name names.) I guess I wasn't really up in arms over the movie itself, but it was more a challenge I wanted to plant deep in the psyches of 14 year-olds. I told them I wanted them to imagine the-scene-after-the-climactic-fairy-tale-ending-scene in a movie. The scene where Hilary Duff needs help carrying groceries in from the car and Prince Charming is refusing to pause his Xbox game. Or the one where she starts whining about something trivial and he reminisces about his Hilary-free days. Our culture has a severe problem with tunnel vision, locked on to that scripted Happy Ending scene that for some reason an entire continent full of educated humans who are fully cognisant of Time as a scientific law has subscribed to as a feasible life goal.
If Life was a recipe box, I'm certain the common ingredient in Divorce, Suicide, Infidelity, Depression, Abuse, and Boredom would be: Happy Ending Delusion.
Also, this misguided worldview is a pandemic among women. Lucky for me, I realized this early and have saved myself a lot of nonsense and wasted time. I hope I can help you too.
But back to Chuck:
He goes on to say that the blame for this universal fact of none of us being able to truly satisfy one another can't really be placed on any of us, because it's no one's fault. Or that maybe it's everyone's fault. Our "unifying characteristic," according to Chuck, is this:
"the inability to experience the kind of mind-blowing, transcendent romantic relationship [we] perceive to be a normal part of living," (p.2)
And my favorite part of the book so far is the follow-up comments:
"And someone needs to take the fall for this. So instead of blaming no one for this (which is kind of cowardly) or blaming everyone (which is kind of meaningless), I'm going to blame John Cusack," (p.2)
"I once loved a girl who almost loved me, but not as much as she loved John Cusack," (p.2)
This is absolutely hilarious. Not just because I love John Cusack (not really for the reasons Chucky-boy is noting..more for nostalgic reasons), but because it is bang-on. And if you're not familiar with Mr. Cusack's work, I would reccommend becoming so. For the sake of being a courteous blog-host though, I will summarize thus: John Cusack plays the lovable/loyal/clever/witty/devoted/charming fringe-dweller-next-door who stands outside your window in a trench coat (not a creepy one, a fashionable 80s one) serenading you with Phil Collins on a boom box in the night because no way would he rather be passed out in a pizza and Call of Duty. He is the character you wish your boyfriend/husband/lazy-guy-friend-who-needs-to-grow-up was.
"We will both measure our relationship against the prospect of fake love," (p.3)
Don't say you haven't done it. I know you have!
"Fake love is a very powerful thing," (p.3)
Once upon a time, fairy tales were about little kids getting eaten by wolves and witches, and were used to prevent European children from doing stupid things. North America has managed to make "fairy tales" about people falling in love with wolves and witches, and most of them essentially end up promoting stupid behavior or assumptions, predominantly in adults (whose children are subsequently eaten by wolves and witches when their self-absorbed and chronically misled parents aren't paying attention.)
"In the nineteenth century, teenagers merely aspired to have a marriage that would be better than that of their parents; personally, I would never be satisfied unless my marriage was as good as Cliff and Clair Huxtable's (or at least as enigmatic as Jack and Meg White's)," (p.4)
"Pundits are always blaming TV for making people stupid, movies for desensitizing the world to violence, and rock music for making kids take drugs and kill themselves. These things should be the least of our worries. The main problem with mass media is that it makes it impossible to fall in love with any acumen of normalcy," (p.4)
And if the Cosby Show/White Stripes references aren't cutting the mustard for ya, allow me to offer a gratuitous:
Well on that note, we'll break for now. Marinade a bit. Consider the scripts we're holding other humans in our lives to without having had the decency to notify them they're playing characters we made up (or copied.) Re-evaluate our perceptions of reality. You know. That junk.
Tune in next time for mine and Chuck's opinions about Nerd Chic guys, awkwardly one-sided friend crushes, and breakfast.
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