Conversations in Time

I was thinking I would, because I'm lazy and their interesting, post conversations. I'd also be able to post anything I've said in the last 2 weeks, picking the dialouge that seems most organic, or makes the most interesting points.

That being said, Cathy and I have always had one of the better relationships, and therefore, better conversations. We pay no attention to the frequency of conversation and don't always have to say something for it to be understood by the other. Theres a feeling on my end that she doesn't need to walk a mile in my shoes because I feel like shes lived in my head. Which seems to be hers as well.

The following is a conversation about the dying counter-culture style of humor...


9:18 AM me: so exactly how many donations come in on the day after christmas?

9:19 AM Catherine: so far? zilch

9:20 AM me: yeah I'd imagine

9:21 AM Catherine: how many new memberships?

i imagine that won't kick in until new years, when people pretend they have ambition

me: sadly, two. I've given a tour, and upped a corporate account

9:22 AM because with the Y, in a place like this, people think this is furthering their worth as people

9:23 AM Newton's a bitch to describe but their the type of people who worked a soup kitchen yesterday as a family to teach their kids good morals

9:24 AM and today, the people of Newton say to their significant others [phrase used in hetero couples as well] "you know, I've been meaning to join the Y, I ought to get in shape"

"but what about the compost pile you wanted to start?"

"well I can do that after"

9:29 AM Catherine: ha

too bad you didn't think of stufff white people like first

9:32 AM me: Oh god, I read that blog once and thought it was a sham

I like so little of that, which I took to mean I wasn't white

9:33 AM I think I was just hit on by a divcorcee (how the F do you spell that)

Catherine: megh and i talked about how it was basically stuff urban liberal arts

educated yuppies like

but yes, our friend katherine grew up in newton and enjoys mocking it

9:34 AM her idea of fun is people watching at the whole foods and taking notes for later

me: yeah thats exactly right, no one in Kansas likes any of that shit

Catherine: it's really just for coastal elitist types

9:36 AM me: that, by the way, is the death knell, the apex, the jump the shark

moment when the indie humor stopped its accent

call Ian Micheal Black and tell him he's about to loose his job

9:37 AM Michael Ian Black, whatever, see he's already forgettable

Catherine: it's just so obvious

and not remotely clever

9:38 AM me: the comedy from that scene is just mailing it in at this point, its going through the motions and I expect 2 years of stuff we're "supposed to laugh at" until it finally becomes apparent that this isn't funny and some new movement rises up

9:39 AM I'm going to post this part of the conversation on the blog because I'm too lazy to write it again

9:40 AM Catherine: although i still have a soft spot for someecards
becuase it's just so damn good at calling out those things

9:41 AM http://www.someecards.com/upload/newest/just_wondering_if_we_still.html

9:43 AM me: I think thats different though, the toolboxes over at Best Week Ever are
feigning sincerity on things that they were sincere about in the 50's, so the only difference is the implication

Catherine: i jumped ship on that and headed to the soup a while ago
me: with these e-cards, I feel like its traditional comedy where people are asking questions that are supposed to be out there

9:44 AM Catherine: i think there's a way to poke holes in the whole urban educated professional experience and be clever, which someecards does
vs, as you point out, bwe, which has been running out of steam for years


9 minutes

9:53 AM me: I can't figure the guy at The Soup out, but what i think I like about him is he's not afraid to make a terrible joke
and i admire that
9:54 AM that safe, "i had a writing team help me with my jokes" stuff is for the birds
the only one who can handle a writing team is Conan

Sad Day

So I finished reading the David Brook article, Lost in the Crowd

Between that and my daily run through the blogosphere and this article, I’ve realized the reason my hit count is low, is because I have no focus. I think I need to give myself a consistent base, maybe start a new blog, and continue here, writing what I want.

Fuck if I know what I’ll focus on though. I’d honestly like to explore my W.A.S.P.ier side. Any suggestions?

=(

Manners and Logic

Let talk about the word “welcome” as seen in such phrases as “you’re welcome.” They have mats and wagons for it. It’s the corner stone of good customer service and is the general successor to “thank you.” Therein lies the problem.

I’m concerned that its fallen out of logic with is use in the common lexicon. Lets review;


wel⋅come   /ˈwɛlkəm/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [wel-kuhm] Show IPA Pronunciation

interjection, noun, verb, -comed, -com⋅ing, adjective

–interjection 1. (a word of kindly greeting, as to one whose arrival gives pleasure): Welcome, stranger!

–noun 2. a kindly greeting or reception, as to one whose arrival gives pleasure: to give someone a warm welcome.

–verb (used with object) 3. to greet the arrival of (a person, guests, etc.) with pleasure or kindly courtesy.

4. to receive or accept with pleasure; regard as pleasant or good: to welcome a change.

5. to meet, accept, or receive (an action, challenge, person, etc.) in a specified, esp. unfriendly, manner: They welcomed him with hisses and catcalls.

–adjective 6. gladly received, as one whose arrival gives pleasure: a welcome visitor.

7. agreeable, as something arriving, occurring, or experienced: a welcome rest.

8. given full right by the cordial consent of others: She is welcome to try it.

9. without obligation for the courtesy or favor received (used as a conventional response to expressions of thanks): You're quite welcome.

—Idiom10. wear out one's welcome, to make one's visits so frequent or of such long duration that they become offensive: Your cousins have long since worn out their welcome.

It’s more than evident the word welcome has both a genial nature to it, as well as a state of change associate with it; ones feeling in a location, both emotional or physical, and occasionally location as well.

But the person uttering the phrase it would seem has to have some form of authority to grant you this welcome. Whether its “you’re welcome here” or “you’ve been welcomed into the family,” the person has to have some authority. At this point in the breakdown, that seems logical. But take this and apply it to the last time you said “you’re welcome” or the last time it was said to you.

This morning I held the door for a woman at Dunkin Donuts. She said thank you and that’s fine, thank you seem normal, but if I hadn’t been a cranky yank who’d been out walking in the hail for 15 minutes my “yep” might have been “you’re welcome.” You’ve heard it, its not outside the realm of normality to use that there, but does it make sense?

What am I welcoming her to? The dunkin donuts? The act of me holding the door? One doesn’t make sense and the other is well out of my jurisdiction. I don’t have any relation to Dunkin Donuts save for my patronage and on this point we’re of equal rank. If I’m welcome, she’s welcome. And if I’m not, I don’t have the authority to hand it out.

That point is over the top, but I’m trying to lay this out as clearly as it can be. The only instance that I could think of, in which “You’re welcome” should logically be a response is when someone has brought you into their home, and the sad thing is, in this one situation that I find it reasonable to say this, the roles out to be reversed. That is to say, you’d say “Thank you” when someone has told you that You’re welcome in my home.”

I’m not trying to say that this should be put into effect. I don’t have an agenda here save for the analysis of words, and I feel I’ve done my part. Nothing heavy, just something to think about.

Some men like to hear the cannonballs roaring

Dear Moira,

Those dreams are back again, and their just as dark. I have these images of the van, and riding against the side wall, feeling every repair on the highway and Günter jets across the city into the west village. We’re always late for a gig, but as soon as I realize I’m in the back of a hollowed out service fan, I’m suddenly back on stage playing this infernal horn, sweating in the bright lights; it runs down my face and I fail on this note and it rallies these kids. I don’t know ‘em and I couldn’t care less but I feed off them. I play this same refrain they know by heart but they loose their minds.

I took a ride down to the Charles yesterday where sofie and I first read books, and returned them when we finished. I just stood on the edge of this freezing river and let the old cigar smoke fade into the icey winds of the city. I thought of her out there in Peru and I still wonder if she thinks about me. This city is litter with people I’d known for a night, or a season, a semester, or a coffee and I still never run into them but 2 years on I still wonder if in some distant village I’m on their mind.

At this point in my life I no longer feel like I’m a man on a journey in one of these burgeoning bergs, I am Boston, I know all of its streets, and I’ve seen its bars that line up on Mass Ave. like the clubs sold out. They banned smoking at the CanTab and it just ain’t the same they say, but who cares…if smoke makes the bar it wasn’t that good in the first place. Last night I watched the green line come in behind the billboards near the Science Museum and it was an old familiar melody of a bad karaoke song. There’s a bench in Kennedy park where Charlotte and I shivered together and since I was the thickest, I kept her warm. Thinking of that makes me laugh, but I’m always crestfallen when I see that bench. Once when we’d parted ways I went back, bored and sat on that same bench but the day was too abandoned and I had to leave.

I still remember that first city place we got in July, when the screen door overlooking the back parking lot let in the summer mid-day. I knew Boston before the sun, and after it left and I spent two hour everyday on the highway. I felt like a stranger in my own apartment but god it was amazing. Like I’d gone up to the mountain at night to sleep, and each morning come roaring down to deal with Taunton. At night I would take the long way up through the financial district on 93 and come crashing through the O’Neil tunnel playing achillies last stand and I felt like I was going places. 5 years on, the challenges are different. Those girls in different in other cities are still out there, but I don’t still burn for them. I thought of them every day, all of them, but somewhere along the line it became a career life only. Today I want to get paid to write and I’m going back to teach.

All my dreams are gone now Moira, I’m well fed and I sleep with the heat on and a humidifier so I don’t dry out. The sweat is gone, its just a crick in my back when I slipped on the ice. 8 hours later my world is perfect. All I have now is bad metaphors and stories. I’d like to be more serious but I feel what I feel and these burning passions of yesterdays better get me a fucking publishing deal.

Newsweek, National Review, and the Almighty Dollar

Gay Marriage, the newest and most hotly contest issue in the social-conservatives bag of tricks, has for one reason or another come barreling back into the lime-light as an issue that has commanded the attention of the national media so viciously, that we’re having articles written on articles. The meta-narrative runneth over and its come to a point where it may want to have its head checked.

As it started I watched Social Conservatives reigning champion, Mike Huckabee state his case before a decidedly Liberal audience on Jon Stewarts “Daily Show.” It goes without saying that to make headway here might have been a pipe dream, but it speaks volumes about a man’s character that he would speak before the lion’s den about his convictions, knowing full well he’d be cheered down by every point his opponent made. While I wouldn’t go as far as to say this was comparable to Kennedy’s appearance before the Baptist Ministers Union appearance, I would say it’s along the same lines.

While I applaud his decision to make the appearance I have to say that his arguments were more of a standing of ground, rather than an imperial crusade. Regardless of venue, I’d guess his arguments would serve only to confirm the similar convictions of the choir, and while he might be speaking to a head nodding consortium, his words won’t inspire a revelry among any new demographics, and it would stir the passions of his committed.

The argument was largely liturgical and literal. “The definition is X, it’s always been X, we shouldn’t change it to Y.” We’ve heard it, its not new, and further more its open to a great many logical attacks to which there aren’t defenses. When one advocate for equal rights said “well why not change all civic citations of ‘marriage’ to ‘union’ so we don’t have to segregate and we don’t have to trample religious tradition” (a war no advocate is interested in) we fall back on tradition. I love tradition and it should be upheld, but not against the fabric of the republic. Free and Equal has always been Free and Equal, I’ve we’ve made a misstep in the past; we shouldn’t cite it as reason to continue to do it in the future. Let it be known that the above statement goes for anything, not just things we like or don’t like.

So while this argument is wrapping up I decide I’m going to grab the new Newsweek which is supposedly biblical advocacy for Gay marriage, an argument I’ve not heard of prior and by virtue of its novelty, I thought I might go check it out. As luck would have it I was out of Davis square and only surrounded by quick-e-marts that didn’t carry Newsweek (though somehow the Nation which was surprising since that’s written on tree bark for Christ’s sake)

Flash forward to the next day when I Google the Newsweek article to get some feedback and I stumble upon Mark Hemmingway’s article* in National Review Online, the conservatives arch-rag and largely considered one of the smartest and most well reasoned.

Reading through it, it makes note that the Newsweek article is largely the opinions of the writer and that the text is scant and rare. I’ll comment on that as soon as I can grab a Newsweek but what I can comment on thus far is that the traditional tactics of the hollow-right are rearing their ugly head; attacking a separate article by Newsweek Editor, attacking the supposed “slump in sales.” (Which by the way is affecting all print media and I’d like to point out that amount of balls it took NRO to print this while simultaneously having “donate to keep us strong” at the top of their page is beyond fathom.)

Its no secret I’m an advocate (which is no reason to dismiss my opinion) but the tides they are a changing and I am an independent who can’t stand the coming self-righteous wave of “told-you-so” morons lead by Sean Penn’s “Milk” which is in theaters, what now? Soon? Who knows, anyway the point is, while I don’t agree with the anti-marriage groups, I do think that there’s a point to end off with, and its coming with the silent success of the changing attitudes.

There isn’t much I agree with republican’s on, but the “white guilt syndrome” is one of them, and while this has nothing to do with race, the ethos is the same, that the culture of “I’m so awful I need to give everything away” is starting to eat away at its own base.

Once again, as is the point to most of my political rants, is that the left needs to regain its roar and cut off its whimper. Our convictions need to be ours and based in the fabric of the American mission, and not based on how we perceive other peoples struggle and then find ways to blame ourselves.

Nellie McKay

The day I read the article that noted the common logic “Jane’s Addiction was the heir apparent to Led Zeppelin’s throne more than any of those banana-haired English rock bands ever could hope to be.”

I remember taking a step back from the item-to-item comparisons that had bogged down a lot of my rationale at the time and thinking I’d spent too much time looking at the wrong thing when I listened to music.

That being said, imagine the Moses-like sojourn a man must have taken, hearing Zeppelin scorch across the radio in his 20’s and not hearing anything as close to powerful for another ~20 years.

I write this because from where I sit I’ve found the very thing so many have traveled for years looking for. It’s no secret that I’ve found the musician of a life time when I heard Tom Waits, when I’d first heard his music I felt like someone finally got me. I wasn’t a drunk, or a circus employee. I hadn’t been to Singapore and I’d never lived in the Midwest or South but still I felt I was one here, I knew Waits in a second, and in a second I felt like it was ok to be what I was. I don’t think it was any great coming out, but prior to this I’d been unsure of my place in things. Waits put beauty and august reverence into the eccentric.

I’ve been orbiting the music of Nellie McKay for a couple of years now, but in recent months I’ve been thinking she is the heir to the Waitsian throne for all the unheard reasons. Their music sounds nothing alike, their stories are dissimilar, and the ethos of one does not suit the other. Still it’s easy to see a beauty in the commonality of a search for the organic.

If the two artists have anything in common, it might be that no sound is off limits, that every noise is worth its existence and that genre is something “those people” say. I’ve grown exhausted listening for the mandolin’s sprint, the clockwork of the upright bass’s pluck, or the nervous shiver of the bowed violin, the days of breaking down music for me are few and far between when I need to be academic to write something communicative. But mostly I take in the massive banquet of theory, and the orgy of influence that comes from both artist, who have never placed limits on themselves to be commercially successful, they know their base, and therein they will have complete immunity.

And in the end that’s the difference, the knowledge that a fan base is intelligent and is willing to engage in anything that warrants their time, that piques their interests, that conjures visions of a brand new highway.

To many waits fans who long ago left the mission statement behind for anyone in a baggy suit or an inherently off-putting voice (I’m looking at you Joanna Newsom fans), I’m sure McKay is all too many things that they find unappealing, but like every Zep fan who thought Foreigner was the second coming, and that jane’s addiction were a collection of pansy’s with bad vocals and worse outfits well, its their loss, but to me I’ve found a new pool of future potential, and three discs worth of mesmerizing sonic vats that I can spend the next 6 months bathing in. I plan to review with a fine tooth comb the works of Nellie McKay and produce them here.

I’m adamant that with only a few listens you’ll understand my fervor, and I think you’ll understand why I am not only a fan, but a man on a mission to expose a waiting and unconscious unwashed mass of something as great as music might have ever produced.

I hope that I’ve inspired one of you with this. If not, well the discography is on the way…

All the Best,
Brow

The trap of political prominence

So one of the other blogs I write for in a music website, its no big deal, I’m just pointing it out because I’m going to use it for example.

We have these kids on there, who’ve likely been there since early on in their formative years. At least three, and let’s say at worst 14 to 17, at best 16 to 19. We also have some Brits there in their late 20’s to early 40’s and because of this; the younger Americans have tried to setup up their intellectual game.

What was once a good intention with a nice mark of diversification has deescalated into a non-stop 24 hour political tirade, as if they’d learned the value of political minerals, and decided to level the mountain to the point that they have nothing left to offer.

They’ve made their avatars, the tiny pictures that most have for fun or to show a sign of passion an interest, into pictorial bumper stickers of snarky left wing inside jokes. Everything leads them back to this mountain to drink from the waters that once refreshed, but for those subject to their rants, now feels like a oncoming flood. Tom Morello once said of his band mate “Zach’s political leanings can smother, no matter how well intentioned they are.” At least Zach went abroad occasionally.

I love the new invested political future we have, but they speak as if it were still 1996, as if their scion, the only ones to know anything about politics at all. When I was a younger lad, I recall a priest saying to us that sinful was the man who went to the front of the church and prayed loudly, to show everyone his favor for God. This is the secular version, loud soapbox pronouncements made louder to hopefully catch the ears of those around, to spark the smallest question that would, in their minds, warrant the avalanche of opinion.

In the end this is a lesson of self-worth and conversion as well. We have to wonder about a persons past who begs to be thought of as informed and intelligent. And how much of there interest is placed into getting their opinion into policy. Are they the literati of policy, or is this a genuine attempt to fix the country?

Milton Freidman once said its not important how people vote with their mouths, it’s the feet that matter. He was talking about movement from China to Taiwan, and as to which economic situation was better. Knowledgeable is the man who moves to change policy, loudly or not. Starved is the man who screams his opinion the loudest, attempting to appear knowledgeable.

That’s at least my two cents. I’m just hoping they don’t resort to caps lock.

Where your apology, inbreeds?

20 years after an irishman couldn't get a fucking job, we had the presidency; May he rest in peace...

I'll still never forgive Texas for 1963.

Dallas should be the reason we don't trust power.

That ring of federal government, so tempting to leave a child orphaned.

That a blind love of country

A hatred of communists

And a difference of policy

Would widow a wife, and take a mind.

They turned on the television in 1968

"Serves those damn hippies right!"

I'd agree but you cna't blame them.

What love of a country takes its leader

What champion of democracy thwarts the electorate.

Someone call Dallas and tell them the tours cancelled.

I'm taking my loan and I'm headed downtown.

They hid like cowards, they referenced like housewives

and if God is a good man

I heard them whimper their last breath

ranting about Reagan in 2008.