I would imagine that some people who read my post "Losing My Religion" might be inclined to think I exaggerated. Well, here's a modicum of proof. (You might have to copy and paste it)
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/10/23/AR2007102301806.html?hpid=opinionsbox1
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Spooked
Chris McCandless has been dead for 15 years, but man did he spook me last night. For those of you not familiar with McCandless, he's the main character in the non-fiction novel (and now playing movie) Into the Wild, written by Jon Krakauer. 15 years ago he walked out into the Alaskan wilderness and did not return. I received the book from a friend about five days ago. I read it in three sittings. Yes, that good. But more than that, I finished the book last night around midnight and shut my light off and tried to fall asleep. No such luck. I couldn't get the kid out of my head. Maybe because I had grown so quickly and fully entrenched in his life. Maybe because I felt for his family and the unnecessary loss of life. Maybe because I saw some of him in me. I hate to say that, because it's a recurring thought throughout the book. Certain characters relate to him. Lots of people take to him. The author even makes no bones about his felling of connectivity with the kid and furthers that by spending a chapter talking about his own life and the parallels it had to McCandless'. But I did feel connected to him too. I laid in bed, eyes staring at the dark ceiling and all I could see was the picture on page one of Into the Wild. It's a picture of McCandless, sitting comfortably next to the bus in which he would eventually expire. The picture is probably a good one, before he became completely emaciated and run through. But it's a chilling shot for me. He's thin, he looks frightening and he looks young.
I thought about the picture and I kept getting this "ghost in the room" feeling. But I don't believe in ghosts and even if I did, there would be no logical reason that McCandless would visit me simply because I just read a book about him. This book was a national bestseller. He'd have to visit a lot of people if that was his post-life calling. But still, the feeling sustained. I felt like someone was watching me and judging me. I wanted to get up and do something; watch tv, make a sandwich, something to distract myself. But instead, I let it overcome me. Just like I thought he would do. I had the realization that my problem, my mental state, was in fact me. McCandless and the book about him just brought out so many things I hadn't thought about in so long. Things I had buried once and for all. And when they were unearthed, my brain freaked out. My thoughts, I realized, were running furiously. And the main problem I had was when did I stop questioning everything?
When I was young I would smoke a little dope and try to figure out the answers to the universe's most important questions. It was always a circular series of thoughts that lead nowhere. But I was asking questions and felt like I was capable of obtaining the answers. I had this stupid theory that since, when I was in math classes in school, I could always solve the extra credit problems, the most insanely difficult extra credit stuff, even if I got a 70 on the actual test, the big bad problem was almost always figured out by me. Well, I thought that if I could do it with that, I could handle the biggest problems of man. I was wrong. And what I learned on top of that is that if you try too hard to answer these questions, if you run your circular logic until it makes you dizzy, you may not ever find your way out. People go crazy, literally crazy, trying to figure this shit out, I thought. In certain circumstances I'm sure that's true. But people go crazy for less as well. I decided to live life for what it is, not what I hoped, wondered, hypothesized, or dreamed it to be. In the process I stopped asking some of the most important questions life has to offer. And now, Chris McCandless, 15 years in the grave, was telling me to start asking again. That spooked me. It spooked me that I hadn't asked anything in so long. And it spooked me that if I did, I may still have no answers and thus subject myself to the possibility of falling into the proverbial K-hole. I'm not sure what I'll do, but I do know this: as I was trying desperately to fall asleep last night Chris McCandless was telling me to do one thing......WAKE UP.
I thought about the picture and I kept getting this "ghost in the room" feeling. But I don't believe in ghosts and even if I did, there would be no logical reason that McCandless would visit me simply because I just read a book about him. This book was a national bestseller. He'd have to visit a lot of people if that was his post-life calling. But still, the feeling sustained. I felt like someone was watching me and judging me. I wanted to get up and do something; watch tv, make a sandwich, something to distract myself. But instead, I let it overcome me. Just like I thought he would do. I had the realization that my problem, my mental state, was in fact me. McCandless and the book about him just brought out so many things I hadn't thought about in so long. Things I had buried once and for all. And when they were unearthed, my brain freaked out. My thoughts, I realized, were running furiously. And the main problem I had was when did I stop questioning everything?
When I was young I would smoke a little dope and try to figure out the answers to the universe's most important questions. It was always a circular series of thoughts that lead nowhere. But I was asking questions and felt like I was capable of obtaining the answers. I had this stupid theory that since, when I was in math classes in school, I could always solve the extra credit problems, the most insanely difficult extra credit stuff, even if I got a 70 on the actual test, the big bad problem was almost always figured out by me. Well, I thought that if I could do it with that, I could handle the biggest problems of man. I was wrong. And what I learned on top of that is that if you try too hard to answer these questions, if you run your circular logic until it makes you dizzy, you may not ever find your way out. People go crazy, literally crazy, trying to figure this shit out, I thought. In certain circumstances I'm sure that's true. But people go crazy for less as well. I decided to live life for what it is, not what I hoped, wondered, hypothesized, or dreamed it to be. In the process I stopped asking some of the most important questions life has to offer. And now, Chris McCandless, 15 years in the grave, was telling me to start asking again. That spooked me. It spooked me that I hadn't asked anything in so long. And it spooked me that if I did, I may still have no answers and thus subject myself to the possibility of falling into the proverbial K-hole. I'm not sure what I'll do, but I do know this: as I was trying desperately to fall asleep last night Chris McCandless was telling me to do one thing......WAKE UP.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Losing my religion
So, I was just watching some crappy lawyer TV show (because I still secretly want to be a lawyer when I grow up, I just don't want to go to school for ten more years) and one of the fake cases was a girl suing her high school because they only teach abstinence and she had unprotected sex and got HIV. They told her that condoms didn't work and the only thing a person could do was be abstinent. So she felt the school was partially responsible for her contracting HIV. The school's argument was that if they taught sex ed as opposed to abstinence, they wouldn't get federal funding, so there would be no teaching. This raised my eyebrows a bit. I wondered, as I watched, if this was true. So I did some research and found that things like this are happening. In fact, I was turned on to strange things like this some months ago when I learned that the government no longer gives money to operations in Africa to combat AIDS if they're giving out condoms or teaching......instead of, say, preaching? So the point I've taken oh so long to get to is: religion is making a mess out of, well, a whole lot of things these days. Sure, I can sit here and bark about the crazy Muslims and the hundreds of virgins they're promised for blowing up innocent people, but how about cleaning up our own back yard first. The crazy folks that have taken control of what is politely referred to as the Religious Right, are on this insane mission to keep people from having sex. Wait, is that what they're trying to do? Maybe they're trying to make people miserable? Maybe it is the goal of the religious right to get you to stop having sex, stop doing anything remotely scandalous, turn all your attention to God, pay the church handsomely and watch while they go and spend it. On what you ask? Well, hookers for one. Jim Baker anyone? I mean, it's like the chicken and the egg here: Jim Baker grows up religious, suppresses all sorts of urges, gets famous, acts out all the urges that he can't bottle up anymore, then comes back to religion to "save him." But what he's really being saved from is the damage that religion caused him in the first place.
Ok, I'm getting off the point here. My point was not to take shots at the religious right, it was to take shots at the overly-religious in general. And to keep religion out of our schools and our politics. Religion is a series of fabrications, hypocritical truisms, fear tactics and war mongering. I mean, really, I'd bet 90% of all wars in the history of the planet were started because of religion. Take out WWI, WWII, Vietnam (although that was capitalism vs. communism, which you could argue are two opposing religions) and there a lots of wars left in history which were started because of religion. How about the Crusades alone, for starters. With religion comes problems, and now what seems to be happening is that religion has seeped into our school systems. Teachers NOT teaching evolution, schools being forced to teach abstinence, religious curricula, it's all insane! Does anyone remember separation of church and state? It was kind of a big thing the founding fathers focused on. Why? Because religion caused so much trouble in their everyday lives!!! Thomas Jefferson: Maybe stoning people who have slightly different religious ideas isn't such a good idea. George Washington: Hmm. Maybe not. And there you have it. I honestly don't know what the goal is of the insanely religious person, but I do know that it may just be that they're unable to see the world for what it actually is: scary, dangerous and problematic. People should be prepared for that. Kids especially.
A quick post script: I realize that just about anyone who reads this will be religious. Most people are. But you're not crazy. At least I don't think you are. I didn't write this to offend the average person who goes to church every Sunday and tries to live a good life. I try to live a good life too (I don't always do that well, but I try...). My mom goes to church every week and I don't think she's brainwashed or evil. There's nothing wrong with the ten commandments. It's the people who take religion over common sense that bug me. And this was for them. Not you. Sinner.
Ok, I'm getting off the point here. My point was not to take shots at the religious right, it was to take shots at the overly-religious in general. And to keep religion out of our schools and our politics. Religion is a series of fabrications, hypocritical truisms, fear tactics and war mongering. I mean, really, I'd bet 90% of all wars in the history of the planet were started because of religion. Take out WWI, WWII, Vietnam (although that was capitalism vs. communism, which you could argue are two opposing religions) and there a lots of wars left in history which were started because of religion. How about the Crusades alone, for starters. With religion comes problems, and now what seems to be happening is that religion has seeped into our school systems. Teachers NOT teaching evolution, schools being forced to teach abstinence, religious curricula, it's all insane! Does anyone remember separation of church and state? It was kind of a big thing the founding fathers focused on. Why? Because religion caused so much trouble in their everyday lives!!! Thomas Jefferson: Maybe stoning people who have slightly different religious ideas isn't such a good idea. George Washington: Hmm. Maybe not. And there you have it. I honestly don't know what the goal is of the insanely religious person, but I do know that it may just be that they're unable to see the world for what it actually is: scary, dangerous and problematic. People should be prepared for that. Kids especially.
A quick post script: I realize that just about anyone who reads this will be religious. Most people are. But you're not crazy. At least I don't think you are. I didn't write this to offend the average person who goes to church every Sunday and tries to live a good life. I try to live a good life too (I don't always do that well, but I try...). My mom goes to church every week and I don't think she's brainwashed or evil. There's nothing wrong with the ten commandments. It's the people who take religion over common sense that bug me. And this was for them. Not you. Sinner.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
The Boss
I own two Bruce Springsteen albums. One came out 5 years ago. The other came out this week. And here I was, standing in the Hartford Civic Center with people twice my age, people who owned 7 times as many albums as I, people who should resent me for jumping on the bandwagon. And what do they project? They project: happy to have you on board. It’s about time. You don’t know what you’ve been missing, but now that you’re here, you can tell others.
Like a religious experience. That’s what I kept thinking. Granted I’d never had a religious experience. I’ve seen them on TV. They looked ridiculous. But here I was, doing things I never really do. Throwing my fist in the air, singing not just so I could hear myself, but so anyone anywhere near me could hear. Chanting with the apostles, that this may be the best moment of my life. Whether that turns out to be true is very debatable. (The beers may have had a say in that statement) I have no kids, so that could be the number one moment. I have never won anything, done anything different, special. I’ve never been recognized for my “talents.” But then, neither had anyone in that arena. And that was the celebration. Celebrating blue collar. Celebrating middle class. And celebrating great music, as one.
Radio Nowhere strikes a chord. Ties that Bind I don’t know but I love. Lonesome Day still fits.
His exuberance, his youthful bliss, whether true or staged, the look on his face when calling on Clarence Clemmons. It's all priceless; without time or space. It is you, at 15, with your first new favorite song. It is innocence.
The men in front of me were lifers. They chanted all the old stuff. This show, like all the others, represented their high school years. Like they were listening to the soundtrack of their lives, they watched with baited breath. They screamed, these men in their mid 40s, like their daughters at a Christina Aguilera concert. They felt, just for these moments, that they were still 18. They had no kids, no wives. Only themselves, best friends, in a moment in time untouched by any cynicism.
The show went on.
Even when the bandleader started to espouse his political views (and granted, he did it only once in a 3 hour show), the people who once were his minions and now disagreed with his blatant “un-Americanism,” only grumbled politely. They heard his cry for the Bill of Rights, the slaying of the Constitution, the wiretapping, the black sites and while one could easily tell who was with him in this fight and who was against, they never waivered in their love for him; just in their love for his current views. If Rosalita started right after that small rant, all would be forgiven. Instead, a song from the new album accompanied the speech, and all those opposed retired to the restroom to wait for the glorious days to return to the stage.
While in line I heard a man in his early 20s ask a man in his 50s if he had heard the new album. The older man said he hadn’t, but he heard it was good. The young man confirmed this, but said that he was a product of The Rising (as if this meant the two were different). The older man responded, “So am I.”
We are all products of The Rising these days. Products of the position this country, this administration, these politicians, have put us in. We are all products of the effects of 9/11, of terrorism and its associated fears and misrepresentations, of the war and its endless struggles. The Rising brought certain things to life, brought certain populations together, instead of forcing them against, brought the realization of what could be done if we all combined forces and minds, rather than pitting Red against Blue. There were personal and political gains to be made from 9/11 and many made them. But, despite our individual views, we are all products of The Rising. The older man in the beer line knew that better than anyone. He knew the point was not age, but wisdom. And wisdom never grows old.
Like a religious experience. That’s what I kept thinking. Granted I’d never had a religious experience. I’ve seen them on TV. They looked ridiculous. But here I was, doing things I never really do. Throwing my fist in the air, singing not just so I could hear myself, but so anyone anywhere near me could hear. Chanting with the apostles, that this may be the best moment of my life. Whether that turns out to be true is very debatable. (The beers may have had a say in that statement) I have no kids, so that could be the number one moment. I have never won anything, done anything different, special. I’ve never been recognized for my “talents.” But then, neither had anyone in that arena. And that was the celebration. Celebrating blue collar. Celebrating middle class. And celebrating great music, as one.
Radio Nowhere strikes a chord. Ties that Bind I don’t know but I love. Lonesome Day still fits.
His exuberance, his youthful bliss, whether true or staged, the look on his face when calling on Clarence Clemmons. It's all priceless; without time or space. It is you, at 15, with your first new favorite song. It is innocence.
The men in front of me were lifers. They chanted all the old stuff. This show, like all the others, represented their high school years. Like they were listening to the soundtrack of their lives, they watched with baited breath. They screamed, these men in their mid 40s, like their daughters at a Christina Aguilera concert. They felt, just for these moments, that they were still 18. They had no kids, no wives. Only themselves, best friends, in a moment in time untouched by any cynicism.
The show went on.
Even when the bandleader started to espouse his political views (and granted, he did it only once in a 3 hour show), the people who once were his minions and now disagreed with his blatant “un-Americanism,” only grumbled politely. They heard his cry for the Bill of Rights, the slaying of the Constitution, the wiretapping, the black sites and while one could easily tell who was with him in this fight and who was against, they never waivered in their love for him; just in their love for his current views. If Rosalita started right after that small rant, all would be forgiven. Instead, a song from the new album accompanied the speech, and all those opposed retired to the restroom to wait for the glorious days to return to the stage.
While in line I heard a man in his early 20s ask a man in his 50s if he had heard the new album. The older man said he hadn’t, but he heard it was good. The young man confirmed this, but said that he was a product of The Rising (as if this meant the two were different). The older man responded, “So am I.”
We are all products of The Rising these days. Products of the position this country, this administration, these politicians, have put us in. We are all products of the effects of 9/11, of terrorism and its associated fears and misrepresentations, of the war and its endless struggles. The Rising brought certain things to life, brought certain populations together, instead of forcing them against, brought the realization of what could be done if we all combined forces and minds, rather than pitting Red against Blue. There were personal and political gains to be made from 9/11 and many made them. But, despite our individual views, we are all products of The Rising. The older man in the beer line knew that better than anyone. He knew the point was not age, but wisdom. And wisdom never grows old.
Virgin Post
So, yeah, I'm new at this. And my good friend...well, we'll just call her Fairy, she's been telling me for a while that I should do one of these things. I never wanted to, but lately I've been writing a lot and who's reading it? Nobody. Not that this is gonna get picked up by the New York Times or anything, but still. Maybe some random person will read it and we can get a conversation going about politics, or the war, or sports, or movies or whether or not you put mayonnaise on a ham and egg sandwich. Anything, get it? So let me start with this quote from one of my favorite books. One of the most messed up ever. If you know it, you're just as screwed up as I am and you should read this blog daily: "....and while waiting for the new little cowardly gestures yet to come, since you like an absence of descriptive or didactic skills in a writer, let me rip out these few ghastly pages from my notebook of the damned."
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