Monday, August 16, 2010

an ancient shrewdness in the vein

Sometimes someone comes into your life and is able to clarify things that have been stumping you for ages in a split second. I'm always suspicious when I become fast friends with newbies because usually it ends badly, but I think this is different. Okay okay I'll stop being cryptic. A friend from LA came to Toronto this weekend and we had such a great time. It's rare that I connect so well with another female. It's been happening more lately - oh my god we're growing up.
Anyway we went out to dinner and everything just flowed so naturally, it was easy, and it was such a relief. I only wish she could have stayed longer -but...responsibilities, husband and gorgeous child were waiting. We talked about everything under the sun as if we had known each other forever. And she helped me clear up a huge mystery in my life - something that has been a source of pain in my life, and I am grateful. I wrote about it a while ago. You know "this is not-blank-blank-dot-com". I felt that someone I had respected and admired had kind of shafted me, but she explained it to me from a perspective where...it made sense. And suddenly that...pain (an ache sort of) had been lifted. I also didn't really realize that it had been weighing on me that heavily until the weight was gone. Shit gets intense fast around here.

So over dinner we talked about many things. And I think I'm finally able to (thanks to our conversation) write about this thing that's been germinating in my head for just...like...you know....the past year or so. Every time I've tried to write about this it's been a pain in the ass, because I get all muddled and about four hundred different things come out but....I'm going to try, damnit. And also I just found out that someone is doing a PhD candidacy about the use of sound in animation, so if I wanted I could totally use this as PhD material...if I choose to do that. Shit. Scholar for life?

I'll start this the way we started speaking about it. One of the things about Emma I love is that she straddles the line, her background is American but also Mexican. I think that's a one-two punch that she packs - speaking another language (if only that) is an advantage, always. Not to mention having a sort of perspective on things two times over. Anyway - so I was fascinated because - of course I'm fascinated with Omar and Cedric and everything they do. I don't know why, but all of their work is just incredibly satisfying to listen to for me. They too straddle that line between American and not. The reason Omar/Ced are different from other immigrants/newcomers to the states is that a) Omar is from Puerto Rico which is basically part of the states, and Ced is from Texas. Moreover Spanish speaking denizens of the United Sates are becoming more prevalent and accepted - correct me if I'm wrong but is Spanish not a language that is actually taught in American schools also?
One of the things Emma and I talked about - or that I naively brought up was that I think Spanish should totally be adopted as a second language in the US of A. I know - the squishy middle of the passion flakie that is the United States would NEVER go for it. People are too afraid of change - even if I think it would be so so so beneficial to the population.
So then I went on to my larger point - I've been in discourse with a lot of American Literature, learning about the tradition of it, marinating my brain in it so to speak. Reading a lot of Frank O'Hara, Williams, Raymond Carver, Henry James, Pat Parker, etc. There are so many that I'm not mentioning -- but these people really set the American Tradition in terms of writing, even if a whole whack of them were Ex-Pats.
I feel like the entire list of authors we read was incredibly well curated and Scott Rayter was incredibly intense in the way he delivered his lectures, it was phenomenal and I'm sad the class is over. Having said that -- because we read a lot of poetry it reminded me of the strains of a thought I had a while ago.

A little while after Spook Country originally came out there was some sort of convergence in my life. I had been listening to a lot of Frances the Mute and the Bedlam in Goliath because I was deathly afraid of listening to Amputechture (I still don't know why to this day, but it's become so dear to me). To complete this trifecta I had begun taking a class with Skye at his behest because one of his friends (Stuart) was teaching - it was Latin American History from x Century. (I forget exactly) but I think we started somewhere in the vicinity of Porfirio Diaz, well give or take a hundred years. So I had Spook Country which from one angle submerged me in this crazy world of this Cuban immigrant to New York - Tito, and his intensely idiosyncratic and religious family (I was re reading the book). I was thinking "this is weird, but kind of beautiful". At the same time I was listening to two albums by a band I love-- and frequently describe as being the only thing that can describe or define everything that's inside of me that I can't translate into words--which were more than 30% in Spanish. Not to mention when the band started Omar wanted it to be some sort of offshoot of salsa music. Which it is. You can definitely shake your ass to a lot of their material. Or at least I think so anyway. And then on top of it I was buried in all this information about Latin America, tonnes of primary documents - and Stuart really delivered in his lectures. It was some sort of nodal point for me.

After everything went down in my personal life that year - I needed a distraction, so I became ensconced in a haze of just...mostly Omar's music. It was comforting. I branched out, listened to more of At the Drive In, and then started exploring the larger catalogue. There are so many things he's done, De Facto, El Grupo Nuevo, At the Drive In, The Mars Volta, and then independent stuff or collaborations with John Frusciante. Diving into this world was a relief. I think this is where the idea started gestating. I think that Cedric Bixler Zavala is probably one of the most interesting lyricists of our time. I think this is because he has to bounce off of Omar's control freak qualities all the time....so let me explain.

Omar is kind of a megalomaniacal dictator, and I say this with awe, love, and respect. (I've pieced all of this together from interviews I've seen and read over the years...). Something about how he writes all of the music and then has everybody record it separately and then Cedric gets to listen to it and write the lyrics. Cedric has his own process too - instead of explicitly trying to write lyrics that have some sort of larger meaning he sounds out words that he thinks flow properly with the music - which is how he's able to get that beautiful juxtapositional cadence. You know what I mean? Not really? Over the years though (in the Mars Volta) Omar's been letting go of that, and generally meaning can be derived. It's just a very interesting way of writing. The other thing that tickles me pink is that Cedric's biggest vocal influence is Bjork.

Knowing that, I really want to get into the meat of my thought. Having read the lyrics of Cedric for the Mars Volta, and subsequently getting so involved with all of the other music Omar makes, and the stuff he's done with Ximena Sarinana, I really think that overall these things they've written should be considered poetry. And if they are poetry they are definitely part of the new canon of the American Literary Tradition. Yes, some of the lyrics are in Spanish, specifically those from Xenophanes, but so is a large portion of Amputechture, and Frances the Mute. I think that the lines are definitely blurring - especially (as I've mentioned previously) since Puerto Rico is part of America, and Latin culture becomes so much more prevalent across even say just the southern States. I have a feeling that people would argue against this -- specifically from a xenophobic point of view. But I also think that it's something beautiful and enriching. Anyway - this is kind of a conclusion I've come to on my own, and I'm sure it's not...unique or new or whatever, but it's something that I've wanted to explore for a long time now. Especially since I find that so much of TMV's material is so meaningful to me. I would definitely have to sit down and gather everything up and analyze the influences and all that fun jazz, and I think that's a project that would be really fun to take on in the future. It's easier to write about what you love.
Yeah...I think that's all for tonight.


Saturday, July 24, 2010

well, that was unexpected

All of the interesting stuff in Toronto seems to happen in an Italian neighbourhood retrofitted as the new club land du jour. At 4am.

It was supposed to be a quiet night in - no concrete plans to speak of. Hoped to head to bed early-ish, do a bit of work in the Wasteland. But I'm here. Isn't it fun when a gaggle of people you've never met in your life...following a pied piper, show up at your house un-announced? I know I can handle my own, but I also know when I'm outnumbered. I suppose my face showed the right amount of chagrin for them to realize they should not invite themselves inside. Don't get me wrong, I'm not upset. It was just weird.

I'm somewhat easily put out of my comfort zone - it's easier to keep people at a remove. Like Jenn says on the IT Crowd: "I can't let you into my apartment, that's my special place!" Only worthy people may enter. It gets better though. The parties decide to branch off, go get pizza and come back. In the hubbub of all that it's decided that half will go to a house party and I take on the responsibility of walking a friend to a part of the neighbourhood where someone is waiting for him. I'm on my street now, so close to home and a man is motioning at me from a car - I take my headphones off. (Can't he see that I'm deeply contemplative of the material at hand?!) He asks me if I know where there's an after hours pub. I tell him I don't, he tries to engage me otherwise, I give limited answers and make off like I need to leave. He doesn't get it and I'm getting somewhat annoyed now but try to stay polite. He parks the car and gets out - accuses me of being a lesbian (because I have short hair?) and then says I don't want to give him my phone number because he's black.
I tell him trying to guilt me isn't going to work, he can't play that card. I leave.
What the hell?
SERIOUSLY? Where did you learn this approach, person I have never met in my entire life who's trying to pick me up on a side street at 4 in the morning? Do you really think I'm going to tell you anything?
Bewildering.
Sleep.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

the literary version of a grunt

So hard

Why

Does this have to be so hard?

To have had

So much

To lose

To be given something that’ so easily

Taken away

The visceral draw

The perennial kiss

Or so you think

Until one decides

It’s not enough

They don’t want to try anymore

You’re not enough

It’s too hard

It hurts

It’s easier to leave

But not really

When they leave

You dissipate, even though it was your idea.

So you give up, because it‘s too hard. It’s too hard to try to find the yang to your ying.

Because your ying was never there

Not like the novels that tell you, that perfect one

The one who sees into your soul

And doesn’t mind that it’s a dragging on progressive psychedelic song

One that drags on forever – with twists and turns, complications, conflicts, fallacies

Hypocrites

They lie, they just want your passion, without matching it

Without ever thinking that perhaps this is the hardest thing you’ve ever done

Because you know the world, know its internal logic

Know that everything will work out

Except for this

And then you think

Perhaps I’m not destined for this, despite the fact that you don’t believe in destiny

Destiny is bullshit.

All that matters is the math, the equation that tells you – death is inevitable

Is it worth it? To search for that one? The one who is on the frequency you occupy?

Does this exist?

For some lucky ones.

Not you, though. Not you.

So you go to bed, and think about the only figments that haven’t disappointed.

They’re so far off, and it’s more comfortable that way.

Because if they fail….what will you do?

Haven’t gotten that far yet.

And then you think of the one who told you that the reason you want to be fluid is because you feel you can't have limits.

That happens to those without family. Without home.

How different it could all be, with such a small cartel of variables. The math – if only it would add up to your favour. But it never does…does it? Something always stands in the way. Then you wonder – is it yourself that stands in your own way?

What now?

You take it like a man, on the chin. No reaction. Pretend it’s fine. Find your armor.

Sow the screaming eagle patch onto your jacket. Steel yourself. Fasten your bindings, fix your helmet, fortify your scabs and scars. Think about the release. Race down the mountain.

Update your software. Upgrade the hardware. Fix your stock. Keep going. Don't look back ,just...keep going. Like clockwork.

It can be a lonely existence, being human. Laugh, cynically.


Tuesday, June 22, 2010

list of crap I want

for my birthday! I know it seems selfish, but whatever,
people generally suck at getting me stuff I like, so ...here's a list:

1) Omar Rodriguez Lopez (I'm kidding, although I'd love to meet him)
2) http://outlier.cc/main/womens-daily-riding-pant.php The nicest cycling pants I've seen for a girl
4) The Typographic Desk Reference: http://typedeskref.com/
5) some sort of LEGO
6)The Complete Calvin and Hobbes

The thing is, I don't really need anything....except for a billion dollars ;)

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

this is not -blank- -blank- dot com

Anybody who knows something about me and something about the writers I'm into will know exactly what the title of this post is referencing. Somehow part of me is trying to avoid writing an essay that's due tomorrow (it's mostly been composed in my head, but it just seems like nothing new can be said about this book and I've read it before and the exercise feels like cheating if you've read the book and in some way it feels like I've completely misunderstood it). Anyhow that's a digression from this digression.

Fuck you, I'm Batman. Anyway.

Back to what I was talking about originally. A fraction of a moment ago I had a witty reparte with someone on twitter, and it made me kind of really really sad. Because it reminded me of the crass British man whom I haven't spoken with since....well...a long time. We had a moment or two and it was really fun keeping up the correspondence, but I think there was an expectation or two on his part that I didn't live up to and thusly have been either discarded or relegated to some sort of heap of rejects. And it kind of breaks my heart - in several ways, because he's just darned cool, and funny, and charming, and incredibly sweet, not to mention a fucking GENIUS. I kind of love him in a fucked up way - in that idealistic "we've never really met and so we can say stupid things to each other and it'll always be perfect because of that" way. Except then we did. And it was amazing! It was everything I wanted it to be and more. I suffered horrible withdrawal afterward. He was so....fucking.....awesome. And not just because of the obvious things about him - I felt we had lots to talk about. It didn't feel awkward - it was easy and fun. I desperately wished he lived here, or closer to here, so we could be friends in that regular friendly way.
I don't know exactly what he thought was going to happen, but I worried that he thought it was going to be something else. I was somewhat contagiously sick, so even if somehow I had neglected my sense of morality and ethics, nothing could have happened. So I wonder if that was what he wanted - or if he had no expectations of me. Especially when I think about how exactly our "relationship" started.
All I know is that for a brief, spectacular moment, he lit up my life in an amazing way. Because he was someone that I felt I could really get along with so well, which I haven't felt in some ways since, well..you know...that thing I keep talking about and the reason this blog came to be in the first place. (duh, N)
So I continue to abide, and every now and then, I deeply miss the crass British man. He stole a piece of my heart.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

think...laterally

Just a short one today - and this is why:


This song has always been something that I've considered a turning point in terms of my appreciation of music. It has a life of its own. If it were to be translated into a painting it would be incredibly rich- with many shades and layers of complexity. Some people consider it noise - because they don't take the time to actually listen to and appreciate all of the seemingly loose threads that weave together and eventually come to culminate in something that is beyond my scope of description. And that's just on the sonic level. When examined under the hood - the music actually follows a mathematical sequence - the fibonacci. This is not news but perhaps it makes sense that in some way it would be more pleasing to the ear, just like the fibonacci sequence is found in objects in nature - such as "branching in trees, arrangement of leaves on a stem, the fruitlets of a pineapple, the flowering of artichoke, an uncurling fern and the arrangement of a pine cone." (wiki)
I think I'm trying to draw some sort of parallel between the two...is that clear?
Anyhow - this version of Lateralus makes it easier to discern all of the different melodies coming together at least slightly more easily than the original.
Which you can find here:

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

how far you've removed yourself from the human condition

I got a new book today. I already own a version of it - but this one was nicer. I didn't know that I would love it so much the first time around so I bought a cheap copy - and since we're reading it again for another class I wanted one that I was in love with visually as well. It's got the giant whale eye on the back cover - gorgeously illustrated.
The thing is, it didn't make me feel better about my day at all. Usually books do that, especially pretty ones. And then I realized that ever since around February my levels of contentment have been in steady decline. I don't know why. Perhaps it's all the drug switcheroo, maybe it's levels of stress getting out of hand - not knowing how to handle everything. Compartmentalization is key, but it's also hard. Have I said that before? I feel like I'm losing my perspicacity - and it might be the drugs I'm on right now.
I've noticed that my vision has been getting worse - and I've been slurring my words a little bit more. I'm worried that if it's not the drugs, it's me getting stupider. Getting older is starting to scare me.
I wake up at night having panic attacks about death. This has been happening since I was around twelve years old - but it's more frequent now.
Perhaps the bupropion is working by waking me up - but that's all it's doing, it's not helping me process information from an outsider's standpoint. So I'm left where I began - being too inside of myself to view things objectively. It's frustrating.
I've also felt homeless for a long time now. For the longest time my home was where Niall was. He was the family I chose (however unwisely) and there was comfort in that. After our end I spent time with Karen and then finally went back to my mother's house. But it didn't feel right, it felt transitory, I never fully unpacked. Then I moved in to my current apartment - but now I'm moving out because of an uncomfortable situation. I've moved so many times - it's really wearing me down. After this move I don't want to move for at least the next three years.

At the same time I feel like I'm waging a one man war against a fully stocked opposition. I've never faced a challenge in ideology like this before and I don't know if I have the strength to fight it at every step. I have the conviction but my drive is falling away. Compromise is one thing, but seeing a future where people wear you down is .....well it's defeatist in a sense, and it's me getting ahead of myself. But I honestly can't see any other way it would go down. I've never been a minority before. I've never had to contend with a large family. I miss the intimacy of conversation with Ron and Ada. Hell, I just miss them. I miss interesting political conversations over dinner - I miss being liked for my qualities, qualities they actually took the time to find out about. I've never had an exceptionally large family and after moving here it got even smaller. Technically I have a mother and a half brother. My stepfather never adopted me.

So I've learned to cope - I have friends who I consider family. My unwillingness to spend time around people who I haven't specifically chosen for that purpose is incredibly low to nonexistent. It's a learned behaviour. Why would I want to spend time around people who don't really know anything about me? Oh they know superficial surface stuff - where I go to school and what I study, but past that they don't seem interested. And that's fair - people have shit going on in their lives. At the same time - it was easier to imagine a future with people who cared about my opinion. And yes, again it's me getting ahead of myself - and that might seem stupid. But it's not out of any sort of romantic sensibility - it's practicality, perhaps it's my Darwinian imperative - my brain just does the math, automatically. I can't help it.

Which brings me to the conversation I've had with several people over the past two days - about how my theory is that money can basically solve for anything.
I haven't actually done the math yet on this one - it would need actual figures, but...it could work. A perfect scenario. Love is a relatively new concept in terms of people pairing off. It causes probably as many headaches as it does happiness. So what I proposed to my friend Walter is a situation (we had around six separate conversations that night). If one were to possess x amount of money they could do whatever they wanted. Provided that they weren't a complete asshole they would have close friends with whom they could spend time - this could be the backbone of their community. Obviously there would be family in the best case scenario, mother/father/sibling. So there would be conventional relationships to a certain point, but instead of seeking out a long term partner based on the concept of "love", if one had x amount of money, one could buy someone's time in order to fulfill their sexual desires. It wouldn't necessarily be a problem because money can buy you basically anything you want - it would just take a certain amount of time to find the right person. Once you frequented this person it could become a thing - in terms of physical needs. And it would have the potential to actually be better than a physical relationship based on the concept of "love". Why? Because. There would be an exchange of goods for money, and this is conducive to a person communicating more clearly exactly what they want.
Which I guess brings people to the decision over whether or not they consider prostitution to be morally wrong etc., but personally I don't really care. (I mean I care about the fact that there are studies that show that women who have been abused are more likely to become prostitutes, but that's a whole different conversation) If people want to have sex and don't have a partner, they can see a sex worker. Dan Savage would agree with me, he's kind of the king of that stuff.
Anyway, that being said, it takes the pressure off. Unconditional love is probably the best kind, and you're very hard pressed to find something like that from a romantic partner. I mean it might happen despite the fact that you're not conforming to society's standards etc., but you can be content even if it doesn't. And you can have kids if you want - adoption, or if you're a woman, insemination.....so it's all upsides.
Of course this is all hypothetical and mostly a thought experiment thing, don't go and start thinking that I'm a jaded and cynical near-25 year old who knows nothing about the world, because that's patronizing.
Kind of like the time I told my cousin Tom that I was an atheist and he was like "oh you'll get over that as you age"....yeah...thanks.