As I've been feeling intellectually impish lately, I recently decided to start re-watching the films of Terrence Malick and post some thoughts and insights on the ol' blog. Some of you may know that I'm a huge fan of Malick's, but there are aspects of his films which have remained foreign to me, things about them I couldn't quite grasp. In each there's a light cast on the struggle between man and nature, but I was never really satisfied with the conclusions I reached on it. I began rewatching the movies last week and have watched Badlands and The Thin Red Line thus far. I imagine most of this piece will be about Badlands, with a piece on TTRL to follow.
Something I've always noticed about Malick's films is the vantage he gives to his narrators and "main" characters, as in each of his films that role is played by someone with little to say in the world and even less effect in it. In Badlands, this role is shown through Holly, played by Sissy Spacek. In TTRL its Jim Caviezel as Private Witt and in Days of Heaven its Linda Manz as Linda. Whats most striking and bizarre for me about each of these characters is how they're all so helpless in society and yet unvanquished against nature, absolutely unattached and unafraid of whats to come. Society is constantly beckoning them to join the flock and get involved in the struggle and the drama, but they never seem to invest themselves. In many ways, it seems like they operate on a level outside of immediate experience, something less influenced by the moment and instead more thoughtful or pristine.
A good example of this is when Kit shoots Holly's father (played by my favorite American actor Warren Oates, for the record), and her reaction. To both Kit and Holly a door seems to open as a result, but for each character the road therein is very very different. For Kit the road leads to fame and stardom, an excitement and newness in life that heavily contrasts his former life as a garbage man, but remains similarly within the dregs of society. Holly's lifeless reaction to her father's murder takes a different tone, and throughout the movie it seems that she isn't necessarily an agent of her own change but is instead just along for the ride, watching how depraved humanity can be while at times seeming to wish that she could understand the emotions involved in what she was watching. Jim Caviezel's character from TTRL shares a similar disconnect from society, but his sense of human spirit seems to shine with a little more optimism than Holly's, who never really subscribes to whats around her in any meaningful way besides just wanting to leave once she knew the gig was up. She never asks or encourages anyone's death, she just follows with an appearance of helplessness but an interior dialogue which makes us think she understands more.
In all of Malick's films nature plays a prominent role. Whether it be human nature or that which surrounds us, at the end of the day these movies all seem to revolve around this concept that we're missing something, that we've made our conflicts too heavily based on humanity and have left out a major, indifferent and yet influential player. Kit and Holly are on the run, and they find themselves in a number of safehouses. Whats interesting is how they all interact and how little difference the characters find between their venues, here exampled by their fort in the woods and their time holed up in the mansion. Kit builds them the fortress in the woods and it seems so natural, the Swiss Family Robinson solution to their problems. The thing is, we never see these characters clamoring for anything while they're there, and this simplicity when wrapped in nature is a theme you see in TTRL and Days of Heaven as well. Richard Gere's character can't stand the bustle of the city, killing his boss and running off to the midwest. Jim Caviezel can't stand active duty, finding tranquility living with a remote tribe in the Pacific Islands. No matter how far any of these characters gets from society though, it always finds a way to draw them back in. Hunters come looking for Kit, Richard Gere schemes to steal a farmers money and Jim Caviezel is found by the Navy. For Malick, there must be some kind of undesirable poison in society, something so inexorable that actions against it are in some perverse way forgivable. The need and the pressure to get away manifests itself in all these characters, and all of them are surrounded by death. Its only with Kit's growing recognition of fame that he turns his back on these things, eventually finding the open wild too boring and perhaps not free enough to please him.
When Kit is arrested he is a monster, but the police don't treat him as such. As a garbageman, he knows that everyone's trash looks the same, that we're all as sloppy and disgusting on the inside. He's played his sociopathy like a fiddle, and the film takes an interesting tangent as it treats this piece of trash as something else. Because of his notoriety the cops admire him, basking in his fame, no matter how disgusting the reasons for it are. Kit is a mass murderer, and yet people want to know him just so they can say they've met him, as a conversation piece. I think this attitude of admiring the famous for fame's sake is something we can relate to all too well 30 years later. People want Kit's watch, his lighter, his pen, whatever memorabilia they can grab. They're honored to have it, honored to have been graced with the attention of a serial killer.
Malick obviously sees a sickness in society, one that's not reflected in nature. The sickness of corruption and greed is something entirely human, and while nature may be heartless it is not malicious. Kit and Holly don't come off in Badlands as the villains, but instead its the fervor and celebration surrounding the killings which is meant to disgust. Law enforcement is in place for our own good, and they do their job, but they're mollycoddled by the excitement just like anybody else. What is said about a culture and a people who admire these sorts of actions? Are we the villains for liking it? I can't say I found it insulting or disgusting in the least, meaning my pulse beats in tone with society. At the end of the day, I'm left asking myself, is this natural?
Friday, April 17, 2009
Postmodernism and the bummer that comes with it
Alright, so I'm an expressed postmodernist and I'm willing to wager that there are a lot of people who don't know what that means. In all honesty, tough fucking luck. Postmodernism is where thought is bound to go, and not because of any grandiose idea but instead because there is no grandiose idea. Concepts die, history fades and the moment takes on greater weight than the future or the past.
I'm sure there are more than enough people who have fallen victim to it but can't announce it, but lets get it out in the open. To me, the essential aspect of postmodernism is that we've been talking about subjects for 2000 years trying to make them a a reality and that's never going to happen. At this point, with the discussions we've developed, we don't really need to harken to Aristotle or Socrates or whoever the fuck else we've established as a God of thought because in the most basic sense what they've said has been discussed to a near endless extent, and the human condition has moved past it. Its not necessarily that these philosophers were right or wrong but instead its that we've moved forward as a culture, and it can generally be said that the way these classic figures spoke of humanity and the human condition isn't all that applicable to us anymore. Of course there are moments of lucidity and practicality in what they said, but the hope for a modern and finite future is becoming an increasingly dead one.
I think of myself as a pragmatist, but I'd also like to think of myself as a person who's ready to apologize for its shortcomings. In a postmodern world, to me Pragmatism is really the only philosophical standpoint which can account for the dreariness of modern existence and shine a light upon it, allowing for a simplicity and weakness in thought that is both healthy and accommodating. I say this standpoint is healthy only because it encourages the discussion of further subjects, not because it is a safe resting point. Where is a safe resting point? To Rorty, pragmatism is but a stone in the path; something which is to be abandoned once something superior is thought of. I can't think of myself as someone invested much more than this. I think a lot of the troubles people find in postmodernism is that it doesn't offer an overall solution, it just poses as a stopgap. Something to wile our time away with until something more interesting comes along.
Interestingly enough, most postmodernists will accept this, but the area covered by the "discipline" is vast. Why is it vast? Because we're completely redrawing our conceptions of reality man!!!! In a trickle down sense, all of the world is beginning to experience the effects of a philosophical hippie flip, which is like Jer-Bear smoking a roach laced with DMT on the Haight in '72. Things are currently getting that wild. As a result of this wildness, we've found ourselves reanalyzing most concepts we've held dear within cultures and the human spirit over the past whatever, which amounts to a whole lot of change, a whole lot of uncertainty and a whole lot of freaky freaky fear about letting go of whats "true". But where to begin?
To me, there are bits and pieces of I like from a lot of postmodern thinkers. Rorty is obviously a staple of mine, and I'd say the only other philosopher who holds weight with me like him is Wittgenstein and his conception of language-games. I'm also very interested in Derrida's contrasting of a predictable and unpredictable future with l'avenir, as well as with the religious explorations of Vattimo, political justice as presented by Rawls, and I've been reading up on Searle's intentionality lately which seems like a pretty swell deal. The latter two aren't postmodernists necessarily, and I have quite a few bones to pick with Searle, but I think their stuff can pretty easily be read and applied to most any overarching doctrine you'd like. Don't take my word for that.
I bring these things up because they are good representations of what and how I think, and with an understanding of the world that grows more subdued yet chaotic by the day, I think these are things that can draw in and interest a lot of people who want to waste their time with them. Because at the end of the day, there's nothing. No God, no pat on the back for helping that lady across the street, no free pass on avoiding a head on collision based on the fact that you were a cub scout and cleaned a church, nothing. All stories will be bastardized for the victors and history will fail to be adequate for all parties involved. Suck it up losers, because you're going somewhere colder and a whole lot more indifferent than hell.
Actually, I'm kidding. Life ain't so bad.
I'm sure there are more than enough people who have fallen victim to it but can't announce it, but lets get it out in the open. To me, the essential aspect of postmodernism is that we've been talking about subjects for 2000 years trying to make them a a reality and that's never going to happen. At this point, with the discussions we've developed, we don't really need to harken to Aristotle or Socrates or whoever the fuck else we've established as a God of thought because in the most basic sense what they've said has been discussed to a near endless extent, and the human condition has moved past it. Its not necessarily that these philosophers were right or wrong but instead its that we've moved forward as a culture, and it can generally be said that the way these classic figures spoke of humanity and the human condition isn't all that applicable to us anymore. Of course there are moments of lucidity and practicality in what they said, but the hope for a modern and finite future is becoming an increasingly dead one.
I think of myself as a pragmatist, but I'd also like to think of myself as a person who's ready to apologize for its shortcomings. In a postmodern world, to me Pragmatism is really the only philosophical standpoint which can account for the dreariness of modern existence and shine a light upon it, allowing for a simplicity and weakness in thought that is both healthy and accommodating. I say this standpoint is healthy only because it encourages the discussion of further subjects, not because it is a safe resting point. Where is a safe resting point? To Rorty, pragmatism is but a stone in the path; something which is to be abandoned once something superior is thought of. I can't think of myself as someone invested much more than this. I think a lot of the troubles people find in postmodernism is that it doesn't offer an overall solution, it just poses as a stopgap. Something to wile our time away with until something more interesting comes along.
Interestingly enough, most postmodernists will accept this, but the area covered by the "discipline" is vast. Why is it vast? Because we're completely redrawing our conceptions of reality man!!!! In a trickle down sense, all of the world is beginning to experience the effects of a philosophical hippie flip, which is like Jer-Bear smoking a roach laced with DMT on the Haight in '72. Things are currently getting that wild. As a result of this wildness, we've found ourselves reanalyzing most concepts we've held dear within cultures and the human spirit over the past whatever, which amounts to a whole lot of change, a whole lot of uncertainty and a whole lot of freaky freaky fear about letting go of whats "true". But where to begin?
To me, there are bits and pieces of I like from a lot of postmodern thinkers. Rorty is obviously a staple of mine, and I'd say the only other philosopher who holds weight with me like him is Wittgenstein and his conception of language-games. I'm also very interested in Derrida's contrasting of a predictable and unpredictable future with l'avenir, as well as with the religious explorations of Vattimo, political justice as presented by Rawls, and I've been reading up on Searle's intentionality lately which seems like a pretty swell deal. The latter two aren't postmodernists necessarily, and I have quite a few bones to pick with Searle, but I think their stuff can pretty easily be read and applied to most any overarching doctrine you'd like. Don't take my word for that.
I bring these things up because they are good representations of what and how I think, and with an understanding of the world that grows more subdued yet chaotic by the day, I think these are things that can draw in and interest a lot of people who want to waste their time with them. Because at the end of the day, there's nothing. No God, no pat on the back for helping that lady across the street, no free pass on avoiding a head on collision based on the fact that you were a cub scout and cleaned a church, nothing. All stories will be bastardized for the victors and history will fail to be adequate for all parties involved. Suck it up losers, because you're going somewhere colder and a whole lot more indifferent than hell.
Actually, I'm kidding. Life ain't so bad.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Identity and Reason
AIG has decided to change its name to AIU Holdings Ltd., and this has stuck a strange chord within me. Not too long ago we saw Blackwater change its name to Xe, and now we have another corporate entity changing its name to avoid public backlash. Admittedly, its only fitting that these entities scramble their familiarity to retain competitive leverage, but the question I find myself asking is just how functional is this conceptually? Corporations have legal personhood in our society, meaning their entity is treated as a singule citizen in both cases against them as well as in political representation, so even in viewing it in terms of fairness against the common I have a hard time reconciling the weight of this. I mean, when a felon changes their name after getting out of prison we don't drop all charges against them, levying to accept his or her sincerity in change as greater on account of it. For me, this goes beyond an assault on corporate personhood into a realm where we stand back and look at exactly what the fuck we've created.
I can't say that I'm a person who damns corporations outright, but there is a certain degree of responsibility they should be held to. Its just upsetting to see that they can manipulate public perceptions so easily, and while I'm sure its going to cost them millions of dollars to accomplish this shift there's something that just doesn't meld well within me. It's come to a point in our society where our identities are under assault in such a drastic sense, and I can't say its any one party to blame; its just something that's apparent and unhealthy. There are options offered to those financially capable and influential enough to forget their misgivings, but those same escapes aren't afforded to the many. We find ourselves under constant bombardment from advertisers trying to crux our personal value and identity, and yet the symptoms of this are largely left in silence. People in America are dissident and depressed, malcontented and inconsolable. Are we really supposed to believe that this isn't a reaction to the assault on our senses at a nearly nonstop pace?
I'd say this is the ugly reflection of my previous point, being that capitalism spawns complacency; the idea that this same complacency is an intense and uneccessary gaze into our personhood. I'm in no way vouching for the idea when I present it, but could it be that we're simply too mollycoddled and too comfortable for our minds to be able to rest comfortably against our primitive convictions? I think something like this is mostly sensationalized, but there's also an aspect that interests me within it.
I was recently reading an article which talked about transhuman architecture, or an architectural approach which kept things difficult and uncomfortable for the dweller, much like a natural environment. Some of the threat of the actual wild was left out (i.e. predators), but the idea of an environment in which the inhabitant is constantly forced to think constructively about how to accomplish tasks is an interesting one. Would someone actually benefit from being in an adversarial situation like this or is it all just fanfare? Maybe the question I should be asking is this: How do we regain our right to self manifestation and personhood in a society where almost everything is force-fed to us and nothing is safe from the touch of the marketplace.
I'd like to look back at another subject I've referenced here, that of John Dos Passos and the U.S.A. trilogy. As I said when addressing it, the point of these books was to question the aim of this country as a realm of self creation above all in a world that was structured and oppressive against the uncommon. Should we consider ourselves less free than the characters presented in these novels as a result of the omniscient presence of corporate needs, or are they largely indifferent? I'm inclined to say they aren't, but its also hard to judge against a point in the past where modernism was so prevalent and beliefs held a harsher conviction than they do now. Conversely, I don't think people felt as compromised or assaulted as we do now, which is a testament against a financial world which constantly wants our attention. Its a hard point to lobby.
What I'm trying to say here is exactly how many exceptions are we willing to let corporate America afford? They have personhood, but they also have our personhood, and the cycle seems broken. I'm willing to confess that the problem is in part due to the (currently) lacking conversational ability to bring about change coupled with a moral dilemma which can be pinned to no one particular party besides the practice, but that doesn't mean the rules of the game shouldn't be changed to protect our contentment. In simplest terms, being told that our desire for material goods should never be substantiated doesn't really seem like a healthy way to go about living, and while the economic influx has been beneficial in some senses, its a practice that's far from perfectly honed. I'm not sure the voice against these practices has evolved into anything which can offer a shift or compromise which is at all satisfactory, but the voice is there. People are upset and complacent, and how are we supposed to break this practice without breaking the market which offers us prosperity and health?
I can't say that I'm a person who damns corporations outright, but there is a certain degree of responsibility they should be held to. Its just upsetting to see that they can manipulate public perceptions so easily, and while I'm sure its going to cost them millions of dollars to accomplish this shift there's something that just doesn't meld well within me. It's come to a point in our society where our identities are under assault in such a drastic sense, and I can't say its any one party to blame; its just something that's apparent and unhealthy. There are options offered to those financially capable and influential enough to forget their misgivings, but those same escapes aren't afforded to the many. We find ourselves under constant bombardment from advertisers trying to crux our personal value and identity, and yet the symptoms of this are largely left in silence. People in America are dissident and depressed, malcontented and inconsolable. Are we really supposed to believe that this isn't a reaction to the assault on our senses at a nearly nonstop pace?
I'd say this is the ugly reflection of my previous point, being that capitalism spawns complacency; the idea that this same complacency is an intense and uneccessary gaze into our personhood. I'm in no way vouching for the idea when I present it, but could it be that we're simply too mollycoddled and too comfortable for our minds to be able to rest comfortably against our primitive convictions? I think something like this is mostly sensationalized, but there's also an aspect that interests me within it.
I was recently reading an article which talked about transhuman architecture, or an architectural approach which kept things difficult and uncomfortable for the dweller, much like a natural environment. Some of the threat of the actual wild was left out (i.e. predators), but the idea of an environment in which the inhabitant is constantly forced to think constructively about how to accomplish tasks is an interesting one. Would someone actually benefit from being in an adversarial situation like this or is it all just fanfare? Maybe the question I should be asking is this: How do we regain our right to self manifestation and personhood in a society where almost everything is force-fed to us and nothing is safe from the touch of the marketplace.
I'd like to look back at another subject I've referenced here, that of John Dos Passos and the U.S.A. trilogy. As I said when addressing it, the point of these books was to question the aim of this country as a realm of self creation above all in a world that was structured and oppressive against the uncommon. Should we consider ourselves less free than the characters presented in these novels as a result of the omniscient presence of corporate needs, or are they largely indifferent? I'm inclined to say they aren't, but its also hard to judge against a point in the past where modernism was so prevalent and beliefs held a harsher conviction than they do now. Conversely, I don't think people felt as compromised or assaulted as we do now, which is a testament against a financial world which constantly wants our attention. Its a hard point to lobby.
What I'm trying to say here is exactly how many exceptions are we willing to let corporate America afford? They have personhood, but they also have our personhood, and the cycle seems broken. I'm willing to confess that the problem is in part due to the (currently) lacking conversational ability to bring about change coupled with a moral dilemma which can be pinned to no one particular party besides the practice, but that doesn't mean the rules of the game shouldn't be changed to protect our contentment. In simplest terms, being told that our desire for material goods should never be substantiated doesn't really seem like a healthy way to go about living, and while the economic influx has been beneficial in some senses, its a practice that's far from perfectly honed. I'm not sure the voice against these practices has evolved into anything which can offer a shift or compromise which is at all satisfactory, but the voice is there. People are upset and complacent, and how are we supposed to break this practice without breaking the market which offers us prosperity and health?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Two steps forward
I may have overstated myself in my previous entry, so I wanted to take this opportunity to slow it down so we can speed it up.
In using the term "hope" in my previous entry, I in no way am trying to say that I believe that there is some sort of ultimate culmination to our cultural pursuits; I do not believe in a Utopian end to our efforts. Instead, what I mean in my use of hope is that things will generally get better for everyone in terms of basic and essential needs, i.e. food, shelter, healthcare etc. When I say these things, they do not at all reflect potential for contentment, improved demeanor or overall happiness. If anything, we've found ourselves stagnated in response to the success of the marketplace, with people becoming trite and vacuous. Capital invokes complacency. As a person who spends a large amount of time in strangers' homes, I can't say I see a whole lot of diversity. Rarely (if ever) do I see customers with a decent selection of literature or quality films in their house, and maybe its my sour approach to my job which causes me to view these people so negatively, but I have to think of this as an instance where it takes two to tango.
I want to get back to this idea that capital invokes complacency, because it's something I've been thinking about a lot lately. In essence, its this idea that the more things are provided for us, the less people are interested in self manifestation and improvement, probably because the approach of the new is silenced by the needs of the marketplace. In a society where immediacy oftentimes trumps practicality, there are a lot of ways we can look at ourselves and say we've taken the wrong step. It just seems like people are more willing to be force fed things that aren't necessarily what they want, and I think the American cultural perception of what's artistically nifty reflects this via things like The Da vinchi code, Titanic and Live Laugh Love placards. I'm sorry if you like all three of those things.
Maybe things have always been this way, and to a large extent I'd say thats right, but there's also this creeping fear inside of me which says that people are more apt to accept what they're told to do now than they have been in recent and comparable American history. Maybe its that what they're willing to accept is more dangerous and emotionally bereft than it has been before. That could be the case. It just seems like there's no actual desire to break the status quo, and whatever desire there is is typically outweighed by a desire to become famous once the shackles are broken rather than continued pursuit of what's actually good or useful. When i see these hackneyed attempts by people to make a moment mean something or create something beautiful it feels so forced, as though there's no sanctuary to hide in from the corporate ghosts. And I don't mean this in a personal sense because I have a lot of friends who I'm proud of and who I don't think fit into this mold at all, but what I'm talking about is in a global sense, and how average people while their time away.
I may have gotten a little off track, but what I wanted to say here was that I don't believe that society will get more prosperous and survivable on account of an abstraction like hope but instead out of necessity. We will always be moved towards what is in our best interests, and better sense of global fraternity should typically be viewed as the easiest way for us to get by in a world that is increasingly plural. Generally, this progress can be viewed positively, but its no reason to stop prodding society to improve conditions and allow inspiration for new thoughts. I may have contradicted myself here, but if you have a problem with it either write a comment or go fuck yourself.
In using the term "hope" in my previous entry, I in no way am trying to say that I believe that there is some sort of ultimate culmination to our cultural pursuits; I do not believe in a Utopian end to our efforts. Instead, what I mean in my use of hope is that things will generally get better for everyone in terms of basic and essential needs, i.e. food, shelter, healthcare etc. When I say these things, they do not at all reflect potential for contentment, improved demeanor or overall happiness. If anything, we've found ourselves stagnated in response to the success of the marketplace, with people becoming trite and vacuous. Capital invokes complacency. As a person who spends a large amount of time in strangers' homes, I can't say I see a whole lot of diversity. Rarely (if ever) do I see customers with a decent selection of literature or quality films in their house, and maybe its my sour approach to my job which causes me to view these people so negatively, but I have to think of this as an instance where it takes two to tango.
I want to get back to this idea that capital invokes complacency, because it's something I've been thinking about a lot lately. In essence, its this idea that the more things are provided for us, the less people are interested in self manifestation and improvement, probably because the approach of the new is silenced by the needs of the marketplace. In a society where immediacy oftentimes trumps practicality, there are a lot of ways we can look at ourselves and say we've taken the wrong step. It just seems like people are more willing to be force fed things that aren't necessarily what they want, and I think the American cultural perception of what's artistically nifty reflects this via things like The Da vinchi code, Titanic and Live Laugh Love placards. I'm sorry if you like all three of those things.
Maybe things have always been this way, and to a large extent I'd say thats right, but there's also this creeping fear inside of me which says that people are more apt to accept what they're told to do now than they have been in recent and comparable American history. Maybe its that what they're willing to accept is more dangerous and emotionally bereft than it has been before. That could be the case. It just seems like there's no actual desire to break the status quo, and whatever desire there is is typically outweighed by a desire to become famous once the shackles are broken rather than continued pursuit of what's actually good or useful. When i see these hackneyed attempts by people to make a moment mean something or create something beautiful it feels so forced, as though there's no sanctuary to hide in from the corporate ghosts. And I don't mean this in a personal sense because I have a lot of friends who I'm proud of and who I don't think fit into this mold at all, but what I'm talking about is in a global sense, and how average people while their time away.
I may have gotten a little off track, but what I wanted to say here was that I don't believe that society will get more prosperous and survivable on account of an abstraction like hope but instead out of necessity. We will always be moved towards what is in our best interests, and better sense of global fraternity should typically be viewed as the easiest way for us to get by in a world that is increasingly plural. Generally, this progress can be viewed positively, but its no reason to stop prodding society to improve conditions and allow inspiration for new thoughts. I may have contradicted myself here, but if you have a problem with it either write a comment or go fuck yourself.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Hope and Indetermination
Despite my grim and often contrary perception of others, I for some reason find myself with an undying optimism for tomorrow. Maybe I've relinquished myself further than others and therfore can apologize for more than others allow themselves, understanding that the horrific and traumatic are aspects of life which are fairly necessary, and in simplest gratitude I think I could be okay with the idea that the human race continues on only (granted the example survives for further generations).
My brother came to visit a couple of weeks ago and it was interesting how our perspectives differed. He's much less likely to be critical of isolated incidents as I am, but he conversely doesn't share my (perhaps bizarre or misplaced) optimism. He's much more critical of the poor educational system we find ourselves with and doesn't agree at all with my ideas on God's death in the first world. I, in juxtaposition, am constantly chomping at the bit for things to complain about and confounded by the amount of shepherding done by society, but somehow this negativity doesn't crush my overarching perspective on things and strangely detached optimism for a humanity I'm disgusted by on a personal level.
I still believe that history serves as a compass which is generally helpful in our decision making process, and I think that besides this all society needs is to slowly be deconstructed. People still hold onto the stigmas of the past (racism, sexism, etc etc etc) in a world where those things are less and less helpful. In an honest capitalist sensibility, segregating the marketplace is in almost all ways detrimental, and I think its the perpetuation of this global market which does allow for a lot of added equality, because all people at the top want as many people as possible giving them money.
Problems arise on a personal level and in terms of employment. Where we want to appeal to a certain segment of society in one sense, we concurrently draw them back through an exploitation of labor. This is why the free market in itself doesn't work. We need people watching out for the commonwealth, because the aristocratic will always be trying to appeal to the broadest spectrum possible but rarely recognize that their pursuit of this damages those directly beneath them through unfair wages, unfair treatment of ethnicities and unfair hiring and promotional practices. Throughout history, this has been a balancing act.
Now we find ourselves on a global scale, a place where prejudices and bigotry are (as best as we can enact it) left to cower in the shadows. This is a work in progress. My argument is that things have never been so good for so many people at any point in the past, but that's no reason to soften our resolve or believe that this is as good as it gets. When the largest amount of people work together, the largest amount of people prosper. Capitalism, even in its flaws, accomplishes this appeal to commonality and fraternity better than anything before it at least. Monarchies, Oligarchies (even though this is still us in some senses), Communism, etc never provided the prosperity we now find ourselves with. This is why I can't just look at society and view us as fucked. The contented who suffer and the stubborn have always existed, but they've also always been forced to flex. The point we find ourselves at is no different, albeit frustrating. Universal freedom wrought in a common understanding of one's best interest on a grand scale works much better than a theistic mandate. I think that eventually the idea that what works best doesn't need to step on one's personal beliefs can gain traction, its just the subject is particularly hot and contentious right now. Feelings will settle and things will continue to move forward. More on this later.
My brother came to visit a couple of weeks ago and it was interesting how our perspectives differed. He's much less likely to be critical of isolated incidents as I am, but he conversely doesn't share my (perhaps bizarre or misplaced) optimism. He's much more critical of the poor educational system we find ourselves with and doesn't agree at all with my ideas on God's death in the first world. I, in juxtaposition, am constantly chomping at the bit for things to complain about and confounded by the amount of shepherding done by society, but somehow this negativity doesn't crush my overarching perspective on things and strangely detached optimism for a humanity I'm disgusted by on a personal level.
I still believe that history serves as a compass which is generally helpful in our decision making process, and I think that besides this all society needs is to slowly be deconstructed. People still hold onto the stigmas of the past (racism, sexism, etc etc etc) in a world where those things are less and less helpful. In an honest capitalist sensibility, segregating the marketplace is in almost all ways detrimental, and I think its the perpetuation of this global market which does allow for a lot of added equality, because all people at the top want as many people as possible giving them money.
Problems arise on a personal level and in terms of employment. Where we want to appeal to a certain segment of society in one sense, we concurrently draw them back through an exploitation of labor. This is why the free market in itself doesn't work. We need people watching out for the commonwealth, because the aristocratic will always be trying to appeal to the broadest spectrum possible but rarely recognize that their pursuit of this damages those directly beneath them through unfair wages, unfair treatment of ethnicities and unfair hiring and promotional practices. Throughout history, this has been a balancing act.
Now we find ourselves on a global scale, a place where prejudices and bigotry are (as best as we can enact it) left to cower in the shadows. This is a work in progress. My argument is that things have never been so good for so many people at any point in the past, but that's no reason to soften our resolve or believe that this is as good as it gets. When the largest amount of people work together, the largest amount of people prosper. Capitalism, even in its flaws, accomplishes this appeal to commonality and fraternity better than anything before it at least. Monarchies, Oligarchies (even though this is still us in some senses), Communism, etc never provided the prosperity we now find ourselves with. This is why I can't just look at society and view us as fucked. The contented who suffer and the stubborn have always existed, but they've also always been forced to flex. The point we find ourselves at is no different, albeit frustrating. Universal freedom wrought in a common understanding of one's best interest on a grand scale works much better than a theistic mandate. I think that eventually the idea that what works best doesn't need to step on one's personal beliefs can gain traction, its just the subject is particularly hot and contentious right now. Feelings will settle and things will continue to move forward. More on this later.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
The part about borders
As I've been getting at, a lot of 2666 is about experience and the borders which sequester us to and from different levels of interaction with others and entire cultures/communities. Like I said in my previous post on this subject, thus far every character in 2666 is an agent of indirect influence on that which they follow. None of them are the ones shaping that which they're after, and instead they just follow and try to interpret what is shaping them. This theme is elevated by cultural and societal borders, which Bolano paints as a thing that varies quite a bit globally.
To view this abstraction in any sort of "post" sense is fairly easy, seeing as how a comprehension of our deteriorating borders and increasingly humanitarian worldview is a prominent symptom of a postmetaphysical conception of things, and I think this is a sense in which Bolano tries to appeal to the reader and at the very least tries to convey the indetermination of the contemporary. At the most basic, Bolano presents in his novel not an antagonist in the purest sense, but instead that of human compassion, and the use of the proximity of Santa Teresa to the United States isn't entirely coincidental. Just as the European intellectuals are comfortable in the interchangeable borders of their landscape but not of others, Bolano paints the Americas as an entirely diverse and divided population, with a simple and imaginary border posing as the greatest difference between depravity and proliferation. I may express this in terms that are too simple, but the conception in the novel is entirely different. Never are the United States harped on directly for being a cold and uncaring juggernaut, but the parallel doesn't hurt in furthering what Bolano is saying.
Also in defense of the United States is Fate, the American journalist who has no knowledge of the murders prior to his arrival in Mexico but who slowly gets drawn into the culture of them. He searches as hard as any for a reason behind their happening, instead only coming up with the strange characters whose lives are interwoven into the conflict and the way they all come to terms with their hopeless knowledge of this and the way they talk about it as a result. Just as there are many different branches of journalism and how Fate has no idea how to report boxing when he gets to Mexico, there are also many ways in which humanity can and is suffering currently, and the United States can't be expected to make things just everywhere or to even know how to in so many different instances. Its not that the United States plays a larger moral role than any other country in the novel because if anything it plays a more noticeably absent one, but in terms of proximity its easiest to draw this particular comparison with. Every culture plays a different role in human conflict and their ability to reconcile any is drawn by an innumerable number of sliding scales.
I imagine the pain of cruelty across a border was one that came particularly close to Bolano, since he was a self enforced Chilean exile. A leftist figure who was a little bit moreso than the public appreciated, Bolano had left Chile after struggling to Socialize the country and bring about revolution. Spending time in Mexico and finally Europe, its not beyond reason to think that Bolano may have had a similar experience to the academics in the first part of the book, finding the ease of crossing imaginary borders a juxtaposition to the border of his native Chile. Writing this novel while he knew he was dying of liver failure, the thought that he could make himself in so many countries besides the one he was born in could have been aggravating, especially when viewed through a lens of an increasingly homogenized humanity. Though at no point do I feel the novel approaches the question, its one I find myself asking fairly regularly: What does it take to break apart the borders that disconnect us?
To view this abstraction in any sort of "post" sense is fairly easy, seeing as how a comprehension of our deteriorating borders and increasingly humanitarian worldview is a prominent symptom of a postmetaphysical conception of things, and I think this is a sense in which Bolano tries to appeal to the reader and at the very least tries to convey the indetermination of the contemporary. At the most basic, Bolano presents in his novel not an antagonist in the purest sense, but instead that of human compassion, and the use of the proximity of Santa Teresa to the United States isn't entirely coincidental. Just as the European intellectuals are comfortable in the interchangeable borders of their landscape but not of others, Bolano paints the Americas as an entirely diverse and divided population, with a simple and imaginary border posing as the greatest difference between depravity and proliferation. I may express this in terms that are too simple, but the conception in the novel is entirely different. Never are the United States harped on directly for being a cold and uncaring juggernaut, but the parallel doesn't hurt in furthering what Bolano is saying.
Also in defense of the United States is Fate, the American journalist who has no knowledge of the murders prior to his arrival in Mexico but who slowly gets drawn into the culture of them. He searches as hard as any for a reason behind their happening, instead only coming up with the strange characters whose lives are interwoven into the conflict and the way they all come to terms with their hopeless knowledge of this and the way they talk about it as a result. Just as there are many different branches of journalism and how Fate has no idea how to report boxing when he gets to Mexico, there are also many ways in which humanity can and is suffering currently, and the United States can't be expected to make things just everywhere or to even know how to in so many different instances. Its not that the United States plays a larger moral role than any other country in the novel because if anything it plays a more noticeably absent one, but in terms of proximity its easiest to draw this particular comparison with. Every culture plays a different role in human conflict and their ability to reconcile any is drawn by an innumerable number of sliding scales.
I imagine the pain of cruelty across a border was one that came particularly close to Bolano, since he was a self enforced Chilean exile. A leftist figure who was a little bit moreso than the public appreciated, Bolano had left Chile after struggling to Socialize the country and bring about revolution. Spending time in Mexico and finally Europe, its not beyond reason to think that Bolano may have had a similar experience to the academics in the first part of the book, finding the ease of crossing imaginary borders a juxtaposition to the border of his native Chile. Writing this novel while he knew he was dying of liver failure, the thought that he could make himself in so many countries besides the one he was born in could have been aggravating, especially when viewed through a lens of an increasingly homogenized humanity. Though at no point do I feel the novel approaches the question, its one I find myself asking fairly regularly: What does it take to break apart the borders that disconnect us?
Thursday, January 29, 2009
The Schwartz
I took a pretty formidable cocktail of drugs tonight, and its amounted to me feeling pretty stellar at the moment. The results of this will drive the rest of this post.
Admittedly, I'm fairly strange. In taking all of this, I can't really think of anything I'd rather have done than come home and write and be by myself, and I guess that speaks to my intensely personal nature. Its not that I don't enjoy the company of those I did it with, because I think Brian is a pretty spectacular friend to have, but I just have this weird weight at the depth of my character, a sort of bizarre manifestation of self who has so much to say and wants so badly to say it, but for whatever reason never has felt particularly well-expressed in action. Its very frustrating. There are things I wrap myself up in, and in many aspects overwhelm myself with, but in a moment of tranquility like this I feel approachable and at ease with myself, which is something I strive so hard to find in a nearly breakneck ambition but can't seem to get all that close to that often.
Maybe its just that I want to express these things to something perceivably public so that I can feel that I'm confident in facing the world and at best hope that I can dismiss any concerns people have with the way I choose to live my life and "roll" so to speak. My mind has always been a prickly pear, and the things I take interest in, am naturally inclined towards and have set myself after have been difficult for me to explain always, but I've never been without a guiding principle or conception of what it could all become. I understand society, I understand people. I can look at a conception of human relation or another's personal conflict or even emotional insight and understand it almost immediately (something I find best exampled best by my affinity with literature and art), but I have trouble reconciling these same simple problems within myself and still don't feel like my expression in comprehension comes that close to explaining just how well these things resonate within me. I've been trying in this blog to show the parallels that connect the everyday things I experience and how I tie them to what I've read or thought or believe, but it all still needs work. I dunno, its not that I want to sound exceedingly deep or give the impression that I think I'm better than everyone because of what I am, because I really don't. I'd honestly hate to conceive of myself as some sort of "writer" or intellectual giant, but there's also the dissatisfaction and valuelessness that comes with the ambiguity of not labeling myself as such. Mostly, I think I want to avoid feeling as though I do the things I do just to have them seen as some sort of social parlor trick or facet of my personality, because I don't and I care about them on a much more personal level than that. I also don't want to sound too angsty or tortured in my approach to this, because I don't think that's the level I experience these things at. I mean, I don't have a girlfriend and I feel mostly unapproachable and overwhelmed or overwhelming in most social situations, so the situation has created a strange limbo within me.
I'd hate to come off as someone who just wants to brag about what he's known and how weird a niche of knowledge he's found for himself, because its nothing like that. At the most basic, I feel as though I love the art and perspective I've taught myself, and again the choices behind this weren't in the interest of constructing myself into some certain social pillar, but instead because these are things that fascinate me and ultimately the realm of literary art and art in general is one where I want to contribute to the conversation, move it forward and reflect my mark upon. Is it too arrogant to say that I feel in these things that I have something valuable to say beyond just reciting them?
I have fun in connecting these things, in taking the disparity of weird shit I've read and watched and experienced and drawing them together, wrapping them into a creation that in part pays credence to where I've taken them from but ultimately (hopefully) is a conception and expression which I can safely say is mine. In terms of output, my ambitions as an author have been lethargic and mostly destructive, and maybe the idea I had of turning myself into something like that will never pan out, but I just haven't found the way I want to allow myself to be like that yet. Somewhere on the landscape of my mind, I haven't been able to reconcile whether I've never read anything I'd want to sound like or can't understand where I want to draw from most. I know the two aren't exactly compatible, but those are the two polar views I typically find myself confronted with. I like Pynchonian surreality and playfulness, but at the end of the day his novels feel too maddening and chaotic and unrelatable. He's post structure and absolute, but his novels mostly reflect that too well and don't ever feel terribly relatable or welcoming. I think Delillo's work is wonderful and much more breathable, and I adore his conversational writing ability as much as I adore Pynchon's wordplay, but his novels lack a certain magic of the world I see and love in authors like McCarthy, Faulkner, Greene, and in weirder yet probably more appropriate ways Rushdie and Garcia-Marquez. I love how those authors can take a setting and make it feel like something that mattered and has a relatable resonance (if only, in certain instances, because of nostalgia, but that still counts), McCarthy with his conception of the American Southwest and Faulkner in his sickening yet romanticized realization of the South. These authors have a way of using a setting to establish an easy, accesible and formidable value at the core of their works, and I like how it contributes to whats essential about their novels. Another instance I find is Proust, Genet and other more introspective authors (Doestoyevsky probably goes among them as well) who for whatever reason I can only think of as European.
As it stands, I'm probably most inclined to write in introspection, but its something I really hate about anything I try to come up with. Assumedly because of how personal I find myself, these sort of authors really strike a chord within me, as I really enjoy the plurality and mental exploration of characters who seem decidedly relegated or entirely vapid and social but are ultimately used as devices to express things that are more humanistic and connect disparities between conceptions. I'd like to say more about this and would've preferred to use a more colorful selection of authors to mention, but I'm sure this seems like more of a namedropping than anything, and I don't know how to avoid having it sound like that.
So what of my productivity? Am I really supposed to rest on the laurels of this idea that I haven't found an accurate means of expression or balance? I mean, what else can I say? This way of expressing things seems to be the only shoe that fits, so that's how it'll come out. I know my decisions may seem chaotic and oftentimes even erratic, but they're all in league with a larger picture that I'm trying to get at. What I'm trying to say is that while it all makes sense in my head sometimes, I think my hands are just having a hard time catching up. There are moments and values and tones which I'd like to let loose, but they just haven't been all that easy to catch. Whether these things will ever congeal into something that works is anyone's guess. At times I hope they will, but at others I think I could walk away into an entirely different means of expression that would be more up-front and nonliterary. All I can really say is that all my life I've been having this conversation with myself in my head, and at this point I'm not sure the person I've imagined myself talking to actually exists (not in a crazy way, idiots) or whether I'm trying to draw them out. All this amounts to is me being fairly antisocial and withdrawn even though I've got some decent social skills and people seems to dig on the vibe I'm setting. In essence, I'm weird.
Admittedly, I'm fairly strange. In taking all of this, I can't really think of anything I'd rather have done than come home and write and be by myself, and I guess that speaks to my intensely personal nature. Its not that I don't enjoy the company of those I did it with, because I think Brian is a pretty spectacular friend to have, but I just have this weird weight at the depth of my character, a sort of bizarre manifestation of self who has so much to say and wants so badly to say it, but for whatever reason never has felt particularly well-expressed in action. Its very frustrating. There are things I wrap myself up in, and in many aspects overwhelm myself with, but in a moment of tranquility like this I feel approachable and at ease with myself, which is something I strive so hard to find in a nearly breakneck ambition but can't seem to get all that close to that often.
Maybe its just that I want to express these things to something perceivably public so that I can feel that I'm confident in facing the world and at best hope that I can dismiss any concerns people have with the way I choose to live my life and "roll" so to speak. My mind has always been a prickly pear, and the things I take interest in, am naturally inclined towards and have set myself after have been difficult for me to explain always, but I've never been without a guiding principle or conception of what it could all become. I understand society, I understand people. I can look at a conception of human relation or another's personal conflict or even emotional insight and understand it almost immediately (something I find best exampled best by my affinity with literature and art), but I have trouble reconciling these same simple problems within myself and still don't feel like my expression in comprehension comes that close to explaining just how well these things resonate within me. I've been trying in this blog to show the parallels that connect the everyday things I experience and how I tie them to what I've read or thought or believe, but it all still needs work. I dunno, its not that I want to sound exceedingly deep or give the impression that I think I'm better than everyone because of what I am, because I really don't. I'd honestly hate to conceive of myself as some sort of "writer" or intellectual giant, but there's also the dissatisfaction and valuelessness that comes with the ambiguity of not labeling myself as such. Mostly, I think I want to avoid feeling as though I do the things I do just to have them seen as some sort of social parlor trick or facet of my personality, because I don't and I care about them on a much more personal level than that. I also don't want to sound too angsty or tortured in my approach to this, because I don't think that's the level I experience these things at. I mean, I don't have a girlfriend and I feel mostly unapproachable and overwhelmed or overwhelming in most social situations, so the situation has created a strange limbo within me.
I'd hate to come off as someone who just wants to brag about what he's known and how weird a niche of knowledge he's found for himself, because its nothing like that. At the most basic, I feel as though I love the art and perspective I've taught myself, and again the choices behind this weren't in the interest of constructing myself into some certain social pillar, but instead because these are things that fascinate me and ultimately the realm of literary art and art in general is one where I want to contribute to the conversation, move it forward and reflect my mark upon. Is it too arrogant to say that I feel in these things that I have something valuable to say beyond just reciting them?
I have fun in connecting these things, in taking the disparity of weird shit I've read and watched and experienced and drawing them together, wrapping them into a creation that in part pays credence to where I've taken them from but ultimately (hopefully) is a conception and expression which I can safely say is mine. In terms of output, my ambitions as an author have been lethargic and mostly destructive, and maybe the idea I had of turning myself into something like that will never pan out, but I just haven't found the way I want to allow myself to be like that yet. Somewhere on the landscape of my mind, I haven't been able to reconcile whether I've never read anything I'd want to sound like or can't understand where I want to draw from most. I know the two aren't exactly compatible, but those are the two polar views I typically find myself confronted with. I like Pynchonian surreality and playfulness, but at the end of the day his novels feel too maddening and chaotic and unrelatable. He's post structure and absolute, but his novels mostly reflect that too well and don't ever feel terribly relatable or welcoming. I think Delillo's work is wonderful and much more breathable, and I adore his conversational writing ability as much as I adore Pynchon's wordplay, but his novels lack a certain magic of the world I see and love in authors like McCarthy, Faulkner, Greene, and in weirder yet probably more appropriate ways Rushdie and Garcia-Marquez. I love how those authors can take a setting and make it feel like something that mattered and has a relatable resonance (if only, in certain instances, because of nostalgia, but that still counts), McCarthy with his conception of the American Southwest and Faulkner in his sickening yet romanticized realization of the South. These authors have a way of using a setting to establish an easy, accesible and formidable value at the core of their works, and I like how it contributes to whats essential about their novels. Another instance I find is Proust, Genet and other more introspective authors (Doestoyevsky probably goes among them as well) who for whatever reason I can only think of as European.
As it stands, I'm probably most inclined to write in introspection, but its something I really hate about anything I try to come up with. Assumedly because of how personal I find myself, these sort of authors really strike a chord within me, as I really enjoy the plurality and mental exploration of characters who seem decidedly relegated or entirely vapid and social but are ultimately used as devices to express things that are more humanistic and connect disparities between conceptions. I'd like to say more about this and would've preferred to use a more colorful selection of authors to mention, but I'm sure this seems like more of a namedropping than anything, and I don't know how to avoid having it sound like that.
So what of my productivity? Am I really supposed to rest on the laurels of this idea that I haven't found an accurate means of expression or balance? I mean, what else can I say? This way of expressing things seems to be the only shoe that fits, so that's how it'll come out. I know my decisions may seem chaotic and oftentimes even erratic, but they're all in league with a larger picture that I'm trying to get at. What I'm trying to say is that while it all makes sense in my head sometimes, I think my hands are just having a hard time catching up. There are moments and values and tones which I'd like to let loose, but they just haven't been all that easy to catch. Whether these things will ever congeal into something that works is anyone's guess. At times I hope they will, but at others I think I could walk away into an entirely different means of expression that would be more up-front and nonliterary. All I can really say is that all my life I've been having this conversation with myself in my head, and at this point I'm not sure the person I've imagined myself talking to actually exists (not in a crazy way, idiots) or whether I'm trying to draw them out. All this amounts to is me being fairly antisocial and withdrawn even though I've got some decent social skills and people seems to dig on the vibe I'm setting. In essence, I'm weird.
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