Enigma

The difficulty with anxieties is that they make you feel nervous about decisions you’ve already made. You get really nervous because you’re seeing your significant other later, and as much as you love them, you almost don’t know what to do with them now that you’ve got them. If you’d dated or gotten laid a lot while in high school and college rather than pining for your friends and masturbating incessantly, maybe you would have an easier time processing this. But since you’d almost gotten used to spending all that time alone, it’s disorienting to have the option to do something else. And of course, there’s sex. Where would we be without that?

I’m still single, by the way. I’m just spitballing.

There’s been talk of making Blood Meridian into a movie for years now. It’s one of my favorite novels, and arguably Cormac McCarthy’s masterpiece. It’s a challenging piece of work. For one thing, it is unrelentingly violent. I don’t think then pages go by in that book without somebody getting skinned, shot to pieces, or their head bashed open on a rock. It’s not exactly beach reading, is what I’m trying to say. For another thing, its point-of-view is, if not nihilistic, certainly more interested in portraying evil as something that is immortal and eternally destructive than in telling the kind of story in which the good guys win. Since the story consists of a bunch of cowboys going on a killing rampage across the Southwest, I’m not even sure if it has any sympathetic characters. Actually, that’s not true. The kid (the nameless protagonist of the novel) is somewhat sympathetic, but only because he kind of just goes along with what’s happening rather than actively encouraging it. With a story like that, you kind of have to take what you can get.

I’m not sure who you would get to adapt such a book. Badlands-era Malick could maybe do it justice, but I doubt he’d want to now. The Coen brothers could probably do it, but they already adapted one of Cormac McCarthy’s books (No Country for Old Men), so perhaps they wouldn’t want to do go there again. Werner Herzog, maybe? Resurrect Klaus Kinski and he would make an amazing Judge. I’ve probably spent too much time thinking about this.

I’m on the last season of 30 Rock. It’s easy to get caught in the trap of taking things too slow when you realize that you’re enjoying something. I love 30 Rock. I think it’s one of the best sitcoms ever, but I’ve seen only a couple episodes of Seinfeld and haven’t watched Cheers at all, so I clearly have a lot to learn about that. There’s a line in Battlestar Galactica where Adama says that he likes the book he’s reading so much that he doesn’t want it to be over. Part of the reason I read, like, five or six books at once is that it’s hard for me to focus on something once I realize I like it. I’m not prolonging it so much as missing the forest for the trees. Because I have fallen into that pitfall of reading something just so you can say you’ve read it or watching something just so you can say you’ve watched it. And you can’t do that. Because then you’re just counting the pages/episodes until you’re done and then you can move onto the next new thing. I might look more composed to other people than I actually am. All I know is that sitting down to actually watch/read something, even and especially if I like it, is way more difficult than it should be.

The thing about 30 Rock is that it is not much concerned with either plot or character. It’s a joke machine, that’s all. When it’s on a roll, it will have you pissing your pants, clutching your sides and howling with laughter, because it is the kind of show that can fit a brilliant sight gag, one liner, and obscure pop culture reference into the same moment. Even the worst episodes have at least a handful of good jokes, and from what I’ve heard, the show went out on a bang, so I’ll be excited to get there. I have so much else to watch, after all.

It can be difficult to reign in your own weird impulses when you’re the only one in control. Especially when you spend 95% of your free time in your room. I’m talking about myself here, in case that’s not obvious. One of my high school English teachers was fond of reading some of our essays aloud to the class. The high points came when he read the bad ones and made fun of them, but he read the good ones as well, and wouldn’t you know it, mine were often featured. Except that one time I didn’t even do a very good job of exploring the topic; I just wrote a really entertaining (albeit) weird piece and he gave it the highest grade in the class because it was nothing if not memorable. Again, it’s easy to go up your own ass when you’re the only one calling the shots. It’s part of the reason I think Kubrick’s last masterpiece was A Clockwork Orange. The man was a genius, but to call him a control freak is putting it mildly.

I’m listening to Rent as I write this. It’s not bad. I listened to it as a high school theater nerd and thought it was the best thing I’d ever heard. I don’t still feel that way, but I sympathize with Mark, Roger, and Maureen. Maybe they are entitled assholes who don’t contribute anything. But they’re trying to. Roger’s music sucks and I’m not sure if Mark’s movie would really be any good, but honestly, who are they hurting by squatting in that loft? (Also, I saw somebody play Maureen as a dumb blonde once. It worked surprisingly well, especially her performance piece, which is actually really funny.) Benny doesn’t need the money; he can let his old friends stay there for nothing, and at the beginning of the show, he’s asking them to pay rent on the year they’ve already stayed, which seems like a half-assed way of trying to throw somebody out. I know people who hate that musical. I think it’s overlong and sentimental, but still powerful. Maybe I’ll think differently in another ten years. Then again, maybe not.

Suddenly, I have so much more respect for One Direction.

Eyesight to the Blind

There’s a good line in the film The Brothers McMullen where a man who is in his early thirties says that it feels like just yesterday, he was in high school, and his wife replies, “No, you’re at least fifteen years too young for a mid-life crisis.” Where did the mid-life crisis come from? Technically, your forties and fifties are only the middle of your life if you’re leading a very long one, but never mind. I’ve had angst over where I’m going over the past year or so, but absolutely refuse to consider that a “quarter-life crisis”. I guess that term springs from the realization that once you’ve finished school and are trying to start a professional life, you are once again at the foot of a mountain. You can chase the brass ring if you like, but even if you do get it, you’ll look around and ask, “Is this all there is to it?” And the answer to that is no, but the real fun stuff is in between the lines. I keep fixating on that stupid Ben Stiller movie from last year, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, which might as well have been called Mid-Life Crisis: The Movie, because if your idea of living life to the fullest is jumping out of a helicopter and skateboarding down a mountain, you need to rethink your priorities.

Kirk Cameron is a real asshole. That’s hardly news to anyone who has followed his career. He peaked at eighteen, then decided that rather than mature into a complex, interesting person, he would like to tell other people how to live their lives. It’s sad, and by “sad”, I mean “infuriating”. I’m not sure if he was all that good of an actor to begin with, but then again, he might have had a pretty good career had he applied himself to learning his craft and not spent all his time going on and on about how much he loves bananas. But what’s frustrating is that somebody is continuing to finance what he does. His movies make money, even if the only people who watch them are far-right Christians. How do we reach these people? Do they even want to be reached? I hate Kirk Cameron for many reasons, but the biggest one I can think of at the moment is making Piers Morgan look reasonable.

I’m trying to find the right balance between being outraged and serene. It’s easy to get burned out following the news. That happened to me when I was writing for a political magazine in college, and even though I didn’t want to write about the news, I found ways to write about it, essentially by taking a step back. The thing that’s got me angry these days is the treatment of livestock by our farming industry. Chris Christie plans to veto a bill that is almost unanimously supported by both legislators and the electorate because it might hurt his chances in Iowa, which depends on pork production. What an asshole. It drives me insane that this guy was reelected in such a landslide, because anyone who is even half-awake can see that he is a rude, temperamental, petty bully who cares less about enacting change than becoming president. (And if don’t think he was involved in the closure of the lanes on the George Washington Bridge just because there is no definitive evidence tying him to it, give me a fucking break. Seriously.) He buried his opponent, Barbara Buono (embarrassingly, I had to look up her name) in the last election, but she is a class act.

I don’t know what to do about stuff like this. There are some people who just sit back and say, “The world has enough problems. I just look out for myself.” There are also people who get very angry over the blatant mistreatment of pigs, but don’t have the tact to engage with people who might be sympathetic to their point of view. I can’t be like that. I have no use for purism, as high-minded and idealistic as I am. I do not believe that Barack Obama is a traitor to his base just because he governs from a more moderate and diplomatic point of view than the liberal firebrands like myself would like. I do not believe that the United States is an evil nation just because we kill people with drone strikes, although I won’t attempt to defend that, as it is appalling. All I know is that I have no use for people who complain about this shit constantly while doing nothing about it. Don’t just donate to the cause or whine about it on your blog (oh hi, everyone); get off your ass. I’ll do that just as soon as I figure out what it means.

I think I need to spend a little bit more time writing fiction. I decided a while ago that writing wasn’t going to be my main pursuit, just a side gig. Fortunately, it’s the kind of thing that works well as a side gig. And I keep saying this, but I really do need to get back into gaming. I’ve missed out on it for too long. There is a part of me that’s glad I’m not in college anymore. College is supposed to be a place where you learn shit and try out shit and hopefully get a clearer idea of what you’re trying to do with your life. A lot of kids seem to mistake that for being right about everything. And I probably sound old when I say that, but that’s the kicker: I’m not that much older than most college students. I remember what life on campus was like, and even then, I thought there were a lot of twits around me whose response to any kind of criticism, even the constructive kind, was, “Fuck you, I’ll do what I want.” That’s not even a response. Refusing to acknowledge the needs of others doesn’t make you sassy and outspoken; it makes you an asshole. And nothing is less humble than talking about how humble you are.

I’m trying to push my limits, to figure out just what I’m capable of. I keep meaning to take up a sport, but never get around to it. I’m not an athlete, really, but there’s no harm in dabbling. Just don’t do things because you’re trying to prove anything to the world, that’s all. The reality is that most people can’t and never will be able to play at my level. I can live with that.

Things I Hate Doing, Part 7

5. Getting Old

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but nobody watches television anymore. Seriously, do you watch TV? Of course you don’t, because you’re on the internet. And the internet is the only valid means of media distribution right now. Even if you do watch TV, it’s probably on the internet. And you’d rather watch internet anyway. But seriously, at least one study has shown that kids these days recognize YouTube personalities more easily than movie stars. That’s not actually that surprising for anyone who spends much time on YouTube. Tyler Oakley has 4.5 million subscribers, last I checked. How many people saw the last Sin City movie? (Okay, maybe that’s an unfair example, because that movie really tanked. I mean, it’s not like I was going to see it, but I thought it would have at least cracked $20 million.)

L to R: douchebag, douchebag, douchebag

The point is that YouTube and social media are, as much as it pains me to say it, becoming as popular a means of consumption as the ones I grew up with. That might not necessarily be a bad thing, but it does leave me feeling a little out of place. A lot of YouTube personalities are around my age or younger. (If we broaden it to stuff like Vine, you get people like Nash Grier. Fuck that guy.) The average YouTube subscriber is almost certainly younger than I am. Of course, the majority of YouTubers are a walking case for eugenics, but that could just be an illustration of Sturgeon’s Law. I still remember shrugging when I realized that podcasting was becoming a popular medium. There are a few that I listen to, but overall, it just doesn’t interest me. I already read books, watch TV and movies, and occasionally see plays or concerts. I don’t need to be an expert on all forms of media. And sometimes, I think that the real problem is just the way that we let the 18-24 year-old demographic dictate the direction of our culture. Maybe that’s because they don’t know any better, which makes them easier to manipulate. But what do I know? I’m a blogger. Who the fuck reads blogs anymore?

4. Having Neuroses

It occurred to me recently that I have only once or twice in my lifetime had anything resembling a stable home life. From my well-documented issues with my parents and occasionally the rest of my my family to my also well-documented roommate issues, building a home that is worth returning to every evening definitely seems to be one of my weak points. I’m not sure what to do about that, but the result is that I have any number of habits and insecurities that I can’t stop myself from having but hate myself for. The best living situation I’ve had so far is that one spot I stayed in Manhattan for the latter half of my time there. The landlord did have one weird rule requiring us to pay our rent in cash (I think he’d gotten stung by somebody passing him bad checks before) which meant that once a month, I had to walk down to Wells Fargo, withdraw a large amount of money, then walk back with it in my pocket, but if that’s your biggest complaint, you’re probably doing okay. The only answer here, I suppose, is what RuPaul would say: learn to love yourself. But I could really use a leg up.

3. Not Being Able to Express Myself

I would like to take this instance to sort of defend J.J. Abrams. Most of my nerd friends don’t much like him. I can see why: Most of what he does is just a rehash of other stuff. Cloverfield was basically Godzilla-minus-Godzilla-plus-found-footage-gimmick. Still a decent movie, in my opinion. Super 8 tried really hard to be E.T., but abrupt ending aside, it wasn’t too bad. And then there’s his Star Trek films. Into Darkness had…issues, but it didn’t make me angry, which is saying something. Honestly, what is the harm in rehashing old shit just with a shinier presentation? It’s not going to be particularly good, but it’s not exactly harmful either.

I know I rag on Steven Moffat all the time, but bear with me: In The Day of the Doctor, he added a sub-regeneration between Doctors 8 and 9, now leaving it to us to debate whether Peter Capaldi is really the 12th or the 13th Doctor. Except that there is no debate: He’s the 12th Doctor. You could maybe call John Hurt Doctor 8.5, but that’s exactly what pisses me off. Why did we need to see what happened between Doctors 8 and 9? Even if the only reason they came up with him is that they couldn’t get Eccleston back, the rationale for doing this seems to be that nobody explicitly said there wasn’t a sub-regeneration between Doctors 8 and 9. And that’s not a good reason for doing anything. But as usual, nobody will listen to me. So, you know, I’ll keep howling into the wind.

2. Being Out of Touch from the Moment I Was Born

Let’s return to YouTube for a second. I probably spend more time on there than I should, but the thing is, I’ve been yelling at those damn kids to get off my lawn since I actually was a kid. So I might be able to offer a little bit of perspective on the whole thing. When I was in middle school, one of my best friends told me that XXX was an awesome movie and that he couldn’t wait to see it again. He was a great guy, and probably does not feel the same way about the movie today. Then again, let’s be careful as to what we will excuse in children as a result of their age. Even when I was sixteen, I did not yell “fag” as indiscriminately as Nash Grier does. Never mind that, I didn’t even do that when I was ten. And his apologies are all half-assed “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what I was saying” nonsense. Yes, you did. If you can use the internet, you can go to Wikipedia and read about the AIDS epidemic. I was lucky enough to have missed it, but I’ve seen The Normal Heart, and let me tell you, that shit is terrifying. You have to at least try to learn from your mistakes. Try.

1. I Don’t Know What to Call This One, So I’ll Just Get Right Into

I think part of the issue here is that YouTube and social media cut out the middleman. Miley Cyrus may be headed for a meltdown, but that’s just because she’s surrounded by agents, producers, and possibly friends and family telling her that what she’s doing is a good career choice. Is it better when anyone with a camera can just upload a video and let the world hear their unfiltered thoughts? I’m not sure if I can make that call, but I expect YouTube, Vine, and all that other shit to become a lot more like the music and movie industries in the coming years. They’re too lucrative not to. If you’re a big star on YouTube, you are legitimately a celebrity, even if nobody over 35 has any idea who you are. How long do you think the current model will last? It’s already changing: The big stars on YouTube get bussed around at conventions, assigned a security detail, and mobbed by screaming girls if they dare to step out alone. So really, the content hasn’t changed, just the medium.

It’s nothing new.

There are some child and teen stars who grow up to be well-adjusted people. Mara Wilson was one. She’s a talented writer, an accomplished humanitarian, and as far as I can tell, a nice lady. In her case, that’s probably because she was blessed with a supportive family and smart enough to get out when she realized that Hollywood was through with her. If there is one thing that separates the flash-in-the-pan stars from the ones who just might stick around, it’s the ability to recognize that all of this attention can’t last forever. If you want to stay relevant, you have to be willing to change with the times. Joan Rivers stayed relevant for five decades in showbiz. Regardless of whether you find her funny, that’s some kind of miracle. Her jokes didn’t change all that much, it was just that she never took anything for granted. Smart woman, that one.

When I was in college, some people suggested I start a YouTube channel or something similar instead of writing a blog. I guess they just wanted to hear and see me instead of reading me. I’m glad I didn’t. Even if I had, I would certainly never have gotten all that famous or popular. Because I’m a weirdo. But I like to keep my ear to the ground, and I flatter myself that I have a clearer idea of what’s going on in pop culture than many so-called experts. Let’s face it, nobody is going to know who most of these people are in another twenty years.

The Bitch of Living

“Do you remember the first time we made love to this song?”

“Why is it every time you start talking, you sound like you gonna cry?”

–George Washington (film)

I haven’t dug too deeply into the secrets revealed by Edward Snowden since he fled the country last year, but I think what’s important about this issue is simply that we are having this conversation. Too many folks insist that by telling us what the government is up to, Snowden (and his compatriot Mr. Greenwald) are empowering the terrorists or endangering our troops or some such nonsense. I don’t buy that. I don’t agree with everything that he’s done, but what I respect about Glenn Greenwald is that his approach to the matter is rigidly journalistic. He believes that it is his duty to keep the people of the United States informed, and so he shares with us the facts that he thinks we need to make a decision about our leaders. Seems fairly reasonable. But the people who seek to discredit him do not play fair. On the contrary, they’ve made it very personal. And I do not approve of that. At all.

I’m trying to adopt a slightly more sanguine attitude towards my current situation. It’s difficult, but not impossible. Most human interaction bores me. I don’t know if that makes me deeper than everybody else or just a jerk. Of course, I’m not going to change anything about how I do things around here, so it’s really on you to decide what you think of that. I’ve started to externalize things that I used to internalize. That’s probably a good thing. After I had that rather negative interaction with a customer last month, I was almost glad when I found out how much I’d upset him. I was having a shitty day, so why should I make him happy? People need to understand that I don’t owe them a smile. And I can get along with just about anyone so long as they don’t treat me like I’m broken.

I often have a problem when I’m writing, which is that I have all sorts of prepared bits that I’m trying to work into a single piece. Obviously, I rarely succeed. Because that kind of top-down mentality kills all creative thinking. You must be able to take a project in unexpected directions (or let it take you, if you like) if you want to be surprised. A good general rule for me is that I keep doing things for as long as they are fun (or at least rewarding in some fashion) and stop whenever I feel like moving on. This gives me a sense of perspective. These days, my dreams are closer to nightmares than anything else. I can’t seem to turn that off. So I have to extract whatever lesson I can from them. People come and go; I abide. You can’t depend on anyone else to make you feel whole, but I’ll be goddamned if there aren’t people around me who seem intent on knowing me only as the person they want me to be. I must fight that.  It’s rare, but sometimes I get what I’m looking for.

The problem with telling young people to enjoy their youth is that it causes us to worry about whether or not we’re enjoying it enough. I was told that high school would be the best four years of my life. When I realized that wasn’t true, people told me that college was, in fact, the best four years of my life. It didn’t take too long to figure out that that wasn’t true either, but now that I’ve been through both of those and grad school, what now? Oh, I have some ideas. I don’t want to write as a career. The more I do this, the more I think of it as a sideline. It would be useful to have some sort of day job, preferably one with flexible hours that could accommodate whatever the hell else I want to do. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was a physician by day (as was Chekhov, interestingly enough). I have no desire to go into medicine, but you see my point. And I keep harping on this, but sometimes I really do feel like a bit of a real-life Sherlock, except with a gift for intellectual debate in place standing in for his deductive skill. I can take apart just about any argument piece-by-piece and put it back together. I just can’t make anyone care.

I’m thinking that I shall get back into the environmental activism game once I return to New York. There is a lot in this world that needs changing, and I’m not out to “solve” everything so much as to find and create harmony wherever I can. I’m not really a follower or a leader, just independent. That sounds great until you realize that I have almost no friends. But you can’t force that. I have figured that much out, and it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. I find that the things I truly enjoy don’t ever get old. Great art can be experienced over and over again and reveal new secrets each time. (There are a few exceptions, like The Catcher in the Rye and 1984. I think I got what the authors of those were getting at the first time around, albeit for slightly different reasons.)

This reminds me of my favorite creepy pickup line: “Hi, I’m Big Brother. And I’ve been watching you!”

Sometimes you don’t live to see the fruits of your labor. Sometimes it’s not until after your death that people understand just how much you meant to them. It’s been six months since Philip Seymour Hoffman died, and it still pains me to think about him. If you’d asked me back in January who the greatest living actor was, I would have placed him above Pacino, Day-Lewis, and anybody else you can throw at me. But he is gone, at least from this world. If you’re like me, you can grasp the poetry in that. In my political, creative and intellectual endeavors, I seek only to put the past in the past and show people that they make the future. In the process, I will piss off basically everyone, sooner or later. Oh, well. For a guy who spends most of his time as a shut-in, I would like to experience the great outdoors someday. I hope it’s still there for me when I’m ready.

The Skin I Live In

The more I write, the more helpful I find it to think about the audience as little as possible. My output has dropped gradually over the past few years, and I consider that a good thing. It’s not because I hate doing this so much as that I can’t seem to find the intersection between this and the other areas of my life. For the longest time, my knee-jerk response to something shitty happening has been, “Oh, I guess I’ll write a bitchy blog post about it.” That really needs to stop. I’m still not quite sure what the difference is between something that you want to do and something that you have to do, I know only that while writing this thing is sometimes fun, it all too often feels like something I’m doing just so that I’ll be able to sleep at night. I should not have to spend all day following my mind into weird corners. Or if I do, I could at least learn to enjoy it.

It’s a bad idea to do things just so that you can have done them. Neil Gaiman said that for him, the hardest part of being a writer was letting go and enjoying the ride. (More broadly, he was talking about life, of course.) I guess I’m just trying to figure out what I am besides a blogger. What other avenues for self-expression are there? I keep meaning to travel the world. I have some buried desire to study machines and engineering (in a strictly informal capacity, as it is too late to go back to school). Maybe I should start watching Cosmos. There is a part of my brain that continues to obsess over past wrongs, to turn every instance of dissatisfaction into a reminiscence about that one guy who was mean to me that one time and what I wish I’d said back to him. I’m trying to overcome that, but it’s not as simple as force of will. Why did I turn and walk away rather than slugging Person X? The obvious answer would be, “Well, because you’re nice”, but so what? There are few things I enjoy more than tackling bigots. I guess I just have to pick and choose my battles.

People spend far too much of their time searching for closure. They reflect on how imperfect something was, and want to relive it so they can make it perfect again. This, again, indicates my dissatisfaction with so much of the LGBT community. I’m generally averse to far-ranging statements about how “We in the gay community…” as if our problems are really that different from anyone else’s. Sometimes a birthday is just a birthday. And anyone who says that bisexuality is a more evolved form of monosexuality is full of shit. Gay people and straight people are not less than you just because we care about what set of genitals our romantic and sexual partners have. Bisexuals care too, they just have more diverse tastes.

Maybe the reason I hesitate to say that I like something is that I’m worried that if I become too dependent on it, it will slip away. Some things last forever, but they aren’t exactly tangible. I’m a pretty big fan of animation. I like Studio Ghibli. I liked Pixar for a while, although they haven’t made a great film in years and don’t have a film coming out this summer for the first time in a long time. It’s been said by many before me that animation is a medium, not a genre, so it’s important to remember that not only do animated films not have to be family-friendly, their whole point is to tell stories that don’t work in a live-action context. I’ve had Mary & Max in my Netflix queue for a while now (Philip Seymour Hoffman was not only supremely talented, but prolific and possessing of an almost unlimited range), I started watching several foreign animated or partially animated films a few days ago before being distracted, and I recommend ParaNorman to anyone who likes a kids’ story with some legitimately scary moments. It also has a lovely moment of cultural inclusion at the end that not only defies stereotypes, but is funny as hell to boot.

You might believe something consciously, but it can take a while for it to trickle down through your subconscious. Give it time, or at least try to. I don’t believe that we can ever truly overcome all of our problems, only that we can get good enough at fighting them that they don’t threaten to overwhelm us. What separates good from evil isn’t method or even intent, but short-sightedness. Moriarty will stop at nothing to take down Sherlock. The Master’s greatest fear is the Doctor. But the Doctor realized that there is a whole lot more to the universe than just the one pesky fellow Time Lord who keeps getting in his way, and Sherlock, as much as he hates Moriarty, recognizes that some sacrifices will make any victory a Pyrrhic one. Essentially, you have to be willing to let a little something go. I’m trying to figure out what I have control over and what I don’t. There doesn’t seem to be all that much in the former category. It’s a good thing that I’m not obsessed with it.

Before I go, let me just say that this whole “open carry” thing that gun nuts are doing is the stupidest, most counterproductive load of nonsense that I have seen in a good long time. If you want to make people feel at ease with guns, take them out to the shooting range or something. (Provided that they want to, of course. You really don’t want to be dragging them along at, um, gunpoint.) Chipotle and all those other restaurants were right to ban this idiotic practice, and The Daily Show was right to see a racial element to it. Essentially, a bunch of scared old white men are unable to let go of their penises guns, and they need to learn that even their constitutional rights are not completely limitless. You are not the guardians of democracy. You are not protecting anyone. All you are showing people is that you lack a sense of discretion. There’s an old saying about that and how it relates to valor. Look it up.