Tuesday, June 30, 2015

My Mean Girls Moment

Stop trying to make the "tiny house" thing happen.

I don't care how eco-friendly it is, how cleverly you utilized the space, or all the cool design elements.  None of this changes the fact that you live in a shed.  (If your shed has wheels, it's a trailer.)

 My objection, of course, is not that people want to live this way.  More power to them.  It's that they want us to call their sheds/trailers "tiny houses."  Just...


Double Star

Driving home last night, I saw some lights in the Western sky.  From a distance, it looked like a jet, too bright and "close" to be stars, but then I noticed the lights weren't moving.

It occurred to me that I was looking at celestial bodies of some sort, probably Venus.  Turns out it was Venus and Jupiter, lined up just perfectly for a myopic earth-dweller to see across millions of miles of space.

Sunday, June 21, 2015

True Detective Is Not a Comic Book

True Detective returns tonight, and I'm looking forward to it.  Last season, and the reaction to it, blew my mind.

I think this season I'm just going to watch it and ignore as much of the commentary as I can.  Because they just don't seem to get it.

Cue Alyssa Rosenberg:
Last season, “True Detective” was marinated in a shared horror mythology about a fictional city named Carcosa, which shows up, among other places, in the Robert Chambers short story collection “The King In Yellow.”
Whut?  Where did this come from?  Carcosa was mentioned, yes, and there was a "Yellow King," but c'mon.....This notion that there was some kind of "shared horror mythology" appeared on the internet, not the show.

But then again, Rosenberg tips us off to the fact that she wasn't really watching True Detective, the show that's on TV, but rather True Detective, the show she wishes it to be.
Moustache-twirling isn’t the same as insight, just as making your serial killer an incestuous hillbilly is not some visionary, searing indictment of sexual culture below the Mason-Dixon line.
It's true, as a searing indictment of Southern sexual culture, True Detective fails.   But that's like saying that Lebron James failed to win the Stanley Cup.  No attempt = no fail.

The way I see it, and I may be alone on this, but the fact that the serial killer is just an incestuous hillbilly and not some diabolical comic book villain is a pretty good "Fuck you" to everyone who wants to focus on the symbolic. 

The problem with reading everything like a comic book, when a two-second glimpse of the Infinity Gauntlet is imbued with meaning, is that it can train you.

Rosenberg is trained for comic book style viewing, not pulp fiction style:

I suppose it’s some sort of accomplishment that that first season of “True Detective” trained me to pick up on all these crumbs, but I have little confidence that they’ll make a satisfying meal.
Thinking back on my John D. MacDonald and Raymond Chandler binge-reading, I've come to ignore the crumbs.  They don't mean anything.

And that's doubly true for comic book movies.

Saturday, May 30, 2015

On Analytical Modes

Paragraph found in a post on why the new Entourage movie is bound to fail critically:
But there’s more to the changing tide of Entourage’s cultural reception than that. It’s not just that Entourage didn’t evolve—it’s that the whole conversation around TV did. Needless to say, pop-culture criticism as a whole now pays far more aggressive, fine-grained attention to the political implications of art within the context of criticism. We increasingly consider aesthetic judgments to at least overlap with ethical ones, in part if not entirely. This change has allowed for some of the best TV criticism of the past few years, coming from some of the best critics. It’s led one of the most popular shows on the air to be flayed to the bone every time it airs a rape scene. It’s spearheaded the critical reevaluation of Friends. (OK, Chandler is the worst.) Yes, it has also produced plenty of ham-fisted and wrongheaded analysis—but, no matter your opinion on it, this analytical mode is now built into the way we talk about culture.
A couple things:

A)  My opinion on it is that it's shit.
B)  I hope it's more of a phase than "this analytical mode is now built into the way we talk about culture."  Because...
C)  It's not that this analytical mode has "also produced plenty of ham-fisted and wrongheaded analysis," it's that it's likely to.

That's why Ronda Roussey is in the movie.  You can't make a movie about four white dudes in this day and age without addressing "the political implications" in some way.  Throw in a cage-fighting girl, a boneable one of course, and it's a sop to all the wet blankets who would decry the testosterone overload.

Monday, May 25, 2015


A feminist calls out other feminists about their abjectly ridiculous complaints about Game of Thrones.

She says:
The issue here is bad arguments and why feminists need to avoid them. Feminism is supposed to be a movement against reactionary politics, so this kind of reactive, rationalizing behavior—the kind we see so often from conservatives—is a bad look. I spend a lot of my time trying to debunk conservatives whose entire worldview is built around coughing up bullshit rationales to justify their thoughtless reactions, from “abortion is icky” to “sexual women are gross” to “hip-hop doesn’t sound like the music of my youth so it must be wrong”. Being challenged or upset by stuff is not a reason to be against it. It often means you need to slow your roll and think about things harder. Plus, bad arguments makes it easier for anti-feminists to paint feminists as a bunch of overly emotional, thoughtless and censorious creatures. Don’t give them that.
I think Amanda Marcotte gets a lot wrong about George RR Martin's intentions about the series -I think Martin just wants to shock and horrify his audience, no cheap trick for an author who also writes horror- but she gets this right.

Being challenged or upset by stuff is, indeed, not a reason to be against it.

Thursday, May 21, 2015


I've been off all week and it's been nice to have time to get some stuff done. 

I saw Mad Max...twice.  It's apparently "the most feminist movie in theaters," so I did my liberal duty and took my 8 year old niece the second time.  You can find feminism in the movie if you're looking for it, but what I found interesting, aside from the eye-popping stunts and action sequences, was the narrative structure and world-building.

Yes, the narrative structure.  If Mad Max is a feminist manifesto, then it's also an exercise in pure visual storytelling.  Rather offering explanations, the movie just asks the audience to "Witness!"

In other news, there was a huge biker brawl-slash-shootout in Texas that left, what, 9 people dead, dozens either hospitalized or arrested.  On Sons of Anarchy there's a shoot-out every other episode and it's no big deal.  In real life, when this stuff happens, it's a big deal.

But this is what "smart" people have to say about it:
In fact, in much of the coverage of the Waco shootings, the race of the gang members isn't even mentioned, although pictures of the aftermath show groups of white bikers being held by police. By comparison, the day after Freddie Gray died in the custody of police officers in Baltimore, not only did most coverage mention that Gray was black, but also included a quote from the deputy police commissioner noting Gray was arrested in "a high-crime area known to have high narcotic incidents," implicitly smearing Gray and the entire community.
 This is what I've come to dislike about politics.  It always comes back to the hobby horse issue.  We can't have a biker brawl without bringing it back around to Freddie Gray.  Why not gun control?  Why not helmet laws?  I know, mandatory minimum sentences for drug offenders.

Whatever the impulse is, it's not, "Hmm, this is interesting.  Let me see if I can understand it."  The impulse is always, "How can I use this incident to further my goals?"

I find the biker brawl interesting because it was apparently about turf and, ultimately, what patches can be worn on their cuts.  The Bandidos claim Texas, all of Texas, a claim that is now being challenged by other biker gangs. 

This has nothing to do with what happened in Baltimore.  It's own little beast, and this call for the media to treat it in the same manner as the Freddie Gray stuff, I cannot abide.  No.  No, and more no.

Wednesday, March 18, 2015


My truck's in the shop, so I had to take the bus home today.  Walking in my neighborhood to the house I passed a sign that I found curious.

It said
No stopping or standing.
I stopped.  I stood there.  I looked around.

This sign was a relic.   It sits in front of a row of cheap apartments set off the street only by a five foot wide strip of lawn.  Before the fence, before the sign, before the legalization of marijuana, one can imagine these apartments were a hub of drug activity.

If you stopped you were buying and if you stood you were selling.

No stopping or standing.

It took me a couple of blocks to come to this realization.  My first instinct upon seeing this sign was to grab it into both fists and shake it until it fell.

No stopping?  No standing?  No sign! 

But alas, it still stands, a reminder of all the little ways our lives and freedoms have been abridged by the misguided war on drugs.

Thursday, March 12, 2015

On Faith

My brother forwarded me an inspirational e-mail about self-publishing, and while it's something I've considered and will probably eventually do, the writing well these days is a bit dry.

Oh, I've got ideas.  And the chops to put them down.  I still have dreams, and I also have the practical need to be creative, but what I don't have is faith.

Faith in an audience which has been trained to expect certain shoutouts and concessions that I'm not really interesting in giving. I don't want to fix anything.  I don't want to declare my morality as superior.  I want to wallow in the broken areas of life and do it with a dispassionate artfullness that leaves the reader to do the fixing and the moralizing.

My goal is catharsis, not social change.  As it should be.

Let us not mention the inescapable fact that I'm a straight white male, and that chances are, my "hero" will also be a straight white male.  This is a demographic and genealogical reality that, if it must be mentioned, should matter not at all.

But matter it does, perhaps even more than the work.  Either I'm part of the dominant patriarchy that lords over everything --these straight white male heroes and their straight white male authors-- or I'm something to be actively avoided.

Once upon a time, Susan Hinton of Tulsa wanted to publish a book but they said, people don't read women.  So the author of The Outsiders was listed as S. E. Hinton.  The book has been in print since.  Surprisingly, people do read women!

I've thought a lot about that lately, the ever-present narrow-mindedness of the masses, the coy attempt to fool them, and in the end, the triumph of the work itself.  I'd like to think that can still happen.  I'm just not sure.

Which is why I think when I publish, I will do so under a pseudonym, and my author biography will read "[Insert Chosen Pseudonym] is the pseudonym of a guy you really don't want to know."

Sunday, March 08, 2015

Happy Daylight Savings Day

Andrew Sullivan, who practically invented blogging, announced in February that he would quit blogging...and then he did.

I didn't really quit, but I'm not sure I'd announce it either.

I will announce, however, my love for Youtube:

Lately I've been mining for live musical performances, some of dubious quality.  This one I would normally dismiss because it's clearly it's a recorder in the room, but I've listened to this track many times now and I wish...WISH...that Clutch had recorded a proper version of it.

Some of the lyrics are quite clever:
Romans came, made me wear a cross
In the end, my gain, their loss
Ah, Fall of the Roman Empire humor.

Also...Baroness playing "Green Theme." It's a great song, and it's also amazing how much the lead guitarist looks like an old friend named George.

These guys are a great band, so here's a twofer:

Friday, February 27, 2015


This song is so strange, so complex, so interesting, that I've listened to it fifteen times since I heard it last night.

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Dead Cats

On Saturday, my cat Marley was killed by some asshole driving down my street.  I buried her in my backyard.  I sat on my knees over the hole I had dug and told her I was sorry, sorry I let her out, sorry I wasn't there to protect, sorry there was nothing I could do but her in this hole.

I cried a little and held my remaining kitties closer that night.  (They were like...what the fuck, man?)

It's been a few days now and I've had bouts of sadness, but today I started to feel angry, angry at myself for not letting her in twenty minutes earlier.  Twenty minutes, and she'd still be up on the cat tree, purring when I walked by. 

But I also felt angry at the car that killed her.  Life is so fragile and the world so uncaring, but that doesn't mean you have to go barreling around killing cats.

Some people love those cats.