She looked over his shoulder For vines and olive trees, Marble well-governed cities And ships upon untamed seas, But there on the shining metal His hands had put instead An artificial wilderness And a sky like lead.
A plain without a feature, bare and brown, No blade of grass, no sign of neighborhood, Nothing to eat and nowhere to sit down, Yet, congregated on its blankness, stood An unintelligible multitude, A million eyes, a million boots in line, Without expression, waiting for a sign.
Ok, I know this is pretty dry stuff, but this is too important to not post. If you're like me, you've been hearing about this whole credit crisis, and maybe you've had this basic idea of what went wrong. Something like "People got greedy, took on a bunch of risk that was stupid, and then got burned." Maybe a little more detail, maybe a little less. But if you're like me in another respect (less likely), you felt vaguely itchy about not really understanding the whole mess. I mean, the world is fucking ending (I don't actually recommend reading that), and I don't really get why. Until now!
Namely, caffeine. Last week, I undertook an experiment. It seemed to me that caffeine was becoming more of a habit (usually in the form of soda or tea) but that it was having an overall negative effect on me. You all know what I'm talking about. I get my fix, feel great for a while, then round about 11am I start feeling like my head is full of silly putty. So I take another hit, feel fine for a couple hours, and then spend my afternoon trying to pretend that I understand the words coming out of other peoples' mouths. The alternative was just to up the ante, but I'm worried about this:
The results are in, and I highly recommend it. Seriously, my life it better without that shit. Now I only drink caffeine after 6 pm (still a useful keep-me-up for the evening, and somehow I don't get the brain-death like I do during the day). Also useful as a laxative, of course.
I've been following this story closely. The twists and turns are mind boggling. At first, we all suspected that he was just taking a lot of drugs. Ackam's Razor, right? These guys think so. Also, the rocking back and forth in public is never a good thing. This explanation fits our desire for celebrities to humiliate themselves quite well. Then, last week, Mr. Phoenix appeared on the Late Show with David Letterman (I wish there was a way to type it like the announcer says it, but it just looks stupid). Three words for you. O. M. G. If you haven't seen it, enjoy (if you can stand it):
This performance was so absurd that I became convinced the whole thing was just a hoax. Could Joaquin Phoenix be fucking with us? These insightful analysts think so(for your own good, I recommend skipping to about 3:55, otherwise you will loose about 5712 brain cells per second).
But here's where it really get complicated. Last week, in the space of one youtube interview, everything go crazy.
At first, he seems like he's just fucked up. In the middle of a television interview, the man says (well actually mumbles) "I can't remember what I was saying, what was I saying?" I say that sometimes, but as most of my friends will tell you, I'm kind of bad at life. If a previously normal person says something like this, you can't help but think drugs. And the rocking back and forth in public doesn't help. But then it twists and turns. The man busts out a short lesson in rap history, saying various non-stupid things about guys like Ice Cube, and then says pretty lucid shit about his upcoming album (apparently he wanted it to be a valentine's day present to himself. Or maybe to me). So I'm thinking, ok, maybe this is legit. The latter sentiment is only emboldened by this:
A bit fuzzy to tell for sure, but maybe just maybe he's good. Or at least doesn't suck. At a minimum, the beat sounds cool.
I dunno. I'm more excited for this new joint to drop than I have been since I got my first tape (New Kids on the Block, if you must know) back in 86. But I'm open to other theories. Is he legit? Is this a documentary in progress? Or drugs?
On a related note, I'm currently trying to figure out the difference between hip-hop and rap. I mean, I know that one's a "culture" and the other's not, but I'm just talking about the music. There's music that's one and there's music that's the other. It's been proposed that it's like porn, you just know it when you see/hear it. But I'm unsatisfied. So if you think you're smart, tell me what makes hip-hop hip-hop, and not rap (and visa versa).
One of the most important lessons we men learn is that women like to share. A lot. An important day In a man's life is when he learns to ask, when his lady friend starts in on something dramatic, "Honey, are you looking for my input here or do you just want me to listen?" (If you haven't learned little trick yet, you're welcome. Solid gold). What is true in the home holds true on the internets as well. Blogging, I have observed, is a world dominated by women. The gods of the blogosphere seem to enforce some egalitarianism at the top. For a while Salon.com had a nice, round, always gender-balanced table on their front page. But get lower, and the men fall away. I personally know at least three women with blogs, while the one guy I know with a blog writes about…wait for it…sports. A bit more scientifically, I looked at the first twenty blogs that came up(randomly, I think) on blogspot. Fourteen were clearly written by women, two were hard to tell but about domestic subjects (which, being women's work, is probably by a women, right?),and four by men. But here's the thing, two of these were by gay men and the other two were about architecture and, again, sports. So like I said, women are apparently the ones who fell inclined to share on the internet as well as in the real world.
It turns out that men, when they write, are very focused. I suspect that this is a machismo thing. Purpose = manly. One inevitably suspects that male diarists and memoirists (aside from the already-famous sort) swing from both sides of the plate, if not solely the other side, regardless of any actual evidence for or against. The theory seems to be that one ought not care about the feelings and sharing of others. Consequently, you shouldn't share your own either (presumably because your friends won't give a shit, and will think you odd for thinking they would). You'll notice that this also plays out in men's friendships themselves. 90% of male interaction (outside of work and family) is activity-based.When girls hang out, they just hang out. When guys hang out, they watch sports, play video games, shoot guns, or as a last resort, get drunk.
So anyway, when we men write, it tends to follow the same pattern. I've even seen this in myself. I've had this notion for quite some time that I wanted to have a blog, but always I held back. Why? Because I couldn't think of what to write about! I guess this misses the point. I noticed this, and being contrary by nature, decided I'd write without a purpose. Or anyway, the sole purpose being the sharing of my eminently authoritative and interesting opinions.
Keep an eye on the visit counter. I have a bonus clause in my contract that kicks in when the count hits twelve.
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