there is a land, i'm told,
where transgressions
are meaningless
salutations that
dapple conversation
in pirouetted grace
grandfather, more,
pleez, tell us more
it is a land where muvee
screens hold all the truth
and beauty in the world--
like tripwire for the mentally
retarded
oh, grandfather, it sounds
glorious, tell us more
it is a land abolished
like slavery
and picked through
like scraps for the
scoundrels and savages
of democracy
grandfather, you're scaring us--
you had it once,
children,
what happened?
Sunday, October 11, 2009
episode
"What I need," he said,"is statistics. Mathematical truth. Numbers." He removed a book from the middle row, a random selection. He blew the dust off the front jacket and sat down at a nearby table.
"Ah! Here we are: '1 and 1 is 2,'" he said, adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses. "This is good. I rather like that."
A woman sitting close by looked up from the magazine she was reading, keeping her face half-hidden behind the thin filmy-pages of some soon-to-be dated volume on fashion or fashionable advice on pleasing one's sex partner. She noticed the camera and the ominous red light which meant that the camera was recording, the man's face casually being documented.
"When the camera is on," he said, glancing over at the onlooker, "that means I am recording. And when I am recording, nothing else matters."
The woman quickly looked away, immediately immersing herself in her magazine.
"Now, this is absolutely vital if we are to understand anything. There is truth. There is truth. Again, I say, there is truth in numbers. Figures. Glorious symbols with universal, timeless meaning. Do you understand what I'm saying?" He looked back over at the woman, now completely absorbed in pretending not to have acknowledged the man in the first place.
"Bah!" he snarled. "You truly are a ghost. Woman, you are mad!"
He continued reading, silently, to himself, as the camera kept recording, everything as it's supposed to be.
"Ah! Here we are: '1 and 1 is 2,'" he said, adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses. "This is good. I rather like that."
A woman sitting close by looked up from the magazine she was reading, keeping her face half-hidden behind the thin filmy-pages of some soon-to-be dated volume on fashion or fashionable advice on pleasing one's sex partner. She noticed the camera and the ominous red light which meant that the camera was recording, the man's face casually being documented.
"When the camera is on," he said, glancing over at the onlooker, "that means I am recording. And when I am recording, nothing else matters."
The woman quickly looked away, immediately immersing herself in her magazine.
"Now, this is absolutely vital if we are to understand anything. There is truth. There is truth. Again, I say, there is truth in numbers. Figures. Glorious symbols with universal, timeless meaning. Do you understand what I'm saying?" He looked back over at the woman, now completely absorbed in pretending not to have acknowledged the man in the first place.
"Bah!" he snarled. "You truly are a ghost. Woman, you are mad!"
He continued reading, silently, to himself, as the camera kept recording, everything as it's supposed to be.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
perverse
somewhere, there is a place, that is kept well-lit and immaculate, where they can just know exactly what i'm thinking and i don't have to explain anything--extract the impossible: i don't have to bother with trying to figure it out myself. i simply walk up, knock on the door, and they know. already, they know. and they are able to help. like a clinic for the soul. a clinic for the mind--but, unlike the psychiatric offices i've been to before, they know. they really know. and they are ready to help.
the problem, i think, is that i've become too self-aware. of myself, obviously, but, also, my own thinking. i start to question everything. and when this happens, i lose it. i try to turn it off, but to no avail. i am stuck in my own stinking thoughts, in my own stinking brain--that one part of me--of my body--which seems to have failed completely. in some realm, i'm sure, my brain is unsightly and, certainly, crippling. i am held back by own thinking--the essential self. it's not always obvious. my brain is my one, it seems, irreparable physical flaw.
i know i'm crazy. but does knowing still mean i'm crazy?
these are thoughts i can't restrict. the only consolation is to think in terms of gross generalizations and universals: the human mind and how it relates to me.
it's remarkable, really, how we are able to make sense, so automatically, so naturally (it would seem) of symbols--how easy it is to get caught up in that perpetual game of alphabet manipulation.
words: they mean nothing. they mean everything.
i need someone to reinstall, reconfigure my faulty wiring and update me with a more consumer-friendly program; new software, same features.
if i had it my way, i'd do nothing. all the time. i would do nothing at all. but lay in bed and sleep. if only i could sleep forever--to become intellectually comatose. then, i think, i might be o.k.. no bad thinking is better than any bad thinking. and all i do is bad thinking. all the time.
i would kill myself. honestly, i would. but i'm too afraid. not of dying, really. my religious conviction is too strong. i believe in god. i believe there is a devil. and i know that ending one's life prematurely can only result in eternal damnation. i don't want to spend forever engulfed in flames of hellfire. but, sometimes, it doesn't sound so bad, considering the alternative: a life filled with prescription sanity and perpetual loneliness.
something should change around here.
the problem, i think, is that i've become too self-aware. of myself, obviously, but, also, my own thinking. i start to question everything. and when this happens, i lose it. i try to turn it off, but to no avail. i am stuck in my own stinking thoughts, in my own stinking brain--that one part of me--of my body--which seems to have failed completely. in some realm, i'm sure, my brain is unsightly and, certainly, crippling. i am held back by own thinking--the essential self. it's not always obvious. my brain is my one, it seems, irreparable physical flaw.
i know i'm crazy. but does knowing still mean i'm crazy?
these are thoughts i can't restrict. the only consolation is to think in terms of gross generalizations and universals: the human mind and how it relates to me.
it's remarkable, really, how we are able to make sense, so automatically, so naturally (it would seem) of symbols--how easy it is to get caught up in that perpetual game of alphabet manipulation.
words: they mean nothing. they mean everything.
i need someone to reinstall, reconfigure my faulty wiring and update me with a more consumer-friendly program; new software, same features.
if i had it my way, i'd do nothing. all the time. i would do nothing at all. but lay in bed and sleep. if only i could sleep forever--to become intellectually comatose. then, i think, i might be o.k.. no bad thinking is better than any bad thinking. and all i do is bad thinking. all the time.
i would kill myself. honestly, i would. but i'm too afraid. not of dying, really. my religious conviction is too strong. i believe in god. i believe there is a devil. and i know that ending one's life prematurely can only result in eternal damnation. i don't want to spend forever engulfed in flames of hellfire. but, sometimes, it doesn't sound so bad, considering the alternative: a life filled with prescription sanity and perpetual loneliness.
something should change around here.
Friday, September 25, 2009
that's the way it went today pt. deux
so...
i somewhat randomly decided to watch "oh, god!" today. it sounded good from the description--god, characteristically played by an old, endearing george burns, arbitrarily intervenes in the life of an ordinary man, an impossibly average assistant manager at a grocery store, played by the impossibly average, late, john denver--and it's a movie i'd always seen around (seems pretty ubiquitous), but never found much reason to watch. thanks to encore! on demand, though, and my inexplicable compulsion to see every movie ever made, despite any real inclination or interest, i had an excuse to sit down and witness what, let's face it, could have been an excellent lifetime film.
it's not the technical aspects, or visual elements, of the film that i found so off-putting, really. that's actually one thing i really liked. films from the nineteen-seventies, as a rule, always get a couple of freebie points from me if, for nothing else, for being so amazingly aesthetically-pleasing. something about the grainy celluloid and groovy sensibilities, which always seem to manifest themselves on film. i love it.
however, my big beef with the film was that i was aware, the whole time, that i was being preached at. "the plums can wait," burns says, in one not-so-thinly-veiled attempt at philosophical profundity, "it's not every day you get to talk to god." it's lines like these, even as a christian, which just scream dishonest christian propaganda. and there are plenty of these insights throughout. i actually had to turn the movie off halfway into it because i got a little queasy. i mean, i get it. a guy hears the voice of god and (i guess) it's lamentable that no one, in our supposedly decadent era, would possibly believe him. like, we're a godless society and anyone, according to the film, who dares exhibit their faith publicly risks being labeled insane. i get it. i really do. and i think that's--whatever. it's fine. but the film really draws away from its integrity by relentlessly pounding this somewhat conniving discourse into our heads every time a character opens his or her mouth.
sample dialogue:
john denver: "god spoke to me--that's the biggest story of the century!--and they won't publish it because they think i'm crazy. boy, what's wrong with the world?"
of course, i'm paraphrasing. but, you get the idea.
it just upsets me, immensely, when christians, who are apparently honest and humble (or should be), use cheap gimmickry like this to rope in converts. for one, it's dishonest. they're trying to make this movie relatable to those they see as worldly. so, they have george burns playing god. and, of course, there's some sexy "adult situations," but, overall, it's a pretty clean-cut experience. i can just imagine the type of guy who goes to the theater, rents the movie, expecting a george burns raunchfest with plenty of intellectual musing on religion and the nature of god and, upon putting the movie in, realizing, "shit...it's john denver."
i mean, you can't trick people into being christians. that's not how it works. it's something people have to decide on their own. and people aren't dumb. they know or they can figure out pretty easily when they're being preached at and it doesn't matter who you cast in your movie, or how it's marketed, people are going to figure out, sooner or later, that they're being baited--and in the worst way possible, by the very people from whom you'd least expect this kind of behavior. i mean, this is, sadly, not unlike some of the tactics used by cigarette companies to get kids hooked on tobacco. right? just like camel and everybody's favorite camel, camel joe, "oh, god!" is not all that it seems to be--it's strategic (and kinda sleazy) marketing. it's george burns saying, "hey, i buy the god thing. so you should, too. you know, god can be pretty hip, too. huh?"
i don't know.
maybe the film's heart is in the right place, but the execution, the way the film presents itself, just reeks of manipulative insincerity.
i somewhat randomly decided to watch "oh, god!" today. it sounded good from the description--god, characteristically played by an old, endearing george burns, arbitrarily intervenes in the life of an ordinary man, an impossibly average assistant manager at a grocery store, played by the impossibly average, late, john denver--and it's a movie i'd always seen around (seems pretty ubiquitous), but never found much reason to watch. thanks to encore! on demand, though, and my inexplicable compulsion to see every movie ever made, despite any real inclination or interest, i had an excuse to sit down and witness what, let's face it, could have been an excellent lifetime film.
it's not the technical aspects, or visual elements, of the film that i found so off-putting, really. that's actually one thing i really liked. films from the nineteen-seventies, as a rule, always get a couple of freebie points from me if, for nothing else, for being so amazingly aesthetically-pleasing. something about the grainy celluloid and groovy sensibilities, which always seem to manifest themselves on film. i love it.
however, my big beef with the film was that i was aware, the whole time, that i was being preached at. "the plums can wait," burns says, in one not-so-thinly-veiled attempt at philosophical profundity, "it's not every day you get to talk to god." it's lines like these, even as a christian, which just scream dishonest christian propaganda. and there are plenty of these insights throughout. i actually had to turn the movie off halfway into it because i got a little queasy. i mean, i get it. a guy hears the voice of god and (i guess) it's lamentable that no one, in our supposedly decadent era, would possibly believe him. like, we're a godless society and anyone, according to the film, who dares exhibit their faith publicly risks being labeled insane. i get it. i really do. and i think that's--whatever. it's fine. but the film really draws away from its integrity by relentlessly pounding this somewhat conniving discourse into our heads every time a character opens his or her mouth.
sample dialogue:
john denver: "god spoke to me--that's the biggest story of the century!--and they won't publish it because they think i'm crazy. boy, what's wrong with the world?"
of course, i'm paraphrasing. but, you get the idea.
it just upsets me, immensely, when christians, who are apparently honest and humble (or should be), use cheap gimmickry like this to rope in converts. for one, it's dishonest. they're trying to make this movie relatable to those they see as worldly. so, they have george burns playing god. and, of course, there's some sexy "adult situations," but, overall, it's a pretty clean-cut experience. i can just imagine the type of guy who goes to the theater, rents the movie, expecting a george burns raunchfest with plenty of intellectual musing on religion and the nature of god and, upon putting the movie in, realizing, "shit...it's john denver."
i mean, you can't trick people into being christians. that's not how it works. it's something people have to decide on their own. and people aren't dumb. they know or they can figure out pretty easily when they're being preached at and it doesn't matter who you cast in your movie, or how it's marketed, people are going to figure out, sooner or later, that they're being baited--and in the worst way possible, by the very people from whom you'd least expect this kind of behavior. i mean, this is, sadly, not unlike some of the tactics used by cigarette companies to get kids hooked on tobacco. right? just like camel and everybody's favorite camel, camel joe, "oh, god!" is not all that it seems to be--it's strategic (and kinda sleazy) marketing. it's george burns saying, "hey, i buy the god thing. so you should, too. you know, god can be pretty hip, too. huh?"
i don't know.
maybe the film's heart is in the right place, but the execution, the way the film presents itself, just reeks of manipulative insincerity.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
can you believe how lucky we are?
man is restricted by his own selfishness. one of my goals is to overcome this restriction--to become entirely selfless--to want to help people without, consciously, wanting to help people. it's a selfish pursuit, though, in and of itself, and i'm completely aware of this; how can you not want something, when not wanting to want anything is just another form of wanting?
if i can find a way to overcome this barrier, i think i might be o.k.. but, probably not.
my motivation has to be completely altruistic. i can't want to do it because i think it will benefit me in some, either, direct or indirect way.
sadly, i don't think this is possible.
oh well.
whatever.
if i can find a way to overcome this barrier, i think i might be o.k.. but, probably not.
my motivation has to be completely altruistic. i can't want to do it because i think it will benefit me in some, either, direct or indirect way.
sadly, i don't think this is possible.
oh well.
whatever.
Monday, September 21, 2009
bowling for smegma
i was driving home after school today and had to take a bit of a detour through carefree to get to my house. while passing through said neighborhood, a thought occured to me. actually, it's something i've thought about quite a bit. but one look at the ridiculous street signs and i was once again reminded of why i either love or hate the fairly remote suburb where i grew up. all the street names in carefree sound like or, are a reflection of, the times in which they were given.
examples:
dreamy street
never mind
leisure lane
serenity
it's like they paid some half-baked bozo to take a bunch of acid and wander through this new residential area and lazily designate streets as this or that according to some completely moronic and arbitrary whim. never mind that they're complete nonsense. just as long as it "sounds cool."
it's so silly. i like it though. it definitely dates itself--these names. they sound so ridiculous now. like, maybe, back in the seventies, when people were still emulating that bearded convict from the illustrated kama sutra and bowling was a legitimate and new and exciting "sport," they seemed like awesome names. but, now--i don't know.
it's kind of funny.
examples:
dreamy street
never mind
leisure lane
serenity
it's like they paid some half-baked bozo to take a bunch of acid and wander through this new residential area and lazily designate streets as this or that according to some completely moronic and arbitrary whim. never mind that they're complete nonsense. just as long as it "sounds cool."
it's so silly. i like it though. it definitely dates itself--these names. they sound so ridiculous now. like, maybe, back in the seventies, when people were still emulating that bearded convict from the illustrated kama sutra and bowling was a legitimate and new and exciting "sport," they seemed like awesome names. but, now--i don't know.
it's kind of funny.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
staircase upon tangled staircase
what should have happened:
teacher: white people are brought up to hate black people. it's ingrained in their heads from birth.
(unanimous approval--jeers of "that's right" and "uh-huh" across the room)
me: wow. is it just me. or was that kind of racist?
teacher: what do you mean?
me: you're saying that all white people are raised to hate black people, right?
teacher: no, but--a majority--.
me: yeah, well, that's a stereotype.
teacher: no, it's not.
me: then it's a generalization?
teacher: yeah. wait--.
me: and what's the difference, in your opinion?
teacher: well, a stereotype is like a generalization, but it's a negative generalization about a large group--.
me: ok. so, saying that all white people hate black people is a good thing?
teacher: no, it's not. not at all. it's a bad thing--.
me: ok. here's the deal. not all white people hate black people. maybe some do. but not all. to lump the haters in with everyone else--you're making a stereotype--a negative generalization about a large group of people. a race of people.
teacher: well, a good majority--.
me: how do you know that?
teacher: look around you--racism is still an issue in this country.
me: we just elected a black man as president. we, as a country, a predominately white country, elected a black man as our leader. true, racism may still be an issue. but, white people make up the majority in this country--so, how can a race of people, who you claim are raised to hate black people, elect a black man into office? how is that possible? you're perpetuating stereotypes and, even worse, perpetuating racism by trying to combat it with even more racism. it's not a logical argument.
teacher: well, i still stand by what i said: most white people hate blacks.
me: really, though? really? most white people? do you have evidence, statistics? where is this coming from? anecdotal authority?
teacher: it's obvious--just look at the programs we watch on television, look at the--
me: you're an idiot.
teacher: because i'm black and proud of it?
me: no. because you're a person--an individual--with some messed up ideas. you say idiot things and you believe in idiot things. you show all the signs of being an idiot. therefore, you're an idiot.
teacher: get out of my classroom.
me: and you're a racist.
teacher: get out.
me: know what i mean, jelly bean?
teacher: now!
how it really went:
teacher: white people are brought up to hate black people.
me:(internal outrage)
class: yeah!
teacher: white people are brought up to hate black people. it's ingrained in their heads from birth.
(unanimous approval--jeers of "that's right" and "uh-huh" across the room)
me: wow. is it just me. or was that kind of racist?
teacher: what do you mean?
me: you're saying that all white people are raised to hate black people, right?
teacher: no, but--a majority--.
me: yeah, well, that's a stereotype.
teacher: no, it's not.
me: then it's a generalization?
teacher: yeah. wait--.
me: and what's the difference, in your opinion?
teacher: well, a stereotype is like a generalization, but it's a negative generalization about a large group--.
me: ok. so, saying that all white people hate black people is a good thing?
teacher: no, it's not. not at all. it's a bad thing--.
me: ok. here's the deal. not all white people hate black people. maybe some do. but not all. to lump the haters in with everyone else--you're making a stereotype--a negative generalization about a large group of people. a race of people.
teacher: well, a good majority--.
me: how do you know that?
teacher: look around you--racism is still an issue in this country.
me: we just elected a black man as president. we, as a country, a predominately white country, elected a black man as our leader. true, racism may still be an issue. but, white people make up the majority in this country--so, how can a race of people, who you claim are raised to hate black people, elect a black man into office? how is that possible? you're perpetuating stereotypes and, even worse, perpetuating racism by trying to combat it with even more racism. it's not a logical argument.
teacher: well, i still stand by what i said: most white people hate blacks.
me: really, though? really? most white people? do you have evidence, statistics? where is this coming from? anecdotal authority?
teacher: it's obvious--just look at the programs we watch on television, look at the--
me: you're an idiot.
teacher: because i'm black and proud of it?
me: no. because you're a person--an individual--with some messed up ideas. you say idiot things and you believe in idiot things. you show all the signs of being an idiot. therefore, you're an idiot.
teacher: get out of my classroom.
me: and you're a racist.
teacher: get out.
me: know what i mean, jelly bean?
teacher: now!
how it really went:
teacher: white people are brought up to hate black people.
me:(internal outrage)
class: yeah!
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