stonecriesout

Karl Malden, a true Supporting Actor

On July 1st, another inspiring artist died.  Karl Malden was 97 years old!  I first saw Karl as Father Barry in On the Waterfront, and just had to see more.  As I saw A Streetcar Named Desire (for which he won the Best Supporting Actor Oscar), One-Eyed Jacks, Patton, How The West Was Won, of course I marvelled at how Marlon Brando was single-handedly re-inventing film acting, but Karl kept pace with his own captivating performances.  As I was introduced to Karl as Marlon's supporting actor, I think I'll have a hard time not thinking of Marlon when I think of Karl.  I think what impresses me most about Karl though is that I can hardly think of Marlon without Karl.  Like Karl was Pippen to Marlon's Jordan.  They belong in the same sentence.  Weak analogy, I know--but Karl deserves every accolade he's received (including, most impressive in my mind, the Screen Actor's Guild Life Achievement Award).  Also, he and I have the same birthday (March 22).  His was 73 years before mine, but I still think it's cool.

So I still can't figure out how to embed youtube videos on this site, so I'll just post up this link to one of my favorite Malden scenes, this one near the climax of On the Waterfront.  Enjoy.  Thanks for the inspiration, Karl!

Michael Jackson's Life & Death

 

 

    ". . . in our time, when a man dies--if he has had wealth and influence and power and all the vestments that arouse envy, and after the living take stock of the dead man's property and his eminence and works and monuments--the question is still there: Was his life good or was it evil? . . . Envies are gone, and the measuring stick is: "Was he loved or was he hated?  Is his death felt as a loss or does a kind of joy come from it?"

    . . . In uncertainty I am certain that underneath their topmost layers of frailty men want to be good and want to be loved.  Indeed, most of their vices are attempted short cuts to love.  When a man comes to die, no matter what his talents and influence and genius, if he dies unloved his life must be a failure to him and his dying a cold horror.  It seems to me that if you or I must choose between two courses of thought or action, we should remember our dying and try so to live that our death brings no pleasure to the world."

 

- John Steinbeck

 

I have to believe that by now, any and all of you reading this knows that Michael Jackson is dead.  I'm writing this to share how I'm responding to the news of the end of his life.  I'm not paying tribute, not making a case for how I think anyone else should feel about Michael, and definitely not trying to simplify or understate his story and his character.  Just sharing how I feel.

 

When I was a kid, there were two living Superstars in their prime: Madonna and Michael Jackson.  This is back when the word Superstar had meaning, and Michael was the biggest Superstar the world had ever seen.  The influence and popularity of Madonna and Michael was unprecedented, and I'm confident will never be repeated.  I remember that everything they released was pure magic, and I was wasn't even alive when "Thriller" was released.  So one could argue that Michael was even past his popularity apex when he came in to my awareness.  I remember watching in awe those first minutes of his 1993 Super Bowl Halftime performance, while he just stands still, with the crowd going absolutely bananas.  I remember imitating his dance moves, his unique hiccuped-inflections, his funny speaking voice.  I remember my mom crying to "Will You Be There" after watching "Free Willy."  I remember that the video for "Scream" was like nothing I'd ever seen before--the music video equivalent of when I saw "The Matrix" for the first time.  I remember that for several months, I just couldn't get "You Are Not Alone" out of my head.  I remember finding his work released in the '80s, his Jackson 5 collection, and just loving all of it.  He was relentlessly popular when I was a kid, spitefully popular when I was teenager, ironically popular when I was getting in to college, and even today he is somehow the most enduringly popular of any Superstar I've seen.  His influence bleeds through nearly every artist who has come since.  The work he did and the details of his life we saw as I grew up are a fixture in what it meant for me to grow up in my generation.

 

Growing up, Michael Jackson and his life have also been well-worn punchlines for some of my favorite comedians.  Norm MacDonald's famous "Jacko on his Backo" routine on Weekend Update, and all the not-so-tongue-in-cheek nods to pedophilia from Conan O'Brien and Dave Letterman.  Even black apologists Chris Rock and Dave Chappelle took their cracks at the pedophilia specualtions.  I remember laughing at the jokes when I was younger.  I ignored most of the tabloid-ish news about Michael, I didn't pay much mind to the pedophilia jokes (really?  Pedophilia jokes?), and mostly I just wished everyone would leave him alone and let him make some more music.  Regardless of what I saw in mass media, I always felt that there was residual genius in Michael, and he would always be a captivating and inspiring entertainer.  It always felt a little dirty to laugh at Michael's expense, though we all did.

 

Now that he has died, I hope that the folks who knew Michael personally can sincerely believe it within them that his life brought Good, not evil, in to the world, and that his death brings the world no pleasure.  I won't pretend to know anything about the inner-workings of his mind, his life, or his behavior, but I do know that as any and every other man does, Michael has the right to be honored in his death for the good he brought during his life.

Yesterday I heard Rev. Al Sharpton (a friend of Michael's since the '70s) tell a story about Michael.  When Michael's idol James Brown died, Michael returned to the States for the funeral.  He was devastated and reluctant to speak at James' service, but ultimately he was persuaded and shared that he only hoped that James would receive his due in death that he did not receive during his life.  Rev. Sharpton echoed that sentiment on Michael's behalf, acknowledging that many of those praising Michael now were far less than gracious or kind to him while he was alive.

 

As Steinbeck illustrates in the words I began with, we are all subject to the tension of living a life that will either be remembered as Good or Evil.  I don't know how You feel about Michael, and frankly--how you feel about him has no effect on how I feel about him.  I don't know how much Good or Evil he brought to the people who knew him personally, and I won't discount the impact he has made on the familes who have accused him of abusing their sons, whatever that impact may be.  One thing I do know is that while this man lived 39 of his 50 years in the public eye, and the general public will now be casually contemplating whether his life brought more Good or more Evil to the world, I contend that we ought to have no voice.  Only his family, his friends, his associates, his personal acquaintances, his children--these are the only ones who may decide--and they are entitled to the privacy of their judgment.  If you must opine, I do suggest watching any public address Michael makes to his fans and tell me if you see any insincerity, any malice, any unkindness, any self-idolatry.  Tell me if you find one where he doesn't tell everyone in the room how much he loves them.  Tell me if you think he's lying.

 

When I consider all my memories, and all the ways to respond to Michael's death, I feel only loss.  The entertainment-cultural world has lost (in my personal opinion) the 2nd-greatest entertainer I've seen (behind only the above-mentioned James Brown).  The pop-music artistic world has lost its greatest triumph.  The world of charity has lost its greatest giver.  And most importantly, the Jackson family has lost a brother, a son, and a father.

 

All that said, I just hope that those who knew Michael believe in his goodness, and will carry out any of his lasting goodness as purposefully as he'd hoped to.

 

 

My 24th Year (+ 1 month): the Reading

I felt like I didn't do a whole lot of reading last year, but I think what may have happened was that I read less books that had more substance.  All of the books I completed last year really asked me to let the ideas do some work inside me as I proceeded through the pages.  Allow me to tell you about a few I really enjoyed and a brief explanation of why I really liked them.

(In no particular order)

The Omnivore's Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals - Michael Pollan

I can't remember exactly how I heard about this book, but I am so thankful I did.  I read through it in the late Summer, and by Fall I had changed many things about my eating, shopping, and dining-out habits.  I didn't feel guilted in to changing, never felt like I was ever told that I had been "eating wrong," or anything like that.  Pollan is a Journalism Professor at Berkeley, so his approach to the subject of what-we-eat and how-we-eat is very investigative and contextual--not a ton of propaganda or ethical high-horsing.  The things I loved about the book were: learning what the ridiculous words in the ingredients of common supermarket foods represented, finally reading about what the differences are between the various meats in the supermarket, a de-bunking of "common sense" understandings of what the words "organic," "natural," and "sustainable" mean, and a full account of a responsible and "sustainable" farming and eating community in practice.  After finishing this book, my eating changed, my respect for eating changed, my buying habits changed, my dining-out habits changed, but most importantly: my attitude toward food changed.  I was led by Pollan's work to respecting food, respecting the meal, and away from a need to feel like I was "eating right" (or, pretty much using the word "right" at all in my thinking).  I've started his follow up In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto, and so far (about 90 pages in), I am enjoying it with the same enthusiasm as I did Omnivore's Dilemma.

The Fidelity of Betrayal: Towards a Church Beyond Belief - Peter Rollins

This one I definitely may not have come across if not for Seth Thomas.  He had also introduced me to Rollins' first book, How (Not) To Speak of God.  I was curious about Fidelity of Betrayal, because I felt that Rollins' was one of the few authors associated with the "Emerging/Emergent" community that I had read that had really put in the scholarly hours and was writing from a place free from sentimentality or vanity.  Rollins became somewhat of a controversy hot-spot for beginning Fidelity with a sympathetic and almost apologetic view of Judas Iscariot, but I appreciated that take very much.  I constantly am needing to be reminded that humanity doesn't reduce to "good guys" and "bad guys" (thanks, Hollywood), and Rollins seeks out the humanity in Judas' betrayal.  He then (as many with a Ph.D. in Postmodern Theory would) spends the rest of book considering if those with views in or on Christianity have been so busy taking on living rightly and obediently, that we haven't allowed ourselves to really understand what those things might mean.  He really pushes us toward leaving our beliefs and our icons behind us and move on--not to abandon them, but to become more than they would have us remain.  I felt compelled to really dive in to this book, because I had already felt like I was "leaving Christian things behind."  I had moved away from church, the Bible, whatever some people would call "Christian living," and my attitude about how to even use words like "Christian."  I found myself in an odd spot--stripping away what I had learned was a Christ-like life, and yet never feeling like I ever lost hope that Christ may have had something good going on.  So when I read the book, I was comforted by the idea that Christianity could be "irreligious," that I didn't need to call myself or anyone else a "Christian," and that the whole idea of those classifications might be kind of silly and childish anyhow.  Rollins delivered a book that really met me with great timing, and though I'd like to to think I have moved beyond his ideas along with the ones I had before I read them, chances are I am still pretty entrenched in all the ideas I now consider silly.  I'll also mention that I love that he is published by a company named Paraclete Press.  Don't know the word Paraclete?  Look it up, it's awesome.  Christ used this word as a name for what many now call the Holy Spirit.

The God Delusion - Richard Dawkins

I read this book because of Rikk Watts.  As many of you know, I regularly follow Rikk's lectures at The Rock Garden through their Podcasts of his teaching.  I enjoy Rikk because he is a staunch and unapologetic academic, but never loses his sense of fallibility and silliness.  He takes the sentimentality and assumption out of Christian thinking, and approaches questions of Christianity by contextualizing (he often repeats, "history is the fundamental paradigm for understanding") and seeking out the humanity of the ethical and strictly theological issues at hand.  Rikk is an emboldened teacher, but I have never heard him as fire-laden as when he would address the current popularization of Dawkins and others associated with the New Atheist Movement.  For over a year I had listened to Watts' diatribes on the alleged irresponsibility and negligence of Dawkins' most popular work.  I decided I needed to read this thing for myself to make up my own mind about it, so I picked up the UK-release (probably closer to the actual print Dawkins himself penned) and didn't put it down until I was finished.

The God Delusion was controversial for excellent reason.  Dawkins has put together quite the convincing argument.  Acerbic and needlessly confrontational?  Absolutely.  Is Dawkins smug and an un-apologetic narcissist?  Hey, from what I can tell: probably.  But I went through his work doing my best to practice Epoché, and let any defensiveness that I anticipated just suspend until I could let the new perspective in.  As I allowed the things I had always let myself believe in be de-bunked and de-throned, I wondered if I would lose faith in a God, in a Christ, in a Prophet, in anything the Big Three had to offer.  What if I decided to worship Science instead?  Hmm....

As I finished the book and continued the process of wondering what to believe, I arrived at a place that Rollins suggested I might: beyond belief, irreligiously clinging to faith in God.  As I learned that I had the capacity to (as Dawkins and friends do) intellectualize religion out of my beliefs, or (as Watts and friends do) intellectualize myself in to deeper belief, I found out that I was quite comfortable not needing to know what I believed.  The place I found discomfort was when I anticipated the unknown: death.  I suppose the fear of Death is a root cause for "the opium of the people," (Marx), but Pascal's Wager would haunt me when I leaned toward faithless living.  Ultimately, I think the fear of the Unknown and the fear of Death will always leave me with a hope that God does exist, that this God is more decent than Man, and that Christ is somehow at the center of God's extended decency toward Man.  Belief has almost nothing to do with it at this point--Hope has everything to do with it--but I may never have come to that understanding had I not read The God Delusion.

**I should note that while I was reading this book, I had several friends ask me "Why would you ever want to read that?"  And not just because they were "worried" I'd be convinced in to faithlessness, but because it is inevitably going to be a confusing process for a Christian to hear that everything they believe is wrong.  I appreciate that, but like I said before--I just had to read it to make up my own mind.  You might not need to read it make up your own mind, who knows?

Looks like I didn't read much fiction last year!  At least none that made it in to the Three I felt compelled to tell you about.  Here are my other recommendations from the last 13 months:

Hot, Flat, and Crowded - Thomas Friedman

Intellectually stimulating, and a unique approach to the problem of inevitable climate change.  However, only interesting to a point.  I didn't change much for reading it.

What I Know For Sure - Tavis Smiley

So powerful a story of accepting the combination of Giftedness and Responsibility, and sprinting full-speed-ahead despite trauma and pain.  Smiley is a truly awe-inspiring man.

Hope On A Tightrope - Cornel West

Not much new here, but timely in the election of Obama, and came with an audio CD of West discussing his primary book topics with Tavis Smiley.

Debating Race - Michael Eric Dyson

Excellent transcriptions of excellent debates.  You wouldn't believe what goes down in this book and what you will learn.  Even Ann Coulter concedes respect for Dyson in a book cover blurb.  Ann Coulter!  Are you kidding me?

I am excited by the first two books of my 25th year: In Defense of Food, and Invisible Man (Ralph Ellison).  Invisible Man was a recommendation from my good friend Andy Orr, and I must tell you that I haven't been this excited about a piece of fiction as I've been reading it since I read The Brothers K several Summers ago.  Ellison is.... incredible.

Any recommendations to fill the remaining 11 months of my 25th year?  On my bookshelf and in queue are When Work Disappears (William Julius Wilson), Cannery Row (John Steinbeck), and The Rest is Noise (Alex Ross).

As always.... stay tuned for more!

My 24th Year: the Hip-Hop

As many readers may know, I "turned" 24 years old last Sunday.  I'm not much in to my birthday, but I do pay attention to birthdays and other annuals as points of reference in seeing growth and change.  I thought I'd write a few posts sharing some of my favorites from my 24th year (because, as we all know, we "turn" the age we are at the end of living that year).  This one will be about some of my favorite music released this year.

We all know that I am an apologist for Hip-Hop music, and while 2008-2009 was a "slow" year for some of my usual suspects, we did see some exciting new artists and some breakthrough albums from familiar names.  We also saw some drastic changes in style from some popular names.

My favorite new artists have to be: the Knux (Remind Me In 3 Days - 10/08), K'Naan (Troubadour - 01/09), and N.A.S.A. (The Spirit of Apollo - 02/09).

I know I'm not the first to make this comparison, but the Knux could be to New Orleans what OutKast has been to Atlanta.  The Katrina-displaced brothers remind me of why I love the Big Easy--so much eclecticism, all naturally wound-up in angst and a spirited cynicism that doesn't give in to jadedness.  Their entrenched knowledge of american music combined with their poly-rhythmic MPC freak-outs make for some outrageously fun tracks that both brothers match with their versatile rhyme patterns and buoyant (if sometimes dark) themes.  Check it out if you want to be totally confused yet totally entertained all at once.

K'naan's story begins with his upbringing in Mogadishu, Somalia during their civil war--but it definitely doesn't end there.  He spent his teens in Toronto, and emerged as a spoken-word poet.  To be fair, he did release The Dusty Foot Philosopher (06/05) to wide critical acceptance, but outside of the smaller circles he was running in, nobody as far away as the West Coast was hearing it.  K'naan sings, raps, and altogether defies un-hyphenated genre distinction.  You can call Troubadour alt-reggae, reggae-hop, whatever you want.  He exudes Marley's soul, Wyclef's fire, Akon's appeal, and k-os' funk.  That's not to say he should be compared to any of those artists, but he is that interesting.

N.A.S.A. stands for North Amerca/South America, and is a collaborative project by DJs Squeak E. Clean and DJ Zegon.  They both operate out of LA, but as Zegon is Brazilian, they decided to mash-up their two native sounds and make an album.  The sound has been called "Brazilian funk," but don't pay attention to that.  It's Hip-Hop, with some new rhythms we Americans aren't necessarily used to, and a lot of horns and crazy singers.  Best of all, the MCs and singers they collaborate with: Chali 2na, Gift of Gab, Chuck D, Method Man, E-40, RZA, KRS-One, Fatlip, the O.D.B., Kanye West, M.I.A., Del tha Funkee Homosapien, The Cool Kids, Ghostface Killah, Scarface, Santogold, George Clinton, Seu Jorge, and my personal favorite: Tom Waits.  Also appearing are some legendary DJsL DJ Qbert, Kool Keith, Z-Trip.  SO much fun.

Some of the usual suspects came around and dropped new albums in my 24th year, and they were: The Roots (Rising Down - 04/08), Common (Universal Mind Control - 12/08), and Kanye West (808s and Heartbreak - 12/08).

The Roots dropped Rising Down less than two years after their CLASSIC album Game Theory (08/06), and I have to admit that my expectations were high.  I saw that Mos Def, Common, Talib Kweli, Dice Raw, Truck North, and Malik B. were featured on the album, and that bolstered the hopes even more.  I should have known that they wouldn't match the dark funky miracle that was Game Theory.  Nevertheless, Rising Down features Black Thought at his very best, especially when listening to "@ 15" (which is a recording of Thought freestyling at age 15--"I have black thoughts/so my name's the same") and "75 Bars (Black's Reconstruction)" back-to-back.  BT's command of the language is in full display, as it was in past hook-less tracks like "Thought at Work" (Phrenology) and "Web" (The Tipping Point).  Ultimately, the 10th album from the Legendary Crew is solid and while working through more politics, nihilism, addiction, and hypocrisy, it never depresses.

Common disappointed me with Universal Mind Control.  Okay, let's back up.  He disappointed me back when he dropped Finding Forever (07/07).  But since he has a tendency to go up-and-down with each album, I expected that he would pick it up--which isn't crazy, right?  Well, I was disappointed.  Too many songs about sex, too little discussion of what's actually happening in the world, too much Neptunes, too little of what is left from the Common Sense days.  The single "Universal Mind Control" is a loose remix of "Looking for the Perfect Beat" (Afrika Bambaataa), and is ridiculously infectious.  Unfortunately the album never builds around it.

Kanye West.  Remember when I wrote this about Yeezy?  Me too.  But hey--let's all try to suspend our judgment of his past and examine 808s and Heartbreak by itself.  Is he still in love with his reflection?  Yeah, sure, probably.  The comparisons with Narcissus could go on all day.  But let me get one thing straight: This Album Fascinates Me.  For so many reasons.  Let's look at the artist first: Genius.  Sonically, did with The College Dropout and Late Registration what so many have been trying to do before and since.  Everyone you hear now has a little Kanye in them (or at least tries to).  Nevermind the million collabos he did on albums for Jay-Z, Dilated Peoples, Slum Village, Lupe Fiasco, etc., you get the idea.  So what does it mean when after Kanye drops a pitiful pseudo-pop-electronica album I won't even name in this post, he drops an album that gets buzz for what he doesn't do on it: rap, or use samples in his production?  It means....he sings with an auto-tuner, and produces purely out of reorganized sounds?  Umm...what?  Granted, the 808 has long been a staple of hip-hop, and the auto-tuner is as much a part of hip-hop's current mainstream sound as the digital clap (thanks a bunch, Akon and T-Pain), but this sure seems to be a boring stretch for the self-proclaimed "Best International Male" to Barack Obama's "Best Interracial Male."  Let me just tell you: give the album a chance.  This is the way hip-hop is going.  Clearing samples is getting to be such an impossible business--totally de-regulated, full of shady lawyers, greedy obscure producers from the '70s.  Artists now are draining their entire production budgets on clearances, and have no funds left for studio time or for bringing in artists to collaborate with.  So the only way to stay in the black is to forgo samples.  The only problem is that most people left to their own devices with their 808 or MPC make boring, plastic-y sounding music.  The challenge is to create a digital sound that translates well in to the live show.  Kanye succeeds.  "Love Lockdown" and "Heartless" (the two lead singles) seem simplistic, but wait until you see them in full orchestration, played by the instruments that the sounds he used were derived from.  You'll be dancing.

As far as the auto-tuner goes, it does add to the over-digitalized sound that pervades popular music now, and I can't defend it.  It's there to auto-tune because the singer can't tune himself.  It fits with the sound he's got on the tracks, but that's about the best thing I can say about it.

What I will defend is Kanye's lyrical expression.  After losing his best friend and Mother in 11/07, and then splitting up with his long-time girlfriend and fiance of 18 months 7 months later, it sure sounds like he just locked himself in the studio and made this album.  It's true, I believe, that suffering breeds creativity, and Kanye had to suffer here while making this album.  Having split up with a long-time girlfriend myself just before this album released, I connected with Kanye's confusion, his pain, his self-doubt, but ultimately his belief that he could go on.  That's going to come off pretty cheesy, but if you've broken up before, you know what I'm talking about.

I am giving 808s and Heartbreak some time to determine how relevant I think it is to hip-hop overall.  Hip-hop doesn't really seem to know what to do right now, and I see 808s as Kanye stating his case for where it could go.  Nobody will argue what his influence has been--now we will just have to wait to see what his influence still can be.

Along with those albums, I really enjoyed the return of the Abstract: Q-Tip (The Renaissance - 11/08), the long-awaited full-length from what's left and still rapping from ATCQ.  Deft and non-stop rhymes layer the updated drum-and-bass style that once was ATCQ trademark on "Won't Trade" and "Manwomanboogie."  Overall, a fun album, and a welcome release from an ageless personal favorite of mine.

I should also mention T.I. (Paper Trail - 09/08), which is a surprisingly revealing and apologetic album from a gifted M.C. on his way to the Penitentiary.  Check out "Ready for Whatever," "No Matter What," and "Dead and Gone" to hear his side of his latest charges, and prepare to be convinced that he is truly on his own road to redemption.

Also to be heard: Grandmaster Flash (The Bridge - 03/09)!!!!  Yes, you read that right.  Flash is back!  Far from being the most innovative of this decade, Flash nevertheless displays his trademark precision and creativity with the resources he is given.  Every song bleeds NYC adrenaline, carried through the late '70s, '80s, '90s, and all the way to 2009 through Flash's fingertips on the turntables he still spins.  He brings in legends: KRS-One, Q-Tip, Big Daddy Kane, Grandmaster Caz, Busta Rhymes.  He brings in underground superstars: MC Supernatural, DJ Kool, Mr. Cheeks.  He brings in relative unknowns....he does it all.  Overall a VERY fun album from the one and only GMF--you won't be disappointed.

That was the best hip-hop of my 24th year.  I'm sorry for not mentioning the new Nas album, but ya know....I'm not a big Nas fan.  Heard the album, it was interesting, now I forgot about it.  That's my review.

I'm looking forward most to a new Mos Def album in my 25th year, and maybe some new projects out of the Quannum Crew.  Haven't heard from Blackalicious in a while!  Would love to hear something out of the Coup, Jurassic 5, even dead prez.  I'm curious what they have to say about our black president.

Check back for more of my favorites from my 24th year!

25 Things

Apparently, this is a popular thing for the self-indulgent blogging types.  I'll oblige.

On Facebook, where one may "tag" potential readers in their "Notes," the idea is that everybody who is tagged would respond with a "25 Things" note of their own.  Forget about that here.  Just thought I'd re-enter the blogosphere with something simple, and work my way back in to regular writing from there.  I hope I don't bore you with my vanity.

I'll start with the lighter-hearted, and work my way slowly out of guardedness.

1.) The first song I knew all the lyrics to: "Whoomp! There it is" by Tag Team

2.) Summer of 1995: while on a family road trip through Yellowstone, a donkey chased our minivan, and chomped at the tires.  We had to speed off, because their teeth are strong enough to puncture the tires.  It was hilarious and terrifying.  I was 10.

3.) I wore "tighty-whiteys" until the Summer after 9th Grade.

4.) Throughout high school, I would scold fast food restaurant employees if I felt my order was made incorrectly.  In retrospect, I probably ended up eating quite a few loogies & boogers because of this habit.

5.) If I could play baseball every day, I would.

6.) I fell asleep on my floor while writing this list.

7.) While an 8th-grader at the Puyallup Fair, I came 4 pegs away from beating the Washington State Cribbage Champion.

8.) During the Summer of 2001, I watched at least one movie per day.  Not a different one every day, but one of the few I owned: Office Space, Zoolander, Rush Hour 2, and Dude, Where's My Car.  Every day.

9.) I've been playing guitar since 1998, but I've never had enough confidence to play around anyone but my close friends.  While in high school, the only songs I bothered to learn were YL songs and Dave Matthews Band songs.  I learned "Stairway to Heaven," and that is one of only a few songs I still remember.

10.) If I could learn to play any instrument, it's a toss-up between the piano and the banjo.  I've tried the piano, and I just couldn't get my hands to work independently from each other.  That leads me to think the banjo won't work, either.

11.) If I could become fluent in any language, it would be American Sign Language.  But who has the time?

12.) I shower once, maybe twice per week.  Every 4-5 days, I'd say.  I don't mind if you don't.

13.) I constantly am telling stories to people who were present in the story when the events occurred.

14.) I constantly go off on tangents in conversations, and forget what we were talking about, or the point I was going to make.

15.) I'm a snob when it comes to matters of taste.  I try not to be, but I am.  This from the guy who used to smoke Camel Lights.

16.) It took me Five years to graduate high school.  I graduated in 2003 with a 2.4 GPA and a 1380 SAT score.  Regrets, regrets.

17.) I don't sit with my back to doors, or crowds.  I don't feel comfortable if there is noise behind me, and I can't see the source.

18.) The reason (I think) that I work so hard to be intelligent is because I somehow got it in my head that intelligence was what was going to bring love to my life.  So far, that hasn't been true.

19.) Nothing makes me as furious as racism.  It's like a switch I can't turn off.  I've always been that way.  I hate it when I snap.  It's ugly.

20.) I've had Three significant girlfriends.  For each of them, I was their first boyfriend.

21.) When I quit the Orchestra in 6th Grade, I secretly rejoined, because I thought I had hurt my teacher's feelings.  I didn't tell my parents.

22.) After my sister's suicide attempt, I would jump over the spot in the hallway where I saw her overdosed & convulsing body on the floor.  I was 8 years old at the time, and probably 14 or 15 when I stopped the jumping.  I still remember that night like it was yesterday.

23.) My mom died on February 19th, 1996, after 2 1/2 years of treatment for ovarian cancer.  We weren't close.  I played baseball in my cul-de-sac that afternoon while my family grieved.

24.) My dad was remarried in November 2003.  I haven't spoken with him or his wife on friendly or casual terms since Fall 2007.  I don't plan to re-establish contact.

25.) There are Five incredible boys who I am lucky & proud to call Nephews.  My sister & brother-in law have 3 boys: Avery Colin (age 9), Siris Neil (age 20 mo.), and Rex Racer (age 5 mo.).  My oldest cousin & his wife have 2 boys: Jackson Theodore (age 2), and Preston James (age 6 mo.).  These boys are living works of redemption in the lives of my generation of our family.  They all have wonderful parents, and it is the greatest honor of my life to be an uncle to those boys.

There you have it.  What are your 25?

What I've Learned: Election Season, 2008

As the general pandering, back-and-forth cheap shots, and borderline idiotic media coverage has rolled mercilessly on during this election season, I have been wondering what I have learned from this whole experience.  Sitting and watching Democratic and Republican Primary campaigns, both parties' Conventions, and now this so-frustrating-it-is-almost-boring General election campaign has forced me to ask myself what I have learned from watching our country live out this part of our fundamental belief of what makes us a Democracy.  Granted, this has all probably been much more interesting to someone who has studied Political Science, or one who is in some way more connected with the campaign or governing process; but, as an average citizen, I am led to believe that my opinion is just as valuable.

So, what have I learned?

I've learned that Campaigning seems to bring out the worst in the candidates.  The individuals campaigning for office are under unbelievable surveillance and scrutiny, that any word uttered in good faith is a potentially campaign-breaking scandal.  The News industry is hungry to report it, and we are just as hungry to receive it.  Senator Clinton and Senator Obama had a disgusting in-fight, appealing to what I thought was the most primitive of our decision-making instincts.  That is, until I watched the campaigns run by the General election candidates.  The arguments made by both McCain/Palin and Obama/Biden do not appeal to an intellectual, ethical, philosophical standard by which I assumed the general American voting public lived.  The campaigns I have seen have only appealed to our most primitive of natures: self-protection, insatiable competition, gang-mentality.  We are not choosing candidates who are most capable of governing our hugely influential (and hugely problematic) government, we are Choosing Sides.  And the unfortunate part (for us middle-class people) is that the sides we are choosing are in many ways just False Loyalties.  While Democrats and Republicans are the two most influential decision-making Political Parties, the "Party" that they both subscribe to is Wealth.  Wealth drives both parties, disallows the un-wealthy to participate in governing at the same level, and hides truth from us behind false partisan loyalties.  So the fighting we see between Senator McCain and Senator Obama is not the polarized dichotomy we think it is: it is Wealthy in-fighting, and the disillusionment of the candidates themselves only hides what is Best and most Capable about them.  We are left with the emptiness of Poll-responsive public speeches, partisan pandering, and ugly verbal cruise missiles cowardly sent from campaign HQ to campaign HQ.  I see the public appearances, I read the statements, I watch the debates, and as a general voting citizen, I think to myself, "This is the best they can do?"

To draw off of what I wrote earlier, I have to say that I have learned that Politicians (or, at least their campaign managers) believe that the American voting public, in general, will behave based on our most primitive of decision-making instincts.  The last week or two I have been thinking aloud, "Maybe they just think we are not very smart?"  But these are not the most precise words.  I doubt that our intellect is disregarded, because many voters (probably myself included) are plenty intelligent and still are swayed by appeals away from our intelligence.  It is not a case of our lack-of-smarts, it is that we have shown campaigns in the past--and the present--that we are willing to use our primitive instincts to elect candidates.  We our hungry for campaign gossip, and fuel to add to our negative fires we ignite in conversation about "opposing" candidates.  Plenty of intelligent but insatiable voters still believe that Barack Obama favors Moslem Terrorism, and John McCain wants to Re-Invade Vietnam.  To be fair, these are not accusations made by the campaigns themselves, but I think that just goes to show the campaigns even more assuredly that they do not need to appeal to our sense of intelligence, social development, decency, and philosophy of governance.

That leads me to the last thing I am learning--it is the last because it is the hardest for me to accept:

They are Right about Us.  We are not interested in being appealed to on an intellectual level.  We are not interested in candidates who do not entertain us.  We are not interested in electing the most capable, most sound, most experienced, most diplomatic, most intelligent, most ethical, Best candidates.  We are willing to vote for whoever we "like," whoever we think is "most like me," whoever is "the least scary," and we are not willing to give a second (or at times, first) thought to anyone who takes an oppositional stance on an issue we feel is important.

We are unwilling to challenge the brightest, the most creative, the most scholarly, the most diplomatic, the most humble, the most fair of citizens in our land to come and govern it.  We choose Charm and Spark over Diplomacy and Depth.

I guess what I know now that I didn't know a year ago is that we are easily convinced, and not so easily challenged.  I have respect for our imperfect system though, and our imperfect citizenry, because I think this American Democratic Experiment is not close to finished.  We are doing something that has a very ambiguous definition of Success, and that leaves us with countless ways of how to achieve it.

Regardless of who I vote for this November, I'll remember that I, too, have power over who I allow to influence me, that I have a right to demand a more fair election system, and a right to demand an appeal to our sense of intelligence, decency, fairness, diplomacy, and philosophy.  If I do not exercise my rights to demand these things, I am just another whiny, ungrateful suburbanite with regrets.

Thanks for reading.  I hope we all take the time to muster the courage to think for ourselves this election, and vote with humble conviction rather than vindictive oblivion.

-HVC

Turn Off the TV, Voters....

The election isn't for another 2 1/2 months.  Turn off the 24-hour cable news, ignore the online news "headlines," and wait to watch the conventions.  You already know who you are going to vote for.  Don't let the news companies profit from your boredom.  You're only going to be presented with nonsense.  Let's all turn off the "news" and read a book or two before Summer is completely gone.

God bless America!

-hvc

P.S. Got a few posts on the burner, nearly ready to go.  Thanks for your patience.

The Fat Lady

On Sunday mornings, I'm typically working. Recently, regular Sunday morning customers have felt more comfortable with seeing my mug, and strike up small talks. Many are surprised that I would wear a tie to work, since it is not required of me. I explain that on Sunday mornings, I like to "shine my shoes for the Fat Lady." I also mention that I am referencing J.D. Salinger's Franny & Zooey.

After weeks and weeks of folks asking me what the hell I'm talking about, I finally put something together for one customer to read, explaining my odd reference. I'll share it with all of you. Thanks for reading.

-HVC

--------------------------------------------------

"Franny was now sitting with the flat of her free hand pressed against the side of her face, like someone with an excruciating toothache. 'One other thing. And that's all. I promise you. But the thing is, you raved and you bitched when you came home about the stupidity of audiences. The goddam 'unskilled laughter' coming from the fifth row. And that's right, that's right--God knows it's depressing. I'm not saying it isn't. But that's none of your business, really. That's none of your business, Franny. An artist's concern is to shoot for some kind of perfection on his own terms, not anyone else's. You have no right to think about those things, I swear to you. Not in any real sense, anyway. You know what I mean?' There was a silence. Both saw it through without any seeming impatience or awkwardness. Franny still appeared to have some considerable pain on one side of her face, and continued to keep her hand on it, but her expression was markedly uncomplaining. The voice at the other end came through again. 'I remember about the fifth time I ever went on 'Wise Child.' I subbed for Walt a few times when he was in a cast--remember when he was in that cast? Anyways, I started bitching one night before the broadcast. Seymour'd told me to shine my shoes just as I was going out the door with Waker. I was furious. The studio audience were all morons, and I just damn well wasn't going to shine my shoes for them, I told Seymour. I said they couldn't see them anyway, where we sat. He said to shine them anyway. He said to shine them for the Fat Lady. I didn't know what the hell he was talking about, and he had a very Seymour look on his face, and so I did it. He never did tell me who the Fat Lady was, but I shined my shoes for the Fat Lady every time I ever went on the air again--all the years you and I were on the program together, if you remember. I don't think I missed more than just a couple of times. This terribly clear, clear picture of the Fat Lady formed in my mind. I had her sitting on this porch all day, swatting flies, with her radio going full-blast from morning till night. I figured the heat was terrible, and she probably had cancer, and--I don't know. Anyway, it seemed goddam clear why Seymour wanted me to shine my shoes when I went on the air. It made sense.' Franny was standing. She had taken her hand away from her face to hold the phone with two hands. 'He told me, too,' she said into the phone. 'He told me to be funny for the Fat Lady, once.' She released one hand from the phone and placed it, very briefly, on the crown of her head, then went back to holding the phone with both hands. 'I didn't ever picture her on a porch, but with very--you know--very thick legs, very veiny. I had her in an awful wicker chair. She had cancer, too, though, and she had the radio going full-blast all day! Mine did, too!' 'Yes. Yes. Yes. All right. Let me tell you something now, buddy. . . . Are you listening?' Franny, looking extremely tense, nodded. 'I don't care where an actor acts. It can be in summer stock, it can be over a radio, it can be over television, it can be in a goddam Broadway theatre, complete with the most fashionable, most well-fed, most sunburned-looking audience you can imagine. But I'll tell you a terrible secret--Are you listening to me? There isn't anyone out there who isn't Seymour's Fat Lady. That includes your Professor Tupper, buddy. And all his goddam cousins by the dozens. There isn't anyone anywhere that isn't Seymour's Fat Lady. Don't you know that yet? Don't you know that goddam secret yet? And don't you know--listen to me, now--don't you know who that Fat Lady really is? . . . Ah, buddy. Ah, buddy. It's Christ Himself. Christ Himself, buddy.' For joy, apparently, it was all Franny could do to hold the phone, even with both hands. For a fullish half minute or so, there were no other words, no further speech. Then: 'I can't talk any more, buddy.' The sound of a phone being replaced in its catch followed. Franny took in her breath slightly but continued to hold the phone to her ear. A dial tone, of course, followed the formal break in the connection. She appeared to find it extraordinarily beautiful to listen to, rather as if it were the best possible substitute for the primordial silence itself. But she seemed to know, too, when to stop listening to it, as if all of what little or much wisdom there is in the world were suddenly hers. When she had replaced the phone, she seemed to know just what to do next, too. She cleared away the smoking things, then drew back the cotton bedspread from the bed she had been sitting on, took off her slippers, and got into the bed. For some minutes, before she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, she just lay quiet, smiling at the ceiling." -J.D. Salinger (Franny & Zooey) Up until this point in the novel, Franny & Zooey Glass have been very aloof and somewhat annoyed with each other. The youngest of a large and very bright family of children, they incur many pressures and insecurities that they feel their elder siblings did not have the challenge of enduring. Their eldest, Seymour, is the model for all the Glass children, and in a somewhat morbidly perfect turn, committed suicide while on holiday with his wife. Seymour remains the voice of conscience, reason, and faith in the lives of the entire Glass family. Franny had been unwittingly searching for Seymour's voice all throughout this novel (which only really seems to span a couple of days), and Zooey (the actor-cynic) would have been the last place we would have expected to hear echoes of Seymour's sentiments. When these last 3 pages of the novel turn though, it is just as beautiful for the reader as it seems to be for Franny. I interpret the "Fat Lady" in many ways, but the interpretation that I think fits best with why Salinger used a Fat Lady is: I think Seymour was attempting to invoke an image of someone who would be most easily cast aside by children/folk in the circles that the Glass family ran in. The Glass children all appeared on the 'Wise Child' TV program, were extremely developed spiritually, intellectually, if not socially. A Fat Lady with cancer, sitting alone on her porch, unhygienic, with radio blaring, would surely be the hardest for the Glass children to see Christ Himself in. So Seymour reminds his siblings to do things they find patronizing for this Fat Lady--the last person they would ordinarily patronize themselves for. In all my time as a young adult, and especially in my time with Starbucks, I have found myself most disgusted with some attitudes that often (though not necessarily) accompany embedded wealth. The sense of Entitlement, the Condescension, the Smugness, the Perpetual Adolescence, the lifestyle of Small Indulgences. I see both employee and customer actively and shamelessly engaging in these attributes. So to me, the "Fat Lady" is perhaps upper-middle class, white, overbearing, uptight, in khakis and oxfords (ladies, maybe a nice pantsuit...), on the Bluetooth, with too much discretionary money, bored with life, and subsequently patronizing every one around them, because they have been conditioned to be either incapable or unwilling to engage sincerely or authentically with their fellow man. The insincerity, posturing, and artificiality now controls their interactions, and they are unhappy when one who serves them does not enable them. I spent my first two years with Starbucks loathing these types, making cleverly snide remarks about them behind their back, casting them out as hopeless souls I wanted nothing to do with. I wrote and wrote about why I considered them them the most needy and poor of all our fellow man, and how I could never serve them, because I was too disgusted by their oblivious nature. Well, it turns out that I was the oblivious one. This excerpt from Zooey's thoughts reminds us of a universal connectivity through Christ's universal presence. So the Fat Lady, the professor that Franny hates, the audience that Zooey hates, the upper-crust folks that disgusted me, they're all Seymour's Fat Lady, and thereby....also Christ Himself. In turn, I/We may also be another's Fat Lady--not a cross to bear, but difficult to love. It turns out that Sundays are the days that Starbucks stores are crowded to the brim with the same folks I described earlier. Them and their families who are just like them ("...all his goddam cousins by the dozens..."). They attend their "big-box" church service, and make a post-church/pre-shopping pit stop at Starbucks. Somehow I am scheduled to work every Sunday morning/mid-day, and for a short while this frustrated me. As the only Christian Supervisor who would perhaps rather attend church, I felt I had legitimate reason to not be scheduled Sundays (see that sense of Entitlement at work?), but there I was. At some point in the last year, I recalled these words from Franny & Zooey, and they haunted me as I refused to "shine my shoes" for people I felt did not deserve it. It wasn't until I came to a class early this Spring where my instructor was dressed unusually formal. He was wearing dress slacks and a tie, as opposed to his typical cotton shorts and hawaiian shirt. He explained that he was on a hiring board, and wore slacks and tie (which, arbitrary as they are alone, were in this case symbols of status) for an interview session out of respect to the applicant. We asked him why he couldn't just be "himself." He chuckled knowingly, reminding us that one's style of dress is not a summary of one's self, and it is not patronizing nor disrespectful to wear symbols of status in certain contexts, especially when those symbols will put your fellow man at ease, and comfortable to be themselves. He reminded us that if he were instructing at a University, depending on its status, he would not be permitted to wear the cotton shorts--he would be expected to live up to particular codes of dress. And those codes of dress for instructors are designed to respect the integrity of the learning environment, the University, and of course: the student. In that moment in class, the words from Franny & Zooey came together! Mr. Watters was shining his shoes for the Fat Lady. And a moment later, it came together for me, also. I needed to shine my shoes for my Fat Lady. So on Sundays, I wear the dress shirts & ties. And the folks who I would have ordinarily cast out as "Fat Ladies" see that I have worn a symbol out of respect for my position, for my company, and of course: for them. You wouldn't probably think so, but Sundays are much different since I have begun wearing the ties. Perhaps I have also been wearing a different attitude, but I have seen the Christ I was oblivious of before. I have seen sincerity and authenticity in folks who I had cast out as completely oblivious and artificial. And it not patronizing of them, it does not patronize me, but as a symbol (arbitrary though it is), it works to connect us in a way that we didn't have before. And as I see the Christ in them, hopefully they see Christ in me, and that is how Love & Joy are cultivated. And if part of that cultivation begins with donning a tie on Sunday mornings, then wearing that tie becomes an act of worship--something I never would have foreseen. So the ways in which we do small things to connect with who we are surrounded by, and not distract or deter them, are our ways of shining our shoes for the Fat Lady. And certainly our worship and our love would not end with the shining of our shoes; indeed, that is where our worship and our love would begin.

Shameless Big-Ups: Josh Durias Photography

 
<photo courtesy of Josh Durias Photography>

 

This is a portrait done by a good friend of mine, Josh Durias.  This image was comprised of 3 original images.  Impressed?  Check out his work at http://www.joshdurias.com.

Know anybody who needs Senior Portraits?  Or anybody who is just that self-involved?  Send them Josh's way!

On Adulthood, Pt. II: Continued

<Click here to go to the Main section of Part Two>

I believe it is worth noting here an interesting thing that I found in some questioning as I began kicking these ideas around.

I would pose the question to people around me that had been posed to me: "Are you an adult?  What qualifies your distinction?"  I asked some folks of all ages, various backgrounds, genders--you get the idea.  When I asked folks who were a bit later on in life than I am, the responses were all "Yes," and the qualifications all laced heavily with reflections on experiences circled around family: Marriage, Birth of Children, Divorce, Birth of Grandchildren.  The threshold that one must forge through when peering at the prospects of Marriage, Children, and even when one must end a Marriage involves deeply Intimate Knowledge of Self.  Most did not articulate it with those particular words, but they all alluded to the necessity of Self-Knowledge for the sake of survival, and to healthily sustain Family.

When the question was posed to my peers (that is, folks around college-age), the answer was also always "Yes."  The qualifications cited by those folks were invariably circled around Finances and Personal Responsibility.  Personal responsibility for living expenses, leisure activities, and any number of variations on the concept of financial self-sufficience.  It was oddly curious that my peers consider financial self-sufficience the primary qualification for Adult distinction.  I suppose that any tangible evidence (Driver's License, Tax Forms) that associates an otherwise arbitrary word ("Adult") with one who considers being called a Child a high insult would be clung to tightly.  The State considers one an Adult at 18--Liquor Control waits another 3 years.  That evidence alone gives college-age folk the idea that they are Adults.  These same folk also cited how much more "Adult" they thought they were in comparison with their peers, which was an interesting factor by itself.
So: Associative Labeling and External Perception are the cornerstones of the Adult distinction for these particular folk; however, we know that true Adulthood is not "achieved" through Familiar thresholds of worldly successions, but instead through thresholds of Intimate Self-Knowledge.
The other curious factor in college-age folks' distinctions as Adults was that while explaining how one would qualify his or her self as an Adult, one would give:
1.) a confident "Yes,"
2.) a qualifier involving financial self-sufficience,
3.) several ways in which he or she was in fact Not completely self-sufficient, and still dependent on parental support financially,
4.) a more forceful "Yes."
This pattern tells me that we are not able to have truly honest internal dialogue regarding our own development and Adulthood.  If we are still Children--whether you qualify that with financial or developmental reasoning is up to you--why can't we just stand behind that distinction instead?  Why do we speak dishonestly with ourselves, and in turn, with our neighbors?  If we convince ourselves that we are of Adult distinction using Familiar Knowledge of our Selves, and that Knowledge isn't even Truthful, we are entangling ourselves in mental conditions that will set us further and further away from true Intimate Self-Knowledge--and subsequently, Fluency in Adulthood.

We must be honest.  We must be able to Defer our Gratification to unknown ends.  And we must be willing to see what lies within when honesty is practiced.  We will begin to see ourselves Intimately, and we will be exercising parts of our Minds and our Hearts that are necessary to be Fluent in Adulthood.  As we know our selves more and more Intimately, that heightened sense of Accountability to Neighbor I mentioned in the Main section of this Part will come in to play in a big way.  Let's get to that next.