Restless winds
Brought on by eager cars
Heavy trains
Scampering people
Packed in
All in?
All aboard!
Evil music
Playing into the night
Like a lunatic's lullaby
I am aperature.
Melancholy cats
Pining away for their masters
Gone rats
Tapdancing across train tracks
Clickety-clack
Rat-a-tat
Pull your weight!
Don't be late!
You'll be great!
But not today
You are everyday's man
And this is everyman's day
Business as usual
All work, no play
Even children labor under the toils of their games
Chasing waning shadows
Beyond dusk's horizon
Gone long
Done gone
Gone wrong
Long gone day...
Friday, July 25, 2008
Friday, July 18, 2008
On Being A Black Sheep...
I rounded the last corner of the jetway feeling the delight that comes from stretching my legs after sitting in one place for too long. I had two large carry-on bags packed with enough clothes and gadgets to last me a week. I rarely checked my bags anymore since the heightened security measures of post 9/11. This meant no waiting for the trundling baggage carousels to vomit my precious luggage, and thus less time spent inside the airport. Maybe I’ve heard too many horror stories of lost luggage, or watched too many movies where the faithful air traveler becomes victim to rough baggage handlers, whatever the case, I felt compelled to keep my goods close at hand.
I used to relish air travel, but had become increasingly uncomfortable with the whole experience. Visiting an airport meant waiting in long lines, sluggishly making my way through degrading security screening, my own dull annoyance mirrored on the faces of countless other travelers.
As I passed out of the territory of the security zone, the potpourri of jet fuel, fried food, and dozens of conflicting designer colognes, seemingly ubiquitous at every airport, left my nostrils. I began looking for my cousin Jake who was to meet me and escort me around town during my brief stay in Dayton for my Grandfather’s funeral.
Now a short word about my cousin Jake. He was the first-born out of our generation, successful in just about every sense of the word. He got his start in the restaurant business as a dishwasher, and worked his way up the chain until he became manager. He married a great woman and they started a family. Jake continued to work his way up in the business learning most of the skills and building the capital he needed to open up his own restaurant. He has always had a natural ability with people, and he eventually worked his way into politics. Now right about this time, his family life started to crumble. On the surface, they had the appearance of the idyllic family, the great American dream come home to roost in the Midwest, peaceful, stable, and praiseworthy. Under the surface however, things weren’t going so well. Jake and Mindy got a divorce. He started carousing around town with various women and partying late into the night, much to the chagrin of his kids and supporters. Eventually, this hedonistic behavior caught up to him in the form of legal trouble. This led to his name being smeared all over the local papers and pretty much ruined his future in politics. I say all of this only to illustrate that I was never really close to Jake. Out of all of my cousins, he was the one I related to the least. His business-minded financial success and my bohemian, free-spirited, apparent lack of concern for all things he had cherished so highly had always ensured that we would be worlds apart. But he was indeed family and he was the one who offered to pick me up from the airport, and nothing brings family together quite like a funeral.
I was expecting a downtrodden, beleaguered, and perhaps world-weary version of Jake. I hadn’t seen or talked to him in six years, and had heard about his recent troubles only through vague and sketchy descriptions from my other relatives. But there was Jake, cheerful as ever, greeting me at the airport with his new girlfriend Leslie. As we loaded my bags into her BMW and drove off, there was the usual amicable small talk about my job status, love life, and the lot. Truth be told, I wanted to dislike Leslie. See, Mindy, Jake's ex-wife was well-respected and admired within the family. It broke everyone's heart to hear of their divorce and quite shocked the hell out of me. Mindy and I had always gotten along pretty well, so naturally, I favored her over Leslie. What I didn't expect was to actually like Jake's new lady. She was charming, spunky, and seemingly possessed of great reservoirs of compassion to accept Jake for all of his vices and to stick by his side in the wake of his fall from grace. I purposefully stayed away from any topic that revolved around his recent legal skirmishes, not wanting to spoil this warm reunion.
During the course of the week I was in Dayton, I would catch my family off guard by cracking jokes, and none laughed as hard as Jake. I figured that most of my family thought pretty poorly of me anyways, had their own crystallized opinions of me, as I had always been the token black sheep, so why not just speak my mind? What did I have to lose? Why not have some fun with it?
One night after an especially solemn day, we all went out to a Mexican restaurant. Jake’s mother June, who is very religious, was to meet Jake’s new girlfriend for the first time at this dinner. The mood was very apprehensive as we all awaited June’s arrival. I kept ordering margaritas just to make things that much more interesting. June and her conservative husband arrived, and the games began. June spewed her typical venomous barrage of insinuations at Jake’s girlfriend Leslie, who was surprisingly formidable and resilient. I kept making slights and mutinous comments at the expense of my stuffier relatives who, incidentally, didn’t understand half of what I was talking about. Jake got it though. His face would turn deep red and he put his silverware down on his plate, hard, and he filled the room with his maniacal, tittering laughter. Jake laughed with the abandon of a man who has nothing to lose, a man who has hit rock bottom and has nowhere to look but upwards. We were on a roll, Jake and me. The laughter spawned more laughs and more jokes, and by the end of the night he was calling me his “Margarita Man.” The white elephant in the room was Jake’s run-in with the law, but interestingly enough, no one mentioned it. I guess Jake’s new girlfriend was controversial enough to distract the pious zealots at the table from discussing the easy pickings of Jake’s publicized embarrassment.
Of course, when Jake wasn't around, there was plenty of talk, and I couldn't help but to think, this is probably how they talk about me when I'm not around. It doesn't matter how successful I might be, or how munificent I try to be towards my family; it is always easier to point out the ugliness in others, and by doing so, we make ourselves out to be ugly. Sure, he kind of went off the deep end on some things, but so have all of us at one time or another. What I saw of Jake was a man who had to go through this experience to help discover himself.
When Jake and I parted ways, he gave me a big hug and a business card, admonishing me to be less of a stranger the next time I came to town. I realized that at the beginning of this trip, I had had the wrong measure of him. I had only heard of cousin Jake’s wild excursions vicariously through the family gossip network. They had painted a rather dismal picture of the once absolutely adored family favorite, Jake. But now he had become the one who was judged, the scorned one, the wayward son, the black sheep. So I was discovering this relatability that I never had with him before. We were in some ways, freer than the rest because we had faced our trials, faced ourselves, and come out of the darkness stronger. I thought back to the funeral, where Jake was joined by his children and ex-wife. It reminded me that we all make mistakes, but it is the power of forgiveness and compassion that triumphs over scorn and indiscretion. As he walked with his estranged family by the graveside of my Grandfather, he carried himself with the dignity of a man who still possessed the best parts of himself, and I respected him for it.
I used to relish air travel, but had become increasingly uncomfortable with the whole experience. Visiting an airport meant waiting in long lines, sluggishly making my way through degrading security screening, my own dull annoyance mirrored on the faces of countless other travelers.
As I passed out of the territory of the security zone, the potpourri of jet fuel, fried food, and dozens of conflicting designer colognes, seemingly ubiquitous at every airport, left my nostrils. I began looking for my cousin Jake who was to meet me and escort me around town during my brief stay in Dayton for my Grandfather’s funeral.
Now a short word about my cousin Jake. He was the first-born out of our generation, successful in just about every sense of the word. He got his start in the restaurant business as a dishwasher, and worked his way up the chain until he became manager. He married a great woman and they started a family. Jake continued to work his way up in the business learning most of the skills and building the capital he needed to open up his own restaurant. He has always had a natural ability with people, and he eventually worked his way into politics. Now right about this time, his family life started to crumble. On the surface, they had the appearance of the idyllic family, the great American dream come home to roost in the Midwest, peaceful, stable, and praiseworthy. Under the surface however, things weren’t going so well. Jake and Mindy got a divorce. He started carousing around town with various women and partying late into the night, much to the chagrin of his kids and supporters. Eventually, this hedonistic behavior caught up to him in the form of legal trouble. This led to his name being smeared all over the local papers and pretty much ruined his future in politics. I say all of this only to illustrate that I was never really close to Jake. Out of all of my cousins, he was the one I related to the least. His business-minded financial success and my bohemian, free-spirited, apparent lack of concern for all things he had cherished so highly had always ensured that we would be worlds apart. But he was indeed family and he was the one who offered to pick me up from the airport, and nothing brings family together quite like a funeral.
I was expecting a downtrodden, beleaguered, and perhaps world-weary version of Jake. I hadn’t seen or talked to him in six years, and had heard about his recent troubles only through vague and sketchy descriptions from my other relatives. But there was Jake, cheerful as ever, greeting me at the airport with his new girlfriend Leslie. As we loaded my bags into her BMW and drove off, there was the usual amicable small talk about my job status, love life, and the lot. Truth be told, I wanted to dislike Leslie. See, Mindy, Jake's ex-wife was well-respected and admired within the family. It broke everyone's heart to hear of their divorce and quite shocked the hell out of me. Mindy and I had always gotten along pretty well, so naturally, I favored her over Leslie. What I didn't expect was to actually like Jake's new lady. She was charming, spunky, and seemingly possessed of great reservoirs of compassion to accept Jake for all of his vices and to stick by his side in the wake of his fall from grace. I purposefully stayed away from any topic that revolved around his recent legal skirmishes, not wanting to spoil this warm reunion.
During the course of the week I was in Dayton, I would catch my family off guard by cracking jokes, and none laughed as hard as Jake. I figured that most of my family thought pretty poorly of me anyways, had their own crystallized opinions of me, as I had always been the token black sheep, so why not just speak my mind? What did I have to lose? Why not have some fun with it?
One night after an especially solemn day, we all went out to a Mexican restaurant. Jake’s mother June, who is very religious, was to meet Jake’s new girlfriend for the first time at this dinner. The mood was very apprehensive as we all awaited June’s arrival. I kept ordering margaritas just to make things that much more interesting. June and her conservative husband arrived, and the games began. June spewed her typical venomous barrage of insinuations at Jake’s girlfriend Leslie, who was surprisingly formidable and resilient. I kept making slights and mutinous comments at the expense of my stuffier relatives who, incidentally, didn’t understand half of what I was talking about. Jake got it though. His face would turn deep red and he put his silverware down on his plate, hard, and he filled the room with his maniacal, tittering laughter. Jake laughed with the abandon of a man who has nothing to lose, a man who has hit rock bottom and has nowhere to look but upwards. We were on a roll, Jake and me. The laughter spawned more laughs and more jokes, and by the end of the night he was calling me his “Margarita Man.” The white elephant in the room was Jake’s run-in with the law, but interestingly enough, no one mentioned it. I guess Jake’s new girlfriend was controversial enough to distract the pious zealots at the table from discussing the easy pickings of Jake’s publicized embarrassment.
Of course, when Jake wasn't around, there was plenty of talk, and I couldn't help but to think, this is probably how they talk about me when I'm not around. It doesn't matter how successful I might be, or how munificent I try to be towards my family; it is always easier to point out the ugliness in others, and by doing so, we make ourselves out to be ugly. Sure, he kind of went off the deep end on some things, but so have all of us at one time or another. What I saw of Jake was a man who had to go through this experience to help discover himself.
When Jake and I parted ways, he gave me a big hug and a business card, admonishing me to be less of a stranger the next time I came to town. I realized that at the beginning of this trip, I had had the wrong measure of him. I had only heard of cousin Jake’s wild excursions vicariously through the family gossip network. They had painted a rather dismal picture of the once absolutely adored family favorite, Jake. But now he had become the one who was judged, the scorned one, the wayward son, the black sheep. So I was discovering this relatability that I never had with him before. We were in some ways, freer than the rest because we had faced our trials, faced ourselves, and come out of the darkness stronger. I thought back to the funeral, where Jake was joined by his children and ex-wife. It reminded me that we all make mistakes, but it is the power of forgiveness and compassion that triumphs over scorn and indiscretion. As he walked with his estranged family by the graveside of my Grandfather, he carried himself with the dignity of a man who still possessed the best parts of himself, and I respected him for it.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Voyeurism And The Post 9/11 Empire
I live in a world of haunted memories. The ghosts of the last decade visit me to remind me of richer times represented not only by greater affluence, but of the wealth of possibilities that the future might have held. I am faced with the phantoms of a pre-9-11 world, a society not emburdened with the threats of immanent terrorism, the scourge of heightened jingoism, nor the plague of economic decline. I look back in time, before the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, before the latest recession, to a time when the U.S. dollar was still worth more than the Euro, before the mass de-industrialization and sell-out of major corporations in this country. I look back at all of these things, look at how much our society has changed for the worse since 9-11 and long for those brighter days of the “Roaring ’90’s.” At times I walk through this life in a waking dream and think that that proverbial chartless future may still be around the corner, but more often, I wake to the realization of the nightmare that has become post 9-11 life in America.
While the events of September 11th, 2001 were certainly startling, I must ask myself why those particular terror attacks were so impactful. Like most people, I can remember exactly where I was and what I was doing the morning of the attacks. I was living in Dayton at the time, and the woman whose grass I was cutting called me inside to watch the television, where the infamous events of that morning were tragically unfolding. All of the media with its pervasive all-seeing-eye, already posed the premise that we were under attack, complete with stylized graphics and stunned reporters commenting with great pathos and occupational self-indulgence not seen since the Gulf War in 1991. I remember feeling afraid.
Rumors of more terror attacks to come circulated even throughout the Dayton area. We were after all, close to Wright-Patterson Air Force base, and in the heightened state of fear, it seemed plausible that the terrorists might fix their diabolical eye on sleepy Dayton, home of such treasures as the Mead building and the Wright B Flyer. It was the fear of the unknown that drove us to such ludicrous concerns. Even then no one could have guessed how much our world would really change.
It is easy for me to look back at the progression of events since 9-11 that brought us here. It seems that even the 2000 presidential election debacle was a harbinger of things to come. A dynastic son rises to power, despite a series of failures, becoming appointed (not rightfully elected) as president during, perhaps, the most controversial election in American history. A mere eight months after his inauguration, 9-11 happens, solidifying George W. Bush’s place in history, bringing purpose to his mostly non-descript presidency. More controversy would haunt this man in the post 9-11 years in the form of bad policy decisions which would lead us to war and drive us into record-breaking deficits. Despite the political capital he gained immediately following 9-11, George Bush, continuing his streak of failures, extinguished the positive regard posited by most of the world by circumventing international law and invading the sovereign nations of Afghanistan and Iraq. This had the effect of driving the United States further into debt and entangling us in a state of war that has no foreseeable end.
The terror attacks on 9-11 marked the birthing of the neo-fascist era of America, sometimes referred to as the “New American Century.” The Bush administration was certainly opportunistic in its complicity surrounding the events of 9-11. This administration cranked up the fear machine to help remind us that we are in a state of terror. Unprecedented executive power was seized in the aftermath of the attacks. Traditional avenues for diplomacy and policy-making were displaced while the might of the U.S. military industrial complex was bolstered by the “war on terror,” an ambiguous war of paradox and deception.
In fact, 9-11 was a veritable free-for-all full of opportunists ready to steer America in new directions. The mainstream media, largely uncritical of the post 9-11 American government, enjoyed a lucrative and satisfying arrangement with the administration and rolled out the terror propaganda. Religious fanatics capitalized on the new aura of fear by tying the events of 9-11 together with the mythologies of the bible, creating a sort of new American theocracy. This had the effect of polarizing not only contingents in America, but in the rest of the world as well. All the while the terror threat was hyped, and the warmongering continued to pervade the ideology of the terrorized psyche of the American mind. War and violence at the expense of the lives of unrelated parties were somehow justified as acceptable measures to be taken to preserve the fragile sensibilities of the American way of life.
If the purpose of the perpetrators of the attacks on 9-11 was to permanently alter our way of life, then sadly, they have succeeded. It seems that most of the progress we made towards tolerance, acceptance, and unity in the 90’s somehow lapsed in favor of post 9-11 priorities. This is not due to any terrorist infiltration of American society, but rather, our acceptance of neo-fascist regime change within our own country. We have practically handed over constitutional liberties in exchange for the illusion of security. Americans have become more galvanized, more bigoted, and seemingly more ignorant in the years succeeding 9-11. Easy answers in the form of bumper sticker slogans touted by talking heads are repeated in remarkable lock-step fashion by detail-weary Americans who don’t take the time or put forth the energy to scrutinize the state of affairs in our country.
Why were we so affected by 9-11? It was certainly tragic and unprecedented. But I believe deep down that we were so affected because it connected us to a larger reality for just a moment, and now that we have experienced it, we are hooked. The orgy of violence on 9-11 reminded us that death and terror are real and maybe even thrilling. We are so buried in the virtual reality of television programming that we have become de-sensitized to the real possibility of danger. So when it happens on a large scale and in front of our eyes, we are so shocked that we can’t help but to watch. I believe that the terror attacks on 9-11 awakened a thirst for graphic voyeurism of a tragic scale. On the surface, we hope that the worst is over and that any possible future attacks have been stymied by all of the post 9-11 security measures put in place. But under the surface, I believe we are anticipating the next big terror event that will bring us to grips with that which connects us to what is real.
While the events of September 11th, 2001 were certainly startling, I must ask myself why those particular terror attacks were so impactful. Like most people, I can remember exactly where I was and what I was doing the morning of the attacks. I was living in Dayton at the time, and the woman whose grass I was cutting called me inside to watch the television, where the infamous events of that morning were tragically unfolding. All of the media with its pervasive all-seeing-eye, already posed the premise that we were under attack, complete with stylized graphics and stunned reporters commenting with great pathos and occupational self-indulgence not seen since the Gulf War in 1991. I remember feeling afraid.
Rumors of more terror attacks to come circulated even throughout the Dayton area. We were after all, close to Wright-Patterson Air Force base, and in the heightened state of fear, it seemed plausible that the terrorists might fix their diabolical eye on sleepy Dayton, home of such treasures as the Mead building and the Wright B Flyer. It was the fear of the unknown that drove us to such ludicrous concerns. Even then no one could have guessed how much our world would really change.
It is easy for me to look back at the progression of events since 9-11 that brought us here. It seems that even the 2000 presidential election debacle was a harbinger of things to come. A dynastic son rises to power, despite a series of failures, becoming appointed (not rightfully elected) as president during, perhaps, the most controversial election in American history. A mere eight months after his inauguration, 9-11 happens, solidifying George W. Bush’s place in history, bringing purpose to his mostly non-descript presidency. More controversy would haunt this man in the post 9-11 years in the form of bad policy decisions which would lead us to war and drive us into record-breaking deficits. Despite the political capital he gained immediately following 9-11, George Bush, continuing his streak of failures, extinguished the positive regard posited by most of the world by circumventing international law and invading the sovereign nations of Afghanistan and Iraq. This had the effect of driving the United States further into debt and entangling us in a state of war that has no foreseeable end.
The terror attacks on 9-11 marked the birthing of the neo-fascist era of America, sometimes referred to as the “New American Century.” The Bush administration was certainly opportunistic in its complicity surrounding the events of 9-11. This administration cranked up the fear machine to help remind us that we are in a state of terror. Unprecedented executive power was seized in the aftermath of the attacks. Traditional avenues for diplomacy and policy-making were displaced while the might of the U.S. military industrial complex was bolstered by the “war on terror,” an ambiguous war of paradox and deception.
In fact, 9-11 was a veritable free-for-all full of opportunists ready to steer America in new directions. The mainstream media, largely uncritical of the post 9-11 American government, enjoyed a lucrative and satisfying arrangement with the administration and rolled out the terror propaganda. Religious fanatics capitalized on the new aura of fear by tying the events of 9-11 together with the mythologies of the bible, creating a sort of new American theocracy. This had the effect of polarizing not only contingents in America, but in the rest of the world as well. All the while the terror threat was hyped, and the warmongering continued to pervade the ideology of the terrorized psyche of the American mind. War and violence at the expense of the lives of unrelated parties were somehow justified as acceptable measures to be taken to preserve the fragile sensibilities of the American way of life.
If the purpose of the perpetrators of the attacks on 9-11 was to permanently alter our way of life, then sadly, they have succeeded. It seems that most of the progress we made towards tolerance, acceptance, and unity in the 90’s somehow lapsed in favor of post 9-11 priorities. This is not due to any terrorist infiltration of American society, but rather, our acceptance of neo-fascist regime change within our own country. We have practically handed over constitutional liberties in exchange for the illusion of security. Americans have become more galvanized, more bigoted, and seemingly more ignorant in the years succeeding 9-11. Easy answers in the form of bumper sticker slogans touted by talking heads are repeated in remarkable lock-step fashion by detail-weary Americans who don’t take the time or put forth the energy to scrutinize the state of affairs in our country.
Why were we so affected by 9-11? It was certainly tragic and unprecedented. But I believe deep down that we were so affected because it connected us to a larger reality for just a moment, and now that we have experienced it, we are hooked. The orgy of violence on 9-11 reminded us that death and terror are real and maybe even thrilling. We are so buried in the virtual reality of television programming that we have become de-sensitized to the real possibility of danger. So when it happens on a large scale and in front of our eyes, we are so shocked that we can’t help but to watch. I believe that the terror attacks on 9-11 awakened a thirst for graphic voyeurism of a tragic scale. On the surface, we hope that the worst is over and that any possible future attacks have been stymied by all of the post 9-11 security measures put in place. But under the surface, I believe we are anticipating the next big terror event that will bring us to grips with that which connects us to what is real.
Friday, May 30, 2008
$UCCE$$
What defines success? Is it based on merit or achievement? Is it based on accomplishing a series of tasks? Is success determined by financial avatars, or is success something deeper that stems from a personal drive to be all that one can be, and to strive for the highest quality of personal satisfaction?
I believe that many people equate success with financial or commercial success. These are the people that need the vindication of society’s status quota to validate to them whether talent measures up to success. This yardstick has traditionally been used by our consumer-driven society with the idea that the money-makers must have something worth selling. It is typical for most people to acquiesce success only to those who are acknowledged by society’s standards. But does lack of recognition by the greater part of society change who a person is or what they are capable of achieving?
To the passive observer, art (including music and other genres), is merely another form of entertainment to which the consumer expects to be “serviced” by the entertainer(s). The obscure, self-driven artists who devote themselves to their craft simply because they can, regardless of stature, money, or prestige, are mostly marginalized by the louder, more pervasive consumer-driven machine, which pontificates to the world what is art.
We live in a society where art has become industrialized. With the rise of Mp3 technology and the widening scope of apparent talent, industry giants have tightened up considerably. CD sales have noticeably dropped, leading the major labels to lower percentage points and perks for artists. The days of primadonna big band extravagance are over. Music labels have traded talent scouts for accountants, implementing a more corporately-based structure of discovering and marketing new talent. This trend has led to the surge of formulaic, pre-fabricated “boy bands,” “teenage divas,” and scores of forgettable rock bands that have been carefully molded and funded by their corporate sponsors. The past decade is rife with examples of these mostly performance-driven, musically mediocre acts. The line between musicianship and showmanship has become blurred, and the largely aloof consumer audience has accepted this form of forced-fed entertainment. Like Jon-boy states during a mock pundit show in the movie EDtv:
“... it used to be that people were famous for being special. Now they’re considered special, merely, for being famous. Fame has become a moral good. It is its own virtue.”
Most people are willing to accept the idea that if a band is featured on the radio, then they are successful and worthy of a listening audience. The music is driven into the consciousness by persistent repetition, almost to the point of absurdity. It’s like George W. Bush stated, speaking at a New York middle/high school, posted May 24th, 2005:
"See, in my line of work you got to keep repeating things over and over and over again for the truth to sink in, to kind of catapult the propaganda.”
This is how hits are made in contemporary radio culture. Music has become weaponized by corporate conglomerates and their clients to help sell products and keep this titanic industry afloat. But much like the ill-fated maiden voyage of the R.M.S. Titanic, the record industry is doomed to founder.
Fortunately, with the advent and rise of digital technology, and the growing availability of recording technology to the common-person, a fatal blow has been dealt to the recording industry. The market has become flooded with independent artists who have successfully found ways around the old paradigms set by the music industry, creating an industry all unto themselves. This movement has risen so suddenly and dramatically, that the recording industry has failed to adapt adequately to the desires of the consumers. Now that people realize that there is a virtual plethora of musical choices to be had, they can afford to be more selective and flex the almighty consumer muscle. This saturation of new and valid musical voices, coupled with the industry’s apparent lack of anticipation to evolve with the consumers will hopefully set a new standard as to how far self-motivated musicians can go with their talent.
Success, like many other things, is in the eye of the beholder, and has a deeply personal meaning to each person. The mistake, I believe, is in letting other peoples’ ideas of what success should be, cloud our own judgement, hindering the visions we have for ourselves.
I believe that many people equate success with financial or commercial success. These are the people that need the vindication of society’s status quota to validate to them whether talent measures up to success. This yardstick has traditionally been used by our consumer-driven society with the idea that the money-makers must have something worth selling. It is typical for most people to acquiesce success only to those who are acknowledged by society’s standards. But does lack of recognition by the greater part of society change who a person is or what they are capable of achieving?
To the passive observer, art (including music and other genres), is merely another form of entertainment to which the consumer expects to be “serviced” by the entertainer(s). The obscure, self-driven artists who devote themselves to their craft simply because they can, regardless of stature, money, or prestige, are mostly marginalized by the louder, more pervasive consumer-driven machine, which pontificates to the world what is art.
We live in a society where art has become industrialized. With the rise of Mp3 technology and the widening scope of apparent talent, industry giants have tightened up considerably. CD sales have noticeably dropped, leading the major labels to lower percentage points and perks for artists. The days of primadonna big band extravagance are over. Music labels have traded talent scouts for accountants, implementing a more corporately-based structure of discovering and marketing new talent. This trend has led to the surge of formulaic, pre-fabricated “boy bands,” “teenage divas,” and scores of forgettable rock bands that have been carefully molded and funded by their corporate sponsors. The past decade is rife with examples of these mostly performance-driven, musically mediocre acts. The line between musicianship and showmanship has become blurred, and the largely aloof consumer audience has accepted this form of forced-fed entertainment. Like Jon-boy states during a mock pundit show in the movie EDtv:
“... it used to be that people were famous for being special. Now they’re considered special, merely, for being famous. Fame has become a moral good. It is its own virtue.”
Most people are willing to accept the idea that if a band is featured on the radio, then they are successful and worthy of a listening audience. The music is driven into the consciousness by persistent repetition, almost to the point of absurdity. It’s like George W. Bush stated, speaking at a New York middle/high school, posted May 24th, 2005:
"See, in my line of work you got to keep repeating things over and over and over again for the truth to sink in, to kind of catapult the propaganda.”
This is how hits are made in contemporary radio culture. Music has become weaponized by corporate conglomerates and their clients to help sell products and keep this titanic industry afloat. But much like the ill-fated maiden voyage of the R.M.S. Titanic, the record industry is doomed to founder.
Fortunately, with the advent and rise of digital technology, and the growing availability of recording technology to the common-person, a fatal blow has been dealt to the recording industry. The market has become flooded with independent artists who have successfully found ways around the old paradigms set by the music industry, creating an industry all unto themselves. This movement has risen so suddenly and dramatically, that the recording industry has failed to adapt adequately to the desires of the consumers. Now that people realize that there is a virtual plethora of musical choices to be had, they can afford to be more selective and flex the almighty consumer muscle. This saturation of new and valid musical voices, coupled with the industry’s apparent lack of anticipation to evolve with the consumers will hopefully set a new standard as to how far self-motivated musicians can go with their talent.
Success, like many other things, is in the eye of the beholder, and has a deeply personal meaning to each person. The mistake, I believe, is in letting other peoples’ ideas of what success should be, cloud our own judgement, hindering the visions we have for ourselves.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Life or Something Like It...
Life is the great struggle. From the time we are born until the time we are destined to die, this living experience, the Great Game is one long (or sometimes short) push/pull to the end. Sure, there are brief respites, breaks, and pauses, but they are never enduring. It is like a mountain climber scaling a challenging rock face, creeping from hand-hold to hand-hold until finding a suitable ledge to rest on, and this repose lasting only long enough to gather strength for the next great climb upward. For that is the direction that everyone struggles to move through life: upwards.
This pattern is self-evident throughout nature. Seeds must endure the hardships of winter, sometimes lying dormant for years before they germinate, defying gravity with their slow march towards the sunlight. Chicks must naturally beak their way out of the eggshells that they are entombed in to earn their place in the grand “pecking” order. River fish make the exhaustive swim upstream in order to spawn, proving their will to live and to live on through the succession of their offspring. Call it “survival of the fittest,” or evolution, or competitive spirit, whatever the case, we all want to be on top.
The problem is that we think that we want to always remain on top. Think about it. How boring, how predictable life would be if we had no challenges to take us to the next level. What if we had all of the answers before us in nice little pre-fabricated constructs, so that we would never have to think or ponder? If this were the case, why even go through the motions of life, dance the dance, experiencing only a wholly conventional life?
This is the essence of why we enter into life: to experience the pain with the pleasure, the loss as well as the gain, the unpredictable exhilaration that comes from this great struggle.
Life shouldn’t be all about suffering either. If you can imagine life as a series of waves, some crashing, some gently lapping, waxing and waning with the pull of the tides. Waves have crests and troughs. You can’t have one without the other. They must co-exist to exist at all. If you are surfing these waves, there will be times when you fall beneath the water and have to pick yourself up again. There will also be times when you are carried triumphantly atop the wave, and you can enjoy the thrill of the ride. It is by experiencing the times of “without” that we learn to truly appreciate the times of abundance. In the meantime, enjoy the interims of peace and triumph amidst the demanding effort that living requires, and don’t forget to relish the struggle.
This pattern is self-evident throughout nature. Seeds must endure the hardships of winter, sometimes lying dormant for years before they germinate, defying gravity with their slow march towards the sunlight. Chicks must naturally beak their way out of the eggshells that they are entombed in to earn their place in the grand “pecking” order. River fish make the exhaustive swim upstream in order to spawn, proving their will to live and to live on through the succession of their offspring. Call it “survival of the fittest,” or evolution, or competitive spirit, whatever the case, we all want to be on top.
The problem is that we think that we want to always remain on top. Think about it. How boring, how predictable life would be if we had no challenges to take us to the next level. What if we had all of the answers before us in nice little pre-fabricated constructs, so that we would never have to think or ponder? If this were the case, why even go through the motions of life, dance the dance, experiencing only a wholly conventional life?
This is the essence of why we enter into life: to experience the pain with the pleasure, the loss as well as the gain, the unpredictable exhilaration that comes from this great struggle.
Life shouldn’t be all about suffering either. If you can imagine life as a series of waves, some crashing, some gently lapping, waxing and waning with the pull of the tides. Waves have crests and troughs. You can’t have one without the other. They must co-exist to exist at all. If you are surfing these waves, there will be times when you fall beneath the water and have to pick yourself up again. There will also be times when you are carried triumphantly atop the wave, and you can enjoy the thrill of the ride. It is by experiencing the times of “without” that we learn to truly appreciate the times of abundance. In the meantime, enjoy the interims of peace and triumph amidst the demanding effort that living requires, and don’t forget to relish the struggle.
Friday, May 16, 2008
The 2008 Election and Why I Will Not Be Voting...
In light of this year’s race for the presidency, I have decided that I will take the advice of this election cycle’s slogan “You Decide,” and make the choice--not to choose. I know…how unpatriotic of me, how un-democratic of me. There are those who value voting as highly as a marital union or a religious experience, and will no doubt despise my diatribe, but for those individuals who are courageous and open-minded enough to read on, I promise there is a method to my madness.
One of the problems I have with the current political system in America, is that there is no real choice. All the possible candidates, all the presidential hopefuls that are qualified to “run” this country are eventually funneled into one of two favored possibilities, one representing the “right wing” ideology, and the other from the “left.” Somehow, the right has become synonymous with conservatism, and the left synonymous with liberalism. This left-right paradigm has historically dominated American politics over the past two centuries, leaving little or no room for “centrist,” or “moderate” affiliated candidates to have a substantive effect on the presidential electoral outcome. This process galvanizes voters by forcing them to choose the next president based mainly on platform issues such as: gay rights, gun control, abortion, death penalty, etc, or even more cosmetic attributes. While these issues are important and highly volatile in the public debate, they aren’t necessarily the best barometer for choosing a president.
While the president does have a certain amount of power and authority, those who place the bulk of the future course of this country on the shoulders of the next president are sadly misled. Inasmuch as presidential voting in America has become mostly symbolic, the actual position of “President of the United States of America,” represents more of a ceremonial figurehead. The actual planning, deciding, and execution of national policy is determined by a larger scope of factors including internal bureaucracy, international relations, corporate ties, residual effects from past administrations, and many other factors that influence and mold the so-called democratic process of the American political machine.
The road to the 2008 presidential nomination has been one of the most contentious, contested, costly, and convoluted in history. It has also been one of the most widely publicized, with all of the contestants getting an early start, and getting plenty of air time and hype. All televised debates aside, the leading contenders have been whittled down to three media favorites, with the public eye primarily focusing on the petty bickering between the two democratic front runners Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. Much emphasis has been put on this squabbling by the mainstream media, which has historically acted as the de facto declarer of all that is newsworthy, if not by technological ubiquity, by the sheer pervasiveness of its influence over our culture.
Of all the potential candidates for president, the ones who are afforded the most influence are the ones with the most money. It costs money to run political advertisements, to make nationwide campaign tours, to hire consultants and advisers, to equip a competent staff, etc. The more money you have, the more primetime slots you can buy. What we are left with is essentially two analogous factions vying for the top executive position of a heavily biased system. In his book Hegemony or Survival: America’s Quest for Global Dominance, notable scholar and political analyst Noam Chomsky states:
“Through tacit agreement, the two major parties approach the contest for the presidency as political kabuki in which the players know their roles and everyone sticks to the script, striking poses that cannot be taken seriously. If the public escapes its marginalization and passivity, we face a crisis of democracy that must be overcome…”
The media inevitably gives its endorsement to representatives from the bi-partisan “wings” by allotting them the most airtime, thrusting their causes into the limelight, and instigating a limited debate forum. The substance of the message becomes lost in the flash of gratifying allure of the primarily entertainment driven political scene. This process only reinforces the illusion that only their causes are important and newsworthy. It is the media that reports. It is the media that decides. It is the media in which most people pledge their unwavering faith.
There has been a move in recent years, to make voting more appealing and even trendy, sometimes exaggerating the importance of presidential voting to the point of social bigotry. I call this phenomenon voter chic. The voter chic crowd believes in voting for the sake of voting, and anyone who doesn’t follow their adhesion to the illusion of “choice,“ in American politics is exempt from true citizenship. These are the people that chastise non-voters with the usual lockstep cliché of: “Well, if you don’t vote, then you don’t have a right to complain.” This statement is a true sign of non-democracy, and of complete ignorance of the voting process. When the voter chic camp is confronted with the fact that, in the end, voters are pigeon-holed into the left-right paradigm, and that inevitably only one of two candidates will emerge victorious, another common cliché is: “Well, that’s just the way it is.” According to his essay “End of the Mandate,” Gregory Bresiger states:
“They say that people who don’t vote can’t complain about the outcome. But they also say that if your candidate didn’t win, you can’t complain because that’s being a sore loser. You also can’t complain if the guy you voted for does something you don’t like. Hey, you voted for him, didn’t you? You can’t win. The game is rigged.”
The truly important decision of electing a president has been reduced to choosing the lesser of two evils, rather than voting according to one’s conscience. During past elections, I found myself voting for or against candidates based on this flawed system of false choice. I walked away feeling like no matter which direction I voted, I was ultimately playing into the hands of political elites that had already charted the course of my vote based on giving me the illusion of choice.
To the ignorant, “not voting” is an irresponsible act that is tantamount to the ruination of this country. There are however, dissenting voices that see through the subterfuge of false choice politics in America. In the book Everything You Know is Wrong, editor Russ Kick summarizes the book Dissenting Electorate by stating:
“People who choose not to vote are often derided as lazy, apathetic, and apolitical. While there may be a few folks who don‘t cast a ballot out of sheer sloth, lots of people have convincing reasons…Perhaps most often, politics and government are seen as worthless, even harmful, systems that exist solely to exercise power over people. By voting, you play the game, you support the very system that imprisons you. By not voting, you commit a revolutionary act by refusing to be a part of the machine. You are withdrawing your consent to be governed by an inherently corrupt system.”
For those that would argue that voting is a right, or privilege of living in America, I would argue that my right to protest, or to conscientiously “not vote” is an equally afforded right which is just as valid in this age of political kool-aid drinking. Robert LeFevre states in his essay, “Abstain from Beans:”
“When we express a preference politically, we do so precisely because we intend to bind others to our will…Political voting is nothing more than the assumption that might makes right. There is a presumption that any decision wanted by the majority of those expressing a preference must be desirable, and the inference even goes so far as to presume that anyone who differs from the majority view is wrong or possibly immoral.”
What it comes down to for me is, either my vote counts, or it doesn’t. If it does, then my voice should be heard in a truly democratic system. Spectrums of real issues would be debated in a public forum not censored or marginalized by the corporately controlled media or its clients. If my vote doesn’t truly count, then my time and energy will be wasted in the process. The illusion of choice is not real choice. Instead of binding myself to a broken system of false choices, I would rather extend my energy to help create the type of world I would like to live in.
Blogger’s note:
At the time of the writing of this blog, I happened to enter into a conversation about the subject of voting with an individual sitting at my table. She rudely proclaimed that I was “stupid” for choosing not to vote and basically argued that I was apathetic and in the majority view of thinking. She then went on to talk about how she didn’t vote in the past two election cycles, including state and local issues, which incidentally have far more of an apparent impact than presidential elections. Her reasons for not voting were that she had too far to travel to her voting precinct, and that she frankly didn’t care about some of the local issues on the ballot, but she plans on voting this year. “It may not matter much, but at least I can say that I voted,” she said.
Such empty and uneducated rhetoric only serves to illustrate my point, and strengthens my resolve. This individual, although arrogant and opinionated, is sadly misguided in her attempt at political awareness. She is happy to walk away from the voting booths with the nifty little “I Voted” sticker displayed, so she can brag to the world that she was part of the American political system, albeit an admittedly manipulated one. This idea of fashionable voting or voting for bragging rights is the epitome of “voter chic.” Her ignorance is only compounded by her hypocritical voting- or rather non-voting record.
One of the problems I have with the current political system in America, is that there is no real choice. All the possible candidates, all the presidential hopefuls that are qualified to “run” this country are eventually funneled into one of two favored possibilities, one representing the “right wing” ideology, and the other from the “left.” Somehow, the right has become synonymous with conservatism, and the left synonymous with liberalism. This left-right paradigm has historically dominated American politics over the past two centuries, leaving little or no room for “centrist,” or “moderate” affiliated candidates to have a substantive effect on the presidential electoral outcome. This process galvanizes voters by forcing them to choose the next president based mainly on platform issues such as: gay rights, gun control, abortion, death penalty, etc, or even more cosmetic attributes. While these issues are important and highly volatile in the public debate, they aren’t necessarily the best barometer for choosing a president.
While the president does have a certain amount of power and authority, those who place the bulk of the future course of this country on the shoulders of the next president are sadly misled. Inasmuch as presidential voting in America has become mostly symbolic, the actual position of “President of the United States of America,” represents more of a ceremonial figurehead. The actual planning, deciding, and execution of national policy is determined by a larger scope of factors including internal bureaucracy, international relations, corporate ties, residual effects from past administrations, and many other factors that influence and mold the so-called democratic process of the American political machine.
The road to the 2008 presidential nomination has been one of the most contentious, contested, costly, and convoluted in history. It has also been one of the most widely publicized, with all of the contestants getting an early start, and getting plenty of air time and hype. All televised debates aside, the leading contenders have been whittled down to three media favorites, with the public eye primarily focusing on the petty bickering between the two democratic front runners Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. Much emphasis has been put on this squabbling by the mainstream media, which has historically acted as the de facto declarer of all that is newsworthy, if not by technological ubiquity, by the sheer pervasiveness of its influence over our culture.
Of all the potential candidates for president, the ones who are afforded the most influence are the ones with the most money. It costs money to run political advertisements, to make nationwide campaign tours, to hire consultants and advisers, to equip a competent staff, etc. The more money you have, the more primetime slots you can buy. What we are left with is essentially two analogous factions vying for the top executive position of a heavily biased system. In his book Hegemony or Survival: America’s Quest for Global Dominance, notable scholar and political analyst Noam Chomsky states:
“Through tacit agreement, the two major parties approach the contest for the presidency as political kabuki in which the players know their roles and everyone sticks to the script, striking poses that cannot be taken seriously. If the public escapes its marginalization and passivity, we face a crisis of democracy that must be overcome…”
The media inevitably gives its endorsement to representatives from the bi-partisan “wings” by allotting them the most airtime, thrusting their causes into the limelight, and instigating a limited debate forum. The substance of the message becomes lost in the flash of gratifying allure of the primarily entertainment driven political scene. This process only reinforces the illusion that only their causes are important and newsworthy. It is the media that reports. It is the media that decides. It is the media in which most people pledge their unwavering faith.
There has been a move in recent years, to make voting more appealing and even trendy, sometimes exaggerating the importance of presidential voting to the point of social bigotry. I call this phenomenon voter chic. The voter chic crowd believes in voting for the sake of voting, and anyone who doesn’t follow their adhesion to the illusion of “choice,“ in American politics is exempt from true citizenship. These are the people that chastise non-voters with the usual lockstep cliché of: “Well, if you don’t vote, then you don’t have a right to complain.” This statement is a true sign of non-democracy, and of complete ignorance of the voting process. When the voter chic camp is confronted with the fact that, in the end, voters are pigeon-holed into the left-right paradigm, and that inevitably only one of two candidates will emerge victorious, another common cliché is: “Well, that’s just the way it is.” According to his essay “End of the Mandate,” Gregory Bresiger states:
“They say that people who don’t vote can’t complain about the outcome. But they also say that if your candidate didn’t win, you can’t complain because that’s being a sore loser. You also can’t complain if the guy you voted for does something you don’t like. Hey, you voted for him, didn’t you? You can’t win. The game is rigged.”
The truly important decision of electing a president has been reduced to choosing the lesser of two evils, rather than voting according to one’s conscience. During past elections, I found myself voting for or against candidates based on this flawed system of false choice. I walked away feeling like no matter which direction I voted, I was ultimately playing into the hands of political elites that had already charted the course of my vote based on giving me the illusion of choice.
To the ignorant, “not voting” is an irresponsible act that is tantamount to the ruination of this country. There are however, dissenting voices that see through the subterfuge of false choice politics in America. In the book Everything You Know is Wrong, editor Russ Kick summarizes the book Dissenting Electorate by stating:
“People who choose not to vote are often derided as lazy, apathetic, and apolitical. While there may be a few folks who don‘t cast a ballot out of sheer sloth, lots of people have convincing reasons…Perhaps most often, politics and government are seen as worthless, even harmful, systems that exist solely to exercise power over people. By voting, you play the game, you support the very system that imprisons you. By not voting, you commit a revolutionary act by refusing to be a part of the machine. You are withdrawing your consent to be governed by an inherently corrupt system.”
For those that would argue that voting is a right, or privilege of living in America, I would argue that my right to protest, or to conscientiously “not vote” is an equally afforded right which is just as valid in this age of political kool-aid drinking. Robert LeFevre states in his essay, “Abstain from Beans:”
“When we express a preference politically, we do so precisely because we intend to bind others to our will…Political voting is nothing more than the assumption that might makes right. There is a presumption that any decision wanted by the majority of those expressing a preference must be desirable, and the inference even goes so far as to presume that anyone who differs from the majority view is wrong or possibly immoral.”
What it comes down to for me is, either my vote counts, or it doesn’t. If it does, then my voice should be heard in a truly democratic system. Spectrums of real issues would be debated in a public forum not censored or marginalized by the corporately controlled media or its clients. If my vote doesn’t truly count, then my time and energy will be wasted in the process. The illusion of choice is not real choice. Instead of binding myself to a broken system of false choices, I would rather extend my energy to help create the type of world I would like to live in.
Blogger’s note:
At the time of the writing of this blog, I happened to enter into a conversation about the subject of voting with an individual sitting at my table. She rudely proclaimed that I was “stupid” for choosing not to vote and basically argued that I was apathetic and in the majority view of thinking. She then went on to talk about how she didn’t vote in the past two election cycles, including state and local issues, which incidentally have far more of an apparent impact than presidential elections. Her reasons for not voting were that she had too far to travel to her voting precinct, and that she frankly didn’t care about some of the local issues on the ballot, but she plans on voting this year. “It may not matter much, but at least I can say that I voted,” she said.
Such empty and uneducated rhetoric only serves to illustrate my point, and strengthens my resolve. This individual, although arrogant and opinionated, is sadly misguided in her attempt at political awareness. She is happy to walk away from the voting booths with the nifty little “I Voted” sticker displayed, so she can brag to the world that she was part of the American political system, albeit an admittedly manipulated one. This idea of fashionable voting or voting for bragging rights is the epitome of “voter chic.” Her ignorance is only compounded by her hypocritical voting- or rather non-voting record.
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