a reflection via email:
Some nights- he'd just sit there. the door way past ajar to the bathroom. His boxers not quite down, but resting as a cotton and nylon DMZ between his laptop and his bare, dry skin. And he'd write. He'd write about how he was writing, or more often, he'd write about how his words were meant to convince a girl to love him. or in the very least let him love her. He'd swear he meant it- and he'd believe it too. He believed it soo much, he'd sit naked in his bathroom with the door wide open, and tell the first person who came into view. These thoughts were parentheses of nights he could sleep, and the mornings he could never seem to wake up in time to make use of.
His time is not his own anymore. His time is spent on someone else. It belongs to her, she owns it and controls him in a way neither of them are aware of. There are things he has given up and given up on and he understands this only in the way that writing and thinking and staying awake at night is all he can do.
And there will be a realization, but he is not there yet. The form in which it comes is still unknown, but it is on its way. It's haunting him, and sometimes this feeling gets mistaken for love and other times it is actually love that he is feeling. Sometimes they are the same, sometimes they are dialectically opposed sometimes he has a parallax view of his situation as he looks onward from the bathroom mirror.
"If the obsession with the word 'onward' has become universal nowadays, isn't it largely because death now speaks to us at such close range?"
Milan Kundera, The Book of Laughter and Forgetting
She is in his thoughts, in his heart, and on his page. It is all very real and it is at the same time unreal, beyond, more than reality. Perception is a wondrous thing.
When he gave up smoking he told her he could give it up any time. And he believed it and she believed in him---a cyclone of intent, effect and possibility that when presented linear-ly confuses in much the same way as the chicken or the egg conundrum.
But the narrator looked up from his page and was unsure how to continue. What could he say that is hopeful and promising? What are the words for the situation that spark belief? How to interpret longings as the brighter path?
When the narrator looked back down at the page, his face full with determination, his fingers scissoring the keyboard with surgeon-like precision and the words appearing on the page, maybe not in the way they appeared in his head were messy at best, like the first time a apprentice chef makes a souffle. Some things are just delicate.
Use it. He typed.
Use it all, every modern feeling. Fight off the bleakness. But don't for a second think that its sacred.
Let Bukowski kill yr Kerouac., because if she is worth loving she is worth fighting for...
Monday, April 13, 2009
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Black Roots Like Fingernails and Shoes
Be forewarned, this may get a bit pissy, moanish, and terse- but not in the polished way, in the curt, kinda way. This also sounds like a X rated movie preface, but i assure you, its not.
How do we establish expectations, goals, dreams, or more dreadful of all, rights? Historically, we can do that whole timeline from the Magna Carta, circ 1215, if we want proper documentation of when man first wrote that he feels deserving. You could argue that, hell, it's Gods fault, and that the covenant between man and heavenly father set us up to fail, to believe that we will be able to cash in on a gift not attainable in this mortal realm. And that faith/hope/ desires will be met with gratification and reward that we must work and strive for.
Still, I think all of that is analogous for the fact that gratification is expensed over time, and nothing is ever as good now as it can be later (for if it was so, costs would reflect quality in a different manner). Even if something is perishable, the fact that it gets you from point at to b with some modicum of joy is worthy of extra fiscal consideration, is it not?
This want or need for promise is a cornerstone of humanity, because without it- everything we hold true falls apart. Relationship, commerce, religion. This is funny because if you erase want, theoretically speaking, what is the end result? Is that the real anarchy? Or not wanting not existing?
How do we establish expectations, goals, dreams, or more dreadful of all, rights? Historically, we can do that whole timeline from the Magna Carta, circ 1215, if we want proper documentation of when man first wrote that he feels deserving. You could argue that, hell, it's Gods fault, and that the covenant between man and heavenly father set us up to fail, to believe that we will be able to cash in on a gift not attainable in this mortal realm. And that faith/hope/ desires will be met with gratification and reward that we must work and strive for.
Still, I think all of that is analogous for the fact that gratification is expensed over time, and nothing is ever as good now as it can be later (for if it was so, costs would reflect quality in a different manner). Even if something is perishable, the fact that it gets you from point at to b with some modicum of joy is worthy of extra fiscal consideration, is it not?
This want or need for promise is a cornerstone of humanity, because without it- everything we hold true falls apart. Relationship, commerce, religion. This is funny because if you erase want, theoretically speaking, what is the end result? Is that the real anarchy? Or not wanting not existing?
Friday, February 27, 2009
The Bees Smell of Blood
It's true that our concept of romance owes its due to narratives of Medieval French and English literature. It’s a genre of parable—something we’re supposed to learn from—which illustrates how romance or affections should be presented in a perfect vacuum. It’s also been argued that Shakespeare took these ideas and hype’d them to the utmost intensity. He’s been championed as the poster child for love in high schools and movie theaters across the globe (or in the globe…), touted as the real ole’g. A gangster of love so old school, it’s hard to fathom his hustle.
But his hustle was both unfathomable and also misunderstood. Maybe not misunderstood by Shakespeare scholars, but by us- those who think romance sleeps coyly betwixt daydreams and whips of smoke from candlelight. I know I hated him for creating an idea that I could never realize nor live up to. After returning to some of his more popular works, all of them tragedies, I feel that he may have defined where true love truly exists. Love is tragic in the fact that it is not easily – or realistically—sustainable.
First let us take stock in the idea that I’m not saying love doesn’t exist nor that romance is not tangible. Especially after Joey’s defense. I’m only wagering that love is one of two things; a feeling we get looking back—a nostalgic yearning and something that we experience in small doses that add to this reflective contemplation. Now I suppose examples are in order. The strongest example, the one we’re all most familiar with, is Romeo & Juliet. Two crazy, hormonally accelerated kids, with their stars and crosses worn on their sleaves. They want to be with each other, based on the looks they’ve exchanged, and the few fleeting moments of intimacy they’ve shared. Juliet makes Romeo cum. Romeo makes Juliet complete. And when separated they are completely miserable. We choose to overlook the signs of youth and their shortsightedness because their longing is so strong and the odds against them only further justify that they should be together. Whether through death or dishonor to their respective houses. Sanity be damned, this is love we’re talking bout here folks, logic need not apply.
Then there’s the fact that they die. Remember? Poison begets happy dagger begets “For never was a story of more woe.” The fairy tale love, never really existed- there was suffering throughout, close friends were killed or alienated, family’s torn, burial expenses accrued by both parties, and for what? A hot fuck and some romantic words., or more aptly, the dating process as we know it today. If anything, this play acts as Shakespeare’s response to those medieval stories that fortified the false hopes of those who wanted to be in love, but were frustrated at their inability to attain what their childhood bedtime stories (or courtly presentations) depicted. It’s as if this is Will’s way of saying “Those stories build up expectations real people couldn’t possibly deliver on. And any attempt to live out grand embodiments of expression will get people killed or worse, heartbroken.“
Tragedy is the purest method with which to tell a love story because it outlines how blind love can make us, but does so in a fashion that mentions the few passionate times that can found what may feel like a lifetime of misery. What isn’t provided is how we can make it from one moment of love and bliss to the next- and this is most likely where relationships are birthed. Those periods where we ask ourselves what did we see in them—how can this relationship be sustained- and what am I getting out of this—that’s how you test the fortitude of your initial and continual attraction. How do we make it from one moment of purity to the next without letting the crap cloud our appreciation of the cream? Maybe it’s the stories of romance that keep us going? Now wouldn’t that be a vicious cycle.
But his hustle was both unfathomable and also misunderstood. Maybe not misunderstood by Shakespeare scholars, but by us- those who think romance sleeps coyly betwixt daydreams and whips of smoke from candlelight. I know I hated him for creating an idea that I could never realize nor live up to. After returning to some of his more popular works, all of them tragedies, I feel that he may have defined where true love truly exists. Love is tragic in the fact that it is not easily – or realistically—sustainable.
First let us take stock in the idea that I’m not saying love doesn’t exist nor that romance is not tangible. Especially after Joey’s defense. I’m only wagering that love is one of two things; a feeling we get looking back—a nostalgic yearning and something that we experience in small doses that add to this reflective contemplation. Now I suppose examples are in order. The strongest example, the one we’re all most familiar with, is Romeo & Juliet. Two crazy, hormonally accelerated kids, with their stars and crosses worn on their sleaves. They want to be with each other, based on the looks they’ve exchanged, and the few fleeting moments of intimacy they’ve shared. Juliet makes Romeo cum. Romeo makes Juliet complete. And when separated they are completely miserable. We choose to overlook the signs of youth and their shortsightedness because their longing is so strong and the odds against them only further justify that they should be together. Whether through death or dishonor to their respective houses. Sanity be damned, this is love we’re talking bout here folks, logic need not apply.
Then there’s the fact that they die. Remember? Poison begets happy dagger begets “For never was a story of more woe.” The fairy tale love, never really existed- there was suffering throughout, close friends were killed or alienated, family’s torn, burial expenses accrued by both parties, and for what? A hot fuck and some romantic words., or more aptly, the dating process as we know it today. If anything, this play acts as Shakespeare’s response to those medieval stories that fortified the false hopes of those who wanted to be in love, but were frustrated at their inability to attain what their childhood bedtime stories (or courtly presentations) depicted. It’s as if this is Will’s way of saying “Those stories build up expectations real people couldn’t possibly deliver on. And any attempt to live out grand embodiments of expression will get people killed or worse, heartbroken.“
Tragedy is the purest method with which to tell a love story because it outlines how blind love can make us, but does so in a fashion that mentions the few passionate times that can found what may feel like a lifetime of misery. What isn’t provided is how we can make it from one moment of love and bliss to the next- and this is most likely where relationships are birthed. Those periods where we ask ourselves what did we see in them—how can this relationship be sustained- and what am I getting out of this—that’s how you test the fortitude of your initial and continual attraction. How do we make it from one moment of purity to the next without letting the crap cloud our appreciation of the cream? Maybe it’s the stories of romance that keep us going? Now wouldn’t that be a vicious cycle.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Another Reading of The Beautiful Ones
Our humble gentleman narrator described the scene from Purple Rain in which The Kid performs "The Beautiful Ones" as a grand gesture. In an attempt to win Apollonia's affection, the song takes over the narrative, becoming a pivotal moment where Appollonia must choose between Morris and The Kid.
While I do not disagree with this reading, I would still like to offer up something more nuanced. Purple Rain is a tricky film, full of gaps and empty text that gets filled in by a closeness to the reality of Prince's life. The way I have found to look at it, is as the story Prince wanted to tell.
The songs however, tell their own story. They are texts within texts or hypertexts. They have their meaning within the larger narrative, but they should not be taken as linear. Therefore, the song "The Beautiful Ones" works on two levels: its place within the narrative and distinctly as a song itself.
What I've realized about "The Beautiful Ones" is that it's not as impressive in the context of the film or in the context of Prince's other work, but when it's listened to up against The Beach Boys or The Beatles, it sounds so much more powerful. While this seems irrelevant, I feel it's key to understanding the way the songs function in the film, that when you take them out you can see how they don't quite fit back in.
With the exception of "Take Me With U" and "When Doves Cry," the focus of the songs in the film are on their performance. Director Albert Magnoli really brought out the energy in Prince's music. The scenes depicting The Revolution almost contradicts the line by the club manager. As Morris and Appollonia walk into the club in the middle of The Beautiful Ones, Billy says to Morris "The Kid is in rare form tonight." But the form is never rare. Prince and The Revolution are always at 100plus percent.
My intial reaction is to not take "The Beautiful Ones" too literally. While in the scene, The Kid is speaking directly too Appollonia, he is not speaking directly in words, but in actions. The line to pay attention to is, "If we got married, would that be cool baby?" And not to what is said, but listen to the way it is delivered. What wins over Appollonia, is not the grand gesture, the rare form, it's Prince being Prince, that he is always on point.
I am reluctant to take The Beautiful Ones at face value, because it breaks out of its mold as a ballad and as a Prince song. The song comes at you in waves, first its slick and sultry, then it gets ice cold, the falsetto gives way to spoken word delivery and a nonchalant proposal. The bridge gets superintense, fiery and angry melts the ballad to its core. It becomes "Try a Little Tenderness" as performed by Bad Brains. I'm almost always out of breath after I listen it.
On the question of how to apply "The Beautiful Ones," the question needs to become how to translate "The Beautiful Ones." Experience while explainable and relatable is not often transferrable. We can look at "The Beautiful Ones" and its pure forms of expression, passion, and integrity; those are the ways to win someone's heart.
While I do not disagree with this reading, I would still like to offer up something more nuanced. Purple Rain is a tricky film, full of gaps and empty text that gets filled in by a closeness to the reality of Prince's life. The way I have found to look at it, is as the story Prince wanted to tell.
The songs however, tell their own story. They are texts within texts or hypertexts. They have their meaning within the larger narrative, but they should not be taken as linear. Therefore, the song "The Beautiful Ones" works on two levels: its place within the narrative and distinctly as a song itself.
What I've realized about "The Beautiful Ones" is that it's not as impressive in the context of the film or in the context of Prince's other work, but when it's listened to up against The Beach Boys or The Beatles, it sounds so much more powerful. While this seems irrelevant, I feel it's key to understanding the way the songs function in the film, that when you take them out you can see how they don't quite fit back in.
With the exception of "Take Me With U" and "When Doves Cry," the focus of the songs in the film are on their performance. Director Albert Magnoli really brought out the energy in Prince's music. The scenes depicting The Revolution almost contradicts the line by the club manager. As Morris and Appollonia walk into the club in the middle of The Beautiful Ones, Billy says to Morris "The Kid is in rare form tonight." But the form is never rare. Prince and The Revolution are always at 100plus percent.
My intial reaction is to not take "The Beautiful Ones" too literally. While in the scene, The Kid is speaking directly too Appollonia, he is not speaking directly in words, but in actions. The line to pay attention to is, "If we got married, would that be cool baby?" And not to what is said, but listen to the way it is delivered. What wins over Appollonia, is not the grand gesture, the rare form, it's Prince being Prince, that he is always on point.
I am reluctant to take The Beautiful Ones at face value, because it breaks out of its mold as a ballad and as a Prince song. The song comes at you in waves, first its slick and sultry, then it gets ice cold, the falsetto gives way to spoken word delivery and a nonchalant proposal. The bridge gets superintense, fiery and angry melts the ballad to its core. It becomes "Try a Little Tenderness" as performed by Bad Brains. I'm almost always out of breath after I listen it.
On the question of how to apply "The Beautiful Ones," the question needs to become how to translate "The Beautiful Ones." Experience while explainable and relatable is not often transferrable. We can look at "The Beautiful Ones" and its pure forms of expression, passion, and integrity; those are the ways to win someone's heart.
On Romance
I'm not sure how my contribution will make this gentleman less alone. Perhaps, my comments will be polarizing, pushing the gentleman further into isolation. That said, I'd like to make this monologue a dialogue. Or maybe a monologue in stereo (where available).
Romance as a genre, and including all of its tropes has its roots in courtly love narratives of Medieval French and English Literature. This is not to be confused with Courtney Love narratives which are just plain evil and have no roots in romance at all.
The courtly love narrative depicted relationships outside of marriage usually between a Queen and one of her serving knights. The stories emphasized love in its most ideal form, that was one of the reasons they depicted relationships that were neither consummated nor connected to real life (ie, marriage).
How our understanding of love has been informed by these narratives is evident in our relationships. Culturally men take on the role of the peacock and try to win the affection of their beloved. Like the lowly knight, we understand a relationship as a duty of obedience and loyalty. Of course in its modern form, this is understood to be out of respect. But that wasn't always the case.
If romance is how we understand love than we must admit that love is culturally constructed. There is a missing link between love and marriage. At the time these narratives were written, marriages were more like partnerships. One married to improve their social position. Of course there is no way to verify that no one married for love, marriage as an institution had a purpose other than sanctifying the love of two individuals.
The way love is described in the courtly love narratives is as a sickness, it would be easy to assume that such a depiction of a knight as lovesick, implied that love had no redeeming social value, but the narratives according to historians may have had a social use in sublimating desire and channeling behavior into socially acceptable forms. The love struck knight is often submissive, obedient and loyal.
How does one understand love and romance today? Love is the abstract form of our intentions, emotions and desires. And our beloved is person to which we project all of these things on. But it probably means something slightly different to everyone. Romance seems to be the way we express our love. Ultimately these two terms keep referring endlessly back to one another so you can't get too close to some exact definition.
Friday, February 6, 2009
The Night of The Hunter And The Night of The Husband
So I've spoken on infidelity before and how its so common place. And that, with a few run-ins with 6 degrees of separation, got me to thinkin. Maybe infidelity isn't that bad? Maybe it only really matters when you actually have a connection to the people getting hurt. While that may go without saying- one should think about the idea of a friend of cheating, but on a person you don't really know that well.
Yes it's an uncomfortable idea, but the idea hurts less once the familiarity is removed. That's the real code behind "don't shit where you eat/sleep." As long as you do your dirt away from familiar territory its virtually okay- unless you manage to rope in someone closer to your center of concentric circled friends.
Yes it's an uncomfortable idea, but the idea hurts less once the familiarity is removed. That's the real code behind "don't shit where you eat/sleep." As long as you do your dirt away from familiar territory its virtually okay- unless you manage to rope in someone closer to your center of concentric circled friends.
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