Nevermind

When I was a teenage, I vowed not to be like my parents, and keep trying to open myself up to our younger generations’ trends. Music is easy enough, as is literature. Fashion isn’t bad, except for all the tattoos and piercings. I applaud their willingness to dismiss being concerned about body images even as I fret about them being overweight. I don’t get what they enjoy about some television viewing, movies and humor, but sometimes I manage to appreciate what they enjoy.

The classic Nirvana album, Nevermind, was released twenty-five years ago. Memory calls out details about borrowing it from a young friend, Tim, and listening to the CD at home. I was in my mid-thirties and enjoying the music from The Cranberries, Pearl Jam, STP, and Bush, along with Nirvana and others, but I had a number of friends who didn’t like it. They avoided hip-hop and rap, dismissed young country, and listened faithfully to AC/DC, Led Zep, Boston, ZZ Top, Ozzie, Aerosmith and the Grateful Dead. I laughed at them, chiding them for being like our parents, deriding music that wasn’t like the music of their younger days.

Now, twenty-five years later, the music, which was then the young people’s music, is older than the baristas and college students. Young music has moved on to Pit Bull, Adele, Twenty-One Pilots, DNCE, and a thousand other groups and artists. Listening to the music in the car and chatting to the baristas later, I think, it will be interesting for you in twenty-five years, when you’re forty-five to fifty years old, listening to young people’s music.

What will you remember as your own?

Mail Call

  • I want to know what mailing list I’m on that I received personalized advertising for cremation services. Have I just reached ‘a certain age’. I think that’s preferable to believing they have inside information, like foretelling people’s demise.
  • Speaking of being a certain age…I’m sixty now, and I receive a lot less junk mail, other than cremation services. It’s nice, as a ‘younger baby-boomer’ (52-61, according to a recent survey) to finally have the credit card, personal loan et al quite circling like waiting buzzards. Or maybe they have access to the same information, that I’m due to die soon, so they’re taken me off their mailing lists.
  • Isn’t it better to have cremation services junk mail rather than dead skunks and raccoons? A coaching candidate didn’t get the job. He mailed dead skunks and raccoons to the rival that won the job to be a fourth grade teacher and basketball coach. I’m making a snap judgement but if he’s such a sore loser, perhaps it’s better that he’s not coaching fourth graders.
  • Fan mail is always fun, especially when they ooze praise for your writing, how a novel ended, or for general creativity. I don’t get much of this stuff and to receive three in one day, from different people, and they didn’t know me, nor were related, is an astronomical high.
  • One of the weirdest recent developments is using FB to send personal messages. People have email addresses but prefer to go to FB and just click and send via that app, rather than using the more tedious method of typing in names or email addresses. I know, because that’s what I do, given the option. It is easier.
  • Speaking of FB, you can always friend me on Facebook. I admittedly tend to FB much less in recent months. It just became too much of the same thing, whether it’s because of the groups I subscribe to, or FB’s tailoring or privacy and security settings. Either way, I’m tired of dealing with their changing settings. So Friend me! Please. Hah.

What I’m Following

I try to follow the news and escape the echo chambers. Demoralizing as so many American newspapers essentially offer the same take on every story. So vanilla. Meanwhile, columnists along the political spectrum are generally predictable about what they’ll claim, reducing their value. I like jumping out of the US and checking the news on BBC America, and British, Canadian and Australian newspapers for coverage of American events. I still dance through WaPo, SFGate, NYTimes, Boston.com, Forbes and a few others on a regular daily/weekly basis.

I’m following theSkimm because a friend recommended it. They read so I can skim. I wanted to see how they read and interpret.

Longreads take me into places I wouldn’t otherwise know. Longreads offer compelling, vivid stories. They take a lot of time to read. Yes, I read the Nation, the Atlantic, and Rolling Stone, which also have long articles. Oi.

Haven’t seen anything on theSkimm or Longreads about Lionel Shriver’s opening address at the Brisbane Writers Festival regarding cultural appropriation, but there’s an eruption of blog posts, newspaper columns and editorials about the complex, challenging situation. Wow.

Trying to drift into a different direction, I’ve been checking out Merry Jane’s website. Marijuana is morphing into a large and legitimate business in Oregon, with signs like ‘Exit here for the BEST marijuana’ emerging alongside Interstate 5, right beside signs claiming to have the world’s BEST pie.

I delve into Pinterest, FB and Instagram to see what’s bouncing around those places. I still check Flipboard and BillMoyers daily, and read an overabundance of writing blogs and newsletters, along with Wired, Popular Mechanics, the Smithsonian, Union of Concerned Scientists, Delancey Place and EPI when their newsletters arrive.

What are you reading out there? You have any sites that you recommend?

 

What I’m Watching

We’re in a near television desert. I call it television but I mostly stream my joy. Most of the joy derives from selected television series.

The desert began with Game of Thrones ending. Then we finished off the latest year of The Vikings. The Great British Baking Show helped ease my withdrawal. We’re still waiting for Orphan Black and Grace and Frankie to come back. We’ve watched Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell. Wolfe’s Hall. Alpha House. Raised by Wolves. Jessica Jones. Stranger Things. Orange is the New Black. The Walking Dead. Fear the Walking Dead. Dead Set. iZombie. Dark Matters. Misfits. Gavin and Stacey. Miranda. We attempted The Man in the High Castle but it left us thinking, meh.

QI provides some diversion. So does stand up – Tig Notaro, Amy Schumer, C.K. Louis. Tig’s show, One Mississippi, is entertaining, but there are few episodes. All the Happy Valley, Cuckoo, Foyle’s War, Longmire, Wallander, The Wire, Doctor Who, River, Scott & Bailey, Nurse Jackie, Last Tango in Hallifax, Ray Donavan, Inspector George Gently, Bletchley Circle, Sharp’s Rifles, Justified, Jack Taylor, Jack Irish, Bosch, Miss Fisher’s Mysteries, and Rake have been consumed, along with multiple TEDs. The Killing and The Top of the Lake were watched yonks ago. While friends love the American version of Shameless and House of Cards, the aged Brit series make the American editions wilt. Watched The Bridge, Fortitude, Crossing Lines, Spiral, In the Line of Duty, Inspector Lewis, all the Holmes, all the Cranford, Downton, Larkrise, and Doc Martin. The Republic of Doyle is okay but not compelling. People recommended The Boss but we disliked it. We tried Flash, Green Arrow, etc, and different other Marvel output, but they did nothing for us.

It’s tough out here in the desert. Hot and dry. The Secret Agent is coming. Boomers. Then There was None, with a terrific cast. We’re hopeful that we’ll be saved. Otherwise, we’ll just need to keep reading.

Which isn’t a problem. There’s never a reading desert, for me. Reading tends to stimulate my writing so I’m not a fast reader, unlike my wife. (It’s amusing to watch her trudge through The Secret Magdalene, because she doesn’t like it, but it’s the book club selection, so….) I’m still turning pages in the second book of the Neapolitan series. Two more books remain after this one. Then a pile of other tomes await.

Television, though? It gets very dry.

Never

Never is a big word, easily used. “I’m never going to Texas,” she said. “It’s full of racists and rednecks.”

I have family in Texas. They are somewhere on the spectrum of both of those things. Reliable Republicans, they think whites are getting a raw deal and distrust the M&Ms of Mexicans and Muslims. They’ve never actually experienced deprivation, never went hungry or without a roof, but still, they hear stories.

“I’m never riding on trains. They’re so dangerous.”

This was brought on by a train wreck in Spain that killed four. Wrecks happen. They’re never riding on trains because of an accident. What does that leave? Cars, bikes and planes? Because no one has ever been killed using those. People walking are killed, as are people in bed, suffering from nature’s attacks (quakes, tornadoes, hurricanes) to human events (gas line explosion). What are you going to do, hole up so you don’t die, with a plan to live forever?

I’ve jumped on the Never train many times (oooh, like that as a title for something, “The Never Train”), irked by Microsoft, Google, Lenovo, IBM, Comcast, HP, United, Delta, AT&T, Geico, McDonalds, Hillary, Trump, Republicans, Democrats, the NFL, the Senate, the House, the SCOTUS, Obama, Bush, Cheney, Clinton, Monsanto, police shootings, mass shootings, terrorist bombs, drone attacks…. Never comes easily but it’s rarely forever.

“I’m never going to stop drinking coffee,” I say, but with the rust disease, who knows? Yesterday, I bought a quad shot mocha for over five dollars, a bottle of wine for six dollars, and a pint of beer for six dollars. The QSM was purchased on the road in another town. “Too much,” I said, with a grimace, but held back from loosing the N word. “Six dollars for a bottle of Pinot Noir?” I asked. Seems too good to be true but I refrained from saying, “You can never get a good wine for six dollars.” It was hard to not say. Six dollars for a pint of Ninkasi Sinister Black Ale? That seemed steep, too. What is my Never point, I wondered.

My wife illuminated the never point in later conversations. While the prices of coffee, wine, beer (and gas) were striking, we have money that provide us a large comfort zone. The prices are noted and shrugged off. Sure, the comfort zone experienced a little nibble on the edge, but it’s a broad space, and that makes strides of difference.

We remembered when a car repair would mean a budget analysis to see what we would do without or reduce to save enough money to fix the car. Pennies were hoarded to purchase a treat, like ice cream at DQ. We didn’t drink wine, rarely drank beer, and our coffee was bought for fifty cents a cuppa. We never thought any of that would change.

But life is full of nevers. We never imagined video games being such a massive business, with their primary demographics being adults. We never thought Ashland would have the country’s record high, 108 degrees F. We never thought we’d track and study wildfires and El Nino and La Nina, never thought we’d quit subscribing to cable television, never thought a friend would do the things she had, never thought violence would come to our neighborhood. But it all happened.

So, I think, as I write like crazy and work, saying never rarely holds. I don’t think I’ll never say never again, but I will be more mindful about it.

At least, I’ll try, because always is a lot like never.

Fungible

Another “Is it just me?” moment struck today.

“Is it just me” that ‘literally’ no longer ‘means’ literally because it was used wrongly often enough that people accept the wrong definition as the correct one? That’s happened to many other words in my lifetime – replete and decimate come to mind. So, I guess, shrug. I should let it go. It’s history now, but , shrug, damn it.

Like, it also bothers me that people, media, and politicians (because pols and media are not people) will publish or state, “The little boy was found wandering alone, by himself, without his family.” I think they’re being a little redundant, but maybe that’s just me.

The classics of these cases still remain (‘still remain’, instead of just ‘remain’) in active use (can there be inactive use?). “At this point in time, we are currently now pursuing a new course of action.” Jesus, there are a couple unnecessary words in that statement. Or, a favorite, “I was just thinking in my head that we should do that.”

Really? You were thinking it in your head? Gosh, good for you. How did you learn to do that? I usually think in my pelvis.

It’s weird to me because I have, to the best of my knowledge (and whose knowledge would I otherwise use, and why would I use anything but the best of my knowledge?) that I’ve thought in my head my entire life. Therefore, it’s understood, and I don’t need to state where I’ve been thinking.

Is it just me or do I have I been wrong all these years? Do I need to clarify which body part was being used for which function? “I was walking, on my feet, to the store the other day….” “That bread was so hard, I was chewing, in my mouth, for literally hours.”

Okay, so my baseline is someone who growls at things like that. The minutiae others employ bothers me in some logic kernel in my brain. Communities building and developing without regard to water supplies triggers, “Is it just me, or is that stupid?” If not stupid, it seems short-sighted. “Is it just me, or is it ignorant,” to blindly allow fracking and pollute our water supplies and cause temblors and quakes? (Hello, Oklahoma and Pennsylvania, I’m smiling at you.)

“Is it just me, or have we put intelligence up our collective asses when we decree that people can’t grow food on their properties because that may adversely affect property values?” Yeah, it’s probably just me. Because, you know (I’m sure you do) food is far less important than property values. If the big one drops (know what I mean?), than we want to have high property values if we’re to survive the aftermath. I know that in many zombie movies, books and television shows, survivors are frequently lamenting, “What are we going to do? These zombies are adversely affecting our property values. If only we’d done more to protect our property values.”

Looking up ‘fungible’ triggered today’s “WTF, it is just me?” outburst. Looking the word up online, Merriam-Webster defines fungible as something that is fungible.

Fungible

I’m sure I’m displaying the full glory of my tree rings when I vent, “My teachers always told me not to use a word to define it.” What a deft (or is that daft?) definition. I now completely understand that fungible means something that is fungible. Very good. Excellent!

I did like the word of the day, though: asperse. Never heard of that. Of course, dubious of M-W’s definition, I looked it up elsewhere.

Venting completed, I will now, at this point in time, write like an insane, crazy maniac, one more time.

 

 

 

Hey Jude

What was the list? We’d written items on the blackboard. I paused by the rice to visualize the chalk scribblings and compare it to the shopping cart. Sweet pot, broc, car, ban, OM, cil. All secured. Ch. Butt. Brd. Blk b. Lem.

I’ll head for the cheese, get that done – no, the bread is closer. I’ll go through the bread to cross the store to reach the cheese. Then I’ll swing back by the rear aisle for the butter, detour to the canned goods for the black beans and lemonades, and then, off list, perhaps a bit o’ choc.

The store is easily Ashland’s most popular. Shop ‘n Kart has a vibe of peace and food. Lots of organics. Nice selections of fresh produce, cheeses, beers and wines, and green stuff made to help us reduce waste and our foot print. Good location, too, here on the town’s south side, off Ashland where it meets Tolman. Busy, busy place.

Background music plays. It’s usually rock. Sometimes it’s classical. ‘Hey Jude’ came on as I surveyed the bread and found the whole wheat offering desired. I sang along, remembering when I heard and sang along as a child. Shifting gears, I veered past other shoppers, passing as I remembered, pol – for polenta, backtracking to the pasta zone. Others softly sang with the Beatles as I went.

Exiting that aisle, I entered the perpendicular central aisle toward the  dairy cases. ‘Hey Jude’ swelled. So did the store singing. More and more people sang the song, and sang it louder and louder. I don’t know if they knew they sang aloud, or if they were conscious of others singing aloud, but hearing more singing as the French horns flared and Sir McCartney sang, I half-expected the shoppers to begin synchronized dancing.

“Na, na, nah, na-na-na-na.” Visions of ‘Basketball Jones’ surfaced from my teenage years. I heard someone say, “Now the cashiers,” and the cashiers took up ‘Hey Jude’, then they called for “just the people in the ice cream section,” and they joyfully spun in their Nikes and sandals, kicking their legs up in their jeans, skirts, cargo shorts and capris, raising their eyes and smiling toward an unseen ceiling camera, holding out their purchases as they sang, “Hey Jude, judy, judy, judy, wow.”

The song ended. The singing silenced. Dancing stopped. Shopping resumed. Most of it had been in my head, of course, unlike the shopping list, which was now gone. Where was I going?

‘Nights in White Satin’ began. I heard someone softy singing along, but realized it was only me.

References:

Hey Jude

Basketball Jones

Nights in White Satin

 

I’m All Right

Once upon a time, there was a movie, ‘Caddy Shack’. Starring Michael O’Keefe, Bill Murray, Chevy Chase, Ted Knight, Rodney Dangerfield and others, it was released in America in 1980. Not high brow, it had some memorable lines and scenes,  and was fun. Rotten Tomatoes gives it 75%, which seems right to me.

It’s noteworthy that Rotten Tomatoes didn’t start until eighteen years after ‘Caddy Shack’. I always wonder how the mood of an era supports a movie’s reception. The same goes for books, music, politics, and other aspects of pop cultures. Like, did you know American cars of the late 1950s and early 1960s sported huge fins, huge, tremendously useless, fins, as a styling gimmick. The fins were popular, reminding people of jets and flight. Can you imagine, though, those fins on cars now? My rambling’s point is, what would we have rated ‘Caddy Shack’ if we’d had Rotten Tomatoes back in the day? Wonder if that’s been studied?

My favorite part of the movie was about the gopher that Bill Murray is attempting to kill as one of the sub plots. The gopher survives, and begins dancing to a song by Kenny Loggins. Kenny Loggins was good at that kind of music movie, performing  ‘Footloose’ (the original) and ‘Danger Zone’ for the movie, ‘Top Gun’. The ‘Caddy Shack’ song is ‘I’m All Right’. The song gets you moving – or gets me moving. I don’t think Mom and Dad liked it, frowning and saying, “That’s not real music.” Today’s young listeners might be as amused by the song as I am by ‘A Bicycle Built for Two’.

So, talking with the baristas today, I asked these youngsters (ha – love utilizing that expression) if they knew the song or the movie. Both believed they’d heard of both but had never actually seen the movie and couldn’t place my rendition of the song. Not surprising, as both came out twelve years before the oldest barista present was born.

That’s amazing about our technology, that it exists and helps us create a present and past, by extension, influencing our future, and that these youngsters, if they want, can experience some of our collective past quite easily by watching that movie, just as I did when growing up and watching movies on TV.

There are differences. Today’s movies (and television shows) have made a move toward more realism. Two, it’s easier to select what we want to watch. Whatever was presented on one of three channels back in my youth was what we watched, which was beneficial. I saw movies and genres that I would have never otherwise watched. Some of them were terrible, and some of them were made again, like ‘The Fly’.  

Which, to complete this circle, had me wondering, are they planning on a ‘Caddy Shack’ remake? Well, of course. Numerous people have been associated with such a product and in blogs, some refer to it as ‘inevitable’. Which seems true. I mean, have you seen ‘Star Trek’?

Which one?

 

 

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑