June 23, 2004

Feels So Good

I was never good at conceiving infallible plans. Knowing this, I’ve gotten in the habit of rolling with the punches and adapting to circumstance and to my wild miscalculations. I’ve learned to give myself some wiggle room.

So when I planned my move to NYC I hedged my bets on success here by leaving most of my stuff in storage, back in Florida, and taking on a very short-term NYC sublet (basically, renting someone’s room out from under them for a short time, six weeks in this case). I figured, if things didn’t go so well in this span, I could always turn right around and go back to Florida.

Things have not gone so well.

In six weeks I’ve barely learned how to get around town in the one lonely subway route that lands on Roosevelt Island, where I currently live. Nevermind finding a job or more permanent living space.

One thing I have found, though: I’ve found home. I’ve never felt so energized yet so at ease, so engaged in life, so interested in the world around me, as I am now. This is what I’ve always wanted. Always, like since childhood. And now that I’m here, I can’t imagine living any other way.

Sorry, Florida: you’re beautiful in your idyllic flatness and semi-tropical apery (I have lived in the Tropics and you, ma’am, ain’t the Tropics) but I’ve found a new love.

So I’ve decided: come hell or high water, I am toughing it out here. Because I’ve discovered what 8 million other New Yorkers already knew: a hard life here is far preferrable to an easy life someplace else.

June 17, 2004

Musical Interlude

There are so many interesting movies, so many notable gallery openings, so many great rock bands playing through here on any given week I’ve gotten out of the habit of checking the listings, just to keep from being overwhelmed. Thus, I completely missed hometown prodigy Mike Doughty playing earlier this month. D’oh.

Fortunately, was helpfully reminded of my date with destiny this past Tuesday, when Austin-based VAST visited NYC. Their music is tricky to describe: it blends elements of old wave, grunge(?), and straight-ahead, texified rock ’n’ roll into its own special sauce. They’re like heavysoft, hard enough to play in your Camaro but nice enough to keep your girlfriend from complaining. So I saw them live, at nanosized club Mercury Lounge (capacity: 299 persons) and, just for kicks, also sat in on their TV-performance at the Carson Daly show. I know, groan-groan, TLR, booty-shakin’ teeny-boppin’ sellout. Given half a chance, though, you and I both would cheerfully trade our ordinary lives for a shake at what he’s got going. Ironically, I guess the nervous tension of playing for umpteen TV-cameras coaxed what seemed to me an electric performance out of the boys. Comes out next week; check it if you’re up late. With any luck none of the cameras caught me in their sights.

Tried to get in on Melissa Auf Der Maur’s gig at same venue but… no dice. Sold out like donuts.

Next week: Primus sucks at the legendary Radio City Music Hall. Hell yea.

June 14, 2004

RE-design

New decade, new design for the show-and-tell pages

June 13, 2004

The Sun Also Rises

June 8, 2004

What’s Love Got To Do With It

Living in New York encourages thinking about other people. Other cultures, other social strata… How other people live, think, and cope. Recently I got to considering this “love” thing I keep hearing about.

So far I’ve decided that one of the main, overarching reasons why “love” relationships don’t work out, or why people end up disappointed in them but keep on trudging on anyway, is because these people are looking for — and, importantly, failing to find — a “transcendent” experience out of their love affairs. That word is important: Transcendent. Something that goes beyond. In this case, beyond the ordinary, beyond the quotidian, beyond the comfortable, unexciting, tapioca-bland of modern existence. But not just more “extreme:” this isn’t about a temporary thrill, like taking a roller coaster ride or, hell, having an orgasm. I think people are seeking for something that is “spiritually” transcendent, something that “touches” them beyond the merely physical and biochemical. “Touching” is too vague, even: they want to be communicated with, comforted, encouraged perhaps?, on that level… a supposedly “deeper” level.

Problem is, in my opinion, no one can agree on what “spirit” means, and even less so when the “spiritual” has been “touched.” I say they can’t agree because (again, my opinion) the concept of “spirit” is an intellectual construct, an empirically non-real thing. I’m expressing doubts that it’s even a phenomenon due to “emergence,” the converging of myriad disparate mini-processes in the body and brain that when taken together, like a Seurrat painting, agglomerate into a discernible “something” we call “spirit.” I might go so far as to grant the status of “real” to an emergent phenomenon, but I don’t think this even qualifies as that.

So, when you can’t even agree on the basics, how can you expect to agree on anything further?

I think it’s important to notice these things because in so doing we can gauge our expectations appropriately, possibly cushioning ourselves against a lifetime of continuous disillusionment. If we can agree, for example, that there is no “spirit” in us seeking transcendent fulfillment, then we can gain peace of mind, that our inner world will not fall apart for lacking this so-called “transcendence.” Because if something is not there, how can it have a need?

The second problem is dealing with this troublesome word, “transcendence.” Even assuming we all have a “spirit” and we can all agree on what it is (let’s suppose a working definition which we “all know about”… let “spirit” be the “being” that generates and administers abstract thought/learning, language, creativity, mood/feelings and personality) still we fail to agree on what makes for a satisfying “transcendent” experience. I think Hollywood has indoctrinated us into believing that “being in love” is the ultimate transcendent experience, and thus the goal to which all must aspire. But again, we are left reaching for definition. What is “being in love?” In my experience, it seems people rest in the notion that they’ll “know it when they see it.” We can see just how this might give rise to all manner of disagreement.

Right off the bat: people associate widely different experiences with “being in love.” Very early on we associate physical attraction with “being in love,” going so far as to defining a concept called “love at first sight.” Later in life, as we assimilate the disappointments inherent in such a notion, we expand the definition to include non-visual characteristics, including personality, “intelligence” (yet another phantom), and so on. It is here, I believe, where we go astray, because we are piling on supposition upon supposition. First, we suppose that there really is such a thing as “being in love;” we further suppose that this is a worthwhile goal to be reached; further still, that we can get there from here; and then, that there is something of lasting substance to be derived from it (this “something” I would categorize a “transcendent” experience). What if any one of those four things turns out to be untrue? People devote sizable portions of their lives — time, treasure, comfort, freedom — to these shaky notions. It’s a wonder nervous breakdowns don’t occur more often.

I don’t discount that these notions originate someplace legitimate. It seems to me the evolution of life on Earth is heavily dependent on irrevocable impulses such as these. There are others, which are more easily defined: hunger, sleep, shelter. But no one ever suffered heartbreak over a missed lunch! That’s what I mean: if given the right level of importance (some, but not as much as we now do) a “love” experience can be far more satisfying at its level than what we’ve grossly overestimated it to be. I get the sense we place so much emotional demand on the “love” experience, and particularly the sexual act as epitome of said “love” experience, that we almost can’t help but to be let down.

I believe the “love” impulse originates in the procreative need of sexual beings. Yes, love and sex are intimately related, no puns intended. Even the most noble idealist among us must realize this by now. I believe “love at first sight” begins in this human impulse, triggered upon the encounter of age-old physical cues for health, fertility and sexual maturity (which can, of course, be artificially gamed through chemistry and surgery, or through persistent advertising of alternative body-images). Nothing romantic in that, I suppose (which is my point — don’t call it something dreamy like “love at first sight’, then). But while it’s true that we are sexual mammals, I think we are a bit more than that, as well, and our “love” experience should and does reflect that, for better or worse. But what? Should it be arbitrary? I’m beginning to believe so. Whatever two people want to agree on calling “love” between each other, if it makes them happy and doesn’t hurt anyone else, why not? Of course, this makes for wildly haphazard social conduct in this regard. I believe we are entering a new era of “confusion” as wildly different cultures “collide” in our modern, interconnected world. The need is arising to redefine “love” into a lowest-common-denominator for the whole lot of us, and unfortunately new definitions seem (to me) utilitarian more than emotional in content: be “in love” with the person who can fulfill your necessities in life — food, shelter, status, etc. Basically, going too far in the other direction from Hollywood’s saccharin romantic ideal. But social norms can be tremendously useful to a social-based species such as ours. My admittedly-prejudiced desire is that the social norm adopted favors me somewhat, but I can’t guarantee that. So while things stabilize, this is a time of anxiety to me and, I’m guessing, to many others.

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