The Fanboy Cliche

Sometimes I wonder if I am just a stock character in this novel called life.  I seem to fit a certain profile, or have the same interests as a large number of people with similar profiles.  Maybe any such thinking is a misperception in that I know we are all individuals, and that the combination of what interests us in particular is what makes us special; but I have to say sometimes I like feeling like I am part of a group while at other times I try to buck conventions and be outside of that same cliche.  Unavoidably, I am something of a Fanboy however, and I think I can try to defend why there are so many of us.

I use the term Fanboy, (there are Fangirls, props to the women), to describe males who are interested in comic books, science fiction, fantasy, Dungeons and Dragons, Star Wars, and cinema based on these iconic corporate entities.  Maybe you have noticed at the movies that there are a lot of us Fanboys around these days.  Some people gravitate to these public art forms because they see the crowd forming and come over to see what is so interesting.  As people we like to feel like we belong to something while still retaining our solitary existences and autonomy at the same time, and as popular culture embraces the Fanboy our numbers grow.  But what drives the Fanboy, the true fan who would, or did, love all of this stuff before it became a staple of modern popular culture?

That’s a little more complicated, but speaking only for myself: being a Fanboy has nothing to do with a feeling of inclusion.  I liked all of this stuff when it was tragically uncool to do so.  I hid my comic books in the closet when friends came over, then in a trunk when I was away at boarding school, and basically kept all of this Fanboy stuff very close to the vest until a girlfriend in college taught me I was okay, not worthy of ridicule, and most likely not going to lose all my friends if I told them I liked Tolkien and comics.

She was right, in a big way, but it was still something of a revelation to find out that the Lord of the Rings are up there with the Bible as the books printed in greatest volume, (to the tune of like 500 million copies of the four books combined), and while comic book characters garner tons of attention in the movies, it was actually in the nineties when comic books themselves experienced their heyday, some publishing to the tune of 1,200,000 copies of a single issue.  Throw in the phenomenon that was the Star Wars re-release and I started to talk openly about being a fan of these different genres and strange subcultures, and became a part of how what might have once been a subculture gradually are supplanting the dominant culture.

I don’t know how many modern painters you can name, or the names of your favorite paintings, but I bet you know a few comic book heroes on sight.  Yes I know I am mixing two very different marketing plans here, but ask Andy Warhol’s ghost and you will hear that most painters would love to be household names like Spider Man or Batman, they just can’t swing the backing of major corporations like Disney or Time Warner, although they might like to if they had their way (although probably not, painters are a very idealistic lot and seek popularity and obscurity at the same time, as only the idealistic can).  Occasionally a James Cameron or a George Lucas combine the dynamics of mass culture and visual genius into modern motion pictures, and deserve a lot of credit for being able to do so, but they are exceptions to the rule.  Right now, more people have heard of Wolverine then have heard of his creators (Len Wein and John Romita Sr.), and such is the nature of popular comic book culture.

Okay, tangent taken, back to the main idea: why am I such a cliche?  For one thing comic book art, movies, and mass market paperbacks, sometimes seem like the only art around.  If you live in New York, or DC, or Paris or something, sure, you can go see Modern Art whenever you like.  I live in Camden, Delaware.  The local art scene bites, I don’t know any local painters, and the sad fact is the comic book shop ten minutes down the road delivers paintings, drawings, and stories in mass quantities every Wednesday at noon.  New art, pictures and stories arrive weekly, and I like that.  Yes, I can go into the city and see some paintings from time to time, and I do, but the consistent exposure to popular artwork I experience has something to do with a superior distribution technique.

Fanboy genres are also very inclusive.  I like comic books, etc., because they are happening now, in my day and age.  This is a contemporary artistic movement if you will, and I prefer this at times to studying the murals of post colonial Indochina.  This is my culture in the sense that it reflects where I live and breathe, and you can see popular icons like the Beastie Boys and Harry Potter cycled through these art forms in a way that makes them seem like they speak my language, the language of these contemporary times in my United States.

Yes, I admit, there is an element of nostalgia to the whole affair.  But why would I want to remember being a hated and secretive comic book hoarder unless the art was so moving when I was younger that I am willing to relive the painful memories of friendless nerdiness every time I read a comic book or read a fantasy novel?  This artwork was worth social ostracization when I was younger, and if it keeps me from having luck with the ladies now, well then, it’s hard to argue that I am reliving better times.

If anything a fair complaint that I have arrested my development somehow with all the medications I am on might be made, but this doesn’t get at why I don’t watch television, or still listen to Bon Jovi.  I should be like most males, stuck in some James Bond, Donald Trump day dream of endless wealth and promiscuous sex, but I’m not.  Yes, there are a lot of Americans who identify with the loner and the outsider, but to identify oneself as a loner or outsider usually takes some development psychologically, not fixation in some earlier stage.  I know I am not cool, hell I’m 36, it’s cool to not be cool at my age, and all of this is confusing as hell, but it’s simplest to stay I’m not stuck, I chose this, I’m a Fanboy, and I read some weird stuff.  Deal with it.

Attack of the Book #1

While this sounds like a better title for a story about the Jehovah’s Witnesses who came to my door this weekend trying to save me from ditches, beer, fornicating, and other things generally agreed upon to be fun, it is actually a title for the first book review in a series of reviews of everything I read.  Yes, lucky you, you get to hear about a cool book this time, and yes you should read more.

And it is a cool book I’m beginning the series with; OMEN, a Fate of the Jedi book in the Star Wars series, written by the talented Christie Golden, while you might already want to debate this.  Sure I could write a review about As You Like It, or Finnegan’s Wake, or some of the nerdy stuff I have been reading the past few weeks, but I don’t expect to say anything that hasn’t already been said about those books while there’s a lot to say about Star Wars.

For instance:  there are Star Wars books.  Lots of them.  Hard to believe, I know, but they’ve been fleshing out the stories told in the movies with additional science fiction novels for a long time now.  I don’t know when exactly the first in the series came out, I could look it up and seem wiser, but it had to be back in the 80s because for as long as I can remember these titles have been piling up and piling up and piling up.  They are using the books to explore from 3500 years before the first movie, to about 35 years after the last movie - of course these movies were released out of order, so you are already confused - but if you’re with me, I don’t have to tell you, the Star Wars universe is big: bigger than future movies could possibly cover.  There have to be over 100 books in the series now, heck, the list takes three pages of fine print to list, and everyone from Timothy Zahn to Terry Brooks has written one, it’s a very big clubhouse.

The thing is, the books can be very good.  Sure, some of them are stinkers, aimed at young adults, or just fleshed out side notes on the Clone Wars that seem like strange footnotes in a long fictional history, but others are grown up, entertaining, page turners, that keep some of your favorite characters alive while illuminating aspects of the Force and the Dark Side for those infected by the story line and unable to get enough.

This review is specifically aimed at the uninitiated:  so I will throw out a SPOILER ALERT right here, if you don’t want to find out that Luke Skywalker got married, had a kid, and then his wife died, and now father and son have been banished and are looking for lost force techniques previously studied by Jacen Solo, son of, yes, Leia and Han, who was the emperor of the galaxy for a short while before turning Sith and going bad, then you missed this sentence.

The books can seem busy, or they can flow, it depends on how many of the old ones you have read to some degree.

I loved OMEN, the second book in the Fate of the Jedi series, because they are playing off a schizophrenic symptom to create psychological drama.  Specifically: certain Jedi are getting confused to the point where they think everyone around them has been replaced with fakes, replicas, or clones, while implying the Jedi are either infected, or insane.  This book doesn’t solve the mystery, but it does throw a few Jedi into total insanity and I love it.  Jedi need to go insane.  They are pretty tightly wound bunch of psuedo-buddhists trying to save the Universe from the dangers of darkness, (look it’s a moral relativistic term, they still love Lando Calrissian and talk about him all the time.  Darkness is dangerous not in a skin tone sense, but in a big black Darth Vader sense.  Yeah, it is a little confusing).  Before I get sued, let me say this: I love the books.  You should read them.  This is an advertisement for the Fate of the Jedi Series, (and I have no money if you are thinking of suing).

So: crazy Jedi, Sith, and it was short - I don’t think the book broke 300 pages - all made it an awesome page turner tour de force, ahem, and I think if you have not read anything in this series, and you think you love Star Wars, you are really missing out.  If you need assistance, go to the bookstore and find the Star Wars books, (this is not hard, it’s near science fiction), and open any of the books and look a few pages inside the front cover.  There you will find the massive chart of all eras, and get to decide where you want to start your exploration of a galaxy that is, without a doubt, one of the coolest.

For those who say, “hey, you’re just a crazy schizophrenic to like Star Wars, and what is going on in Joyce, and why didn’t you write about Shakespeare?”  Let me allay you literary fears, these Star Wars books won’t bite you.  Except perhaps in an infectious, vampiric, lust for the blood of these pulpy paperbacks, way.  It is an addiction, to get involved with these different fantasy universes, (see comic book posts for more), as I know they will be churning out more books in the series even long after I am dead and gone.  But that’s kind of the point: the Star Wars Universe is strong like the Force, it has been expanded, and there are a lot of us out here addicted so back off literary person!  Read what you like, I say.  And I do....

The End of Writing

No, I’m not done blogging, that’s not what this is about.  After a break for a week I return with a lot of excitement for this medium.  I guess I could call this blog “what end writing?” but that’s pretty heavy and philosophical and not really what I’m after.  I am reconsidering the role writing plays in my life and thought I would let you in on what I’ve decided.

After five years I have too small an audience to sustain the work of writing.  Writing is work.  Calling writing your job I think entails getting paid for it, but whether or not you get paid it is still work.  If the work justifies the expenditure of time and effort with commensurate healing or entertainment as the end result I guess it could be called a volunteer job.  If you are writing to no audience, for no money, and accomplishing little healing, I think you have to consider whether you are only in it for the entertainment you get out of it yourself.

I wrote for a long time with the full intention of eventually getting paid for the effort.  These dreams have largely faded.  Let’s be clear, I’m not after money for money’s sake, but as an indicator that the work is valued.  I might give away all the money I make to charities, but I can use dollar amounts to talk about one sense of value of my writing.  This career is a tough one to break into, and even when one has some success it is very difficult to pay all your bills as a writer.  Serious writers tend to teach or do some other career to make ends meet, and commercial writers can find a lot of success but also a lot of competition in the established genres.  It is wonderful hearing about success stories, but long term success requires a lot of luck, talent, and understanding of the writing marketplace; I have learned about the marketplace but I can’t do much about my luck or talent levels, so it looks like I won’t get paid for my efforts.

I don’t think you can make an argument that you are contributing if you have no audience.  Writing in a vacuum, to be saved digitally on-line for eternity, might please the writer, but I don’t think it’s much of a contribution. I believe in art for art’s sake, but you can’t call that a job, volunteer or otherwise; art for art’s sake is instead a philosophy to beautify your life and the life of others, and it has to be integrated into a full life, including work.

Writing works better as a clear cut entertainment with me designated as the entertained.  As such it is exciting and fun, and I find it more stimulating than the television I don’t watch.  But this process of writing, without any audience, is just me entertaining myself; it is not morally or ethically much different than television, comic books, listening to music, or whatever it is one enjoys.  That may seem harsh, but I think it’s the truth.

Maybe it could be argued that by occasionally sharing my work, as I do, with friends and family, the art is justified.  This is still a type of play however, a part of an incomplete life without making a contribution.  Unless I am reaching the numbers of people where my writing could be considered a job or career, I am just enriching other’s experience of my self.  Not a bad plan, and I’ll keep at it, but only on a part-part-time basis.

I thought for a brief moment that if I blogged every day about everything important in the universe I could justify this habit as work, but no.  This is just me entertaining myself, and as such, blogging is important but not very disciplined.

This is all a very long way of saying that I think I have found a job.  I hope I will soon start working as a peer advocate in the mental health profession here in Dover, Delaware.  This is a job not in the sense that I will earn money (although I will, and there is a sense of value there), but I consider it a job in that I will be contributing and helping others lead happier healthier lives.  If I could say the same about my writing I’d be torn as to whether or not to pursue it, if I thought I could make a contribution, as indicated by having an audience.

For those of the persuasion that one should toil in obscurity for all of one’s life to make great art and never look back, I have to ask if they are over valuing their work or the work of their loved ones.  This is not Van Gogh’s time, very few artists can slip through the cracks here in America.  We live in an age where there is no shortage of books and written material, mostly a shortage of interested readers when television, movies, video games, music, and all the varied entertainments of modernity compete in the same marketplace.  If you compete and are a success, more power to you, you’re probably a lot more talented than I am.  If you are one of the many who labor at your art with no audience, like I did, I don’t know what to tell you.  This isn’t advice for others, just me hearing myself talk, and that’s my point.

While true persistence is necessary to eventual success and no one makes it without some effort, perhaps a good rule of thumb is five years of trying to be an artist without an audience.  Working on your art beyond five years is important too, but doing so full time might be a waste of your potential to create positive change in your world and your community.

I’m dropping the pretension that I work at writing, if you can believe it, I do this kind of stuff for fun...

Confusion and Mayhem

I am lucky enough to have two friends from two different periods of my life now living on two different coasts who are both amazing musicians and songwriters.  My friend Matt, from college, now in California, has written many the fine song and gained some attention with his band MADRONA, and I have a huge catalogue of his projects that I have collected over the years.  Now, like this week, my friend Sam, from junior high, now in Rhode Island, has chimed into the musical conversation with a stellar four song EP called “You got to” by his band the #a! ones.

Fortunately, none of Sam’s songs were about me.  This sounds like a presumption of major intensity but bare with me.  I have a point in here somewhere.  You see, unlike many the critic who would go the distance to argue why their friends make the best music around while claiming objectivity I will do away with such pretense and just be a fan.  But I will tell you that having song writers for friends can be confusing for the schizophrenic.

My MADRONA collection is deep.  I have work by Matt spanning ten years, totaling fourteen different CDs and DVDs that he has worked on for many, many hours.  Sam’s output is small in comparison, one seven inch purple marble vinyl record with four songs.  For what Sam lacks in range he makes up for in aesthetic appeal, but that is by no way a slight of MADRONA.  The two bands musical styles are so different and their intent so varied I really wouldn’t tell you whose music I like better.  Such an act would be destructive, insensitive, and in the end pointless, you should hear them both to decide for yourself. (Shameless plug right there).

I will say I like the #a! ones for their crazy band name, a great choice in this day of internet look ups and market dynamic sensitivities.  You have to get their name wrong, because I don’t think I’m sure of what it is, or what it refers to.  This is a pure punk move, the unmarketable name, and the music they make fully delivers on the promise.  Part Black Flag, totally original, with some Circle Jerks, and even a little Rancid so the younger people will know the names I am dropping are important, “You got to” is thrashing, unafraid to be melodic, hardcore, and I couldn’t help but love it.  Sam, back in junior high, turned me on to punk rock almost singlehandedly, making bootleg cassette tapes for me I played over and over until they fell away into dust.  Now, some twenty two years later, his songs could go side by side with the classics on those early compilations and the music would flow perfectly.  For those of you who don’t do vinyl, you really should.  Even on my crappy record player the sound is immediate and nostalgic all at the same time.  Plus it’s marbled purple!  I mean, that is awesome.

MADRONA will always hold a very special place in my heart.  Matt and I were in bands together, he taught me how to play guitar for hell’s sake, so I can’t help but love everything he does.  I know one song he wrote with MADRONA is about me, a crazy ditty in thirteen time, called, yes, One Past Order.  I like to think other songs he writes are about me at times too, especially the really harsh ones about greedy pigs and out of control egos.  Such is most likely my paranoia overreaching a little, and I should be happy with one amazing song about me, but I can explain.

My illness, when I am ill, not today of course, schizophrenia in check, even convinced me that New Found Glory, a band I have no connection with and who I think exclusively writes love songs about girlfriends, also wrote a song about me.  Yes, I was convinced.  New Found Glory in addition to other minor acts like U2, Smashing Pumpkins, and  Paramour, all writing songs for me, so what is that all about?

I can tell you, when someone has schizophrenia, like I do, they break with reality, like I have.  One of the interesting things we do is lose our proper frame of reference.  All kinds of media become very confusing.  Any reference to “you”, just the plain old second person pronoun, sounds like the song writer is talking to the schizophrenic.  Even “I” the more innocuous first person pronoun, sounds like it refers to the schizophrenic during sing alongs.  He, it, we, they, yes, all of these seem personal indeed to the deluded hallucinating mind.  (Blink 182 has a song called Adam’s Song which I thought was about my friend, Chris). I have met a schizophrenic who claimed to have written all of the songs the Supremes are famous for, (songs stolen from her of course); and even one interesting lady who knew that ALL the songs on the radio were about her.

Now think about that for a second.  It’s not a problem when a love song makes you think of your love, or a party song makes you think of one time in school, but can you imagine thinking every song is about you?  Creeping Death by Metallica comes to mind, as does Lithium by Nirvana, don’t even get me started about how confusing Jets to Brazil can be for a schizophrenic emo kid, I mean it’s tragic.

When we are medicated the world falls away, and we realize how unimportant and small we are, and that can be scary too.

Fortunately for us there is a band that I think tries, and has succeeded, in sounding like a psychotic episode.  This might seem like a stock answer, but I have really given this a lot of thought, and I say Slayer, yes, crazy old Slayer, play music that sounds like I am losing my mind.  Depending on my mood I can find them very calming.

So what does this have to do with Sam’s record or MADRONA?  Not a lot.  I just love being back in the world of the sane, thinking nothing has anything to do with me ever, and living my life as if such were the case.  Sam’s stuff has little to do with me, and everything to do with him.  I celebrate his success, as I celebrate all my friends who have made my life a lot more musical.

Confusion and Mayhem

I am lucky enough to have two friends from two different periods of my life now living on two different coasts who are both amazing musicians and songwriters.  My friend Matt, from college, now in California, has written many the fine song and gained some attention with his band MADRONA, and I have a huge catalogue of his projects that I have collected over the years.  Now, like this week, my friend Sam, from junior high, now in Rhode Island, has chimed into the musical conversation with a stellar four song EP called “You got to” by his band the #a! ones.

Fortunately, none of Sam’s songs were about me.  This sounds like a presumption of major intensity but bare with me.  I have a point in here somewhere.  You see, unlike many the critic who would go the distance to argue why their friends make the best music around while claiming objectivity I will do away with such pretense and just be a fan.  But I will tell you that having song writers for friends can be confusing for the schizophrenic.

My MADRONA collection is deep.  I have work by Matt spanning ten years, totaling fourteen different CDs and DVDs that he has worked on for many, many hours.  Sam’s output is small in comparison, one seven inch purple marble vinyl record with four songs.  For what Sam lacks in range he makes up for in aesthetic appeal, but that is by no way a slight of MADRONA.  The two bands musical styles are so different and their intent so varied I really wouldn’t tell you whose music I like better.  Such an act would be destructive, insensitive, and in the end pointless, you should hear them both to decide for yourself. (Shameless plug right there).

I will say I like the #a! ones for their crazy band name, a great choice in this day of internet look ups and market dynamic sensitivities.  You have to get their name wrong, because I don’t think I’m sure of what it is, or what it refers to.  This is a pure punk move, the unmarketable name, and the music they make fully delivers on the promise.  Part Black Flag, totally original, with some Circle Jerks, and even a little Rancid so the younger people will know the names I am dropping are important, “You got to” is thrashing, unafraid to be melodic, hardcore, and I couldn’t help but love it.  Sam, back in junior high, turned me on to punk rock almost singlehandedly, making bootleg cassette tapes for me I played over and over until they fell away into dust.  Now, some twenty two years later, his songs could go side by side with the classics on those early compilations and the music would flow perfectly.  For those of you who don’t do vinyl, you really should.  Even on my crappy record player the sound is immediate and nostalgic all at the same time.  Plus it’s marbled purple!  I mean, that is awesome.

MADRONA will always hold a very special place in my heart.  Matt and I were in bands together, he taught me how to play guitar for hell’s sake, so I can’t help but love everything he does.  I know one song he wrote with MADRONA is about me, a crazy ditty in thirteen time, called, yes, One Past Order.  I like to think other songs he writes are about me at times too, especially the really harsh ones about greedy pigs and out of control egos.  Such is most likely my paranoia overreaching a little, and I should be happy with one amazing song about me, but I can explain.

My illness, when I am ill, not today of course, schizophrenia in check, even convinced me that New Found Glory, a band I have no connection with and who I think exclusively writes love songs about girlfriends, also wrote a song about me.  Yes, I was convinced.  New Found Glory in addition to other minor acts like U2, Smashing Pumpkins, and  Paramour, all writing songs for me, so what is that all about?

I can tell you, when someone has schizophrenia, like I do, they break with reality, like I have.  One of the interesting things we do is lose our proper frame of reference.  All kinds of media become very confusing.  Any reference to “you”, just the plain old second person pronoun, sounds like the song writer is talking to the schizophrenic.  Even “I” the more innocuous first person pronoun, sounds like it refers to the schizophrenic during sing alongs.  He, it, we, they, yes, all of these seem personal indeed to the deluded hallucinating mind.  (Blink 182 has a song called Adam’s Song which I thought was about my friend, Chris). I have met a schizophrenic who claimed to have written all of the songs the Supremes are famous for, (songs stolen from her of course); and even one interesting lady who knew that ALL the songs on the radio were about her.

Now think about that for a second.  It’s not a problem when a love song makes you think of your love, or a party song makes you think of one time in school, but can you imagine thinking every song is about you?  Creeping Death by Metallica comes to mind, as does Lithium by Nirvana, don’t even get me started about how confusing Jets to Brazil can be for a schizophrenic emo kid, I mean it’s tragic.

When we are medicated the world falls away, and we realize how unimportant and small we are, and that can be scary too.

Fortunately for us there is a band that I think tries, and has succeeded, in sounding like a psychotic episode.  This might seem like a stock answer, but I have really given this a lot of thought, and I say Slayer, yes, crazy old Slayer, play music that sounds like I am losing my mind.  Depending on my mood I can find them very calming.

So what does this have to do with Sam’s record or MADRONA?  Not a lot.  I just love being back in the world of the sane, thinking nothing has anything to do with me ever, and living my life as if such were the case.  Sam’s stuff has little to do with me, and everything to do with him.  I celebrate his success, as I celebrate all my friends who have made my life a lot more musical.

Easy Targets

[Warning: there is probably an error in spelling or grammar in the following blog.  I am sorry.  I tried very hard to make sure there was not but I am human, and I love commas.]

There is a great article in today’s Christian Science Monitor by Eoin O’Carroll about the math of the great assumption, er, ascension, as calculated by Harold Camping.  His Math included the number 722,499.07 days since April 1, 33 CE, rounded up to 722,500 a product of 5 x 17 x 10 squared.   All of these numbers have special meanings to Camping, but where in the bible he found this equation I do not know. (The bible is notoriously short on math, I have checked).

Harold Camping owns 66 Christian Broadcasting Channels and has convinced thousands of people with billboards and radio messages that the end of the world is today, or was, (will be?)

In response I feel like blogging that I ascended, was the only one there, convinced God to give us a second chance and came back for tacos.  This is probably an awful idea, except for the tacos.  I do love tacos.

Whoever advertises with this Camping guy should be ashamed.  I don’t blame the listeners, sure there is no reason not to learn how to read in today’s day and age, but some people can’t read.  Yes, there is an extent to which one is educated and an extent to which one educates oneself.  I’m not saying everyone has to read Jurgen Habermas or even learn how to pronounce Goethe properly, but come on, will people say that Camping prays on those who can only listen to radio?  That these people who gave away their money to Camping or spent it on billboards scaring the hell out of little children all across the country, didn’t deserve to be fleeced of every dime?

So there isn’t a lot on the radio.  And you think country music is just too liberal and communistic for your tastes.  I understand.  I recommend a wonderful collection of books on tape, CDs, and MP3 players (have you seen those, the library has some, they are cool, book and MP3 in one package, use your own headphones or headphones will be provided for you), that you can take out and listen to on your own. I cannot reach the illiterate people here, but I hope I can reach you.

The question begged is: what have I, the mad scientist, done for literacy in my life?  Very little.  I have taught English, run free book clubs at the local libraries, volunteered at the library doing necessary mundane tasks, worked for Read of America, donated books, and read to every child I have met who said they were bored and couldn’t run away fast enough to stop me.  This is why I did blog today.  To advocate that you think of something you can do to help encourage and develop literacy and go do it.

I helped a group of high school age students, possibly older, spell the word “theatre” today.  Tricky, yes.  I put it close to potato in difficulty.  Remember, Vice Presidents need help expanding their literacy too.  (Long story short for those of you a little younger than me Bush Sr.’s Vice President misspelled this one back in the day when visiting a school spelling test.  No lie.  I’m going to name names, yes I can spell Quayle both the name and the fowl quail, Quayle was the foul Quayle).

Yes. I am being smug.  Why?  Because maybe we need a little shock treatment here.  Some people can’t read.  So they turn on the radio, hear about the end of the world and believe.  Some people can’t read.  That’s not funny, but it might, in the end, spell the end of the world.

Theory and Popular Culture

Subject to private schooling during my formative years I was taught the theory of mass society when it comes to popular culture.  The idea that the masses, as the inheritors of popular production threaten the elite is totally aristocratic.  Maybe the masses threaten the old system where being a part of the elite allowed you to dictate what should be read, viewed, or thought important.  But again and again the masses want to be a part of the same elite they critique, if the elite is the group making these decisions so that they might have economic power through the selling of their art.  Whether the masses are a threat to capitalism and democracy, the very means by which they can become the elite and determine what is consumed, seems questionable.

It seems to me that mass society, if such buying trends should ever be separated from individuals linguistically, is at once interested in buying something new, and also something durable at the same time.  It is a matter of human reproduction that the young people make decisions at some point about what culture to invest in and it would seem like parents, critics and teachers are teaching a type of economics where students learn to pick out artistic products that will last, if they are practical, or ones they prefer, when they feel more emotional, or often, to like ones similar to what they render, if they are selfish.

Essentially teachers (economically repressed themselves usually), seem to influence us in buying things that we can carry with us proudly for a long time.  The threat to the teaching elite is only that the children will not purchase what the elite are selling: the books they write, or the music they produce.  The business elite has long since learned to counter this by publishing the work of the economically disadvantaged (or non-teaching elite), no matter how revolutionary the content, and selling it everywhere.  Making it available so that the economic power stays in the hands of the elite and the subversive ideas seem to be exposed as popular thereby generating the need for a counter-rebellion against the previous norm, and finally reinforcing conservative values.  The flux from rebellion to conservation is so rapid today, that I advise following the dollars, not the text of the art, to show who is truly opposed to the elite, and to who just wants to be in charge of it.

At the point of purchase some decisions are shaped by a culture industry.  What is at the book store is decided by companies.  What is available on line, free content, like this blog you are reading, might be the most dangerous work in production.  I recognize that I am sensitizing conservatives to this fact, but it’s cool, I’m a law and order type at my core.  This is either due to the aforementioned education, or  if you give me more credit, because I recognize law and order as safe.  Safety is rejected only when not appreciated. I love a peaceful, friendly society, this is why I participate here in this revolutionary context of the internet, and why you should too.

It’s a matter of power relationships, something better understood with the theory of culture industry.  These theorists think I work for the state.  I kind of do.  I don’t get paid by anyone, except anonymous donors, you can see my hand out over there with my digital “tip” jar, but I don’t want a revolution.  I don’t want to be shot at, or stolen from.  I just want varied, excellent art, and mass culture is not anathema to this anymore, in my polite conclusion.  It creates art that will last, a ton of stuff that will be forgotten, but at the end of the day I want art that reinforces public safety and that I will still want on my shelves thirty years from now.  My shelves are full of poetry, comics, and philosophy, but I am always weeding through them and eliminating what I will never read again.  I share with you this process, to influence you in buying stuff that might last on your shelves too.

I am susceptible to the notion that an elite exists dictating what’s on radio and television.  I don’t listen to radio, or watch television, but I did at one point, this is when mass decisions were made for me, I just sat there and received these decisions.  This time of received content shaped me just as my education did.

But there is another sense of the elite: the elite of the intellect, where the smart kids make the art and “smart” can be taught to a point, but good art can’t be taught in my personal experience, and smart kids make great art with poor educations all the time, while great educations are still usually purchased in our culture, thereby handed to kids who don’t appreciate them, and watch out for what they like to write.  Phew, it can be awful, irony intended.

Finally, or final for today at least, meaning right here: there’s the theory of progressive evolution.  Capitalism provides us all with an opportunity to participate in capitalism says the theory, and the weeding out process I mentioned above about my bookshelf, is totally personal.  But we all know money makes money, education can lead to smarter kids, so who are they fooling by thinking that anyone, no matter where they were born or to whom they were born can participate?  Some families value education and the arts.  Some don’t.  Some people are disabled, so they lack the capital investment ability necessary to produce many types of art.

Or is that not true?  I can’t afford to print a magazine, but I invested in a computer.  As computers become ubiquitous, these blogs will be everywhere, so is this the height of the revolution?  Me, a disabled, mentally ill guy, still having his say?  Perhaps it is.  Or maybe you are only still reading this because we share so many sensibilities thanks to our respective private (private in the sense of forced upon us, this can be public, private, or television) and personal (personal in the sense that we make our own choices about what we expose ourselves to) educations?

If I still have your attention let me leave you with a riddle: I think I spend way too much time reading about mutants and I don’t check out my Shakespeare often enough.  Or is that my repressive aristocratic education rearing its ugly head?  Why is the head reared so often ugly?  Must be some old guy's head they are talking about...

The Mad Scientist

In the interest of raising awareness about mental illness, and to further contextualize this blog, I have decided to write a little bit about schizophrenia.  I am a diagnosed schizophrenic, although most people can’t tell when they talk to me briefly because I am lucid, medicated, and - as of this writing - in remission.  I am not entirely symptom free, nor am I cured, but my mental health is very good, with a very positive prognosis.

Schizophrenia is a common disorder, with one person out of one hundred people in the United States suffering from some form of the illness.  They sometimes tell me I have schizoaffective disorder, a type of schizophrenia that includes a mood disorder, meaning that in addition to hallucinations, delusions, anxiety and paranoia, I also experience mania and depression. This is not to be confused with bipolar disorder, although the two illnesses are similar in some ways they are differentiated by the length of time spent in psychotic states.

I am now recovering from spending six years in a constant swirl of psychosis and a mess of manic mood swings.  During this time I was blogging, communicating, and trying to lead as normal a life as possible.  When I think about what I was thinking about during that time, I am impressed that I made such a good effort, but I am very thankful the symptoms have passed.  I am also sorry if I acted confused or distant, I was.

Like most schizophrenic males, I was diagnosed at the age of twenty-one after my first psychotic break.  I have experienced two periods of healthy remission where I worked and played and generally carried on like I was cured forever and could never get sick again.  In both instances I was taken off of medication, relapsed, was hospitalized, and generally became a real pain to be around.  Every time I have been sick it has taken longer for me to return to full functioning.

To be fair, I cannot speak for all people with this illness, but I can tell you I am very gentle, with a complete personal loathing for guns and gun violence.  The recent shootings in Arizona, and subsequent news articles about mental illness, sadden and confuse me.  I cannot tell you with any sincerity that people with this illness are any more or less violent than the healthy population, all I can do is serve as an example of a harmless, nonviolent schizophrenic.  I think it is fair to say that I am afraid of the healthy population because of their interest in shooting and killing others, just as I am afraid of my own support for the war in the middle east.  Why healthy people and schizophrenics share this conviction that it is okay to kill the right people is a complicated question.

Since I am not a threat to myself or others, (except in a theoretical pro-war sense), I am fortunate to live at home, with my parents, and with only cursory supervision.  I work on my writing and I volunteer, but I am cautious about returning to a work environment for fear that I will experience another relapse.  When I do relapse I am tremendously difficult to be around and I do not want to put my parents through this again.  Also, if I were to relapse, it is likely I would be sick for even longer than last time.  I personally don’t think I could handle another six years or more of psychosis.  I hope my contributions are acceptable, but I struggle with this issue of work all the time.

I don’t think I will go into what it is like to hallucinate, or be paranoid, or have delusions.  Let it be enough that such experiences are not fun and I do not understand why anyone would want to feel altered in any way anymore.  Feeling sane and sober is such a joy to me that I recommend sobriety to all my friends, just as I recommend that everyone with any diagnosis of mental illness should take every pill they are prescribed.  Why healthy and mentally ill people share in occasional enjoyment of altered states - with healthy people using drugs, and the mentally ill refusing to - is beyond my understanding once again.

If at times I seem flippant or insouciant when I joke about being a mad scientist, I am sorry.  Humor is a great coping mechanism and I tell these jokes with self deprecation intended.  If you are too crazy to take an occasional joke in these blogs, you might seek professional assistance.

I am always open to answering any questions about my experience and knowledge of schizophrenia in greater depth, so please, do not feel hesitant to communicate.  I write this blog not for sympathy, but in the purest interest of survival.  Both the Germans and the Russians had a horrible record of destroying people with mental illness in the twentieth century, and while I struggle with whether I am being paranoid I cannot be silent in a day and age when my health care is threatened by those political forces who would have you believe national health care is bad for you in some way.  The treatments for mental illness are better than ever, and I have a right to exist free from persecution and life threatening illness.

To balance out the paranoia, I want to say that I love my country very much, and I am extremely thankful for the excellent medications and care that I have received and continue to need.  Thank you.

On Theory: Deconstruction

I love the French philosopher Derrida’s classic and famous assertion that “There is nothing outside the text.” Everything is a text, I infer he connotes, and the notion opens all sorts of language phenomenon to interpretation.  If there is only text, each language event or text event reverberates off of every other, and the relationship between these events is as important as the text in and of itself.

I am probably misinterpreting Derrida’s intention, but I think he would be fine with that.  In fact, he would probably say it would be impossible not to misunderstand, so I might be wrong. I bring this up because his inspiration informs much of my theory and criticism, and because I want to point out, in advance, from whom and just how much I am borrowing when I make my outrageous statements.

Jacques Derrida wrote and conducted careful, close, and inspirational readings to find where texts contradicted their structural unity and authorial intent in the second half of the twentieth century.  My lame translation of borrowed structures is just an explanation that he wrote theory that pointed out how complicated other theories were, to the point of showing how these theories contradict themselves or reinforce their points successfully, in turn.  In effect, Derrida’s efforts seduce you away from what you think the original text means and into accepting what Derrida thinks it means, while illustrating that you probably misunderstand him too.  When critics employ Derrida to enforce their power relationship over texts, we are trying to draw attention to our own ideas, but also to the simple fact that most text is very confused and confusing, especially when it tries to be simple.

Aporia is one of Derrida's great concepts.  Aporia is like a point reached in criticism where you see there are so many ways to interpret the text that the reading can go no further.  Finding the aporia is like deciding when to close the book and say “I cannot go on” and it is the point where the text diverged from it’s own intent irrevocably.  Many people have already reached this point of divergence with this text but I am hoping my structural integrity is enough to propel you onward.

Derrida also believed in phenomenological historocity as indicative of structure.  Structure without genesis is incomplete in his estimation.  Complexity is claimed instead of hollow claims that a text exists with no past.  Understanding intention then seems important when considering the structure.  Intention is another level of complexity that seems inaccessible, but can be found in biographical criticism, and should be a consideration, alongside New Criticism that focuses on the text as is, which ultimately reflects the reader as much as it says something about the texts implicit denotation.

Then there is also differance to consider, or something not present in operation in a text.  In my opinion differance is brought to a text by the reader, and is variable to the extreme.  The reader cannot get what a second reader gets out of a text, so considering the text as whole without considering the reader or audience is incomplete.  You can consider the writer’s intention, the times as indicated by other books co-existing at the time, and other factors that are not present in the text, as important to interpretation.  Your personal context and the context provided by other readers deserves consideration.  This is a move away from considering text complete as is.

So we have diverse language backgrounds that result in confusion.  When you share symbols you have understanding.  The Book Guru in me says simply: look for those who have read the same books as you and you will find friends.

My own critique of Deconstruction is that the theory is fantastic.  The theory does not exist to be criticized but is an invitation to think critically at it’s very core.  Deconstruction, to me, is a claim that every reading is valid, but only some readings are interesting, and yet I think it is more than resaying of the text or a crossing out where the lattice work is more important than what is said, as the French philosopher Focoult claims.  (It’s cool that he’s French, trust me, no one who eats only freedom fries is still reading this). Deconstruction is a resaying of “the complete text” with complete reference and complete intertextualization desired, and inherently recognized as impossible. It is important to demonstrate that you don’t understand a text, that more could be going on than you inferred, and most likely far more than the author ever intended.  This, I love.

But Deconstruction seems to be about power at some point, perhaps the point where criticism seems more interesting than the original text.  But Deconstruction is a relationship to a primary and then a secondary text, with an admission that there are unconsidered texts that influence future readers of the primary and secondary texts, ad infinitum, so that confusion and misinterpretation seems dominant over understanding.  To read is to confuse all other texts, all future texts, and to add context of your own is to confuse the matter even more.

Deconstruction may be a bias towards recognizing one’s ultimate Socratic lack of absolute understanding as in itself the only wisdom, but that is loaded with my personal bias.  The canon may exist, but there are more people who misunderstand it from my perspective, most likely, than who get it.  This leaves many readers feeling misunderstood when we face texts.  In response Deconstruction is a personal power play that makes us feel like we are understood and therefore understand that which we recognize implicitly cannot be fully understood.  Try or try not, there is no do, to mangle Yoda.

You can get it, but then try to tell someone what you have, and it is gone, absolutely.

The Moth Metaphor

In a recent post I promised some better explanation about why one should read comic books.  My argument for why to read comics at the time had been based on purely personal excitement and emotional response.  Fine reasons, but there are many good reasons to read comics and I begin my blogs on the topic with a convoluted moth metaphor.

There is a sense I get from most people that art tells it like it is, or at least this is what they like about the art they expose themselves to.  These people assume art can tell you the truth that the truth can’t tell you.  I think what we are sensing is truth contrasted against a backdrop of unbelievable fiction until the relative truth seems bright and clear.  Like dark and light colors, the truth and fiction can be thrown together providing nice contrast or chaotic juxtaposition to taste.  A little truth can go a long way to help you accept a fictional premise, a little fiction can make the truth seem stark and beautiful.  Enjoying the game, we can lose our ability to discern which is which; too much fiction slips under our radar at times, with marginal amounts of truth involved in the experience, the contrast fades.  So choosing what art we expose ourselves to can be important.

Comics about flying heroes present clear cut contrasts.  This distinction between truth and fiction is blurred by many courtroom dramas, psuedo-documentaries, and Fox News, to create a short list, while readers are more critical of what we perceive in comics.  Fiction is implicit in the premise, no one should jump off the roof to fly, so we bring our critical acumen to bare instead of allowing ourselves to be deceived.  Comics, or graphic novels if you prefer, usually have visual content so fantastic that they demand that you recognize them as fiction in an immediate sense, with the relative truth being mostly conceptual and secondary.  This is true in obvious ways in superhero tales of good vanquishing evil, and while there are as many types of comics now as there are literature, heroes and villains are central to what I think of as a comic book.  By numbers, superhero comics have been outselling other tales for some time, so most of the time I will concentrate on this dominant content.

The truth I find in fantasy comics are important moral values reiterated in serial form.  Readers find this truth in comics contrasted against extreme fantasy so that even simple claims about justice and morality seem obvious and sincere.  Being a good neighbor, a good citizen, lending help when you can, all of this is implicit in the larger story of aliens and vigilantes.

Comics are complex enough to confuse these relationships between moral truth and fantasy in some interesting ways.  For example, it seems believable that a man commits adultery when the women involved are both mutants with incredible powers of telepathy.  Adultery happens, the story implies, but truth conditions are strained in both directions by the juxtaposition.  People may assume adultery is more common than it actually is, as it takes on a level of truth that the telepathy does not share.  Inversely, telepathy seems more probable to the person who assumes the human drama is handled with a deft touch, or if that it reverberates with their personal experiences and memories.  A statistical representation of adultery and a consequent analysis of statistical bias would satisfy more of my criteria for truth, but the notion that adultery is a “normal” behavior seems emphasized in the comic book because there is so little truth to be had anywhere else in this tale. But for the most part, the fun is in the forensics and comics are packed with potential for such quirky deconstruction.

Comics are a language unto themselves, and one that should be understood or read critically.  It is particular to serial adventure that the characters seem human in their longevity, and some motifs have grown to take on a life of their own.  To state the obvious: no one should train their ward of the state to fight crime with them.  This is ridiculous.  But more recent comics, like Kick Ass, have told the story of contemporary fictional realities that imitate the earlier motifs, like the notion of a child fighting crime at the side of an adult, borrowed from Batman.  Kick Ass is a reality (actually a second fiction) where life imitates art.  The real lesson is to identify that being a demanding parental figure can produce morally upstanding and morally damaged children, but the fiction is so outlandish that it becomes difficult to discern if they are even saying this much with any precision.  Yes, there are families where police and military professions are passed on to the child, but thinking this is accessible or understandable through comic book parables seems confused at best, and a dangerous invitation to a conservative prejudice in favor of the servitors of the law, when in fact our very society is founded on the assumption that the individual should be protected from it’s own system of governance.

Interpreting and always responding with a theory, a deconstruction, a fact, a positon, this might be better than responding with another fiction, then another, until the conversation is so confusing that the fiction produced is impenetrable or transparent.  Perhaps only the response retains any merit.  But without the art, if we have unadulterated truth only to respond to, maybe we wouldn't learn as much.

I am hooked on comics because they seem a rich area for such discussion and conjecture.  Add to this the pure excitement and emotional reaction kids and adults have towards comics and you have an art form that begs to be read while being deep enough to merit interpretation.  I return to stories with a moral element in the foreground, drawn like a moth to the light of good in them, seen clearly in the shadows of their miasmic fantasy.  I so want to see the morality play illustrated again and again I seek out distant planets, magic powers, dramatic explosive fictions, to watch heroism, sacrifice, truth, commitment, honor, responsibility, and teamwork in perfect clarity.

So yeah, the kids are alright, like moths they seek the light.

Grant Morrison is a Genius!

Sometimes it pays to come out and say it like you mean it.  Grant Morrison has always been a favorite but after today I place him in legendary status, giving Alan Moore a run for his money as the best comic book writer ever in my humble opinion.

If you are slow, or new to the language or something, geniuses have been at work in the English (American) comic book industry for a long time.  They battle it out beside some mundane intellects that write the comics you disrespect, but every now and then there are writers who chose comics for their medium who have bizarre and fascinating amounts of talent.  Talent that perplexes and astounds.  These two I have named are both British, both magicians, and both tell stories like I dream of telling.  This is a straight up fanboy tear, but I think I can explain why you should read comics, Grant Morrison Comics in particular, and his New X-Men run from 2001 in particular.

Comics are the new standard in pop fiction.  Many blogs could be written about that statement, but what I mean in a nutshell is that everything interesting in popular culture is happening in comic books.  Yes, there is still sophisticated prose like Coetzee and McCarthy happening now, and they must be read, this is not a question of either or.  I posit only that comics must be included in a steady diet of reading in order to consider yourself socialized, post modern, or enlightened.  Today I offer only excitement as proof, but visceral emotion is not without force. Right now this amounts to: read comics because I say so.  I'll make it more complicated in another blog.

Grant Morrison is a magician.  He began his run on New X-Men began way back in 2001, and I have had to wait ten years to find out about it and read it.  He is considered important for many reasons, but now I personally understand his writing deserves attention.  I loved his work on Arkham Asylum and his take on Batman in general, but I don't think I am cool or smart enough to really get what I read of his title called The Invisibles.  I know he has written more comics than I want to shake a stick at, and has probably shaken a stick himself to banish spirits, or call up gods and demons, or whatever it is magicians do with such sticks.  There is an essay of his on Pop Magic you can google if you want to put him down for his magic, the evidence is there in his own words that he believes in some funky stuff.  But to be honest, his writing is so brilliant he makes me want to study and practice magic myself, if only the results would be stories like these.  So yes, throw in the possibility of a religious conversion, and maybe you see why Morrison is compelling.

Back to anecdotal hyperbole.  I keep a little journal of things I read.  I deconstruct and analyze some of them to an extreme degree.  Others I just comment on.  This is a section about the beginning of Morrison's X-Men work.  Thanks to the strange workings of digital back issues I started in the middle of his books, then jumped even further back to what I hope is the beginning of his run.  Be warned, start at the beginning:

New X-Men #114:  jump back three years to the beginning of the great Grant Morrison’s run on X-Men.  Very New, very cool, very interesting.  Professor X and others posit that the mutants are spreading, fast, and it’s time to teach students again.  This is waaaay before the old Scarlet Witch pulled her great mutant massacre, and I think I know why they cleaned house now.  Morrison wanted ugly mutants.  This is less compelling in a visual medium than it sounds.  Ugly is cool I suppose, but it seems like a  strange premise for a series of books.  Well, it is the X-Men, stranger things have been mined for generations.

New X-Men #115:  Even I know not to spoil this one.  A must read.  The fate of Genosha, the craziest, best comic book I have yet read on screen.  Someone gave Grant Morrison a looot of power when he signed on to do this book.  I can’t believe I missed it the first time around.  Epic.  And heartbreaking.  A must read.  This one is worth the digital subscription all by itself.

New X-Men #116: Now my mind is blown.  Officially.  Away.  Far away.  He, Grant Morrison, (the art is an afterthought this is all about the writing), makes this the best series in comics again.  Not since Byrne and Claremont’s early days was there as potent a mix.  He drops one bomb after another, with wit and class.  You gotta read these.

New X-Men #117:  Now my eyes hurt, I have to stop because I have reached my physical limit not my mental one.  I haven’t enjoyed a story this much for a long, long, time.  Now I know what I blog about tomorrow: New X-Men and the johnny come lately known as yours truly.  Cassandra Nova is the best character ever.  Why don’t people write big signs about this kind of stuff all over the place: look here!  Grant Morrison is a genius, and he likes to write comic books!  I guess it would make for a strange sign, but I still want to write it.

Now, this all seems very childish and silly, and you understand I have too much time on my hands, but I site this to help convince you of the sincerity of my immediate response.  It is evidence unnecessary but I love the progression.  For four comic books in a row, and three other issues besides, for two hours entire, I couldn't get up to get a glass of water.  I had to keep reading.  Nothing I have read has kept me as spellbound since Watchmen.  That opus was self contained, and by the aforementioned Alan Moore, whereas this is a book in the regular Marvel line of continuity, by this Morrison character, and it stands toe to toe with the best.  Is such a comparison fair?  Probably not.  I have been reading the X-Men for thirty years.  There is a lot of easy impact and stored emotion and meaning in using these iconic characters, so it is a case of mutant apples and oranges. If you've seen the X-Men movies, maybe even the Watchmen movie, you're hip, you get it maybe even, but let me reiterate: if you have not read these books you are missing out on a whole new lexicon of symbolic encoded brilliance that really deserves artistic and literary merit.  These books convinced me everyone should read comics.  I don't know where one should begin, but you should get here to Grant Morrison's New X-Men at some point, the view is outstanding.

I don't know if I succeeded in persuading you but I have tried to make a simple point.  This is a simple blog. This is an honest Fanboy blog so it is based in anecdotal excitement not fancy theory talk.  Check in in the near future for other blogs on my theory of comics.

I can tell you this: when fiction convinces you that it represents the most interesting of all possible worlds and overcomes the critical faculty to suspend disbelief completely, and then continues to even halt time with something close to real magic so that everything occurs only in a dream like state; that, right there, is worthy fiction.

7 Seconds Soulforce Revolution

When a song gets stuck in my head with unrelenting intensity, and this fact makes me happy instead of majorly upset, I have to give props where props are due.  Satyagraha, the first song on Seven Seconds classic '88 release Soulforce Revolution is one such song.  The chorus is on a ten second loop in my brain as I write this, with Kevin Seconds sugar sweet voice ruling the radio station that sends messages only to my brain for the fourth day in a row.  This demands to be heard.  I'll be right back, I am going to risk permanent imprinting for another listen.

I'll admit, I enjoy reading reviews of music and comics on line, so to return the favor I have decided to make an effort to review some of the important CDs and MP3 downloads in my collection.  I love having to make the distinction between CDs and MP3s but from time to time will refer to them both as albums.  Call me old fashioned, but album seems like a good catch all word for a complete studio recording released on one date.  Soulforce Revolution is a great album in any format.

The second song Busy Little People follows Satyagraha, is a call to treat others with more respect on the positive vibe that this era of Seven Seconds is famous for.  The music in this song is excellent, with a Fugazi before there was a Fugazi style guitar line and excellent drumming that incorporates some alternate percussion sounds from the traditional punk kit.  The third fine song in a row, I Can Sympathize, has an engaging chorus and some great lyrics.

This album necessitates the traditional punk rock question of how punk is this punk rock?  While some say punk is only a style of music, I think punk is an attitude of extreme rebellion combined with a concentrated urge to deviate with what came before.  Punk rock puts chocolate in the peanut butter and rebels against the punk genre of music while keeping the rebellion.  Punk to Punk Rock is a revolution on an axis where the music rotates from sounding radio friendly or aggressively unfit for mass consumption alternately.  This album is a response to early punk profanity and thrash, so it incorporates poppy, melodic, mainstream sounds with a punk message and with a punk preference for independent publishing, making it pure punk rock.

It may sound corporate today (it was not released on a major label) and it may sound common (today), but Soulforce Revolution and Seven Seconds began this trend - they did not follow it like the hundreds of imitators who shall remain nameless but who have become household names if I was to name more names.  (Seven Seconds makes me want to stay positive today, so I will, I compare them to Fugazi with admiration).  This album really was a Revolution in punk rock, and while many people point to the influence of U2 on them, I'd call this an authentically new sound at the time, but one that years later sounds completely familiar.

Soulforce was my second MP3 download from the iTunes store, as I use iTunes to shop for things that are hard to find in print.  I have been looking for a copy of this for over a decade, ever since the cassette I stole from the coolest ex-girlfriend ever broke down in the sun.  iTunes is a wonderful place to find content like this.  I had been eyeing this download for a long time and I am psyched that I invested, even though in reviewing this I am guaranteed to hear the melodies in my head for at least another week.  If catchiness is something to be appreciated, Soulforce Revolution is a great choice.  Four AM in Texas, the ninth track on the album, is a slowed down masterpiece of catchiness, with Tom Petty style flourishes, and more of that awesome percussion.  I can't get it out of my head!  Mother's Day is as sweet as the album gets, an ode to Kevin Seconds' and Steve Youth's mother, (assumption here I could be wrong) that begins with acoustic guitar and stays on the verge of easy listening punk.

This album overall is inspiring and compelling, but don't expect cookie cutter sounds here. Soulforce Revolution was as different as it was daring and a true revolution away from what most people call punk.  As such it marks a revolution within a revolution, one of my favorite brain puzzles in punk, and it brings back fond memories and fine feelings with every listen.

Scientific Theories and the Nature of Stories

The question of whether a fictitious story is a type of lie has been bothering me for some time.  I love stories.  I love telling stories, writing stories, and reading stories of many types.  I also have a great appreciation for the truth, and a general disrespect for those who know something is true, but tell me a lie for purposes other than my entertainment.  The lines between truth and fiction are often blurred.

Lies are fictions passed off as truths.  Usually people lie because making something up is easier than being honest about their experience or intentions.  The truth can hurt.  But the truth gets complicated when one recognizes the limits of their own absolute understanding.

Socrates, in Plato's dialogues, was famous for indicating that wisdom lies in recognizing how little truth one actually knows.  I can tell you it will rain soon because the density of the humidity in the clouds has reached a point of saturation.  Really I am telling you a type of story I received second hand about how clouds work, but because it has a causal twist, and all the authority of scientific consensus, this seems honest.  I do not know how to measure humidity in clouds, nor could I do much better than look to the sky and say clouds are on their way, they look like clouds that have rained on me in the past, and it might rain.  This might be an even more honest story, but most people would prefer my tale about relative humidity.  If I was as honest as Socrates, I would admit I do not know the truth but I trust the weather channel, as they seem to generally be on the ball, and make predictions based on observations.  I am making inferences about many steps that I do not take on my own, and I would be severely limited if I only accepted truth I fully understood.

So I swap stories about the weather and medicine with people, under the umbrella of science, and I like them.  Often I am wrong.  I used to tell people that the dopamine reuptake inhibitors I take improve my mental functioning.  This turns out to be overly simplistic according to other current stories I have read, because glutamate, a different kind of neurotransmitter, is more involved and responsible for my troubles.  It's an important story, one I respect, because it led to me taking a medication that works very well.  I don't need to understand all the science, but I prefer the story to less scientific stories about magic or religion.  In these stories the medication is an illusion, and faith healing is considered more compelling.  My experience matches up to the scientific story.  So I prefer it, and I should.  But could I be wrong again?

The question is still one of intent and correspondence with what I actually experienced.  I was ill, I took a medicine, no faith healing transpired, and I got better.  When faith healing was attempted, and it was, no improvements were evident.  It seems like the pill story is the truth.  I try to improve my health and maintain good health, so the next time someone tells me about a pill I will probably believe their story.  The intention is to find the truth.  This is why scientists call their stories theories.  People misunderstand this often, like when they say evolution is "only" a theory, equal to something with no correspondence to reality, that their theories are just fictions.  Scientific theories are not the same as the "theory" that sock monsters eat one of your matched pair in the dryer.  Scientific theories seem like stories, but there is correspondence with experience, a causal chain, and a series of collected facts, leading me to believe they are closer to the truth.

Fiction has a different intention.  Fictional stories do not meet the same standards as scientific theories, usually they are a way to kill some time, an entertainment with the implied suspension of disbelief we rarely talk about.  When someone tells me a fiction, it is like they preceded it with the statement: "this never happened but I thought I might entertain you for a moment, so bare with me."  It is not a lie, because they believe I know this fiction has no correspondence with any reality, and I am in on the deal we have made to be entertained together in the retelling.

When someone confuses a fiction with a scientific theory, trouble is in the wind.  All theories are not created equal.  Why we have this agreement to tell stories, or fictions, is a larger question, but it can be boiled down to intention.  Knowing the difference between a theory, a story, and a lie is important, but I have chosen to entertain people with my stories and sometimes I need to clarify the rules of this game we call fiction.  I do this mostly for my own sanity, but also to entertain you here with some truth.

Back at the Beginning

Once upon a time there was a blog named One Past Order, the work of one evil mad scientist writing about this and that, largely ignored but occasionally checked on by assorted friends and mysterious strangers.  Back in the day, One Past Order was growing at a normal rate (or normal for strange, mutant, gigantic, daily blogs at least), when a giant storm of paranoia swept through the mad scientist's fevered brain forcing him to destroy all evidence of the blog when he decided to disappear from on-line networks altogether for fear that serial killers would come looking for him and he would be fooled into trusting them because they knew his secret recipe for dinosaur cupcakes.  Two people missed reading One Past Order, but the evil mad scientist didn't care, and many ages passed.

Then, today, for no reason other than a crazed desire to write only the truth, the mad scientist decided to revive his undead blog from beyond the grave.  Hooking up assorted wires and imbibing delicious coffee chemicals, he moved into a mess free Mac, and began typing away about how stupid his fictional stories were and how he wouldn't even read these recycled comic book tales of tepid adventure himself, among other things, so he best Blog the truth instead, the best Blog he could possibly write.  The Blog called One Past Order stirred, changed in shape, and began a new life as what you will read here: a complete, detailed, fact filled record of reviews, D&D adventures, and personal posts on the life of the writer in residence, the mad scientist named Adam Roll.

The Blog thought about taking a new name, calling itself "Too Much Information is Never Enough", or "The Blog that Ate the Blogosphere", or something silly like that, but in the end it accepted the truth:  One Past Order best sums up what the mad scientist writes about and what he is: One Past Order.  Not in the egotistical sense of being past order like order should be skipped, but because he truly is mad, and frequently takes little vacations from consensus reality.

That said, I will stop talking about myself in the third person and thank you for your time and consideration.  I missed blogging and I think I have a great number of great ideas to blog about, and since there is no point in printing a fanzine, (another idea I had while One Past Order was a corpse in the crypt), I came back to Blogger.com to pick up where I left off.  Save the trees, even if the trees are secretly plotting to kill us with the tendrils and the foliage and such.

I want to blog every day but I have learned my lesson there.  Sometimes I will blog more often, sometimes less often, we will see how it goes.  I want to blog again because I am truly tired of writing fiction for all the reasons I joked about above, so this will be an effort to keep my writing fresh and tasty, an existential experiment in ego-aggrandizement, but more often than not, it will be about specific things I have read and listened to, and what I think of them, in depth.  I am tempted to direct you to where to shop for these things as I write about them, and then I am tempted to not be so pushy, most often I am tempted to drink more coffee.

I hope this blog finds you well, well-caffeinated and well-read.  Justifiably I am tempted to end this one with "and they all lived happily ever after", but such a hell of unadulterated happiness free from the occasional morose rainy day afternoon is an unspeakable curse that I have never understood.  So instead, I will remind myself to take my prozac, and welcome you back to my strange, strange world.