I Love The World Cup

 This particular version, while hugely problematic due to its occurring in Qatar for a myriad of reasons including the government's penchant for hateful intolerance, human rights problems, the despicable corruption that led to a tiny but wealthy nation with virtually no soccer culture being chosen by FIFA to host the World Cup despite the lack of infrastructure and proper climate to host a summer-time tournament, has had an awful lot of really brilliant soccer (albeit, a lot of my favorite brand which is underdog and upset soccer).

I am delighted that the host nation lost all three of their matches, and were embarrassingly and appropriately dispatched from the tournament before any other team, and we now sit an hour before the kick-off of the US Men's National Team final group stage match against Iran.  It's a simple proposition for the US - we win and we move on to the knock-out stage tournament of the top 16 teams.  We are ranked higher and truly are better than Iran's team, and we haven't won a match yet (just 2 draws), so if you can't win at least one of your group stage matches, then really, you don't deserve to move on.

I've got high hopes, and although it now looks like we'd most likely be matched up against the Netherlands in our Round of 16 Match (unless Wales win their match against England that kicks off at the same time or we win by more than 4 goals today and England - Wales ends in a draw), the Dutch have seemed a bit beatable this tournament so it wouldn't necessarily be the death sentence it might have been in other years for us.

To enhance the tournament, I've been listening to After The Whistle, a World Cup podcast with Brendan Hunt (Coach Beard from Ted Lasso) and Rebecca Lowe (an NBC Premier League commentator).  The two make a superb pairing with a British expat who talks about football professionally, but is an unabashed partisan for England on this show and an American fake soccer coach who used to live in and learned to love soccer in The Netherlands and is rooting for "The Guys" (his term for USMNT) and has a side thing for the Dutch.  It's a good listen...

But for now, it's all about this match this afternoon, and getting through.  I'm not usually a rah-rah fan for the US teams in Olympic or other competitions, but at the World Cup, because we are Underdogs, but I BELIEVE THAT WE WILL WIN (is that still a chant that we do??)

Gooooaaaaallll!!!!

 11 October 2022

I've heard it said that it's important to write down your goals, or better yet, tell people about them, and therefore create some semblance of accountability.  I've never been a big fan of the stuff, myself (although I was for a while trying to create some regular accountability meetings with JP et al, which for one reason or another never stuck).

Well, ever since I read Stephen King's On Writing (which is not yet being catalogued here*, but could be) I have had in the back of my mind Steve's tautological assertion that if you want to think of yourself as a writer, you have to write, and his definition of that was 1,000 words per day "when you're working on something", 6 days per week (although he himself he said didn't tend to take a day off he allowed for it if you're so inclined).  I took this one small slice of King's great book about the craft of writing, and have at various times committed myself to producing just that amount of writing, though only very occasionally and in fits and starts.  This blog, in fact, is the result of that effort (zombies notwithstanding), although some of you who are particularly strong in the art of arithmetic may catch on to the fact that this blog does not, in fact, always publish 1,000 words of content every day.  "Very astute, hm!?, Dodger," as Sol Cohen might say.  There have, indeed been other outlets for the word count dump - including journaling and free-writing, a not inconsiderable quantity of drafts that have not yet been posted to this blog, the fiction and the academic and non-academic non-fiction drafts that sit in the various stacks or sacks or hard drives or cloud drives of my biographical path - although for the most part the days these last 22 years or so since I read King's book have been without 1,000 words, and I am therefore not, sad to say, a writer, perhaps, most notably, perhaps, because, I have not really

published any of the quantity of prose that I've been accumulating and producing lo these many years.

But then, I once again read the introduction to Stephen King's Four Past Midnight, which I'm planning to start reading again shortly again some 20+ years after first encountering it (and could also rightly include here*, but because I'm revisiting in toto, I won't, at least for now).  In the intro, King talks about publishing this book of four novellas, and some of the financial implications (in passing) of publishing this book and another, similarly structured one some 7 years earlier (and also, oddly, about Robin Yount).  But then King talks about the writing of these novellas (and of his writing in general), and how he does that just for himself (and to keep himself sane, he says), and it occurs to me (not for the first time) that I don't really need to publish anything to be a writer - to be an author, maybe, but not a writer.  All I have to do that is to write, right?  

And so (as I guess I have done at least once before here), I commit myself again to the 1,000 word goal, and the goal of being a writer.

My, that was easy.  I'm done now.

* Initially, my plan had been to post this as part of my Post of Lost Lasts (an ongoing post project whereby I list all the things that would belong in my Arfives {an archive of all past Last 5s}, but I either saw / read / etc. in their entirety before the beginning of the archive or was otherwise missed) as a joke about accountability, because no one in their right minds would still be reading updates that I am making to this post in October 2022 nearly 3 years after the original post^, and so the idea of writing goals to be accountable to in that post would be pretty funny.  But then, as it turned out, I thought this post was actually kind of valuable and so re-post it here.

^ for more quixotic perpetual posts that nobody will likely ever read, see The Star Trek Chronology.

Potentialities, or Could Walter and Martin have been friends?

Earlier this year (about a month or so before squirrel* {BS}), I started again to read works by one of my top two "favorite"^ writers, Walter Benjamin, whose first volume of his collected writings in English I finished in toto last July.  To be sure, I've read a lot of these three collections that I own (I have Volumes 3, 2 & 1 in my collection the first {or the 3rd, depending on your perspective} of which I received as a "gift / bribe" from Malynne at the end of the first course I took with her "Cults of Personality: Hitler, Stalin Mao").  

This second volume has begun with quite a lot of short reviews and happenings-related short pieces rather than the deeper philosophical pieces that he's most known for (if Benjamin can be said to be well known in any capacity).  The reason for this is clear, with Benjamin as a young man in is mid-20s he was struggling post university to find work and publishing these short, timely works wherever he could.  Two such articles published just a couple weeks apart in a couple different newspapers were both clearly derived from one single meeting / conversation / interview with André Gide, and another couple were (very) short reviews of a book by Karl Gröber.  What's amazing to me is not the brilliant extent to which he so brazenly double dips (nor the fact that you used to just be able to do book reports and send them to a publication and get paid for it!), rather it's the way that all of it is dripping with intentionality, but so rarely concerns itself with execution.

Por ejemplo, in Benajmin's interview with André Gide, Gide repeatedly discusses the lecture that he had planned to given while he was visiting Berlin (his visit to Berlin being the occasion of Benjamin's meeting with him), but that he has been so distracted by such visits and because of the nature of Berlin life, "the leisure [he] had counted on never arrived," and he never got the chance to write the lecture. And so, instead of giving a lecture, he just vaguely outlines the ideas he had intended to cover to Benjamin, who dutifully laps them up and writes them up for two separate German newspapers, and his (Gide's) work is "complete". 

I love this concept of doing something just by saying it out loud.  Come to think of it, this is rather the same method of work employed by Peter from my time at MPS, a deep underlying faith that if you just talk about what you want to have happen it will come into being (although in this latter case it involved employing an entire staff of people who were basically there to just try and discern his wishes, and then carry out all of these whims as much as possible). In the earlier case of Benjamin and his contemporaries, the focus is much more on the potentiality of having had a great idea, and then thinking about how great it was, and not concerning yourself terribly with the fact that it never came to fruition.

Another thing that I find compelling about Walter Benjamin is that he is a near exact contemporary of my grandfather, Martinus Kvidt.  Born just 9 months apart, Benjamin on the pre-anniversary of my own wedding on 15 July 1892, and Martin on MKE day 14 April 1893, they were both part of The Lost Generation of their respective countries, and while my grandpa was off to Europe to fight in World War 1, Benjamin was a country or two away studying away at university.  

I'm not entirely sure why, but I have always been interested in synchronicities - the phenomenon of things things happening at the same time in different places (and in different worlds, even - fictional and historical and historical fictional or futural historical...).  For years, I have tried to find (or create) a calendar app that would allow for historical events to be created throughout the past (weirdly, google calendar seems to have an odd glitch {or maybe it's actually iCal that has the glitch} where you can create some events in the far distant past and they will sometimes reappear, so I sometimes am able to re-discover that George McFly was murdered on March 15, 1973 {or it possibly could have been early in the morning of the 16th; anyway the same week as when the Watergate break-in guy was being paid off...} while looking through my calendar, but other times not, as the event appears and disappears unpredictably on my Calendar app).

I like to think about contemporaries in history, art, cinema (like, for instance what was going on in 1999 cinema that made it such a spectacular sampling of content while the history of that moment wasn't especially exciting - although we were on the brink of a lot that would happen in just the next few years and ultimately set up much of what we find around us today...), literature and also to consider the generations looking back at their influences from prior generations (a process that I would have thought I could have generalized as a faster and faster process, with TikTokkers citing Taylor Swift as major influence {some 10 years earlier}, whereas Benjamin and many thinkers of his era largely looked back Centuries, and in particular 150 years give or take to the Romantic Era of German literature {your Goethes & your Schillers, etc.}, but I think this tends to over-generalizing the history of cultural influencers {ikr!?}.

Perhaps the greatest of these Influencers of the 19th Century (don't worry, I'm bringing this in for a landing) is the Kurt Cobain or Jim Morrison of his era, John Keats, who died at 25 and then suddenly thereafter became a famous and great poet.  Keats is of course most famous for writing the poem that you read in high school, "Ode to a Grecian Urn" and for aggrandizing the concept of Negative Capability.

 Negative Capability, Keats called when one is “capable of being in uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after facts and reason.” 

More than anything, this concept seems like the philosophical equivalent of the thinking without necessarily doing life philosophy we were talking about before (rather like the "Harold Hill Think Method" of marching band instruction!, "la-di-da-di-da-di-daaa").

*We had a moment this past spring, where we encountered a full-on squirrel nest in the engine block of our erstwhile Ford Edge, a vehicle that had had (before and after) A LOT of other issues once it was rapidly wandering out of warranty.  It took some help, but we have finally found our way out of that Capitalist death trap, and are generally on to lower and worse things, but at least out of that! 

an interregnum

 I am currently existing within a time period where I know which ubiquitous 90s song Sister Hazel is responsible for. (hint: "It's hard to say what I see in you--u-u!")

They, evidently, had a song on the 10 Things I Hate About You soundtrack (they announced that at their show before playing said song, and I shouted, unexpectedly, "I LOVE THAT MOVIE!!!" which I do, but nonetheless didn't expect to yell), but Brooke & I went and watched 10 Things the very same evening that we got home from seeing Sister Hazel, after hearing that very same song after they announced it was the song, and still was not able to pick their song out of the movie lineup.

I'm convinced every 90s one hit wonder band (and maybe some 3/4 hit wonders) should learn and perform the hit songs from Sister Hazel, Del Amitri, Deep Blue Something, Blind Melon, etc. and play those songs throughout their set and then be like, "nah, that one's not ours!"

Much better sets overall, I think - without the pressure of playing every song you've got in your arsenal when everyone is just waiting for your last song before you leave so they can hear the one they know.

[this post feels a bit like a really overly long mean tweet and i am sorry for that.]

Birdwatching in greater San Diego County...

 We were sitting in the hot tub of the pool area at our (?) resort (?) [not pictured - you're welcome] with another couple from Des Moines when four green parrots flew overhead seemingly on a mission in a perfect straight line formation.

At first we all speculated as to whether the animals were recent escapees from the San Diego Zoo or Safari Park (which we had each dutifully visited one of earlier in the week).  After all, a dog had just a few days prior broken in to the San Diego zoo to meet some gorillas, so it didn't seem outside the realm of the probable that an escape had occurred.

After a little googling, though, it became clear that wild parrots have lived in and around Ramona, California, possible since as far back as the 1950s.  Non-native, for sure, but hell, it's California - everyone is from somewhere else!

After spying the same pack of the parrots the following evening at about the same time heading along the exact same path, we decided that they had a daily pattern, and we could capture some photographic evidence of them the following evening... Best laid plans, and all that:

These are they, truly, even though they're hard to see and don't appear at all green in this picture it's a pair of the set of four (or similar compatriots), but I barely caught them.  They tricked me, you see - by flying overhead in the opposite direction about 30 minutes earlier than when we had decided was their appointed time.  We were in the pool, and although I did make sure we got out of the pool to be closer to our phones at their appointed time, I didn't really fully expect them to come back the other way as they had the previous two nights - but indeed they did, and I scrambled for my phone and snapped this pic (and another one of entirely empty blue sky).

So, it seems obvious to me now that each day at about 4:45pm PT the parrots fly east into the desolate nowhere land beyond San Diego Country Estates, and hang out there doing something for about 30 to 45 minutes - whereafter they immediately bee-line it back westward to wherever they are most of the rest of the time.  Nuts, right!!??

Unfortunately, we won't ever get to find out what it is they do, because a mile or so east of here seems to be where the world ends... Even though google maps seems to think that there's a road there (and there is something that looks a bit like a mediocre driveway that's marked with an ominous {and very non-official looking} sign that reads NO EXIT), I didn't attempt it.  

It was reminiscent of a "Private Road" I encountered in Platte County, Wyoming when I was heading home from the Great American Eclipse.  I, and approximately 400,000 people from Colorado and California, had just witnessed the astounding event, stood around for a few minutes looking at each other appreciating the grandeur of nature, then got into our cars and started heading home on one of the approximately 4 roads in the entire county.  I'd been planning to head south get on the interstate and run in to I-80 to cut across Nebraska on the way home, but it soon became clear everyone was heading south, and there would be very little progress that way today.  So I asked google for a detour to take me back north to I-90, and it kindly obliged with a route that seemed a lot less trafficky than the one I was on.  After a turn off (where I was following a dozen or so industrious detourers and followed by a dozen or so more) and a half mile on a very minor road, we passed a sign that read "Private Road", but I didn't think much of it.  I'd been on lots of "Private Roads" which in the East and Midwest generally meant a bunch of rich neighbors paid a community to get their actual road listed as "private" and also to pay cops to harass anybody in a non-luxury vehicle.  In the West, though, it turns out that Private Road can mean "my road" as in "my driveway" that passes directly between my house and my garage and as our impromptu caravan approached the homestead we saw that the whole family (at least 3 generations, it seemed) had come out to watch us drive through their yard as they angrily shook their heads or at times yelled at each of us drivers in turn.  This was Wyoming, after all, the sort of place someone is as likely to shoot you as anywhere for approaching their property.  But there was safety in numbers and collective stupidity and American tourism.

And so we play tourist once more, this time particularly enjoying the birds (our favorite, Big Black Bird, is not pictured here, but are a couple more that we've gotten to know this week {I think an Acorn Woodpecker and a female Western Bluebird, but I could be wrong}).  These we've enjoyed as much as anything here - the puzzle and the pool and a Harry Potter marathon and a couple games of Scrabble (I won both) and Shuffleboard (Brooke won both) and all of the other things that we are supposed to do when traveling.

the eating the drinking the shopping the viewing oh my indeed

Forest are Magic! (or, So Long and thanks for all the Fish)

Source: fourFourTwo.com

Lower tier football fandom from across the pond has been a work in progress these last many years... I've been a fan of international soccer since 1990, when I was in Germany with my family during Italia '90 (the first World Cup Final that the United States had qualified for in my lifetime {and in fact the first time within the living memory of almost all Boomers!}).  The US fared poorly in that tournament, but West Germany ended up winning, and we were staying in West Berlin on the night that Germany qualified for the final.  There was an impromptu parade of joy and humanity that lasted all night, and I remember waking up in our hotel room, brushing my teeth on the balcony and looking down on the Ku'damm the next morning as the festivities continued, and some German fan who'd been partying all night raised his beer can to me.

The concept of club soccer first occurred to me, I think, on my visit to Nottingham, England nearly a decade later, when I had a stopover at the start of a spring break in Europe, and we watched a match out at the pubs. It's only now, 23 years later, that I'm realizing the match on TV had to be a Notts County affair (because Forest didn't have a match that mid-week that I was in town).  Watching a fan base come together over soccer felt different, because of the limited chances and scoring within a match, so I decided to become a fan of Nottingham Forest, and they were subsequently relegated from the Premier League a couple months later.  Following a Premier League team in 1999 and into the early 2000s was hard enough, but lower tiers - forget about it, so yahoo.sports.co.uk became a near constant tab on my computer for the next decade or so, repeatedly refreshing the browser during big matches to get score updates.

Meanwhile, I spent the remainder of that football season in Münster, Germany, which is Borussia Dortmund country, so I selected them as a Bundesliga club that I would follow, although I was never as invested in their success. But I did enjoy their success, and when their bad-ass manager, Jürgen Klopp, moved into the Premier League in 2015, I decided I should be a Liverpool fan for the Premier League - because clearly, Forest were still a long long away from top flight competition, and as much as I was enjoying following Forest's progress (now on Twitter instead of Yahoo), Liverpool had matches I could actually watch on a regular basis.  

Just a couple years later (at the start of the 2017-2018 season), ESPN+ started to show matches from the lower English leagues, so for the first time, once every 4 or 5 weeks, I got to watch a Nottingham Forest match.  It was also the first season under the new ownership of Greek oligarch Evangelos Marinakas (he bought it from Kuwati oligarch Fawaz Al-Hasawi in May 2017), and in just over five short (long, long, long) years - we are back in the Premier League!

And so it is, that I have to say goodbye to a "favorite" team.  While my selection of Liverpool was fairly arbitrary - a coaching hire - I've come to appreciate their fan base (not least here in Milwaukee!), and to cheer alongside them.  Thus, my (sub)title - which I now understand to be a malapropism - Scousers (people from Liverpool, but also more specifically Liverpool FC fans) are named after a local stew called scouse (or originally lobscouse), which I mistakenly thought had fish in it, but instead is a beef (or lamb) stew that is traditionally eaten while out to sea!

So, while I have been a lousy under-performing fan of Liverpool and Dortmund (and don't even get me started on Minnesota United FC!), I've been here for some years now of Nottingham Forest, and watching nearly every match these last several years on iFollow and ForestTV (with full, elaborate, BBC Nottingham radio commentary from Colin Fray).  The Garibaldi Red Podcast has also been a huge friend since it started in early 2020 - just before the world went bonkers, and I hope you will follow along with me at Three Lions Pub in Shorewood, or wherever we land to watch matches: MKE_nffc on twitter...

This is truly terrifying...

Rumi is one of the world's most beloved poets, and his influence can be seen in many different aspects of culture. His poetry has been translated into numerous languages and his work continues to inspire new generations of readers. Rumi's message of love and tolerance has resonated with people from all walks of life, making him one of the most important literary figures of our time. It is not surprising that Rumi's influence can also be seen in the works of one of the world's most famous writers, William Shakespeare. Many scholars believe that Shakespeare was influenced by Rumi's poetry when he wrote his plays, and it is easy to see parallels between the two authors. Both Shakespeare and Rumi explore universal themes of love, loss, and humanity in their work, and both use beautiful language to bring these themes to life. It is clear that Rumi has had a lasting impact on literature and culture, and his influence will continue to be felt for centuries to come.

Mr. Risk (source: The League of Utter
Disaster, Chaos, and Insanity Wiki)

Global politics are a hotbed of Shakespearean drama, with plenty of tragedy, comedy, and even a little bit of history thrown in for good measure. In particular, the works of Shakespeare have had a profound influence on modern day culture, with his stories and characters providing endlessly fertile ground for debate, analysis, and reinterpretation. Even those who are not fans of the Bard can find themselves unwittingly caught up in his web, as he has been responsible for introducing countless phrases and concepts into the English language that are now commonplace. Whether we love him or hate him, there is no denying that Shakespeare continues to exert a powerful hold over our culture hundreds of years after his death.

The world would be a very different place without the poet Rumi. His poetry has inspired people for centuries and his words continue to resonate with us today. Without Rumi, the world would be missing out on one of its most important voices.

I didn't write this brief essay above,

nor did I plagiarize it.  Instead, I invoked its creation in a matter of a couple minutes by typing a few instructions into a computer program.  Those instructions were:

1. Write a persuasive statement about the cultural influence of a literary figure.

2. Write a speculative statement about Rumi's influence on Shakespeare. 

3. Write an emphatic statement about the current state of global politics and Shakespeare.

4. Write a speculative statement about how Shakespeare has influenced todays culture. 

5. Write a conclusion paragraph about how the modern world would be very different if not for the poet Rumi. 

Now, the text above is fairly banal, and it didn't exactly come out like I wanted it to - I didn't tweak it at all (though, I did attempt a couple of instructions that rendered no results in the program - I think because of logic problems).

But, I was able to create it all less than 10 minutes after first learning about GPT-3 as something that exists, then googling it, finding one online and signing up for a free trial, reviewing a brief tutorial, coming up with some general sense of what I wanted created, and starting to test out these instructions.

I would also add, that the brief essay on Rumi and Shakespeare at the top is not dissimilar in quality, depth, and style to the average freshman composition student I was teaching at UW-M from 2007 - 2013 (although the content is of course much different, as I don't expect most of those students know who Rumi is, though most have probably heard of Shakespeare).

A couple of months ago, I started a post (which I haven't finished yet!) called, "I must say I'm worried...", and it hit a lot of the same notes as this Atlantic article from last week (anticipatory plagiarism has always been a problem for me) about our present state of mind and implications for the near future.  America is on a bend and trend toward something, I'm afraid, is going to be quite unfortunate. 

Best case scenario, is that it is a momentary setback which leads us to something much greater (see ca. 2024), but more likely it's not, and we will be finding out that Hannah Arendt was right, but not right enough in her Report on the Banality of Evil.  It's the banality itself that is evil - as in a wholly negative force in the world and a danger.  Take care to keep it interesting out there, folks - embrace the unexpected and unfamiliar.  Be weird.  Do good.  Be better.

"I Remember A Time"... when this blog was a lot more about golf!

Someday, I may finish this post, but as I've been watching Tiger Woods make an amazing comeback (although it has fallen short of filmic script level) at this year's Master's, Brooke decided today, after our boozy brunch with Brig, that we would watch all golf movies (basically until we fell asleep)...

So far, we've watched Caddyshack & Happy Gilmore, which are two of the classics of the genre, and I'll try to continue to update, but wanted to harken back to a time when Jackie hated my blog...

Happy trails, everybody!

Synchronicity (or the Baader-Meinhoff Principal)

 I am fairly confident in saying that I am the only human in the universe to be reading (now or ever) "The House on Maple Street" & Chelsea Handler's Life Will Be the Death of Me: ...and you too! simultaneously, and this is the stuff that feels like it's not whatever this is....

Allow me to explain.  There is a phenomenon that all of us have experienced (although you may not be aware that you have experienced it - and if that is the case, once you read this post, you will notice very soon that you have just experienced this again, which will surprise you).  It is the phenomenon of acausual meaningful coincidence.  Let's say you learn a new word (or rediscover a word into your vocabulary that you don't hear used very often, but newly firmly understand the definition of).  Within a very short time of this (re)learning, you will come across this same word again in a completely different context.  This will surprise you somewhat, but then you will stumble upon that same word in yet another way (say, the solution to next Wednesday's Wordle), and you are going to be like, "whoa. This is too weird.  Like it can't be a coincidence, something is going on here."  And yes, what is going on is the Baader-Meinhoff Phenomenon.

Don't believe me?  Do you know what the word "craic" means?  No?  Go look it up, and then get on living your life and come back once you do believe me.  And then I'll finish the post...

In both the (nonfiction) book and the (fiction) short story that I'm reading, we have the matter of siblingicity - a large set (6 & 4, respectively) of brothers and sisters that are all relatively close in age who demonstrate a kind of pack mentality (with various children taking on various roles {protector, confidant, foil} depending on who they may be paired with at the moment, and those roles shifting in time).  Although the two works are working toward completely different with Chelsea Handler on a personal journey toward accessing vulnerability and improving her mental health while Stephen King is exploring a house that has a growing alien presence in it,* the depictions of the sets of siblings not only rhymes, but feels like these two sets create something almost archetypal that might be classified as The Modern American Balanced Gendered Large Set of Siblings type.  I consider 4 to be a lot of siblings (probably because it's one more than we had, so "whoa, over-do it much?", right?) and ages being that they're likely not at more than 2 different schools.  

Myself, my brothers and I are each 7 years apart, so while we are close we never had the kind of pack mentality that I felt in each of these two works.  So too families like my Campbell Cousins who were 4, but all boys and also 3 in a cluster then the much younger Michael don't quite mesh with what I saw in these works.  The other examples I come up with from literature are the kids in The Chronicles of Narnia who are aged and gendered correctly for this match-up, but from a different era and geography (I'm not sure whether it's their old-timiness or their British-ness, but the set of Peter through Lucy are highly hierarchical with roles defined in a way that is actively worked against in both of the depictions by Handler and King).  The only other example I could come up with is David Sedaris's family dynamic, but even though I know of them almost entirely** from one single perspective who is mostly playing it off for laughs, I think that what I do know more often matches up with the other two families considered here than goes off course.

I'm not sure what this all adds up to - maybe I'm just warning us all to be aware of any larger packs of kids as they may well be up to something and because of this unique dynamic have the wherewithal to pull it off.  In any cases, my brothers and sisters and all human siblings, this has been a synchronistic reading of a couple of (seemingly) random things that I was just reading.

* my goodness look at the work that this lowly comma is doing - it's absurd really, sitting there trying to balance the gargantuan dependent and independent clauses sitting there on either side of it.  Well done, little comma, keep up the good work.

** Amy Sedaris tends not to talk or write much about her family, but has done so over the years occasionally in interviews and live performances I've seen of her, and it helps to give a fuller perspective (although still another very strange and skewed one!) on the overall Sedaris brood.

Stop, Commemorate and Listen

I got an email today from my Microsoft OneDrive storage drive, and its sole purpose was to have me remember my pictures that I took (or that I saved) on this particular day in history. At first I was bemused, and set out to craft a "get-off-my-lawn" style old man screed at the absurdity of technocratic induced nostalgia that we are currently living under... but then I saw this picture of Rex Grossman as a puppy, and was remembering this day in Iowa City in 2007 when he had his first coming out (we had met up with my parents & Tim & Jen & Family {and also, separately, with Nate & Lissa & Sandy & Angela} for Tim's Birthday).

This dog literally stopped traffic, with at least one occasion of a driver pulling over and getting out of their car just to greet & meet Rex on the side of the road before proceeding on with their errand & their day.

Man, I loved that dog...

Memories...

 ... colored PIC--tures

inthebottomofmymind...

13 years ago today, Matt Trease suggested I follow a set of instructions on Facebook to determine 1) the name of my band; 2) the title of our first album; and 3) the picture on the cover of that very album.

So I give you (opening for Iron Maiden) Provost of Cumbrae!

I post it here, for your consideration, because I don't like Facebook all that much, and I like Meta even less (even less than MetaWorldPeace), and because I have become a dearth of content in recent months (Oh, I'm writing - just not posting, rather, tweaking and deleting and reconsidering; just like Dan Carlin's Common Sense).  

The Obligation of Cinematic Nostalgia

2021 was a banner year in content creation - content maximization, really - for the MCU with 4 new movies (its most ever) and 5 original series on Disney+.  In 2022, 5 separate Star Trek series will release new episodes: FIVE!!!  

Source: medium.com

When The Matrix: Resurrections was released on HBOMax, I decided to sign up for a month of the service to see the new movie.  Before I did, I decided to watch Reloaded and Revolutions again, because I was sure I had seen the original movie several times, but each of the sequels maybe as few as twice each.  Upon starting Reloaded, I was completely lost, and realized what I was expecting to see was actually the back half of the original, so I went ahead and took most of my month's purchase time to get through the full trilogy again, and then - finally - watched Resurrections on the last day that it remained streaming on the service (for now).  The reboot / sequel / most recent installment was... okay.  Pretty good in fact, with a fun and inventive central conceit... but really just the same again as before (which I really think is kind of the central unintended theme of The Matrix franchise).

The Matrix was released in 1999, which was hands down the peak year of movies in America (and don't take my word for it).  My personal filmic consumption was also at an all time high, so I was hooked on most anything that was being doled out.  Ergo, The Phantom Menace (which I first saw pirated on a desktop computer because I was living in Germany, and it wasn't releasing there until the fall {by which time I was going to be back in the States!}) was such a pleasure when I first saw it - seeing the Jedi at their peak (or their early decline) - rather than something to be scoffed at.  

In a year when Fight Club and Office Space were working to undermine contemporary late capitalism in America from opposite ends of the spectrum (and at a time where the political spectrum wasn't the only spectrum - rather the spectrum in this case is Fight Club's chaotic, anarchic direct action on one end and Office Space's radical, satirical inaction on the other) and realities of all sorts were called into question (whether it's cyberspace v. meatspace {The Matrix & eXistenZ}; spiritual reality {The Sixth Sense}; temporal {Run Lola Run}; documentary v. fiction {Blair Witch Project}; cosmic {Being John Malkovich}; or gonzo-comedic {Man on the Moon}), most of the main modern mythologies were at or near their (then) peaks. 

Since that time, of course, we've had the dawn of the MCU, plus the continuation of the Star Wars prequels and expanded universe, Star Trek trying out a prequel series and then a reboot, before its full establishment of an STU, The Walking Dead becoming a cable tv phenomenon and then (likely) overextending its reaching to create a fuller, awesomer universe, and now everything wants not just a movie deal, but a whole universe that can be endlessly capatilistically exploited.  The Harry Potter Universe (HPU), the DCU, even the dream of the SKU.  Did you know, for example, that Breaking Bad and The Walking Dead happen in the same world?

But it's not just that the maximal capitalistic exploitation feels so oppressive - it's the compartmentalization of it all.  Streaming has only made it more ex-stream! - the ability to only consume the same thing that you always want to consume.  Discovery+ is the most extreme version of this (only because most of it is not my speed), but it's the logical, cultural extension of the political media self selecting that has been talked about for decades.

And the outcome, like the natural outcome of late capitalism, is alienation... we will forever become more separate from each other (on a referential level, but also a relational level), and that alienation is helpful for capitalism (especially late capitalism).  The less we notice the suffering of those immediately around us (not our families, but our neighbors - or if you're weird and still friendly with your neighbors, then I mean the people who live two houses down from your neighbors... yes those neighbors) and the more that we feel that we are alone in our own*.

So, as I'm watching an episode of Star Wars: Rebels, and two Lasat survivors identify a location of a new homeworld for their people, my first thought is <<what is a Lasat again?  Have I encountered these before and why do I care?>> and then <<ok, yeah, I care even if I don't know who they are, because I'm a) invested in this universe and b) generally care about the well being of anyone who isn't always already known to be a prick>>.  

It turns out it's easy to love what you love.  When Discovery zapped its characters into the late 32nd Century, the emotionality of the series ramped up to 11 - at least for those who were invested.  The dismantling of The Federation in the 900 years or so since the crew came through is tragic, but the melding of Vulcan and Romulan species in the newly formed Ni'Var is sublime.

But the trick, i think, is 

* our own suffering, that is...